Organized Dancing.

I planned on putting a fancy Intro and such, but I haven't quite figured out how to use the mac.

Thanks be given:

ZU
Gerund
AshTa
Dev
and yours truly of course, Demosthenes.

Hope you All Enjoy.

On Love

If only I were sleep...day dreaming just makes my tummy hurt.

silly rabbit...

It's funny. That poor little rabbit represents a group of individuals that many alike can relate. He wanted something so bad, something simple, but was denied access to it. The passion he held regarding attaining what he wanted was completely relentless or resilient. But was it stupid?

The Rabbit has been chasing the same thing for so many years, not falling subject to pressure or defeat. Even though he has been denied what appears to be a love of his so many times, he continues strongly to fight for what he wants. But when is quitting time?

Aristotle counts the courageous man as one who understands his limits and fears in the right amount. Courage is the mean in between fearing too much and no fear at all. This Rabbit seems to fear nothing between him and his want for tricks, but I would say he's pretty courageous. The ability to keep fighting when facing defeat.

Now tricks may not appear to be the best example of tangible items worth fighting for, but what is?

We all fight for the most random of things. Typically we decide that they are important to us, important enough not to give up on. Losers give up, and we all want to win right?
But how much is too much? We all put up with crap on top of crap just to be reminded that what we want is not happening. I am all for fighting. I have been in the same one for almost years now. But when is quitting time?

After along deserved win? Or drawn-out defeat?

how to love an infidel?

I of course was accused of my past.
I have done nothing but hurt individuals in the past 4 or so years of my love life.
I could not be trusted.
I cheated.
I lied.
I completed actions in an effort to access the greatest happiness for me.
I did not considered the feelings of the ectopic beings, for that require empathy.
I was Happy.

I then accused one of the past.
I was the one that was hurt.
I could not trust.
I was cheated.
I was lied to.
I lied adjacent to actions in effort to access a non-aggregate happiness.
I had feelings that were not considered.
I was ectopic.
I was, of course not happy.

After being on both sides of the crooked fence of status holdings, I am once again on the path to love. Am I worthy?

innocence

in this wonderful thing we call life, I am have come to the realization that I fucked up. About four and a half years ago I meant possibly the most significant person in my life. I am blessed. But of course, blessings require responsibility, and I am extremely irresponsible.

Over the time since we meet I have experienced some of the greatest times/hours/days of my life. Times that I will remember until the sun sets for the last time. moments that I will cherish for eternities.

Both these moments and this person have been misused. I have taken advantage of the person that means the most to me, and I have began to fear that I have lost said individual. of all the mistakes that I have made over the past four and a half years, this one takes the entirety.

When we were little and naive, pain was so irrelevant. I am not sure what hurts worst. understand that pain of lost, or feeling the pain of lost? It's like a pain of a pain or something.

The fruit of my loom

Who TF, I'm Nervous

School is over for another year and the summer approaches with the heat from the gods. This summer I will be teaching High school students how to be leaders. It's only scary because this will be the first time I will be teaching something that isn't exactly tangible.
I am being asked to write a short paragraph about myself. It has taken me, so far, about 6 days to realized that I know so little about myself that the three sentences I do have seem to amount to about nothing.

SAd right?

fingers

I like to stare. although some find it rude, it fulfills some awkward piece of my soul.

I like to point. although some find it rude, it fulfills some awkward piece of my soul.

I don't like to be pointed at. That is probably the rudest shit on earth.

There exist this complex that urges one to do unto others in hope that particular actions will be accepted, with the premise that said action will never be returned? Both pots and kettle are black...right?

washcloths and philosophy

For those just tuning in, I like to think. I am currently pursuing degree in the thought of thinking, or more commonly known as Philosophy. Firefox appears to care very little for my discipline. In an effort to correct the spelling of said discipline it suggested to replace my studies with the word washcloth. The truth is my understanding of what I am actually studying is so far away from complete that washcloth almost works.

It's not fair. Dora has a backpack with a map that gives her incite to where she and her trusty booted companion are headed. All I have is Mozilla hinting that maybe my work of life is worthless. Well maybe not worthless but not nearly as worthwhile as let's say...one of those fancy beach towels.

What's worse, a lack of understanding of a self proclaimed path in life, or the lack of value given to said path by others?

ventriloquist throw their voices. a talent reserved for the oppressed. throwing voice requires understanding of the here and there. how one sounds here and how one will sound there. the moving from there to here promotes the individual but harms collective. help here, or go there?

when we pretend that we're dead

the concept of life as we know it is one of beginnings and endings. we are born to die, everyone is born to die. the idea that life is tangible soothes the soul as if such a thing is possible. it makes us feel good about life and horrible about death. but are they so different? if the life that we value so much is just a means to the death we fear with our lives, how much beauty is there in birth? how much value is life actually worth?

there is this lack of value when we think about death. is serves purpose as only an end to a journey. a journey that begins in beauty. causing one to question, can something so beautiful, so good truly end in such turmoil? the concept of beauty in life come so natural while the counterpart of death is reflected upon as so unnatural.

maybe there is this continuum of life as a means to death. life is the worthless piece in a line worthfulness. there definitely a beauty in death that is undermined. the final step in a journey that has taken exactly one lifetime to attain. maybe the greatest part of life is the final product. the final experience. the returning of energy borrowed, the beauty in death.

i do

Sad but true. After it is all said and done there is something that makes me feel whole. Together. *sigh*

be the change

As usual life is kinda dull. Until of course it decided to awaken itself just in the nick of time. After four years of trying to wake her I realized that task to wake one that is pretending is nearly impossible. So I ran. As running lasts only as long as the endurance of the individual, in this case me, and I am no long distance runner. She awakes with that dumb smile on her face that reads, "I miss you," and instantly I am positioned to this obligation to drop life at my feet and return to death and its darkness. The absence of light should strike fear in the reflecting eyes of said beholder, for without it reflecting eyes are just as absent. Blindsight and unconscious distance seems short and time irrelevant. I walk on over care for the sleeping beauty that has harmed no one but me. Both fear and love may be true contradictions, but my heart is currently pretending to sleep. sry