Where is Your Mind?

Instead of rambling on about how I can't sleep, have insomnia, or am in some kind of physical pain I'd like to take a moment to ask anybody reading this to just assume that all of the above is always true. This will save a lot of time and I won't have to repeat myself.

I spent much of tonight reading back past entries over the past few years. It's strange to see how far I've come in some areas and how little things have changed in others. There really is so much that's happened in the past few years that I haven't written down or documented in any way whatsoever. Those memories which were vivid stay vivid and those meaningless one are gone forever.

I've gained friends, I've lost friends, I've changed I suppose, and I've stayed the same in many other ways. Who knows, who cares?

Blah blah blah life? Blah blah blah experiences.

I feel that so much of what happens is fairly meaningless anyways. It's not what you did yesterday that interests me, it's what you thought about it that matters.

There really is a lot of stuff that I've wanted to write about on this journal but I didn't allow myself to and probably still won't let myself write about because I want to save the feelings of somebody I care about. Letting our your personal life and the personal life of somebody else you know on the internet is just a tactless move. Venting is important, but it shouldn't be at the expense of others who don't deserve it. To sum it up without saying too much, there are some friendships that are likely broken forever, and I'm not sad about them being gone.

I haven't written a lot here in the past year, and there's a good reason (other than what I just mentioned). Many thoughts I've had I have wanted to express in another medium other than text, and since I am visual thinker that means photography / mixed media etc. This leads me to the new project I'm working on which is still in the initial planning / outlining stage of production but looks to be very awesome. It's a new photographic mixed media web comic called "Kicking Monday", I'll let on more details about it as the project moves forward. Unlike The Dan and Steve Show this is going to fall into the Dram-edy category and will have a preplanned out storyline, which means there will be a distinct beginning and ending to storylines within it and the characters will evolve.

So far myself, Matt and Michael are involved, but it looks like my sister, Steph, Ian, and maybe others may get involved as well. The project requires a lot of pre-production and I'll be using much higher quality imagery and varied locations.

I feel like I should write more in this entry but I'll save some for later, I'm running out of brain power and am awkwardly describing everything I'm trying to convey. I'll try to give in to sleep for now and get back to this later.

Sometimes life just moves on without any particular direction, just nebulously forward, and things get kind of boring. Because of the kind of job I have I don't always have to leave my house, in fact more often than not I can't leave the house. Hermiting supplies are needed, mainly a stack of takeout menus, a telephone, and places that accept debit cards over the phone.
The Chinese takeout place down the street from me never includes chop sticks for some odd reason. Hidden somewhere between the double bagging of each order are two to three usless plastic forks (I supply my own chop sticks). So what I'm left with is a drawer ominously filling up with little white plastic forks (depicted above).
I used to just toss them (and the white rice) out with the bag, but now I find myself fishing for them with each order as though someday I'll need them. Maybe it's just something to do. Ever since Chris-Mas my social life chocked and died unceremoniously leaving only work, more work, and little plastic forks. Sometimes I think about the money I'm making and how I'll travel eventually, just take a day and drive a few states away. Doesn't matter where. Then I remember how little I enjoy traveling alone.
This year more than ever I see the people I know around me move into that whole engagement/marriage/baby stage of their life (not always in that order). It makes me think about where I am, I spend most of my time chasing after my business and my dream of being photographer/cinematographer. If I wasn't succeeding I'd be even more upset than I am now, though maybe I've chosen the wrong path, maybe I was supposed to...oh who knows, I'm babbling now.
There's a lot more I need to do before I commit my life to marriage (if ever) and a stable lifestyle. Perhaps it is just the simple act of chasing after what you need versus what you really really want.
Perhaps more than ever, this year I am reminded that no matter what I am chasing after, the only way I can do it is alone on my own steam.



P.S. Yes I did take that picture.

I suppose I'm wondering where to start on this entry. Maybe I'll start with watching The Muppet Babies as a child, or last Thursday when I did that thing with the stuff...probably somewhere in the state of Connecticut...while wearing cloths. Yes, that's right, I can now relate to those who recall 12 years ago and not yesterday.

I could make a mad lib of my daily life:
"Today I ___drove___ to work and spent __three__ hours removing __porn spyware___ from a client's machine. Later that night I took out food from Curly's and got a __cheeseburger__.  After that I drank __cheap vodka__ and went to sleep at 4am. "

 If my palm pilot doesn't have it written down, it just doesn't happen...and sometimes even if it is in there.
Little beeps and alerts control my daily life.

