Anyways,in less than 4 weeks, I'll be moving up to Portland OR.

I'm excited, and Can't wait to start packing up all my stuffage next week.

This song is how I feel recently.towards a certain someone.

Artist: Jude Lyrics
Song: I Know Lyrics
You've got such a pretty smile.
It's a shame the things you hide behind it.
Let um go give it up for a while...
Let um free and we will both go find it.

I know there's no where you can hide it.
I know the feeling of alone.
I know that you do not feel invited,
But come back, come back in from the cold.

Step away from the edge.
Your best friend in life is not your mirror.
Back away come back away come back away...
I am here and I will be forever and ever and i...

I know that there's no where you can hide it.
I know the feeling of alone.
Trust me and don't keep that on the inside.
Soon you...you'll be locked out on your own.

You're not alone...

You're not alone...

And don't say you've never been told.
I'll be with you till we grow old...
Till am old grown and i'm cold..

I'm not further beyond the grown..
I'll be with you till we grow up young..
Like a dog you can always come home..
Pick up a bone..
Look around town baby down town
Don't throw me to the pound..
Look around look around...

I've been repeating the same mistakes I made with pat. Apparently I'm a sucker for lost causes. I need to fix this problem before I cut my dick off and join a shinto monastary. *grumblysigh, lays ears* I also need to rewrite almost all of my book. Makes a cat wanna crawl under the bed and never come out T_T

THis is an email I sent my first ex. We have recently reopened lines of communication. I wrote him this letter one day when I was in a funky mood. Not funky as in depressed, funky as in "LETS GET FUNKY funky funky funky." Sooooooo X3 I'm posting it because for some reason, a lot of things came up that really fit the situation and my mindset and what I was feeling. Like . . . well you'll see :3 anyways, here ya go:
--- --- ---

Just saying hey. How are you? I don't have any real thing to talk about, I'm just entertaining the urge to send you an email. I can't explain it. You know what? I'll just tell you what is happening at this exact moment.

I'm listening to Snow patrol, swaying back and fourth on the bed, the music blaring through my headphones, while Will and Grace is playing on Lifetime on the TV. It's 11:43. Now it's ads on the tv, which is askew on it's stand. Francisco, my illegitimate roomie and non-blood brother for life rises to his knees to crack his knuckles, then sits down. He grabs the water bottle he's been re-using for like a month, finishes it, tosses it aside for later, then tosses his mattress aside and stands to strech his calves. He gets dressed, says he's going out for awalk, and asks to take the keys. I say sure. He looks at the time, then wisely decides to change shoes from the black clogs that he's borrowing from me (which I never wear anyway) and switches to his combat boots he got while he was still an active marine. He checks his coat for coins, maybe, then puts it way. He buttons up my white shirt, and leaves. Now it's just me. I'm thinking of going to get KFC. He returns, probably forgot something. I don't know, I don't ask. "Be safe," I tell him, to which he replies "I will." I know he will, he's a marine who knows muai thai. Pity the fool who challenge him. I see Karen on the screen, talking in that drunken shrill voice which I can't hear because I'm still rockin out to Snow Patrol. I'm dressed to go out, but I have no place to go or desire to leave. I'm going through one of my depressed phases, making me crave food, even though I know I don't actually require sustanence. I may go and eat anyway, it all depends. The W&G episode is the one about how Will came out to Grace, and right now the past Will is telling the past Jack that he doesn't have any feelings for him. Jack laughs and tries to cover, but we can tell he's hurt. Suddenly, Will sees Grace, they are in the same little mart. This is the part where they make up and become best friends for life. I know this episode. In a minute, Grace will find out that Will slept with a woman besides her. Here it is. The pause is awkward. Just watch, she's gonna storm out any sec now. . . There she goes. I know how the episode ends though. They meet back up at the same mart they did years ago, and it'll be raining out, and they'll talk, and once again, they'll be friends forever. It's happening right now. Maybe I should stop talking about them. It's all fake anyways. I skip on the CD to my favourite song. The guitar comes in, and I know I will be happy soon, if nostalfic. Francisco comes in again, back already. He had a fight with his ex girl, and she slapped him. He's telling me the story right now. Ithink he should just move on, but like so many, it's hard for him to let go, to move on, to re-set his sights. It's cyclical. But life is too complicaated to be solved so simply. I'm missing my fav song by snow patrol. Oh well, I'm being here for Francisco. He's talking to me and yet I'm still typing. I wonder how well I am typingconsidering I'm not looking at the screen. He's asking me again whether or not he should be single. I'll catch up with you later, I gotta focus on this.

