Your presence comforts me
even after time we fit like two puzzel pieces.
Unique but not alone.

It was good to see you.
To hold you
to hear your voice.

Thank you for waiting.

Battle

Blood pumping, heart thumping.
My enemy drawing near
I have everything to fear

and loose
It is a battle I did not choose
A fight for life that caught me
a fight that no one else can see

this battle with in me
pummeling my soul
keeping me from my goal

of living forever
in peace and pleasure
help me I pray

I dont want to be this way
lost and in danger
feeling I myself am a stranger

struggling always
deep with in
always fighting this sin

again, and again
strengthen me & help
i hate feeling like a whelp

alone is to much
i can not stand this crush
of weight

help me before it is to late
and end in a state
of destruction

(written day of journal)

It has been a really great game. You get to do some really amazing stuff on this game. Wall running, acrobatics spiderman would be envious of. The fighting combos are faboo, and the graphics and story line banter are Grade A.

I just finished the game locked Arahmin in his jail for ever and what do I get for the end of a long journey? My partner in the game scarifices herself ... I knew that bringing life to the fertile grounds was taking her life force. But this just sucks... At the end of the final battle next to the guardian tree, she looks over at Prince and says "Sorry." Reaching out to the tree she gives the last of her essence to heal the final fertile ground...

AGH!!!! What gives?
Okay so that was a MEGA bummer... but then you pick up her body walk out of the temple down a long hall and lay her on the cover stone of her mothers grave. Shes dead ...

At this point you are begining to realize why her father gave such a sacrifice... he damned the world so his daughter could have life. As if that were not enough, you begin to hear the dark evil god and his minions start to whisper. The game conveniently shows you the four spirit trees that represent the life of the land, and so you go to take a look at them

The closer you get the louder the whispering voices of the creepy corrupted get. Telling you to choose life... choose freedom...
Bah... I went to the tree to see if it could magically awaken Elika.. no dice the only thing you can do is destroy the hard work you just finished and destroy the tree. I did one to see what happened. The world instantly begins to die again in that area...
Pah.. im annoyed. I won the day and lost the girl. And if I want to get her I have to destroy the world...
Rest in Peace Elika...

I don't get it, the last game i played to finish was Heavenly Sword, it had great combos, amazing versatility with the sword, and in the end... the Yuriko died. What gives?

Aside from their deaths, they were still great games.

To myself, and to others who depend on me to get this talk done.

Talk? What talk? Talk for what?

I am part of a school that teaches public speaking. It is my turn to do an assignment. We are given a subject, and present it as a demonstration. I have a partner who is called my householder, and I have to present my argument to them, to get them to see my point of view. It is of course all scripted but its having to get it all set up, meet certain requirements, like the lesson I myself am working on.  Proper emphasis while reading scriptures. While that is not difficult, scripting is.

I procrastinate these things because I find them sooo difficult agh! I always seem to accomplish them, but they never seem any easier.

I always feel a sigh of relief when I am done. I do well on them, always given a good mark. But I feel no better at them when done.

Sometimes, no strike that. Everytime it is my turn I want to tuck tail and pass the buck, but I knuckle under and accomplish. It is both infuriatingly difficult and rewarding. >.>

Maybe one day I will get it done before the last minute Then I can be truly responsible.

It is raining, the sky has opened up and poured down its life giving tears. Not just a light sprinkle that dries in the next ten minutes. It has rained all night, dancing fingers against the windows, and rocking our slumber with its soft whisper.

I love the rain. Absolutely love it, when it rains like this even the air is wet. It makes breathing easier, calms that cough that plagues me, and heals me. I don't care that the sky is drab and gray all day. As long as the rain falls from the heavens I feel calm, and at peace. The dance of rain drops across the pool of water infront of the office a simple beauty.

This world that I live in is very dry, I have never had to use so much lotion in my life as I have these 2 years I have been here in my new home. Sometimes when I am on the phone with my mother and she has rain she will be quiet and let me listen.

When you fall from the sky I  find peace
though you rail and thunder, your tears are a wonder.
Your presences allows me release.





*Casts arms to the sky, lifts face to the heavens and embraces the falling rain, letting it wash away worries, and cares for a moments peace.*

I love the rain.