**BEEP** Go to your next appointment!
**BEEP** Take a shower!
**BEEP** Throw Palm Pilot out window!
**muffled distorted beep** ...bu-y....ne--w....pal--m....pi...3$@*#. END OF LINE.

The leash of life tugs at me and I'm pulled into an entirely different scenario, and usually not one involving cake or sex.
mmmmm....
..cakesex....

Laundry, that's what's holding me up. Something about options in my wardrobe allows my mind to think more clearly and somehow brings control into my chaosphere. **looks out window for Palm Pilot to write this new task down**

What's that opposite thing of upwardly mobile? "Downwardly cellular"? "Falling in place"? Yes, I like that last one.

**Here's a handy tip for those who can't tell what time of day it is, ask yourself what number cup of coffee you are on, and if you still can't remember, have another cup, you may not get your answer, but you'll be too wired to care.

In light conversation if you don't remember what day it is you can often insert "DAYOFTHEWEEK" in place of an actual day, but only if you say it fast enough. Make sure to move on in your sentence fast after that to prevent people from noticing or commenting on your idiosyncrasy.
For example:

"Hey FrankJohnSteve, isn't this a beautiful DAYOFTHEWEEK especially since it's nearly ASEASON. Oh sorry I have to run, I can't believe it's nearly ANUNSPECIFIEDTIMEOFDAY, but the Palm Pilot says I need to be there."

As soon as school ends, time ends. Unless you have a 5 day a week 9-5. Then at least you can sure that you are either in a weekend or a weekday, and deduce from your surroundings whether you are at work or at the bar.

Whatever, I'm done with this entry, I'm off to find some of that illusive and wily CakeSex.

Ehem. I don't normally write about things directly going on in my life, I usually just put down some meaningless words and phrases filled with ambiguous metaphors and symbolism. Today however, I have a treat for you, yes that's right, pure, unfiltered, good old fashioned blog drama.

As many already know (because they were there) I helped organize a massive trip to Otakon (www.otakon.com) in late July. My sister and I arranged for the Hotel, booked the hotel, and ordered the tickets in advanced. In addition to this I also orchestrated 3 cars, all with pre-arranged seating and 3 hotel rooms with once again pre-arranged seating. I did this for a number of reasons, most of which don't matter, most importantly, so that there would be no confusion or arguing.

It worked, well, sort of.
When I say I helped organize, I also mean that everything went on my credit card, and the individual cost per person before any other travel expenses was $310.00. Everybody knew the total before they went on the trip and agreed that although it was a bit pricey they were indeed going and would have the money for me in a timely manner. And everybody did so, except for two people. The reason why this didn't happen is both dumb, and dumber.

What I'm probably sure of is that there was some kind of mis-communication, which caused mostly drama, but nothing actually bad. When we were leaving Otakon it didn't matter who left in what order because we didn't all have to meet up at the same place like we did the morning of our departure. So it made sense to just hand everybody their parking ticket, give them directions, and let them all be on their merry way whenever the hell they chose to do so. Car #2 decided they were going to hang around for a bit, they had stuff to do, we made sure they knew the way, handed them their ticket, and we went on our way. Car #3 decided they were going to get some food, we said, that's fine, we're out of here, here's your ticket and here's how to get back.

 Now you know I'm upset, I'm going to use real names. Chris McGuirk and Mike Kekelik were in car#3. We left, and then we received a call where Chris for some reason thought he then needed to skip his meal and leave immediately. I don't know why, again, it was probably a miscommunication where he for some reason thought that we prearranged to leave at the same time all together at a specified time. However, no such conversation ever occurred between everybody, or anybody really. Either way we give him directions and he goes on his merry way. We later get a call where he's screaming at Matt who was driving the car I was in and wouldn't let Matt get a word in edgewise. Something along the lines of "you just don't leave somebody behind" and something to the effect that he was lost. Matt hung up because Chris wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise, and then I texted him the full directions again. Apparently he took the wrong way at the split off, and ended up going through PA instead of into New Jersey (I think) and he was freaking out. Here's the think, he didn't get lost, he took THE LONG WAY. So, that road he was on, that road he was "lost" on, still went straight back to Connecticut, it just took, let's see, I'd say 1 hour to 1.5 hours longer than the normal trip. Lost is not the right word.