So one of my ex-friends Tifa wrote me a note in class today. Before I share it, let's re-hash some history, shall we?

She and I met because we started the school year in the same class. She was weird and kinda tactless, but I still loved hanging with her. Soon, I was her only friend in class; and I don't think I'm being pompous when I say I was a good one. I always supported her, I was there for her when she found out she had an STD, I was there whenever she needed to talk about any little thing. She introduced me to Robbie, a long-time friend of hers. He and I became boyfriends. 3-4 months after becoming official, I realised that he and I had different expectations and beleifs about our relationship. Basically, I planned to end any romantic relationships, or at least reduce them to a friends level, when I left for my externship, which will have me hopefully going to france. After my externship, I'm going to travel the world, and a relationship where one guy is living in one place and the other is going to all corners of the planet is not only difficult for both parties, it is also unfair for them IMO. (Yes, it has been done, but I know that it would not work well for me, because when Robbie vacationed in Japan for 5 weeks, it was pure hell for me. I don't want to put anyone else through that). HOWEVER, he wanted "forever" to be on the table, he didn't want "to be in a relationship that had an expiration date." So, long story short, I broke it off. This was one thing that apparanetly bothered Tifa.

While we were still together, Tiffany suddenly switched out of my class. This would not bother me except for a few things:
1. She told everyone else she was switching EXCEPT ME.
2. She told everyone that she was swithching because SHE FOUND ME ANNOYING.
3. 3 weeks of not-contacting-me-at-all later, she tries to give me some bullshit excuse that it was the school that switched her, which makes no sense because she switched into a bigger class that happened at the same time, and our school doesn't work that way. I called her on her bluff, she didn't admit she lied, so I gave up and decided to move on with my life, and I did.

Recently, we now share the same lecture class, because our class and hers share the same lecture room. she hands me this note that says, she doesn't want to be my friend (as if I had shown an interest in doing so) and that she doesn't approve of some of my behaviour (as to what exactly that is, I have no clue).

I just can't help but be amused by this.
She's the one to stab me in the back, and now she's "cutting me off?" HAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahahaha.

Part of me wants to write a note back, but at the same time, does the letter need answering? My arguementative side wants to point out her flaws and how ridiculous her attitude is. But shouldn't I be the bigger person?

What is with men today? Fucking roomie left without telling me where he was going or when he would get back, and now I have to fucking worry about him all night. I even brought the fucker food, which I will probably eat in spite later (never let good food go to waste).

Guy who I exchanged numbers with is being a dick, not answering my calls, not calling me when he is supposed to. Why can't I just be asexual? My twin brother is asexual, why can't I be? I could really focus on my book and schoolwork if I could only remove my gonads. GRRRRRR HISSSSSY FIT

The only thing stoping me from massacring all you men is my brother Gregory who filled my ipod with good music. So all y'all say a prayer for him, cuz he is the only thing between me and a worldwide katana tour, if you know what I mean.

That's right, kitties, me's got no money. mrowl what is a poor kitty to do?
Anyways, Getting a job soon, gonna be in California Pizza Kitchen. New class, one where I'm fucking cooking, meaning I can get food, as opposed to the last three days sponging off friends, taking a leftover chicken bones and scraping them for meat (its a hard knock life, for me, it's a hard knock life, for me). But I'm looking forward to the day when this will be a drinking story. Something I can tell my son/daughter, and there kids. HAhahahaha. As always, I am going into this with a sense of humor and determination. I have a goal, and nothing is getting in my way. Period.

Taking a break from writing for partying. I know it's bad, but I;be seriously been so busy I don't have time for thoughtful and creative spaces. That will change in a month, but til then, I am super stressed. BLAH!!!!!

So much drama flying around. My non-blood brothers are both having girlfriend troubles. I'm just flirting around. Life is complex yet simple at the same time. My hermit instincts are pushint to kick in. I kinda wanna run away from all this attention. I like having a few close friends, but I am getting too many. Which sounds weird. But whatev, all this is temporary until I leave for life. I plan to be friends with Gregory forever, but nobody else. If it happens with others, it happens. But it doesn't matter.

