I have solved world-hunger.<br>I just haven't told anyone yet.

:: 2006 28 April :: 6.16pm

New GM Struggles with Existing Paradigms!
Read more..

:: 2006 28 April :: 6.12pm

An update some few of you will be able to understand.
I just had an odd request from a high school speech friend of mine. I said hi and the first thing he did was ask me for the whereabouts of Caleb. Now, I realize that in high school I was the only one who knew half the time where the boy was or why. I realize that I stuck by him for nearly two years even though that junkie wasn't exactly the best thing to have in my life. He didn't have anyone else, because no one else would have been able to handle being with him. No one else deserved it, so I stayed instead and everyone knew it.

But two years after the fact... apparently people still expect it to be true. Joe seemed... sad that he hadn't spoken to Caleb in two years, and that he'd never probably see him again. I told Joe that I cut ties with him after graduation. This was largely due to certain actions on Caleb's part after graduation that really don't need to be hashed over again.

It's just strange to have that reminder again. Even weirder is that it comes after a very.... odd dream that I had last night. Something about Caleb and a non-descript friend of his waiting for me in a men's room to rape me. Then I tried to get a cop to go with me and he asked me if it could wait because he was taking a break. Odd behavior for a policeman.

Maybe I'll try to think more about what that dream means, especially when you factor in the introduction of the topic into a totally unrelated conversation. I'm either superstitious, fatalistic, or simply don't believe in coincedence. However you want to see it, this is strange to me.

If nothing else, it reminds me of how much better off I am now than I was in high school. I don't regret anything that I did. I don't regret the (arguably undeserved) devotion to someone like Caleb. I forget who explained it to me this way, but she was right when she told me, "You're the most important person in his life. I just don't think that you're the most important thing." For a while that was enough. It never will be enough again, though. I had never been with anyone who told me I was beautiful without the obvious motive of squirming his way into my pants, or anyone who sincerely told me that he loved me. Most of the boys I've known have loved me the way a smoker loves nicotine gum. A pale substitute for what they really want, but for now it's better than what they've lost.

I won't say that they didn't have their reasons. Caleb's first love died of a drug overdose. He watched her die. Link...well, there was Tara. I shouldn't have to explain it that much further. I can't blame them, but I can say that I'll never sacrifice myself to people like them again.

4 punched that stupid owl in the face
| how many licks to get to the tootsie pop center?

:: 2005 25 November :: 2.13pm

There used to be a girl on this site who used the handle "Porcelain."

I miss her. She was cool. Every time I log on and think about how much respect I had for her. Unfortunately, her mother found her blog and she had to leave us. Then her journal was wiped out in the Great Deletion of Unpaid Journals.

Well, Porcelain. Here's to you, wherever you are. I haven't forgotten.

2 punched that stupid owl in the face
| how many licks to get to the tootsie pop center?

:: 2005 25 November :: 1.59pm

Proof that I'm becoming an elitist condescending adult:

Every time I see an entry on a weblog that looks like this:

"oh man why cant i just have love but no one will love me becaus i suck and there's no way anyone can love a thing like me because i suck and everything i do cuz i have no worth and i should just die becaues n oone cares and ill never ever be loved and i'm so alone and theres no hope for me cuz no one understands"

...The first thing I want to do is look for the person's age. It could be the bad grammar. It could be the lack of capitalization or punctuation. It could be the lack of specific explanations or thought of any kind. But the main thing is, I doubt the maturity of entries like this. The people I've kept on my friends list use proper English, and sometimes proper French or Japanese as well.

The other reason I doubt the maturity of these bloggers is that, yes. I'm like everyone else. If I'm supposed to believe that someone who's never worried about the cost of food or where they'll be living in a few months' time has problems worth reading, I want to read some kind of actual justification. Just because this is the internet doesn't mean you're excused from actual communication.

In conclusion: Quit your bitching or at least start bitching in a way that makes people believe your problems have some relevance.

This time of year I'm thankful for a lot of things. I'm thankful that no matter what has happened to me or is likely to happen, my problems will still never be that bad. I look at victims of wars, diseases and natural disasters all over the world and see that it can always be worse. I have it pretty damn good, and so do most people who live in an area where computer access makes blogging possible.

:: 2005 25 November :: 1.57pm

I'm getting my WIS teeth out over winter break. As a result, my mother wants me to plan to be totally incapacitated for two weeks. This is the royal edict. This means I cannot plan to go to Brian's house over break. Why can't we just see what happens and maybe I'll be able to do it? Fantastic question! Because! My mother is buying me plane tickets. She will be doing this within the next day or two. This means that she'll be buying me a ticket back to Indianapolis. This means that the Fords couldn't drive me home to Indy without wasting a perfectly good plane ticket.

This all has one grand implication. I stay with my parents and endure not only oral surgery but four weeks around them, or else be a selfish ungrateful bitch for not wanting to be away from Brian for that long. That's what it means. And there's nothing I or anyone else can do about it.

3 punched that stupid owl in the face
| how many licks to get to the tootsie pop center?

:: 2005 30 October :: 1.02am

I return for a quick post.

:: 2005 2 September :: 8.04pm

I'm not dead. To the max.