 Here we are at the present day, nobody hears a word from Chris or Mike and a week or more goes by, then suddenly Chris un-friends me and Matt and maybe some other people on My Space (wow we're all 6 again). Still no word, and guess what, no money either.

Now there are two different reasons for the no money thing, one is dumb, the other is dumber, first the dumb.

About a week before Otakon Chris says to me "Oh yeah..I don't think I can make it to Otakon I'm kind of broke" and I'm like "um....er... well. WHAT?!? I already booked a room which includes you and bought your ticket!". So then around the time of Otakon it turns out he is going and has assumed that it's okay for him to pay me back in a payment plan, which by the way I didn't prearrange with him and that's not an okay thing to assume of anybody you owe money to...ever. And he says "oh I can probably pay you back before the end of the year"..... umm.....end of the fucking year? So MAYBE in 4 months I will receive some money..

Now we get to dumber, I e-mailed Mike recently because I had no received any word or payment, and well.. I won't summarize, I'll quote:

-------------------------------
"Hey Mike,
I hadn't heard from you at all in regards to your payment for the otakon trip and was wondering if you could mail me a check for the balance. The total cost of the trip (ticket plus hotel) is $310.00.

Thanks!
~ Chris"
-------------------------------
"Chris,

I hope all is well,

Love the commodity, sold then bought, collected like rain in an upturned umbrella.
Found in sand washing away, as though time itself mocks our way.
Gratitude and comfort, given away as gifts at a unmemorable Christmas party years ago, and the food sucked then too.
Wading through the insincerity, nobody ever fakes love, but the power behind the word disappears.
You cannot say love and not mean it, but you can mean love without saying it.
And gravity IS love, the ones who cannot leave us behind.
All pleading, all begging beside, there lives a love in those we least expect, those we did not, could not, bring ourselves to ask of it.
Be careful of those strangers in your heart, know that love unasked for is still love received.
The quiet care of this life cradles us all.

It's not often you realize how crazy you really are. I think today I figured it out. I'm all over the place at times, stable others, looking for resolution at times and falling far from sanity others. I guess that makes me human, or at least some kind of creatures, who cares right? Well all I know is... what I am I thinking, I'm about to sum up all I know in one sentence? Yeah right, I've been feeling misled, misguided, all over the goddamn place. How do you justify the lose of cognitive thoughts and feelings? Maybe a in weird way I know what I'm thinking and my subconcious is putting me through a trial, maybe it all makes sense, maybe there's a reason for everything that's happening, or maybe working 12 hours does me no good.
 Thinking about I have to recall what my doctor said about my job, apparently my job had the second highest burnout rate, only second to paramedics. The stress isn't so much killing me as becoming me, becoming my life. I think about this entry, some people say I'm cryptic, maybe this seems easier to understand, but I garuntee unless you're a computer tech you don't understand what it's like. This is not one of those "you don't get me" kind of thing, this is how about you had 50 bosses and they all needed you to get something done immediately, and that thing that they needed done was something different. Yeah, I'm whining, let me go for it, I don't do it often. I at least I hope I don't.
 Here it is, I'm crazy, and I know what that means to me, what does it mean to you?

small things tie together that which broke from larger portions.
    here i lay down.
whispers earnestly play sounds of doubt through fear.
    here i wake.
flickers and fires send heat equal to their glow.
    here i feed.
ten paces and those little three steps further through.
    here i am.

The last thing on my mind,
    the last feeling I had,
        crinkled and crumpled,
            wasting the moments I set aside to waste the moments of my life.
Far in dream,
    far asleep at the wheel,
        I turn, turn off at any exit on this free-way,
            over and over.
Here is where we repeat our repetitions,
    and the friction of time heats,
        like a light bulb that breaks as you wander by.

Wait for it.....I almost said something in this post.

Scorpio (5-17-07)

"Today you are somewhat unsure of those you normally rely on. It feels like you are the only person who thinks everything through to the conclusion. You aren't really that hard to please; it's just that you wish others would try a little harder. Push gently as you interact with friends and family, for alienating them will not necessarily produce better results or make you feel any happier."

