xtn tells you what to think and what to say

I'm sick of hearing about people who say stuff without being able to back it up. I'm talking here about when someone says something like 'oh [insert name] would make excellent boyfriend/girlfriend material' when in actual fact they wouldn't wanna go out with [insert name] themselves. If you can't back them up, they're just empty words and you're better off not saying anything. Even worst is when you say it to their face. Actually even worse is when they end up hearing what you said from someone else (and, let's face it, words usually do eventually get around) and your intentions end up being misconstrued even more!

Give compliments if you will, but stick to singular vague qualities. Like 'She's pretty' or 'He's really nice' or 'That oddly-placed mole isn't really all that distracting after a while'. If you wanna say something so definitive like 'Anyone would be crazy not to wanna go out with you' then be prepared to back it up. Otherwise, don't say it. Chances are you don't mean it anyway. Chances are, what you really mean is 'He/she, on paper, seems like a perfectly good catch but personally I wouldn't wanna touch him/her with a ten-foot pole'. These thoughts are best kept to oneself.

Also, if you're already in a relationship, don't say stuff like 'If I was single, I'd go out with you' because, again, that's empty and meaningless and can't be backed up. As my friend Audrey might say, if it is not falsifiable, then it's not valid!

Finally, while 'reliable' and 'dependable' might be flattering for a car or washing machine, most human beings probably wouldn't like to hear those as being their best qualities.

So, in conclusion... oh I can't be bothered. I can't even believe I'm posting this up!

xtn writes about stuff

I’m feeling the itch again. To start writing something. Some big project. Well, big for me anyway. I can feel it because I am up late again, thinking of ideas. I haven’t done that in a while. I usually write a whole lot. Then I get discouraged and I stop writing. Eventually I pick myself up and start again.

The disappointment has to be far enough in the rear view mirror. Yet at the same time, it has to be still visible to motivate me. Negative emotion is the spark because I can’t write when I am too happy. Yet if I am too close to it, then it’s like having too much spark. Or something. Actually I don’t think that holds very well.

Another way to process negative emotion is to think of all those who are worse off than you. It’s not very nice but it may work. I once heard about a disease where men develop gigantic testicles. I always imagine that these men always have a harder time than I do. They grow so big that the men have to carry them in wheelbarrows. I think it was common in some part of Africa or somewhere. I’m assuming that I learnt about this in biology. But to be honest, I can’t remember and I have never really checked this out myself to see if it is true.

There are lots of facts that I just take in that I never check out. For example, a friend of mine told me once that there is a Gospel according to Timothy that was left out of the Bible. In it, is a story of Jesus, as a little boy, getting really frustrated at another little boy that he tells the boy to drop dead. Having unknowingly used his celestial powers over life and death, the boy does indeed drop dead.

I liked this little vignette because it places emphasis on Jesus’ humanity – that he too didn’t always understand who he was and what he was capable of. And so I’ve told this story to countless others. But I’ve never actually check it out myself. There was a priest present when I heard about this, so I am assuming that his silence must have meant that he too had read or heard of such a passage. Priests seem like reliable sources of information to me. As do nerds in white lab coats pointing to numbers on a computer screen.

On the other hand, there are things that many people believe, without ever checking out the facts, that I know to be false. Take, for example, ancient Egyptian curses. These are a load of crap. Made by Hollywood. I’ve had this one checked out. Yes, the Book of the Dead is, indeed, a real thing. But all it was was a set that spells that gets buried with the mummy to ensure safe passage into the afterlife. You could argue that such a practice is quaint but there’s nothing really scary about it.

Conversely, one would assume that Sleepwalker is simply a figment of my imagination. But he’s actually real. Well, not real in the same sense that you and I are real (I am assuming that this blog is not being read by non-corporeal beings) but the concept of Sleepwalker comes from a real Egyptian myth about ‘Khu-frin’ (translates to ‘sleep-person’).

You see, the ancient Egyptians believed that to get into the afterlife, one of the trials you have to pass is that your soul (heart) must weigh less than a feather. The trial is presided over by Anubis, the jackal-headed god and Thoth, the ibis-headed scribe, would record the weighing. One of the many spells in the Book of the Dead was a bribe to Thoth so that he would change the records in your favour and allow you to pass into the afterlife.

The story of Khu-frin is about a thief who buys a Book of the Dead with the afore-mentioned spell because he knew that he would not make it into the afterlife on his own merits. But as he had no family or friends, when he died nobody bothered to bury the Book with him and so when it came to the weighing, he mentioned the bribe to Thoth, except that Thoth knew nothing of any payment from Khu-frin. Realising that the spell may not have come through for him, Khu-frin tried to cover his tracks but Anubis overheard his bribe attempt and so punished him by relegating him to the realm between life and death. In this state, Khu-frin could only communicate to people in dreams or hallucinations. His only hope of redemption was if he managed to steer enough people onto the righteous path, through dreams or hallucinations.

And that is where I got the idea for Sleepwalker from. You might wanna check that out for yourself though.

To whom it concerns,

You came in uninvited and you took things from me.

You took my things. My money. My memories. My fun. My feeling of home as my safe haven.

I so didn't need this. Not ever. But especially not now.

I hope they've caught you.

If they haven't, then I hope they will.

If they don't, then I hope something else befalls you.

I don't give a stuff why you did it.

I know I'm supposed to turn the other cheek.

But screw that.

This is personal.

I don't know you.

But it's personal.

If I knew magic, I'd put a curse on you.

If I faced you, and I had a baseball bat with me, I'd beat you to a pulp.

If I faced you, and I had a chainsaw, I'd drop that, grab the baseball bat and beat you to a pulp.

In these violent fantasies of mine you are, of course, powerless to do anything.

Kind of like how you made me feel.

And eventually, because (unlike you) I am a good person, I may get over this and calm down and I may even want to take back these things that I'm thinking.

Eventually I will forget how I feel right now.

So I'm writing this down.

Because I want to remember how I feel right now.

I want to never forget.

I hate you.

xtn

/Start...

Loose threads... here's something I hadn't read in a while from another blog site.

It reminds me that I've wasted so much. But I'm content in knowing that I'm fine with it. I may not be where I planned to be. But where I've come to isn't too bad a place to be either.

__________

Nat

It’s another sunny evening. Beautiful hues of red and orange and yellow, shimmering on the horizon like a desert rose blowing in a gentle breeze. I look into the setting sun, its blinding light dampened and brilliantly tinted by the smog residues of the passing day.

The park, once a large calm patch of green, now looks like a war zone. There is a giant cable being laid down on the edges of the grass and so half the park and the adjoining streets are fenced off and patrolled 24/7 by security guards. I wonder whether they’re trying to hide something from us. I may never know.

I now turn my attentions away from my surroundings and my thoughts towards him. I do often still think of him, though of course not as much as before. I think about the other him as well. Sometimes the two of them blend in my head into one. Other times they don’t even seem like they come from the same planet. I wonder whether they’re thinking of me too.

He’s moved on, I’m sure, and doesn’t even care. It was my loss after all and never his. The other he will be the same as he always is – thinking about other girls while I’m right under his nose but he can’t (or won’t) see me.

They say being alone doesn’t have to mean being lonely. Maybe that’s true but being alone sure doesn’t help. I am lonely sometimes. I know that the other he is sometimes lonely too. We’re two lonely people who can’t find happiness in each other.

And although people look for different things in the same places or the same things in different places, all most people ever want is happiness – to be able to sit back, breathe in the fresh smog, smile and open up your arms to embrace the evening sun.

__________

As long as I know how to start... and know where to stop... I'll be fine.

Now I'll snap out of this weird dreary mood.

Stop/