What is up with this character? He's so shallow. I don't get him. I ask him to tell me about himself, nothing. Hell, Lady Unarath has more character than him. But then again, that may not be so bad. He's disliked by so many of my characters, but I want him to say something or other. Otherwise, he's totally bland. Kinda like Felrich. Felrich's so evil and he enjoy's it, loves tricking people, not much else to say about him. But he's a minion, so that's fine. Gives the reader someone to really dislike.

Leoorin is the nation's figurehead, aloof, proud, a little sef-righteous. actually quite self-righteous. He's daddy's little boy. Hey, he's also asexual. He thinks he's a chess player, that he's smart, but everyone is pulling the wool over his eyes. He's deluded, used, by everyone, especially his father. His father is ruling through his son, at least he was until through political marriage he married Lady Unarath. She manipulated him like so many other of her living puppets. She is an operative for the evil organization that truly runs the nation. See, they rule her, and she rules Leoorin, thereby ruling the country.
Even though she does as her dark masters command, she plans to backstab them in the future as well, so that she is QUEEN OF ALL SHE SURVEYS.

WOw, problem kinda solved. That whole paragraph was my character Unarath telling me the 411. I see know that Leoorin is useless to talk to, as he could only give what he percieves he is, but in reality, he is a puppet, all his thoughts, feelings, actions, are all someone elses. I think he's lonely. He does all the things he's told to do, yet he's unhappy. It just isn't his dharma, but he is unwilling to see that, and so works harder and harder to please everyone around him, kind of like how Aseore just really wants to please his father to please himself. But Leoorin takes it farther, it's not just his father, or his wife, or any of the council members, it's everyone, at the same time. He spends so much time finding out how others want him to act, he does not know how he wants to act.

He's a pretty tragic character. I feel bad for him. He's so blind and in denial, he's beyond help. Why is he this way? What drove him to this point? I don't know, he won't tell me, (he wouldn't know what i was talking about) and the only one who would know is Aseore, and he is still too angry at Leoorin to say anything helpful.

Anyways, even though i talk about my characters as if they were real, I do comprehend that they aren't, so nobody comment and call me crazy. Really, each of these characters is a part of me. Ghosba is my angry passionate individualism, Skrith is my dark obsession with death and violence, Kano is my light and dreamy and lovey part, Lady Unarath is my jaded thoughts, Aseore is the part of me that always wanted to be my dad's favourite, Leoorin is the part of me that wants to make everyone happy. Felrich is just this nasty little imp who's fun to write about, i love writing his accent into dialogue, and you never know what he's gonna do or where he will pop up. There are more minor characters i haven't explored yet. I'm excited about meeting them.

I figured out why it was tough going on that chapter. I didn't know the characters that well. I figured out Aseore, and now, I'm excited to see where he goes, what he does, what he can learn from Ghosba. Nyar.

Lady Unarath, the antagonist, (not lady ugatha, i screwed that name up), hadn't really spoken to me, so I asked her about love and family, and it came straight through. I know her so much more, and found that as dark as she is, she is a part of me too, just one of the sides of me i don't listen to. I can't wait to write the next chapter on her.

Kano, wow, still have so much to learn about you. I'm excited, this journey is good to do, even if I never publish it. It keeps me busy, gives me reason, at last, a place for my creativity!!!! YEAHHHHH!

so fuckin psyched.

Love y'alls.

I think i know why book been slowing down. my houseguest, while really cool and nice, is super distracting. I can't focus on my story whil i'm around him. Plus, I am writing in side characters, who i don't really know that well. Ghosba is my passionate and confident side, Aido (formerly Yanzo) is my brother/Hattori Hanzo.

The new character, Aseore, is what i see myself as, if I had followed in the footsteps of my brothers in trying to impress my father. He is that part of me that always wanted dad's approval, except fully manifested. I don't really know him that well, as I haven't really listened to him (i did early in life, but after that, i threw him to the wayside). But he is still interesting to me, like someone I've never really got to know. He isn't saying much to me, but that's probably because we haven't talked in a long time. I need to meditate and speak to him in depth.