I feel like I have been trapped under the soil all winter, in my dark little home, cold and impatiently waiting for the return of the sun so that I might break out of this grave and blossom into the light. All I need is the warmth, and the light. Where I can open my windows, and pull back the drapes. Shed my winter armor and dance freely into the spring.

My house is a tiny little thing. I honetly dont mind the tiny part, its the freezing cold part. In the winter I must move my bed into the livingroom to survive the frigid nights. It is the only room heated, and I hate it. Truly I abhor it. My quaint little space become a barrak againt the onslaught of the winter. There is nothing cute about it, it isnt quaint. There isnt character to fighting off the constant water on the floor from crying windows, or the freezing cold from the floor of pure tile. It isnt fun trying to rearange my space so that I feel comfortable. I dont... feel comfortable through the whole winter.

So now that the warmer weather has come even with cold nights. WE that si my cousin and I have moved my bed back into the bedroom. There is something liberating about freeing up this space that is mine. Reclaiming the bedroom as a livable space, and reaquainting myself with the noises of the back room of the house. Please God let the sun shine, and I pray let me not be ungrateful this summer when we reach 110 degrees. May I remember the bitter battle fought all winter and be reminded the blessing of the warmth and the sun.

I do not remember when I wished to experience life out of the house, but back in 03 I moved out. Not just out, away. I moved a zillion miles from home. Was I ever homesick. I lasted a year, a month and a week, then I returned home. I did not exactly make it "out". I moved from my mothers house to my Grandmothers house.

It was not easy, but I love her very much for putting up with me. For sharing half her bedroom, and half her bed, and helping care for me. I returned home never having had my own place. I was homesick beyond measure, and hurt that I did not survive the 3 years I had initially stated. I felt I had failed.

A couple years at home again and the job I wanted opened up back where Grandmom lived. I moved again this time with a job & better knowledge on how to be with out. It had not been an easy time in Hawaii. Lots of bad things happened. We survived them, and I was ready to explore again.

In July of 07 I landed back on the Mainland. It was the 4th, I took the rest of the week off from work, to get a bit over my jet lag and then headed off to work Monday.
In September I found my own little space. A one bedroom home only  4 blocks from my Grand mother, and in walking distance to work. It is really cute, I went through mixed emotion of exhilaration and depression. It was my first home, and first time living alone. Utterly alone. I was very alone.
But I survived with lots of support from my Grandmother, visits to her house, and friends who helped make my home a cozy little place.

Thank you all very much.

I lasted roughly 2.5 years before I had to return home, this time for a visit. Went home in November, got photos, had a wonderful time, will talk about it later. I cried on the trip home, but I survived. I sit here now with a little time to myself and feel rested, relaxed, and no where near the desperation I felt before my trip. It was really good going home.

So I have found out, I can make it. I can live out of the house, on my own. I pay bills with a sense of pride. (I know >.< weird) Endure the loneliness, drive my cat crazy, and talk with friends a lot.

Thank you all, I mean all of you who have helped me. I feel liberated knowing I can make it out in a home alone, but its okay I dont have to do it by myself. I have all of you.

I am coming up on my 3rd year anniversary, I think I shall do something to celebrate.

Journal writing has never been my strong point, but I sometimes spout garbage, and info that I feel the need to put down in writing it helps me think... or purge.

 

I have been feeling self loathing of late, like I failed, but the failure in its self is not the core of whats eating me. It's not that I just failed at something, but I feel I have failed myself...

I am able to recover from these feelings after a few days but I felt the need to reflect on them. Like a fist grabbing my heart they plague me from time to time. Ever asked for forgiveness and not been able to grant it even to yourself? I felt that way yesterday.

Dizzy circles I dance and not with grace, not with knowledge but the foolish stumbling of a blind drunk man. There is nothing pretty about it. I internally beat myself up beg for release from the negative emotion and pray though I feel no worth to ask for it.

Now my brain can come up with a few logical helpful things that alieviate some of it  but its only a false sensation, and if I happen to fall for such things I feel all the more cruddy for it.

I am addicted... I crave, and long, and rail against what i believe to be true. I figurativly self impail my heat and body on the two halves of me that make up the circling conundrum that I am. It has to do with old wounds, and old sores that though have grown distant still ache when I really think about them.

