Emesis

Slippery slope emesis.

For the want of a pill, a dinner was lost.
For the want of a dinner, a sleep was lost.
For the want of a sleep, a day of learning was lost.
For the want of a day, an education was lost.
For the want of an education, a future was lost.
For the want of a future, a life was lost.

Solo Amoeba

The most efficient creature.
Hampered not by others.
Unicellular.
Self-sufficient.
An island.
A rock.
Wild.

Short story of a donkey

A handsome ass sits between two bales of hay. It is closer to one, but it eyes the other, bigger, tastier-looking one. It wants both, but it knows that going for one means forgoing the other.

It must choose. The adjacent, and still-tasty bale? Or the one that's slightly further away, but holds many times more promise.

There is a twist in the story though. The handsome ass doesn't know if the one further away really exists. It could very well be his mind playing tricks on him. Going to that bale and finding out that it doesn't exist will be very annoying. It might mean embarassment for him, and he surely cannot handle that.

He sits in contemplation, pondering which bale to eat. As the weeks go by he grows thinner and thinner. Now looking little more than a cheap handbag on a bony clothes-rack, he still cannot decide.

Food is within easy reach, but the handsome ass starves to death.

a little tale of cognitive dissonance

These are fickle children. They spend their years clothed in rudeness and arrogance. They draw lustful attention for their wanton debaucheries. Secretly however, most are sickened and would rather see them publicly humiliated or at the very least brought to a slow agonizing death.

Suddenly, within milliseconds, there is a marked change in mein. Not merely tangible but more like pie-in-the-face-of-whoever-knows-better. Smug, repulsive sneers melt away to saccharine grins. One only feels sorry for the poor deluded victim who helplessly falls to the overwhelming tide.

But that is not the end. In a primitive display of gorilla-like aggressiveness, the original demeanour returns with a vengeance. A testosterone-fueled fury marks the end of all civilised conduct. All innocents not contributing to the alpha male's manly glory are bowled over without impunity.

From fickle little children to raving monstrosities. Honestly, I have never been so disgusted in my life.

The smell of hormones mingling with perfume

While it may turn the heads of most, turns only the stomach of this one.

Maybe it's an overexposure to too much romancy-schmancy pop culture* early in life, or more likely just a lack of food, but watching my first successful pick-up** made me feel more nauseous than inspired.

Sorry for being deceived with images of Romeo and Juliet but wasn't there once a time where there was actually stuff between saying hi and sex?


*Actually romancy pop culture is the only exposure I have whatsoever. Real life? What's that?
**As a spectator of course; don't confuse me with someone who has courage.

The Better Covert Ops

I am rambo. Without the rippling muscles or extraordinary luck. I charge into a situation headfirst without considering the consequences. This has led to numerous failures before. I want to know a girl? I ask her. She says yes. Sometimes.

They, are subtler than the blackset covert ops. They will manipulate and coerce to whatever end they desire. The most frightening part is that they serve no one but themselves. Case in point, I leave my msn open on a table, unattended. One goes up to it while I'm not looking and invites herself using my account. Later on she tells me of the news, that I invited her. Now this is especially elegant because it defeats two problems. One, she doesn't have to ask me face-to-face, action movie style with big dangerous firey explosions. Two, because I know that she's invited me, I am flattered and don't follow through with my initial reaction of getting pissed for someone nosing through my stuff. Pure genius.

I sure do sound like the kid who finds air bubbles in his microscope specimen in biology class for the first time. I've made a groundbreaking discovery that only everyone else knows. Bah.

'Everyone has a skill. What's yours?'

I respect the man who dedicates his time to one, and only one skill. He is so committed to excellence in that one area, enduring hardship for that one tiny moment of glory when he can shine. The impersonation of others, a little trill on the keyboard, or even the ability to make small talk with complete strangers sans a stutter. This sort of heroic (that's the word I was looking for) focus is seemingly beyond me.

Every time a friend succeeds, I die a little inside

~Gore Vidal

who have i been fooling?

We were never meant to be together. At times I tried so hard, but this end was inevitable. The story goes,

When I was younger and greener, I was so enthusiastic about this relationship. I had a place I belonged. Part of something meaningful. It was fresh, mainly because I had never been part of anything before.

Then trouble started. Me, with my attention span so short, began to drift away. It wasn't long before we never saw. I went on a year-long hiatus. It was happy times, without needing to be concerned with anything. Due to unforseen circumstances, we were back together again. However, this reunion was a grudging one. I garnered some other merit out of it though, but beyond that no pleasure was gained. As soon as possible, I severed all connection with it again.

Recently, it came back to me, on it's knees. I turned it away.

Goodbye, and good riddance. Hockey is just not for me.
Here I am back again, not part of anything.
How coincidental, the nature of the game I so abhor, that makes me so.

It wasn't going well for him that day. Bad news was still whirling in his mind. He had lost countless rounds of poker, and how had a splitting headache. He goes to the counter and orders a drink. He downs several more before leaving the filthy place.

He shambles off to the train station, and squeezes to the seat vacated by an old indian man. He folds his arms like every one else around him and promptly falls asleep.

Worst mistake of his life.

As he dozes, several people enter and exit the carriage. Several people who potentially could have caused a marked change to his entire life.

A long lost friend enters. This friend is down on his luck too, probably even worse than our protagonist here. Friend sulks in one corner and shuffles out after two stops. Had our hero been awake, they would have noticed each others presence. They would have hugged and would have become business partners. Success would await them.

A charming and attractive lady walks in but takes no notice of him. Had he been awake their eyes would have met across the car, they would have gone out and spent many happy hours together, they would have realised that they were perfect with each other, and lived blissfully ever after together.

He then goes home, collapses on the couch with a beer in hand, and watches some Arsenal vs Liverpool before passing out. His half-finished beer spills over his couch which will leave a sticky mark until he throws it out several years later.

Every moment, a thousand thousand opportunities arise. Most of them flit by because one is at the wrong place at the wrong time. The rest are lost due to circumstances beyond one's control. The pitiful few left are not seen or taken advantage of and go on to become vestiges in the deepest reaches of one's mind where they will cause squirmingly-painful hindsight for years.