Ganghis87's Blog - Apr to Jun 12 (4 followers)

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I have hoped to inspire people with my words. As any writer would want, I try and make bad situations into good. I try to be the strong shoulder to the world of hurt around me. I am but one man, yet I will carry your tears and burdens till they are gone.

Today I have only my words. I give you a piece of my heart, and while I toil and tear through life, am I allowed one moment of weakness? One moment of silence. Assurance. Peace. This morning I give you my heart, my soul, and my fates.

For the past week I have not been able to sleep for issues which wane beyond my control. A few hours a day at best. I cannot eat, save the coffee in the morning. Not eating and sleeping have turned me into a zombie of sorts. Foolish really. I stand on my words, they are the cornerstone of the life which I have built. My mind is a blur and I struggle to make it from one day to the next. My boy. My sweet precious boy is about to go through something which I dare say he is not ready for, yet still not able to understand.

Two parents. Two homes. Two lives. At best, he is young and unaware of the struggles of people. I look into his innocent eyes, and I wonder if he will be alright. Am I strong enough to take the blunt from him? I would die for him in a instant to relieve any pain. I have watched my boy everyday of his life. From the time he wakes with those beautiful eyes, till the time he closes them in sleep. You cannot tear a cloth in two, and retain both sides. I am about to realize the truth of the situation. Maybe I won't see him grow up as well as I should. I blame myself for this. Whether it is rightfully mine to bear, I take the burden of a broken home on myself. I am not worthy to carry it. Yet I will take it up and be beaten by the nonbelievers. I will take the whips, and the pain, and the spit. I will take the blame, and the blunt, and the bane.

As this besets our lives. I struggle with the good and the evil. I have met someone. Someone special. Someone true. Someone worthy of life. I have met someone. I dare say I know them, but I feel connected to their very fate. In this broken time, I have met someone. I cannot say what I think, for it is insanity at its greatest moment. She doesn't know the impact of her life on mine. She doesn't know the weight she has lifted. All which is broken can be made new. Forging a new level of greatness.

I can tell her, yet I choose not to. I cherish the friendship which is abound.. For I fear not the knife, but the scar it leaves. I am not afraid to repeat the past, for the grace is given to acknowledge mistakes, and make amends. I struggle with this. I want this. But fear has taken the wheel and is driving me off a cliff. Do I take a chance in the hopes of being rewarded, or do I fear the loss of failure? To whom may I confide? Tearing my heart in two as it passes beyond normalcy. I would tell her, I should tell her. But fast is the stone loosed, yet straight it must fly to kill the giant.

Fear.

They teach you to gain greatness and happiness, but not to cope with failure. I fail today to tell someone special to me how I feel. I am weak from not eating and sleeping. My heart has slowed to where I can sense and hear every last beat. When the time is right I will. When the seasons change. When the first flake of snow has melted on the rosy cheeks of perfection.

I fear the answer, yet I fear far more the question. For a question never asked can never offend. A question never asked is a outcome you never have to deal with. Be it good or bad? The question is good. The street breaks in two and a choice you must make.

I come to you today to give you my heart. Give you my passion. I come today as a human. Revealing my fears. I am a human, yet today I feel dead. I give you the depths of my heart. The troubles that seek me out, and the seeking out that troubles.

Forgive me. Blame me. But please allow me a brief but sturdy moment of weakness.

Stephan

First off, I got to give mad props to my son, Samuel. He in nearly two, and sat in my lap for the near duration of E3. It was a great show this year. They do like to wonder away from games at the end, but to each his own I guess. I think I may crash the party next year. Not sure but it would be amazing to go.

Halo 4 is going to be amazing. Reach was good, but the return of Master Chief is the way it is supposed to be. Never thought I would say this, but Tomb Raider actually looked decent too. I remember seeing a trailer earlier in the year, but the game play was outstanding. Resident Evil 6 as well seemed to show off good. The change of pace may effect some people though. It is hard to have a survivor story game for the first three, and then watch it go to fast paced shooter.

This is the space reserved for Usher and his performance.
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Notice there is nothing there? I did notice that too. Hmm.

This game goes out to Choskie, whom was complaining about cartoon games, and was probably in the shower again for this one as well.

^{http://marketplace.xbox.com/en-US/Product/Wreckateer/66acd00...}

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I have been reading various story's, as of late, from Edgar Allan Poe, one of the greatest writers in the history of the world. He is a little dark, but sometimes that is fun. Notably The Tell-Tale Heart. I love how the man is so careful, so very careful to do everything right. Yet in the end his pride causes him to be found out. His guilt wound up being louder than his grace. Great story, if you ever the time to read it.

What speaks to your heart? What words, or actions stir your soul? Things are not always as they appear, yet in hindsight, regret is infallible. It is those times in our lives when we need someone to lean on. Times when rough hits home, and you are not sure what the right answer is. Maybe there is no right answer? Maybe the answer is the question? And maybe the question is irrelevant. Twist and turn, backwards. You can change anything, yet to be truly happy, what would you change? Who would you be with? Where would you go. I thought I knew the answer to these questions. My son is proof of that. But the seasons change, not the person. Time slowly slipping as you wonder what went wrong. Can time reverse, can mistakes be mended? They can, yet only mended in the future.

