Linguistic Mystics

Mr. Repose
The Warden

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The Library of Discontent

ADD Block

Over the course of the last month several things have been going on in rapid succession that have, in many ways left me scrambled, confused and otherwise ducking for mental cover.  Primarily when events spiral out of control I find that writing is the only way to be able to sit down, structure them, and put them in a logical order so that I can understand them.  Keep in mind that I have ADD, and being a stubborn bastard I refuse to seek medication or to seek other forms of release, such as therapy.  I do this mostly because, well, I feel that ADD is part of who I am, and therefore, being a logical and reasonable person I should be able to adjust or work around it without it destroying my life in the process.  The thing about me is that, well, I want to solve my own problems, in my own way.

There are many many article ideas for me right now, and a few that are sitting on the backburner.  They will be done, I’m sure, just not sure when exactly.  When my mind is focused on too many problems at once it’s difficult for me to be able to process it all.  Like, for example, people who may be speaking to me and saying something I find repulsive or terrible won’t realize it right away because I’m still processing it, and when I finally come to a conclusion it shocks them that it was the opposite of whatever it was they thought I was in agreement with.  I take my sweet time to consider things and then when I feel I’ve thought of every possible angle, then the decision comes.

This month I almost was fired from my job.  You see, what happened was this, at some point during the week I was asked to take the bank deposit for the store, this is a fairly normal operation and usually the bank bag is placed on the counter.  In this case, on this day, for whatever reason, after I signed the bank form … I left it on the counter.   You see I had other things that they had given me to do as well, and in the process of trying to handle my other duties, I forgot that one.  No big deal right?  Just swing back and grab the bag I thought.

Well it was gone.  Someone stole it.

So yeah, I signed the bank form so guess who nearly hanged for that one?  Yours truly.

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The Times, Theys a’ Changin’ Sis

Ten years ago, I was a hurt, lost, stupid, angry person.   This was the first time that I began to write.   It was on a blog site called opendiary.com.   When I was that age, around 16-17 I was so angry.   It was eating me up inside like a cancer.   There were all those cliche’ feelings that one normally associates with being a teenager.   The largest and most prominent feeling was that no one cared about or understood me.   My family and I had nothing in common, and in being adopted, I discovered that in some way I felt like I didn’t belong.   Still don’t.   Likewise my school days were awkward for the same reasons, but in the group of misfits that hung around with they were loyal to me and they understood me, to a degree.   I lost contact with a lot of people that I really got along with, time rolls on, you know.   I turned to blogging because it was anonymous, I could say how I really felt to people and see what they really thought about me without the fear of being lied to or used or whatever that was what

The schools.  My parents, my real parents.  My life.   How I looked.  There were a lot of things that were wrong with young Chris.   My adopted father left me.  My mother made me live with my control freak grandparents, and this is where the story began for a lot of people.   One thing that I have noticed about personal blogs is that most people speak in vague generalities about their lives, delving rarely into the specifics.   It’s like how you would imagine a support group meeting would go.   Everyone already knows why they are there, everyone already can infer the details based on subtext.   The ones that didn’t do that were the ones I read.   People who were there to talked about the specifics.   People I could relate to.

People like Morgan (aka Dublin Sublime aka Lachlan), who became a lesbian stripper sometime between then and now.   Nothing wrong with that, she seems happy about the whole thing.   Fanboy wanted to be a journalist, he said it was to ‘give the weak a voice.’   I don’t know if he was successful in that endeavor.  When I first posted my story, Monolithic Horizon, the first chapter, unedited, raw, sloppy, he read it.   I always assumed that because it was so awful he avioded reading me from that point on.   Probably wrong about that.   There was old real life friends that between then and now have faded away.   There was Serenity, no seriously that was her name, whom wrote about being so lost and confused that when out with friends she ended up in car wrecks and drinking binges.   Sometimes I wonder what ever happened to her and if she’s alright.  Belowblackstar, Jesus Chrysler, and Wire were all roommates.   Blackstar became an egotist who hurt his friends with his selfish and egotistical behavior.   On my last site I eventually had to rid myself of him.   Jesus was a mysterious figure, he faded in and out again.   I don’t remember much.   Wire… Wire is a bastard.  That’s all I’ll say on that matter lest I go off on a tangent.  Doomed, doomed was an odd fellow from Australia, humorous and weird, but ultimately dropped off the radar.

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Jam Box

Consider This

The first method for estimating the intelligence of a ruler is to look at the men he has around him. — Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince