My inferiority complex has decided to rear its ugly head once more,
and wreck havoc upon my human soul.
So all I'm trying to do now is write it off with some good ol' guitar...
cos one day...
my guitar's gonna kill your momma~~~!!!~~
(10:35 PM)

Ugh...
my whole body aches...
My nose is running an Ultra Marathon...
and my throat feels like sandpaper.
damned flu

anyway,
as of now,
my life is alot more in order but there's still loads to be done...
(5:45 AM)

sometimes...
I wonder if hell has a nice cosy little corner reserved for me.
(7:55 AM)

I seem to be blogging more and more these few days,
guess its a better outlet than WoW though,
since it helps to clear my thoughts alot more than that.
but all this thinking's got me certain,
that the only way you're ever actually gonna get through anything,
is to be true to yourself,
I can't believe I'm saying that because I used to be so against the notion,
finding the need for objectivity,
but objectivity for FUCK,
you're not being objective if you don't the other aspects of your own being into consideration.
But then again,
how much of our true selves do we really know?
(9:45 PM)

10 songs on life which I couldn't live without:
(In no sequence whatsoever)

1. You gotta be - Des'ree

2. Return to innocence - Enigma

3. Better man - Robbie Williams

4. Natural blues - Moby

5. Hold on - Jet

6. Change your mind - Sister Hazel

7. Don't worry, be happy - Bobby Mcferrin

8. You get what you give - New Radicals

9. Beautiful Day - U2

10. Drive - Incubus
(7:06 PM)

There once lived a man on a deserted island.
For years he had lived there, undisturbed
till one day he noticed a torrential storm in the distance.
for several weeks he watched as it inched closer and closer,
till he realised that it was heading for his island.
He knew what he had to do.

So over the next few days,
he devised a plan for a boat which would sail him away safely,
using the wood he would get from the trees which covered the island.
He picked up his hatchet and swung it for the first time at his first tree.
The steel clashed with wood, but the damage was negligible.
And so for hours on that day,
he swung and swung till he could swing no more.
Still the tree refused to fall, its thick trunk mocking the man.
And so for days the same routine continued,
till he could take no more.

Eager for a break, the man stepped out to the beach,
staring at his inevitable conclusion,
then he laid down,
and grabbed the sand at his feet.
He moulded it with his blistered and sore hands,
till it formed a solid shape,
which he planted on the shore.
His first sand castle.
Amazed by his accomplishment,
the man continued,
days past,
then weeks,
then a month,
till he forgot the urgent task at hand,
till all the sand which laid by the shore,
was a great monument,
a testament to his power and control.
And so the proud man stood above his creation
'Behold, I the maker of so grand a design!'
and as he boasted,
he then realised,
the storm had come,
the waves ripped through his art,
teared his fragile body,
till all that remained of the island were the trees,
and the marks he left on the stubborn wood.
(8:29 AM)

the overall cleanliness of my house is a reflection on the state of my life.
a battlefield lined with the carcasses of pink elephants,
and unfinished assaults on the denizens of the lower planes of dust mites and the like.
basically, unfinished business,
my own demons to fight....
then too,
are there the troubles of others that I need to concern myself with.
to fight the good fight,
to live the good life.
where good does not equal comfortable,
and pain's all you got to feel alive.
(9:16 AM)