What are you made of?

Pinky asked me to read her blog a few hours ago... so I was pretty curious. She rarely tells me when she updates her blog. So I figured it should be interesting.

this is her post:

made.

We are all made out of something. As cliche that might sound

Some of us are made out of gold, richer than most

Some of us are made out of diamond, more precious than others

Some of us are made out of glass, a little sharp yet fragile

Some of us are made out of metal, hardy but mouldable

Some of us are made out of love, wearing the heart at the sleeves and fingers.

Some of us are made out of lights, brighter than the moonlight

Do you know what you are made out of?

so what am I made of?

super interesting question. So I did what I normally do when I'm deep in thought. (no not have a beer... sigh... some impressions of you, you never really get to shake off I guess.) I had a ciggy and talked to suki!

Ok la. Not talked to her. More like talked at her. As it was, I had to bribe the lil mutt to listen to me. She had jus woken up from her all day nap and was way hyper-active. So I had to give her some innitiave to sit and listen. Voila la 'greenie'. (its a green colored treat you twits... not a booger!)

At first the thoughts that came to me about what I'm made of were pretty... well... depressing. Words like 'broken glass', 'disappointment', 'broken dreams' sprang to mine immediately. I wanted one specific word for it. And those words didn't encompass who I was completely. These words were just too negative.

I was also 'talented' (yea! honest!) 'blessed' (with great friends and an amazing brother and mother) 'intelligent' (compared to most of the morons in the world... thats not really saying much!). But these words were WAY too positive and didn't depict me in the entirety.

So I dug deeper.

Three greenies and a very happy pup later, I found the word I wanted.

I'm am made of 'masks'.

This is true for most people, I guess. But it applies to me in many ways that only my close friends and family will understand.

I keep my secrets jealously (when I'm not pissed drunk!). I smile when I don't feel like smiling. Pretend to be sad when I feel merely numb. I've laughed and joked when I jus felt like falling apart. The list goes on and on really.

Without going into too much personal details and revealing more than I care to in this blog, I can't really say much more.

Lets jus say in many ways I've always been a social and emotional chameleon. Not many have seen my true colors. There has always been a mask or two in the way.

So yea Pinky. I'm made of 'masks'. You know me better than most people. Do you think the word fits me? :)

Fantasy Writer vs What REALLY happened....

Fantasy Writers perspective:

Armed with nothing but a wooden staff, our hero stumbled in the darkness. Cold sweat streamed down his face.Around him, the scent of rotting meat and smoke swirled in the air. Suppressing the shiver down his spine, he took another step forward and stopped before the door. Beyond this death awaited.

Fear gripped him and threaten to overwhelm him. His thoughts drifted to his brother, once a proud strong man; now a mewling wreak locked in his quarters. He had faced the beast earlier and it had left its mark on him. Would he meet the same fate?

He gripped the wooden staff more firmly.

He looked to his side. His loyal hunting hound. Suki. Here was a hound a warrior would be proud to have walk by him anytime. He strengthened his resolved and prepared to face the monster. 'To live in fear, is to die a little everyday,' he told himself.

He swung the door open. Scanning the surroundings, he did not have to look hard to spot the monster. Its eyes were red. He could see the twin white fangs portruding from its maw. Suki growled deeply, sensing danger. Her fur stood on its ends and she began to shake in fear from the beasts overwhelming aura of evil. Finally the fear overtook her notions of loyalty and love for her master and she fled; tail between her legs.

He did not notice the flight of his loyal hound. His mind was focused only on one thing. Survival. Screaming a battle cry, he ran at the monster with his wooden staff.

Panicked by the sudden fearlessness of our hero, and startled by the anger in his voice, the creature fled into the night. After all creatures of darkness live on the fear of others. When that is absent, it finds the same gnawing poison biting into its own hearts.

His lands safe once again. The hero had triumphed. Both over his inner fears and the beast of the night.



What REALLY happened:

I was holding a bloody broom. Walking in the darkness cause me n my bro have been too bloody lazy to change the kitchen light fuse.

My bro had been cleaning the bathroom downstairs and while he was doing it, he had seen a mouse. Freaked out, the bugger slammed the toilet door shut, and ran upstairs. Then he told me to go get rid of the damn thing.

Man... I freaking hate rats and mice. And I mean SERIOUSLY hate! They make my skin freakin crawl okay! But I had to protect my lil bro and suki.

Ok... fine. That's not the truth. My bro bribed me with free dinner, a pack of ciggies and a bottle of 100 plus! STFU! DUN JUDGE ME! (lol)

So armed with a broom and with suki at my side, we went to the kitchen. I closed off the kitchen door in case the bugger ran further into the house and shut the book room door. Then I braced myself and opened the toilet door.

The foul smell I was talking about was from the rubbish in the toilet. My bro and I always adhered to the theory, 'Out of sight... out of mind!'. Until the smell gets so bad we can't bear it. :P

Any way, there the lil bugger was! Chomping on my mom's potpourri. Suki growled a little at the mouse. Then when the mouse took a step toward her, her REAL instincts kicked in. She ran like the wind upstairs! ISH! So much for loyalty! So much for hunting dog! So much for a man's best friend!

So I took my broom, and poked the lil bugger with the end of it. And shouted like hell at it. The fella obviously didn't like being poked or shouted at, and ran outside the door I had left open.

The hero *cough* I mean... *I* had survived my encounter with the blasted vermin.