Ghosba is such a cool character, because he has a good, kind heart, but his past is so twisted and tragic that he has built this violent, vengeful shell around himself. Kano, who I can't WAIT to write about, will try to break that shell, leading to unlikely romance. YEAH!

Just a question, is it bad form if I skip a chunk and get to the part I really wanna write about? Or should I stick it out, let the story write itself, so when I go back and change things, which I'm already starting to do, i don't have to revamp an entire plotline? Grrrr.

Stuck on the antagonist, Lady Ugatha. I don't want to be boring and make her like 1960's villain with no substance. I want readers to understand her. But She is the type of person who commits evil to further her own ends, and she enjoys it. That is so far out of my realm of understanding, I don't know where to draw inspirations from. Any suggestions would be useful.

Thanks for listenign!

Life is running smoothly (somewhat) for the first time in a long while. Writing keeps me busy and school gives me interaction.

Roadbumps include: letting a friend of a friend shack at my place for a while (at the beginning of next month, if he isn't out yet, i'll have to kick him out, so noot too much to worry there.) Best friend seems depressed to me, i can't truly explain, i just get this feeling. Likely cause is his girlfriend, i just sense it. But then again, I stick my nose where it is never wanted.

Energy for writing my novel is running low, but i keep striving. I need a better name for my kobold character. He either sounds stupid or unoriginal. What is a poor guy to do.

I'm beginning to feel a little distant from people recently, maybe it's just that time of the month.

TV is suddenly so boring. The only shows that I have any interest in these days is the saturday night lineup on adult swim and of course family guy (gotta feed my Brian obsession . . . such a sexy dog, mrowpurrrrrrrr.) Ahem.

I'm annoyed by how little people comment around here. I worry sometimes if people are actually reading my stuff. But one day I hope to be a writer/cook, and by then people will be paying attention to me. Of course my obsession for spotlight comes from my cat/rabbit qualities, and also my goat influences. (sorry, too much horoscope talk HAHAHA!)

It's amazing to me how much i've been able to accomplish once I set my mind to it.

Love yas!

Read the forum topic i wrote.
all will be explained there.
Bye!