I was exactly where I wanted to be.
As I stood next to Alex Grey while he created a new painting I thought about all the things I wanted in my life. He painted, and danced to the electronica/trance music playing loudly in the background as he kept a calm manner about himself. Many people, often people on some sort of substance were asking him questions or ranting at him, instead I just watched, eventually I sat down next to his paints and observed. At one point he looked at me questioningly as though I was waiting to say something to him, I just smiled, gave him the thumbs up and he smiled and went back about his painting.
I felt comfort in the fact that with the loud music, atmosphere of surrounding people dancing and bumping into eachother I was able to completely center myself and feel there, mentally and physically.
I danced throughout the crowds with some of the people I cared most for, felt comfort and positive energy in the crowd. When I needed a break, or nearly dehydrated myself I would walk with a bottle of water through the gallery of paintings and listen to the different DJs.
It had been a long weekend/month/year, and it began on Friday laying out comic strips for our Saturday shoot. I gave in around 4am, then woke up at 11amish to being preparation for our shoot. We worked until nearly 10:30pm completing 5 strips as a team, and shortly after my friend Vinny gave me and Michael a ride to Queens where we could intersect with a subway train to eventually arrive at COSM where we met up with Steph and Chris as well as others.
After much dancing, meeting and watching Alex Grey, good conversations, and positive energy, Michael was nice enough to stick with me until I made my 6:40am train from Grand Central back to Stamford.
In fact, I pretty much just got home, still somewhat wired, still somewhat ready to party more, I thought about everything, and the only time I felt off was that last stretch of ride home.
It felt lonely, an experience I wanted to share, but there I sat, coffee in hand, staring out the window to watch the sun rise.

Perhaps the best, and strangest St. Patrick's Day I have ever experienced.

I listen attentively to the waves of silence, there's just nobody here.
Maybe I pleaded, maybe I just hoped, but I refused to distract myself from the truth of my feelings.
Could I go out and distract my mind and emotions from what I know is true, sure, but it just be another lie.
I envy those that can just surpress through distraction, avoid through actions, escape and never come back.
I'm too honest, even to myself.
It's that empathy I'm missing, the one who can face themselves as honestly as I am cursed to.
My dreams tell me what is yet to come as my mind fights against them, a sword with nothing but edges.
I'm so tired of fear, so tired of those uncomfortabe with the extreme emotions their mind presents them with.
My patience...has run out...

Friday night, technically Saturday morning now, the last thing I want to do is think.
I've setup all the equipment necessary for our web comic shoot tomorrow.
Reflectors,  diffusion paper, 1000 watt lights, power strips, and the most exciting addition, a Canon Rebel XT camera with a 1GB card.
For the first time we nearly have all of what we need to complete the comic with ease. I verified the shot list, made notes, altered scenes to fit the atmosphere, etc etc, techy stuff.
After all this I finished level 6 in Zelda 2 for the NES while consuming good tequila.
There's always more to do, sure I could invoice some clients, research some projects, but for now, I'm done, and I can relax.
Out of  boredom I even setup my itunes to wirelessly connect with the speakers in my living room so I could control the playlist from anywhere on the first floor and have it play through my 9 channel setup between the living room and kitchen.
Yes, when I get bored I do scary things.
And tomorrow I will have a 4 person crew to manage on a nearly 10 hour shoot through 6 comic strips.
I realized I say very little about what I do in a day on my blog, well, this was just my evening.
Although eventful, the rest of the day, you wouldn't want to hear about.

I found a friend in clear glass
        /liquid burns the soul numb

I found a cure in crying
        /you always loved the sound

I made a point to remember all the mistakes I continue to make.

I'll keep mending my mind to feel a wavering grin and soak farther
into far less than I can handle.

I promise, we see sounds and hear pictures of futures long imagined.

You are that wonderful creature
        /none of my  feelings should count

You make that which I never could
        /but I will my own distance

Be gracious, my friend empties quickly, steadily my wallet empties.

Today I glimpsed into the future, not a long distant road to travel but a series of decisions followed by volitional action.
I can feel the patterns, a wave broken into a near infinite amount of parts. Each part fluctuating and pulsating in varied abstract dances.
Limited by my physical presence in a world where time exists, I can only focus on that which enters my primitive understanding of reality.
Were I to create a now based up my perceived wants and needs I know I would destroy myself through the negative unconscious results of my longings and desires.
There is as always a divide. What one wants and what one thinks they want.
To be awake and present is a conscious desire of mine. To see clearly and feel intensely. To wake from the dream of reality to reality itself.
This I now know is not the case. Unconsciously I desire to push it away and obstruct my mind from seeing what is truly real, and block the emotions that I feel so vividly.
What is true, what I know now, is that I feel everything, and sense everything. My mind is overloaded with not only my own thoughts and emotions but those of the people surrounding myself.
A torrent of wants and needs, positive and negative, empty and full, all fill my mind and turn myself ever inward looking for that which is mine.
I am who surrounds me, I am the wants and needs of that which was never mine to keep.
There is no end to the disappointment you can receive if you know what the person in front of you is thinking and feeling. It would seem that those can be, are out to please their own ego.
There are many who want to help others but it is only because it is something they think they should do, or it is something that is expected of them to do in order to have or to keep want they want.
Good by expectation, good by the want to have, to keep, or to fulfill their inner desires.
When we are good without these things we get nothing in return, because it is not for the need of gain that we do them.
How rarely do I see an unselfish act.
And I wish that I didn't know when it was a false act, but I cannot seem to block this.

