The Ideology of a Revolving Door.

So I'm not wanting to just come here today and be all emo. But that may be what comes of this. I often say I have no friends. When I say this; I'm not talking about all of the people I'm friendly with. Or the people who occasionally agree to be seen in public with me... I mean; there is no one that I can just call and do things with. No one who knows me well enough to be called my close friend. In my Webster, there are three definitions of friend; 1. a person whom one knows well and is fond of. 2. an ally, supporter, or sympathizer. 3. A member of the society of friends; Quaker. Close has 2 titles and the first has 11 definitions; 8. intimate; familiar [close friend]. Taking this as my definition... there is no one I feel I connect with on an intimate level. No one is familiar with the real me. There are a few people who are closer than others, but overall; They're still distant. It's not like I want them to be distant. I don't want to be left alone 100% of the time. A close friend could feel comfortable to invade my space at times... A close friend could feel confident to call me out on things that I'd need to be called out on. A close friend might even get my sense of humor, ideologies, theories, tastes, and ideas... regardless if we agreed on them. But no. No one has the time of day to spend on me. I am to remain always forgotten. I am the one that everyone smiles at but doesn't get to know. I am the company you enjoy as an alternative to standing by yourself, until a better option comes along. I am she who sits at home every night until I feel it safe to suggest myself as an addition to the party. I am the one that you may call a friend, but you do nothing to cultivate the friendship for. I don't require that much work... Just talk to me. do something with me every once in a while. and don't act like you're pretending. I don't really know what I want. Poo! (A friend would retort to my saying; Whoever said nothing is impossible, never tried slamming a revolving door... "Chuck Norris could slam a revolving door") That's it; I am destined to be my own best friend. Van and Johanna; BFF's!

More scenes on a vacant timeline.

I had an idea for this one... kinda... and a little after the fact. Sooo... actually, I guess it's not just for this one. I'm also not sure it would work either. I thought; 'Hey, what if I show the progression of the psyche of my main character by journal entries?' It could work... I could start out in a quasi-sane literary style and as time progresses; I could make it either more convoluted, or screwy. Like I could go from first person entries to third person... or something. Normal everyday lingo, to a Medieval styled poetic angst. An everyday conversational tone to a methodical rhyme and meter... who knows. It's at least something to think about. Any who.

To escape the conversation of the locals, she walked out of the building and headed for the car. The night proved to be a typical one of the region, arm and muggy. So she stealthily slipped off her cardigan without removing the bag now slung across her body. Caring not that if anyone were about at this late hour, they would see her spots and button at the absence of cloth that was the back of her halter dress. Wiping the bugs away with her newly removed cardigan from the side of the car, she quickly got in to wait for her party to realize she'd left, and then join her. While she waited she pondered the existence of the tiny almost transparent teeny white bugs that now decorated the outside of her window. They had tiny feelers that were continuously twitching as they hung on to the side of the car in the light. One bug had gotten inside the vehicle and was menacingly twittering against the window in a feeble attempt to reach the outside. As she methodically squashed it with the heel of her hand and wiped it's remains on the carpet, her party finally reached the car and opened the door. Still in full conversation with the locals, they were backing in. Not wanting to seem in too much of a hurry so as to be thought of as rude, but to still give off a hint to her passenger. She stuck the key into the ignition loudly, and kept her hand there. Waiting for her first opportunity to turn it... Her party; still slowly moving in the direction of an exit from their current company, finally sat and had a hand on the door. she turned the key and they finally said their goodbyes as the door shut. Not giving in to her impatience she made time to wave goodbye as their recent company retreated back indoors, before kicking the car into reverse and high tailing it out of there. This was one place she loathed to come back to. she desperately did not enjoy the company of these former and long winded hippies who barely gave her a smidgen of respect and failed to hint at common decency towards her. Sh did not look forward to her necessary return the following week for the collection of the project she'd needed to mission them for. But this was the only place to find what she needed without having to go the extreme measures. As she turned the corner, she thought; 'These measures seem pretty extreme.'