The black cold of the night rudely awakened the hengeokai. His entire body shivered, vibrating in a desperate attempt to generate body heat. He uttered an expletive under his breath, and chided himself silently for making such a foolish blunder as not utilising the newly found wood. Quickly yet cautiously, he lay the kobold on the carpet of sand, and set to work hacking the wood with his dulled longspear, into kindling for a fire. The sudden absence of a furry body holding him along with the sounds of iron bashing wood woke the kobold from it's slumber. Feeling the cold seeping into his body, the kobold pulled his knees and tail toward his chest, and watched this odd looking saviour of his.
This kobold was young, but he and all other kobolds his age were already fully cognizant. Relative to the hengeyokai, they were around the same point of development, for the reason that although kobolds live to age 125 and older, all of his scaled race were capable adults by year 8. Of course, the furry wanderer had no knowledge of this, as he had only heard about these miniature lizardfolk through tales told at the taverns his father had habitually taken him to when he was not much more than a kitten.
The work was difficult, but finally, there were enough shards of wood to build a small fire. Rummaging in a small pouch tied around his shoulder that his aunt had made him after his mastering of beast ceremony, he grabbed a well worn stone, and commenced striking it agains the flat side of his longspear's blade over the pile of kindling. After several failed attempts, whispered pleas and hissed curses, a spark fell onto the bone dry wood, and slowly spread, producing a welcome if meager flame. Excitedly, the boy-cat danced around the flames, bathing in the light and warmth.
For the first time, the kobold got full view of this strange creature he now owed his existance to. Before, he had been to dazed from hunger and thirst to clearly make out who saved him, but now in the light, his form was completley clarified. The skin of the boy-cat was covered in fur as white as the purest quartz, except for one area of ebony black on his face, which thickly circled his right eye. The fur on his body was 1 inch long at most, except for the fur on the top of his head, which was pulled into a short ponytail that hung low, right at the point where the back of the skull meets the neck. It looked like a dull, almost blunt, blade had been used to crop it when it grew too long. A long tail, that looked like it would reach a full 2 feet beyond his feet were it to strech straight down, came out just above the furry stanger's buttocks. His clothing was ragged, faded and dirtied. A sorry looking pair of pantaloons covered his legs, a long sleeved and roomy looking shirt, now torn in several spots, was tied around his waist. Some sort of butchered animal skin adorned his upper back, and in his hand, he held a spear with a large haft. If the kobold were to guess, it was easily 7 or 8 feet long. He had no knowledge of his saviours race or culture, for even though he and his family had traversed the entire wastes, they had never encountered such an odd creature.
By now the fire was weakening, and the hengeyokai set to work prying planks from the wagon to feed the flames. As he worked, he looked over at the living treasure he had discovered the previous day. He smiled, thinking it funny how intently the lizardlike child watched him. After the fire had been strenghtened, he sat himself approximately a yard away from the the kobold, who was several feet farther from the fire than he was. He once again examined the scaled animal, and for the first time since their meeting, spoke to him.
"Don't you want to get closer to the fire? It's nice and warm." He reached out his arm, beckoning him.
The kobold did not understand the creatures tongue. It had spoken kindly, but he only knew what his kobold brethren spoke, which was Draconic. As a rule, kobolds disliked all other races, thinking themselves inferior only to dragons. This was because his people steadfastly beleived that at the beginning of creation, the first creatures were dragons, and the second, the kobolds, sprang from the first dragon blood spilt. He understood this, but he also knew that this boy-cat, if lowly, had deemed it acceptable to save his life. Unsure of what to do, his only reply was a look of confusion.
The hengeyokai was a sensitive creature, and gathered from the other's expression that his tongue was unheard of to those outside his own kind. He wracked his mind, trying to remember all the languages his father had compelled him to study. He could converse in Goblin and Giant fluently, but he doubted his companion spoke either of those. The only other language he knew was Draconic, although he could remember only a smattering. Unlike the others, he had studied that tongue purely for enjoyment, as he loved hearing his grandfather's longwinded tales of dragon-riding. The stories had mystified him as a child, which had always endlessly pleased his grandfather, who was lovingly called "Yakzo" by the entire village.
In broken and clumsly Draconic, the boy-cat said, "Fire. . .nice, closer. . .uh, come!"
The kobold eyes widened in surprise. This was amazing, a non-scale that spoke his tongue. He was so shocked, his usual reserve fell away, and he decided to try and converse with this new creature. "You speak the tongue of dragons?" he asked.
The hengeyokai was surprised that what he had thought was an infant was actually quite skilled at linguistics. His pronounciation was impeccable, not unlike that of his grandfather when he tried with mixed success to teach him the exacting syllabary of Draconic.
"Some. . .good, not," the hengeyokai replied.
"Not 'good, not', it's 'not good,'" he corrected with a smile.
"Ah! Sorry." He laughed, embarresed yet amused that one that looked so young was correcting him. "How named are you?"
"They call me Grithkrocksjach. Can you say it?"
He tried. "Grithkrrroghghggttttthhhhh. . .uh. . .no." The kobold sighed in disappointment. Consternation set into the hengeyokai's mind, then an idea came to him. "May I name you another one?"
Normally, the kobold would have denied this request, however, once again, this creature had saved his life, and according to the traditions of his people, he was forever indebted to him. It seemed logical that he be renamed something the furback could pronounce. "If you wish."
"Yanzo. . .same mine grandfather. Accepeted?"
The name was odd, but somewhat pleasant. It had a esotoric ring to it, while also being familiar. It was perfect for a name between friends.
"I like that. Yanzo it is. Would you like to tell me yours?"
"Ghosba."
"Ghosba?"
"Yes, exactly."
"Well . . . Ghosba . . . It is my pleasure to formally make your acquaintance." Yanzo crouched into a bow.