*shifty eyes*

I jus hope the bugger doesn't come back for revenge!!!

LOL

Dude is too Super Cool for his Traffic Ticket

ahah... this is a super cool video! :D

of religion, love and a puppy named suki

In the 28 years of my life, I have seen people touched by religions; each of them, in their own subtle and different ways.

I'm not one to complain... (oh wait... I am! :P) but I've not had an easy life. Please don't give me the whole lecture about starving and dying children in Africa. Of people who have harsher lives than I. I never claimed to have the SHITTIEST life, merely a relatively shitty life! So put it to rest already.

I have problems believing in things that I can touch and see, let alone being able to put faith in a entity you have to put blind faith into. Quite childishly, I have often questioned: 'if there is a God, then fuck him... cause he has fucked me over again and again... (and I didn't even get to cum!)

So when people talk of religion, I earnestly avoid the topic. As the saying goes, never talk politics and religion with friends; if you want to keep them friends. But I can't help but watch with a fascination when people embrace religion the way it is meant to be embraced; with faith, love and no ulterior motives.

I know this was not with the case with my mother. If I have had a shitty life, I don't quite know the adjective that would describe hers. She embraced religion alright... several of them! Don't get me wrong, I love my mother to death. And she is a STRONG woman to have survived all that has happened to her in her life. Yet I cannot help but feel a little cynical towards her sudden offerings to the temples and churches.

Religion was indeed was a crutch. Or so I believed.

I have been lucky enough to fall in love twice in my not so young life. Both the women were devout in their religions.

My first love and experience with religion came when I was but 16ish years old. A little too young to contemplate anything except for the miracles of the female body and the stupors that alcohol and drugs induced. She did not preach her religion to me. In fact we rarely spoke of it. And believe me, we spoke VERY often back then.

I can still remember the mock disgust one of our friend had at the fact my first love and I spent so much time together, be it physically together or just on the phone. 'You're like a Yin Yang pair of retarded Siamese Twins,' she had said. Even now the not so flattering comparison brings a chuckle. But that is beside the point. The times that my first love and I did speak of it has always stuck to my mind. Mostly it was about her aunt going overseas on escapes.

As we grew older, we broke up but remained friends. Reasonably close friends I'd like to think. She went through some bad times and struggled to strive ahead of them. Yet, rather than testing the limits of her beliefs, it seemed to strengthen her beliefs. I recall her saying once to me, as we talked about the not so pleasant things in life, 'no matter what happens, I have my faith and my beliefs. Nothing will change or alter that. Well, not that much any way!'

She had chuckled and smiled then, but the conviction in her eyes spoke volumes.

I had almost believed then.

The second time I fell in love was with a daughter of two pastors. Not two of the same-sexed pastors obviously! But I think that would have made an interesting twist don't you?

She was a lot younger than I was. (any snickers or paedophile comments will be thoroughly ignored!)

And unlike my first love, she preached to me incessantly. Not in a threatening or nasty sort of way like if-you-don't-believe-you-will-burn-in-hell-you-sinner kind of way. Hers was out of love, both for me and for her religious beliefs. Perhaps 'preach' is too harsh a word to use. Rather, she 'shared' with me.

We would talk of it often and her eyes would fill with wonder and overwhelming love as she spoke. She talked of forgiveness, sharing, understanding, acceptance, love and many other wonderful things that religion could bring to a person. But the one thing that really reached to me was when she told me, 慖t can bring you peace of mind, hun.?I'll admit now, it was a rather attractive thought.

I'd smile and nod, then not so subtly change the topic to something less thought provoking. Her eyes would mist over then and she say, 'I'm so sad. I wish you would come to know His love like I do.' Then she'd hug me and nestle her head against my chest, as if listening closely to my heart to find out how she could melt the ice and warm it with the love of God. Wow. I can't believe I wrote that line. Someone call the corny police please!

I wanted desperately to understand how she felt. I even went to church for the first time in 16 years. But nothing vaguely resembling enlightenment or love for God touched me. In fact, the super cheerful singing and dancing to hymn disturbed me to no end!

But I wanted to believe.

I watched a lady I've known since I was 7, dying of cancer, find faith and strength in the comfort of Christ. At first I thought her a desperate fool, grasping at straws for a miraculous cure for her ailment; or perhaps the promise of afterlife a crutch for her to make the thought of leaving the world of the flesh less frightening.

As I spoke to her, I realised there was a transformation from who she was when she first discovered the fatal illness growing within her body. She was not trying to deny her fate. She was not trying to avoid it anymore. She had accepted it whole heartedly and was making the best of the time that was left to her and her family together. The power of her belief gave her the ability to cope; no, more than cope; to accept that death was approaching. To take a step back and realise that while time was short, it was the quality of time she had left that mattered. Not the quantity.

And for a little while, I believed.

If religion and God indeed did not exist, it should. For it is a beautiful ideal and dream. It makes people, in general (please let's not talk about extremist morons), strive to be noble and better; to do good things in life. It gives you strength to take that step forward when you just want to hug your knees and cry yourself to death. It brings hope when there might be close to none. Besides, what is life without dreams?

Sadly, I'm still not a believer. But these people have made me look at religion differently and who knows?

One day that might change.

Now you've read all this crap and looked forward to the puppy?part of this rambling, haven't you? Well here is it. Suki's snoring contentedly at my feet.

And I BELIEVE it is time to join her.

Well a man's gotta believe in SOMETHING doesn't he?

Cheers.
Vince