So what happens when "the one" suddenly backs away. Recluse into the shadows, and void time itself. I for one ask myself these questions from time to time. Honestly, I am glad to be who I am, alone, but who I am. Time is a curious thing. Soon you feel mended and repaired, and the world is at your finger tips. Where do you go? What do you do? Do you find that "one" again? Ever searching for the light to blind the grey?

I for one am not a quitter. I am not a phony (for details on phonies please refer to The Catcher in the Rye). So lets move to the next square of floor, and try again. When does trying become not enough? When you have to try to find what you are looking for, you cannot. Allow me to explain. If you are trying to find the moon during the day, you are out of luck. Yet, if you search for a baseball between the pitcher and catcher, you may find it. Maybe the last place you would think? Maybe out of the blue?

Life is funny like that. Who do you turn to in times of need? I have been moved by thoughts as of late on a matter which needs some form of attention. Yet all the same I cannot bring myself to muster the courage to complete my line. Is it for fear of repetition of the past? Maybe fear of a loss of the future? I dare say the latter may win over the former.

Have you met the one who takes your breath away at a single thought? The one who puts a pain in your heart? The one who accompanies your thoughts on those sleepless nights, and fasting meals? They are all a cause. A sickness. Contagion. When you feel as though you are sick with grief. Almost literally sleepless, and hungry yet you don't eat. How will you find it? What is the anecdote?

This is simple. The one who takes your breath away is the one who can give it back. The one who makes you lonely is the one who can provide company. Sleeplessness is nervous, scared. The word I find for sleep is peace. You will find your peace when the one you are waiting for gives you that peace. Not before.

Have I found the one?

The answer to this question is the answer to this:

Think of the last time you could breathe steady. Then remember when you started skipping beats. When you slowed. You couldn't feel your heart beat. For that memory will serve you well in your answer.

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It seems as though the writer in me got the best of me again. Sometimes I get lost in words as in thought. I mean them all the same. It takes an effort to think them, and even greater one to write them down.


Stephan

Over this past weekend I had an interesting idea, kind of like a dream of mine, yet in the same way an inevitable item on the proverbial bucket list. When will this happen? Only time will tell, but imagine the awesomeness of this, and how it could change your life.

So you save up some money, and buy a one way plane ticket to say, London. You get there and you are stuck there. So you live there for a while. See the sites, work, live, and once you have had your fill, move on. Buy another plane ticket to anywhere else. Paris, Moscow, Rome, Sydney. All of the places that you have ever wanted to go, and all of the things you always wanted to accomplish.

This would truly be a dream to follow. No political stuff to mess with your life. Live it on your terms. City to city, and countryside to countryside. To be honest, maybe not even do it for the rest of your life, but just for a while. I think it is time to live a little. My son will prevent this for a while, because there is no way I could leave him behind to go on a grand adventure. Part of being a father, though.

Our lives have to be cemented into the ground. At least this is what they expect. You are suppose to work, earn a degree, work, save for retirement, work, and so on and so forth. Then before you know it you have retired. Where is the zest in life? Where is the longing to live just to live. No worrying about the future. Living off the land. Now that is an adventure.

Of course when I do this I could not go alone...

I would get way too bored, and start talking to myself. And as one of my good friends pointed out "possibly attacked, raped, and forced into a hostel". OK, so that dampened the excitement a bit, but after that blew over, it sounded fun again.

Think of all of the things you could do. One thing in particular: Knocking on 221B Baker Street, and asking for Sherlock Holmes. Not just ask as a joke, but be serious.

The truth is lately I have been feeling trapped. Alone in a hole called Missouri. There is so much excitement all over the world, yet I am stuck here. What is the point. I see people everyday who haven't and won't ever leave this place. They are content and happy. Their lives are complete here. Maybe my life was meant for more. Somewhere across the ocean. Somewhere fascinating with someone amazing.

One day.

Inspiration. What inspires us to greatness? What takes a hold of the needle when we have forgotten how to sow, or the tears when we have forgotten how to cry? I found inspiration over the past week, and it has been a great eye opener for me. I blew the dust off of an old book from back when I was in high school. Wait for it. My book. A fantasy novel which I was writing. I read a few chapters, and realizing that I still enjoyed the excitement fo a good book began to do something that I have not done in a very long time. I began to write. Not just write words, and sentences. But feelings, thought, and emotions.

This is an excerpt from my book. I give this to you in the hopes of some feedback. Inspiration at its fullest:


With a loud, harsh slam the gate was drawn over the cell. Bolted and locked, the guards blundered away speaking in their unusual and raw dialect. Alone and scared, Ninya crawled over to the window, hoping for some small sign for the better. The Calanthium sky was dark, always dark; stars were scared to show themselves here. This was no place for a Nymph princess, yet here she was. No one was coming she thought, I will die here alone.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a sharp movement. Then another. Then she heard a sound which none to this day have ever heard in the Troll capital. A bird’s song. It started so distant, yet crept closer and closer to the enclosed cell. None could hear save the princess, the ears of a Nymph are the best. Before long a small sparrow landed on the sill to the cage where the princess lay. She was in shock, not understanding how a bird could find her.