I can be reached more reliably on AIM with the SNs:

Lithaladhwen
alias pending
Mekta Satak Kai

That is, you know. If someone needs something.

:: 2005 2 September :: 8.04pm

I'm not dead. To the max.

I can be reached more reliably on AIM with the SNs:

Lithaladhwen
alias pending
Mekta Satak Kai

That is, you know. If someone needs something.

:: 2005 6 August :: 1.12am

Arch mage144: Women are just full of very strange ideas.
Lithaladhwen: They are. Quite often.
Ganon fro: Strange, and to their minds "logical"
Lithaladhwen: Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.
Smartzvn85: ....Such as, Ashley?
Lithaladhwen: Well, this morning I was angry at the English because I had a dream that I was in William Wallace's militia. I thought they were going to sleep with my wife.
Arch mage144: That is impossible in at least three ways.
Smartzvn85: I am sure that the wife thing is one of them.
Arch mage144: William Wallace is dead and has no militia, the English are not at war with the Scottish, and you aren't married.

:: 2005 5 August :: 10.47pm

June 30th Entry
You know, I'm always amazed at the things people have no opinions about. I can write an entry in which I basically admit that I'm out to get all of you. And that has absolutely no impact? It's totally irrelevant to you.

You don't have to respond. I don't really know whether I expect you to answer. However, to have an opinion and not share it when invited to do so... not my game. It actually baffles me a little.

Of course I was worried that people would post to tell me that I'm a good person and they don't know me very well but they can tell by the way I write that I'm a nice girl and I shouldn't worry about that because everybody feels that way sometimes so I should just know that I have people to talk to if I need to *less-than-three*.

Or something.

Maybe that's why no one said anything. Because that's the only acceptable response to an entry like that. But really... do blog communities exist to reinforce one's sense of humanity? If that's true, people need to clean out the angst like old earwax and get to loving harmony and shit.

However, if you have anything else to say in the future, feel free. It's why I post here. Because the truth does hurt and sometimes I want to hurt you like only I can.

:: 2005 31 July :: 3.00am

Ignore the nocturnal bitterness.
I've been getting back into some of the artsy stuff that interested me before I got to field school. It's not that it's creatively stifling to be around so many people, but when I can't be alone, I have problems uncurling my brain enough to do something new with it. Staying on the IPFW campus has been good for me. I don't have to be near so many people. I don't mind them. I even like many of them. But the fact remains the time I've had to myself, whether while working on a computer or spending a weekend or two alone, has done wonders for me. I felt kind of... bound.

But I'm starting a piece of artwork I've been wanting to do for a while now, and due to recent events I think that this character deserves a representation.

Also, some interesting questions have come up. I don't know that I want to address them in detail at this point, when I'm quite frankly a bit tired. But, here goes. The question has recently arisen that if I were a god, what would I be the god of? People often have some kind of theme to their personality. I guess mine might be obsession. For better or worse. There's no middle ground for me. Every opinion is polarized somehow. Except on the subject of caramel, which not only do I have no feelings on one way or the other... but I can't even decide how to pronounce it.

However, consider this theme carefully. The obsession theme actually puts me frighteningly close to Desire of the Endless. I don't know how I feel about that.
The problems I have with it are as follows:
First of all, it seems a little egotistical, which stops me more often than you might imagine.
Second, I don't think people are supposed to embrace the cruelty inherent in Desire. I mean, sure it's there. But there are conventions in place to prevent that from coming out. It's malicious but oddly indulgent.
Third, isn't this what I've been avoiding thinking about for a long time? I mean, I've considered it with a sort of vague pride, but I've never questioned it or cared about the consequences. I manipulate people. It's what I do. Call it charisma, attribute it to a certain affable streak. The only problem is that those things are not conscious. When I stop analyzing the most efficient combinations of words and expressions to get what I want we can change the designation to friendliness from calculated manipulation.

Sometimes I manipulate people out of indulgence. There have been people who could not be trusted with their own well-being. They wanted someone to make them feel like there was something in the world worth wanting. To tell such people the truth (as I always eventually did) was cruel, sadistic, and the only payment I asked for in the end. That final taste, that final truth. That final destruction of everything I'd built around them, leaving them honest and naked. I relished it. And there's nothing in me to persuade me it's wrong to tell people the truth out of cruelty. To enjoy their pain as they realize I've never been on their side. I've been enjoying their happiness as some bizarre form of psychological foreplay. It's not the point, but it will do for a while. Whether or not they become stronger in the end or break entirely is up to them.

I don't know whether the strong ones or the weak ones are ultimately more rewarding. The strong ones allow that nice self-righteous feeling. The one that tells you you've done exactly what you should be doing. It's a surprise that never fails to amuse... when one of them, after being pulled to the dirt and bloodied again and again, stands and defies their own weakness. In a way, it makes me want them more. The ones who break... well, all I can say is better luck next time.

There's only one question... What about love? I know that I do. But where could it possibly come from to have the strength to pass all that monstrous venom unharmed? I don't expect an answer from any of you. I'll be surprised if anything I've said sinks in. Part of me hopes it will. I hope it does because I want you to understand and because when you finally do appreciate all that I've said, the nagging uncertainties will live in your mind long after you've forgotten me.