What do you want when you stop paying attention to what you think you should want, or what others tell you should want?

I wrote this story for an assignment when I was attending NCC nearly 2 years ago. It randomly popped
back into my life when I was toying with my palm pilot and I thought it should see the light of day again.

Enjoy.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Appropriately titled”

I was 8, I was 16, and then I was 25, same land, same stance, same perspective, but with different knowledge. I once told myself that all things mattered, that I shouldn't step on a crack lest I break my mother's back. Now, through the eyes of my educated mind, I can't see the likely truth: that I’ve become a slave to my own logic.

I wasn’t there, but in the corner of my eye I finally did see my coffee cup being refilled. A smile, a slight nod, all courtesy taken care of, where was I?

Pan left, tilt up to my companion pouring a liberal amount of sugar into his refilled coffee. Looks like I spaced out again. Ken saw a break in my haze and looked at me quizzically.

“What’s up Jeff?

I didn’t even know where to begin, how is it that some people can so easily break down the concepts drifting aimless around in their head? I felt, for lack of better words, basic. A few unaccounted for concepts were floating around in my head, I had to catch them, I had to put them together in a conversational manner, I had to give my poor friend a replay before he started to get freaked by my wordless blank stare.

“Ah nothin’, just, I donno, thinking about stuff.” I replied after considerable delay. I’m not sure what I would do if it weren’t for the word “stuff”, it’s possible I would never speak to anybody ever if the English language didn’t allow such an obvious conversational cop-out phrase.

“Stuff, sounds pretty serious, anything specific?” he asked sarcastically.

“Actually, it is pretty serious, I don’t know what this story is going to be about.”

“Ummm…okay, I didn’t know you wrote stories.”

“That’s that thing, I don’t, but I really really want to.”

Ken looked at me incredulously.

“Okay fine, I really like the idea of being of a writer, there’s something...” I trailed off without finished the sentence. I wanted to say ‘intellectual’, but what I would’ve meant is those guys who sit in dark poetry cafés with cute beatnik looking girls hanging on to their every word kind of intellectual.

“Pretentious?” said Ken finishing my sentence.

Yes, I thought. “Umm no.” I said and continued, “There’s something healthy about exploring the intellectual pursuits of the mind on paper without the need to practice them in actuality.”

I saw Ken’s face give that look which said ‘I have something equally intellectual to say back to you, I just have to put all of my own profound thoughts together so that I can adequately express them to you.’ Honestly, I didn’t even know if I agree with what I just said, or what I really said, but it got me thinking, and to think I needed some more coffee. I sipped cautiously at my hot diner mug.

“Sure.” Said Ken finally.

“Yeah I don’t know what that means either” I replied honestly. “But, man, I really did have a good story idea going there for a while, it had all this cool abstract stuff about growing up, and perceptions, and logic, all the good components of a…” I gestured meaninglessly. “Story arc.” I finished lamely.

“Okay… so what was it… about per say…” Ken questioned suspiciously.

I began to actually consider this question seriously for the first time, I really didn’t know, I thought I knew, and I thought the words I had would get me there, but the only place they seemed to bring me was back to where I began. I can even remember all of that great rapid fire dialogue in my head, but then on second look I realized, real people don’t talk like that, and then I thought, well the people I hang out with aren’t really all that normal, come to think of it, how many real people do I actually know to reference from?

“How about death.” I said suddenly, surprising even myself.

“Death? What about it?” he said.

Yes, what about it I thought. I suppose most any story could hypothetically be about death, so I made something up.

“Well just think of it Ken, right now, in this diner, we’re all slowly dying!”

I swear I saw a few lonely people sitting in the booths surrounding us nod ever so slightly in silent agreement. Maybe I’m in the wrong place to be making statements like that.