“Come here,” whispered Ninya. Quiet as to not alert the Trolls.

Almost as if understanding immediately, the sparrow hopped down onto the floor and then over to the princess. She smiled as she looked it over. A smile priceless to the beholder.

“You must be tired little bird, come rest with me,” coaxed the princess.

The sparrow stood still and hopped up and down. Suddenly Ninya saw what was happening. There was a note tied to the sparrow’s foot. She reached out ever so slowly as to not frighten the bird. As she removed the note, the sparrow flew away. She opened the note, gasped as she realized who it had come from. Estolas. The boy she met for only a brief moment a day ago. A feeling passed over the princess as she had not felt before. Some strange connection to the boy. She opened the letter and quietly read:

Words cannot stress the longings of my heart. If there is a linking between us, then you have felt it as well. Cursed may I be if I cannot save you from my war. My words are not enough. Only time will tell if my heart can be. I think of no less than the vows of my father on his wedding day. They are no more, but I give them to thee:

When I was young my heart was one,
Yet love has cast in two
A piece for me, a piece for you,
I’ll break before I’m through

Your hair it flows like silk,
Passion plays the fool of me
True love lies nigh, else I die,
Forever, pure beauty

Your nose of poise, your ears of grace,
I never shall forget
Your lips the spark, cheeks rosy. Hark!
Thine Eyes like Juliet

Life passes shy, life passes by,
We’ll fly away to mend,
We’ll scale these walls, swim moat and draw,
To the river around the bend.

My heart it aches, my soul it waits
Good tidings from the sea
For one cannot be happy,
Whilst the other misery

To no avail I will set sail,
Even on hands and feet
For your heart is not your heart,
Without the one which makes it beat

I will find you. And remember, a heart is not a heart without the one which makes it beat.

Estolas

Dropping to her knees the princess began to cry. Tears hitting the cold ground as well as the note, she curled up and had the most peaceable sleep she had had since being taken from her home. As she faded into darkness, smile and whispers on the lips could only be made out to say one thing: A heart is not a heart without the one which makes it beat.


Sitting here alone, I am left to wonder what will become of me? Maybe I will be stuck in this rut of a place forever. I would love to leave. I would love to travel the world. Europe mostly. Life only happens once. Make sure to grab those chances when chance presents itself. You'll never know what you missed.

Stephan

The morning air is frigid and fierce. It hits you like a hurricane as you walk outside. Clouds roll though the sky blocking out the suns blasphemous rays. Darkness covers the countryside, as the birds call from the heavens, rushing for the warm south. Everyone is home. Everyone is warm and comfortable, save you. Leaves slowly fall, nestling their crisp frail bodies on the nearest frozen surface. Time is still.

Everything is still. Waiting.

Capturing the cold air through your nose, and expelling the breath with a puff of a what seems to be smoke. Too long and your fingers begin to go numb. Nose, ears, are already there. Something is coming. Your heart leaps as the first small flake slowly caresses its way through the sky, coming to a still on the palm of your frozen outstretched hand. Quickly melting away, you sigh. Then another, from seemingly the heavens, follows the same path.

Time is of the essence. Too many days and things will fade to clear skies. Melting snow gives way to green grass and feathered trees. You walk slow, sure to grasp every single moment of winter. Glancing to the left you see impressions in the ground such as the fallen angels may have made. To the right, your neighbor cursing as he scrapes the troublesome ice off of his windshield. You opt to walk, for this will only be but a season. A frame of time in your life.

People watch from the warm houses, as you push through the snow, barley noticing your toes losing feeling. You are home. This white wilderness is yours. Time stands still as you simply watch the snow falling, landing with ease on the ground. The holes you feet have made filling up behind you as you walk. You may lose your way back, but the pull of your heart allows that thought to lapse. You cannot lose your way back from home.

Laying down, atop a hill, letting the snow hit your face at its own grace. Minutes pass. Hours. Staring at the sky, wishing this to last forever. Night begins to fall as you make your way back. Passing those in their homes who have never really lived.

Kicking your shoes off at the door, you make first for the hot chocolate on the stove, sipping it slowly not to burn yourself. Hot in your hand, yet the season it remains. Curling up at the bay window in the front room, aside the crackling fire in the hearth, you stare longingly out the window. Your heart is warm with happiness, yet your soul left you at the door, he longs to wonder the wilderness as a vagabond.

In the morn you will meet again. A love stronger than a prayer. You hold hope for the next day waiting to meet your other half in the snow amongst the naked trees. Alone but not. A paradise. Forever he awaits you. You and only you. You are the body which holds the bloom of winter. You are the hope of a new day.

Ever to wait in the wilderness for his true love in the snow. Holding onto the moment whence he will see your bright face. Waiting.

Never leaving. Always with you.