But i dont like to think about them. I have hashed that emotional garbage over again and again and it doesnt get any better when it comes up again. I was a child of sexual abuse, The abuse stopped for a very long time and i was safe... and no one could hurt me... and then the man who hurt me moved into my home.... and I was a young teenager and I was screwed up even after years of therapy.. and i allowed and for the time willingly participated in a single act that haunts me still....

I hate myself for it, and I hate him for it, and i hate my father for letting him move in.. and yet i dont hate it goes back tot he self loathing... i feel that clutched in my chest squeezing life and joy and all that is good out of me.

Because of this badness that happened i awakened sexually far earler than any child should, and since then i have fought with my body desires... and this week i feel torn apart by all of it....

the week of my menstral cycle is the absolute hardest. The hardest to deny, the hardest to fight... Its not just a craving for sex, but a hunger to be touched, not by just any body thank you God of Heaven & Earth for that much. But I ache for people who have touched my heart, a longing so deep  that it burns across my skin and leaves me breathless.

.....

I simply want to weep because of it all..

The deffinition of a kiss, from some one you think if amazing.

You look at them and can not help but smile. You feel warmth spread through you, a covering that protects you enveloping you from the worries of life, if only a moment all thing are forgotten.

The sweet soft press of their lips, so smooth, fine, and warm. The brush of their breath against your skin, their warm scecnt.

It is sex & lust, fire that demands attention and obedience as it consumes. Passion swallowed and shared between silk and fire.

It is tender, and soft. A brush of satin, and the bittersweet taste of tears. Both happy and sad. It is reassuring and nobal, just as it is a heart breaking good bye.

It is desire, and teasing, the pulse of your heart in your lips as you are denied that kiss only a centimeter from yours. You can taste their breath on you mouth and tongue, and you know you want it, but to have would be to break that longing.

To slow the kiss so that you taste the pulse of your lover through their mouth, drawing up their every emotion, and then discarding it for the one you want to evoke. It is power, taken, given, and shared.

I am not ugly.
Though I am overweight, I do not define myself as fat.
I struggle with such things as weight, and self respect, and self love.

Most people who are even a little more then what people expect know what it is like to be told they are ugly, or fat, or a whale, or any other number of slurs. They forget that despite that topical deffinition of bias they are beautiful.

I know that my smile is stunning, and my eyes are quite unique. For I am a white woman with asian eyes. They slant just as beautifully as any other asians, and I have nothing but white inside of me. So what causes it? I am Black Dutch. which is a low brow sort of German. They hold that trait, and I inherrited it. I am the only one in my family to have it for several generations.

My eyes are a beautiful green and brown hazel. They usually reside on the green side, and often shift color depending on my mood, and the clothes i wear. I have a natural coloring of light blue to my eye lids, and am often occused of wearing makeup.

I have an award winning personality, I am usually humble, forgiving and kind. I keep most of my negative thoughts to myself, and do not pass on hurtful gossip.

I am beautiful, and if no one can see that but me, then that is all it takes, because when i look in the mirror i can see my faults, but i also see my beauty, and that is rare in life these days.

I once had some one ask me if i knew i was pretty, I smiled at him and said "Yes. I know." If he had asked me two years ago, I doubt I would have had such an answer. We all have to relearn our self beauty and worth.

Now days it has gotten to the point where children say dumb things about how smart you are... calling you a nerd... or a geek, well i am. *grins* so there.

I hurt sometimes in my heart, because of the pains that I was given as a child. I weep for that poor girl.. and every girl, and every boy who has to endure, or go through what i did...

I was not fat.... and yet they marked me that way because i was bigger... I grew up with this twisted mental image, and had no love of myself... I chose not to accept that mental image, it was alot of hard work, and alot of convincing myself. I had friends who helped, but for the most part it comes through sweat, and tears, and blood.

But speaking from the point of some one who has been there.
You are beautiful too, and while you can not say it for yourself, I will remind you.
Do not be missled you are a spectacular gem and when you find out how magnificently you glitter just watch how you shine.

your struggle reminds me of the agony ... and the hurt i still carry, but you are not alone.
Never alone.