I recognized the look Ken then gave me; it was the same one I used to give my father after he told really a bad joke. The words: “So you’ve got nothing.” Followed the look.

“Yes, absolutely, positively, nothing.”

Blue stays with me, clean like disinfected light.

Keeping on in the pursuit of now, Elation turns away, tossing a memory in his wake.

I know how pale you feel, the tears helped you grow, but the salt kept you ill.

She sipped again until halted by hands, "Until I silhouette myself...until I am that etching...", she moves to sip again.

It's a hall of mirrors, and water asks that I reflect upon its surface.

I made this today, it's not image, nor thing. I offer my empathy, please have it with me.

Blue skys ahead, black nights above, and they said it might rain.

On to the next.

I'm making time in my own way. Shortening the days until there's nothing but night.

There's a round table in front of me, dark stained wood finish lends an empty space for my musing. Callus Calm Focused Waiting Quiet Fever and Dismay sit neatly on its surface. I sat back, arms behind head, eyes began to close, an impartial observer mildly concerned, watching the game play itself out.

I'd seen the move before, Focused Fever stalks Calm, leaving Calm to seek Waiting, all the while Quiet begs Callus into Dismay. It climaxes into a draw, and the game starts anew.

Discouraged and a little bit tired, I swept the table clear again trying to imagine a new game, but the all that came to mind was Candy Land.

A cool breeze found its way through my fingers along with a cold distinct unease. Before I knew it my body began standing up, my head down still fixed on the table, I felt a tingle on my back. My head turned with such speed and force that my body twisted with its momentum.

There behind the front of me that once was, now loomed 20 people staring blankly back.

This is where my memories began.

Not waiting, not wanting, they stood in thick, quiet, disturbing, insistence.

Her silver hair, an face aged far beyond my years stood one. A yellow striped shirt barely four foot tall, a boy no less than seven years old stood another. His hands rugged with use, dark brown hair and middle aged, he watched with the same expression as the rest. I knew them all though met one.

Thumbing through my mental thesaurus I sought better descriptor of this experience...nothing.

Growing at my center a swirling unease filled my body, leading me towards the instinctual, the primal, while a whisper inside plead "help me".

It started at my toes, traveled up my legs, up my spine, until it pushed tears out my sockets down my quivering blank face. I awoke while awake in the luminescent vulnerability caressing all that was once me.

And I was that line. Between fear and love.

And there still stood,
20 people standing in a room.

A waiting game, a result which bares no fruit nor prize. The longing happiness that knows not what end it seeks.

"When all of your wishes are granted, many of your dreams will be destroyed."

Perhaps I never even dreamed of closure, and I still have reason to believe it will never come. Stubborn egos and idealistic expectations keep us in this unrelenting stand still.
What I remember is the reality I fight against, but my present conditions keep me here.
For what I have lost I strive to find resolution. In this motivation I know only selfish gains are accomplished.
Do I seek what I lost, or what I think I should still have?
Logic has no place to stand. Reason is an abstract. The empty violent thoughts are what keep me up at night. Not by fist or blade but absolution in thought do I fight.
It breaks down even further to the core of need, to the concept of lack, to the philosophy of...whatever.
I began to describe how I felt to you, why would I ever take on such a fruitless task.

nm ,dxcxvsdzx,xcf]afsdfsda ghkljvsad h ;vsdn,. msdf ghkj. ;sd

Mashing the keyboard doesn't even help, there are no words. No clever way to describe in short verse.

Don't even ask,
there are no answers.



Tell me again why you're afraid, I could use a good smile.

Before this leaves me...