Gregory my best friend in S.F. says i should start writing the story in my head. SO HERE GOES! This is just the beginning, this work will probably be very very very long. I have no idea what to call it, but it is what it is. Hope you enjoy it!
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The sun was blaring, and the sand radiated heat, making the horizon look like ripples in a non-existant pond. The air was dead still, and heavy. In the middle of this steaming desolation, one figure could be seen, trudging through the sands, sheltered by his makeshift cloak, made from an unfortunate old coyote that had been lured into a primitive yet functional trap, made of rope he had scrounged from the corpse he had stumbled upon a fortnight ago. The skin had to be removed using a combination his teeth and nails, his dulled longspear, and simply tearing flesh from bone and sinew, as he was without properly sharp instruments. To attach the rough cloak, he had simply tied what had been the forelimps under his chin, with the rest of the skin draping over his head and down his back. As the small figure began to ascend yet another dune, the wind slowly picked up, as it sometimes did. Wishing to feel the blessing of cooling winds, he pushed the skin off the top of his head so that it rested on his shoulders, exposing his feline ears and countenance.
He was a hengeyokai, a once-proud shapechangeing race that held close spiritual and magical ties to one animal species, so much so that they can fade seamlessly between a human form and that of their animal. They could also meld both forms and take shape as a hybrid, half-animal half-human. Most preferred to live in as a hybrid, as it offered extra abilities and powers. This hengeyokai was of the cat variety, and was around 17 years old, which in his race's years was the equivalent of a human 6 year old. Although his frame was the size of a child's, his mind had aged to that of a human young adult, if not more so. Creatures mature faster when survival is all you have time to worry about.
The wind was as much a gift as he had hoped it would be. He felt the air caress his fur, and he closed his eyes, momentarily reminiscing about the time before the tragedy that had thrown him into his current predicament. He fancied he heard his mother whisper a rhyme into his ear, the way she would when he was upset. A smile flitted across his face.
A new smell shirked him from his reverie. It was the scent of dried blood and embers, and by his estimate, it originated on the other side of the dune. The pungeunce interested him, as it brought the possibility of clothing, wood to heat the cold nights, and flesh for sustenance. At the start of his trek, he was above eating corpses. However, as time had passed, hunger won over his sense of decency, and instead made an oath that once out of these wastes he would never eat off a dead body again. The young hengeyokai climbed the hill of sand as fast as his worn out appendages could take him.
At the apex of the dune, he saw that his feral intuition had once again been right. Before him lay the remains of a kobold excavation party. Small, reptillian bodies were strewn about in varying levels of dismemberment. A crude wagon was overturned, and although it was burned to large degree, miraculously there was still much left intact. The hengeyokai's animal mind guessed that some wild animals had attacked and overwhelmed the kobolds, while his higher (human) mind noted that the burn marks looked like those originating from an explosion, and since kobolds had been known to be avid alchemists, most likely some chemicals had reacted when the wagon was overturned, sparking the flames. He thanked whichever gods were now watching over him for their bountiful blessing, and gleefully set to work, thoroughly scavenging the fire remains for anything of use.
To his delight, he found some spoilt food, a utility knife, some useless alchemical tomes, several parcels of clothing (too small for him, sadly), some chipped pickaxes, and, feralility preserve us, 4 moderately full water canteens. He practically tore one open, downing its contents with aplomb. He would have downed them all, had he not heard a sound had not reached his ears in 5 and a half years. Stiffening, his ears perked, silently awaiting the confirmation that he wasn't becoming crazed. Sure enough, the small, hoarse, muffled cry rang out again. Following the sound, he came upon a group of torn bodies curled together, as if hiding or protecting something. Rigor mortis had already set into the remaining tissue, so it was a bit of an effort for his tired arms to hoist the corpses off the ground. Underneath, he found the disruptor of the desert's silence: a kobold child, not more than 3 years old. It was a male, covered by very dark brown and blue scales, naked, and extremely frail. It shrieked again, then looked up at this stranger with a face that seemed to ask what his fate would be.
His animal nature called for it's execution, it was dying anyway, and meat is not a gift to be turned away. But his lust for death was stayed by his higher mind, and its desire for a companion to stave off the encroaching insanity he felt daily. He scooped up the emaciated child, and brought him carefully over to the scrounged provisions. Gently, he managed to coax the small creature to consume some of the food and water before it fell asleep from pure exhaustion. The hengeyokai cradled him as he sat, propped against a wheel sticking out of the sands. He gazed at the creature he now held in his arms, excited about the new possibilities that lay before him. Finally, a companion to share his journey with. Truly today was a gift from the gods. As the kobold's body curled in its sleep, the hengeyokai felt his eyelids grow heavy, and not long after, he had joined this new friend in slumber.