And here's some more of my lovely idea towards a beginning... perhaps I'll incorporate flash backs... if I do use the journal entries, perhaps I won't use only journal entries. Maybe I'll have a general narrative, and incorporate the journal entries for the purpose of letting us see into our 'heroines' mind... or not. Here's a one liner type flashback either way.

She had thought of the idea as menacing. Secretly the idea was growing on her. She dared not make this known though. For in the past; everything she could see coming to pass, with he minds eye, didn't ever come to fruition.

Just a little something... Was Superman a Vampire?... 'More powerful than a locomotive... Faster than a speeding bullet... able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.... It's a bird, it's a plane, it's... Edward Cullen?'

His stares continued to plague me for sometime, unwavering... Until I realized the screen had frozen.

Brought forth from the ashes of the Pyre...

I've been reading allot of 'amateur' posts lately. Including; stories, poetry... Non-fiction stuffs. And it's inspiring to say the least. People just going out and doing it. Or sitting down and doing it. And it gets me to thinking... Why can't I just take the initiative and just do, or at least work towards what I aspire to? Nope, no real answer that can't be immediately dashed away as moot points, or have an opposing statement that should cause me to hang my head in shame. Soooo... I've decided I will start again on the progression of my VanPyre Mansion. No it has nothing to do with Vampires, and I have been contemplating even attempting this story... I have to foundations for it as of late, due to the lack of change in my circumstances to gear myself in the direction of the plot and the characters plight. So... (gee I say that allot) I will be trying to hammer out more unrelated scenes again that may, or may not make it into the final story... I can't just start; I still don't have a specific direction that I want this to go... There's not plot or storyline per say. Just the fact of that I know; It is a story of a girl who eventually gives herself over to the inter workings of her mind. It may continue of from there. I'm not sure about conflict. Or resolution yet... So, I'll stop now, with all of these words, and just get to thinking.

Only Fear of Self

My dad sent me an e-card. He sends me a lot of e-cards. But this one, it was an e-card with an attached song. The song attached always makes me cry. I knew the song was attached to the e-card, but when I pressed play; I started crying anyway. Both times I watched it. It's one of those songs that makes you question yourself. It says, I want to be this. I want to Be more than I am, and then you feel convicted because you're not that. You're not more. You're not enough, and you could be so much better.

"... I want to leave a legacy How will they remember me? Did I choose to love? Did I point to You enough To make a mark on things? ... "

I'm not more, I'm not enough. So, this is my call to action (mostly for myself). I will be more. I will choose to love. I will not be only what I am currently. I will make the most of my life. This whole thing goes along with my new five year plan... But; why am I only who I am and not more, not who I want to be? Because, sad to say; I am afraid. I am so afraid of the judgement of others. Mostly the judgment of those who are supposed to not cast judgement. Not supposed to by who they say they are. But I feel inadequate. Therefore, I've cast a judgment on them. Poo! No one is perfect. It's been my argument in defense of these same people to others; They're just people, they too are only human. But I want to expect more from them, and I want to expect more from me, and I want them to expect something from me, and to walk with me and lead me, and to guide me, and to care, all at the same time. When I'm in their presence, I am merely gripped by fear. Fear due to all of my past transgressions and sins, even those forgiven and repented. They will still judge me. They've done it before, How could any of them be different... I could maybe be myself in other circumstances, around other people... which I have been closer too. But it's not the best me, it's just the me that is. The me gripped by different fears. The me afraid to tell them, because they will stereotype me into the same heap as the them from before, and I am only human. As they too are only human. And they cycle continues...

But I will be better. I can get passed this. I will be more.

"... And now that I'm here Should I tell them that You are the one who has made me And saved me and set up a home there inside Should I tell them that I am a perfect example Of all You can do with a life. What should I say to them? What if I'm failing them? What should i tell the tonight?... "