Inevitability turns quickly into a reality as I felt a disturbing tremor surge the earth. A gate to another dimension had opened up and I ran like a firefighter to the scene to stop it from spreading. Hell had found found a door into our world.
My memories began to leave me, I felt my self fade with every step. Into a dark suburban home I leapt. Shutting the door behind me I found its occupant to be an older woman staring without words in blinding horror at the unearthly sight unfolding in front of us. The gate looked like a square trap door in the ceiling of the first floor, and through it we gazed at the red storm on the other side. A dark red hue broke the darkness of the unlit room. Were I to place that house, I would say it was the home I grew up in, but I wasn't me anymore, there was little left of my conscious self, and my past ebbed at nothingness.
Without warning it consumed the women, demons attacking her from all sides almost unceremoniously. There was nothing I could do to save her, and the gate was increasing in size every second. I tried to avert my eyes as I witnessed a projection of the tortured souls flooding into our world. A young family stood helplessly as plants with no eyes and razor sharp teeth made threatening lunges at them. They began to scream and cry hysterically... the sounds they made ripped through my entire being. Their fear was a tangible thing, and their fate had long ago already been sealed. The demons lunged this time not missing their targets, and their flesh and body broke and tore with ease. Within seconds nothing human was left that could be recognized, and I knew then this had already happened before as their bodies reassembled only to be broken again.
I was left staring at the gate without self or fear, I knew I could fool the demons into not attacking me by psychically changing my form. There was only one problem, the gate only shut one way, from the inside. Without thinking I jumped up and pulled myself up into the gate.
My body rolled sideways onto an empty plane of red sky and endless flat sand. There wasn't much time, I quickly got my bearings and ran for gate's entrance again. The heavy square door was made of steel on a hinge with a spring. My hands grasped the door and began pulling it upwards and shut, but as I did so my form began to change back to my own. I knew I could not do anything positive in the form of a demon and my fragile body became visible again. I turn my head skyward to see a cloud of circling demons swooping towards me as they smelled my human scent. Scrambling for time I pulled the door shut, but it sprung open again and tossed me to the side. I needed more time, I changed my form but it wouldn't stick, my intentions were pure and selfless, and my form could only reflect that. Twice more I failed, there was no latch and the door had been open by a force much greater than mine. One last time I pushed the door shut, but I knew it wouldn't stay, I held it there waiting for my pitiful attempt to end abruptly by the cloud of evil descending. I shut my eyes and moved my hands around the perimeter of the door and to my surprise felt another door that hadn't been there before, it was like an outer gate that went over the spring door, I shut this one as well on top of the other. This gate had a latch that I was able to secure with little effort.
My job was complete, but my life was long over, hell could no longer enter earth, but now I was trapped there forever. The sky cleared of danger, I can't say for sure why, but I felt they began to fear my presence there, I was not supposed to be there. The red crimson sky moved inexplicably fast above my head.

Ages past.

A home is like any other I suppose, and now my home was this red dimension which could only resemble hell by its description. It was a mirror image of earth down to the schools, parks, shops, and roads. Although I could walk through it I was also fluctuating in and out of my subconscious. I was no longer being physically attacked, but ripped apart through my memories. As if by some protection, it would seem that I left my self and my past behind in the real world, there was little left for them to hurt me with.
Pacing down a sidewalk my memory flashes back to two children running through an empty high school, in and out of classrooms. The atmosphere is still crimson red, but the mood is playful. A small boy and girl around the age of 7, I do not know these children, and maybe this is a lost memory of mine... I cannot say for sure.
Pulled back from my subconscious I'm walking through the empty isles of a supermarket, it's dark and something is following me. A claw reaches out from nowhere at my face and then its gone. I turn without fear but curiosity to see nothing. I know I'm looking for something, but I can't say for sure. Without warning another claw pulls across my face barely missing but this time I reach out and grab its arm pulling towards me. A small demon wolf sits timid in front of me. We speak but I cannot recall the content and then he goes away without a fuss.

I know I spent years in this world, spoke to people and demons alike, but my mind remained peaceful. Maybe some day I will remember the exact details of this dream, but I do remember how it ended.

I stood in a park as 10 people surrounded me, I had changed this dimension through my actions, creating peace and resolving conflicts, and now the world began to reflect this. The crimson sky now was a gradation of blue and red, the red was slowly fading away. I did not need to escape, because the hell I was once in is now transforming into a peaceful world.

It's like falling down stairs, you never forget how to do it.
I am uniquely skilled in all areas of life: breathing, walking, eating, and sleeping.
Yes, I know, I shouldn't brag so much, but nobody stares at a wall like I do.
The ways in which I act human are beyond my meager understanding of the English language.
One might see me on occasion interacting with another human being.
Yeah, I know you're jealous.
How many people remember all the dumb things you did in elementary school?
I wonder.
Often I feel too embarrassed to live.
I'm pleased to admit the several conversations I've had where I accidentally cut off the other person speaking to say something absolutely uninteresting and irrelevant.
A triumph I know.
I hear there is a point where you begin to forget all the mistakes.
Rumors often begin with lies.
The ways in which I am are often the ways that I will continue to be.
And to be is all I can be.
My brain, just farted.