Looking at nature, one would assume that a woman's main role deals with childbearing. She isn't the sole creator of life, she just nurtures the life that is created. Only man and woman can create life. I would think that the holy union between a man and a woman would resemble God, the Ultimate Creator. As we are created in God's image. That would seem to mean that either God is both male and female, and we can only resemble him when we are both male and female (achieved by sex) or there is a female God counterpart.

For this reason, I'm currently reconsidering my Christianity. I believe in Christ, His death and resurrection, and in God. But really, where do women fit in? I guess what I'm pondering is this: Christianity is so male-centric. I don't believe God or His creations are male-centric, so wouldn't His word mimic His creations?

However, it is male-centric. I know women are in the Bible, just as God has instructions for women. However, the Bible is mainly about men, for men. It really makes me wonder if the Gnostics are true. Grrr...damn sin and its ability to mess things up.

I'm so confused, spiritually speaking. I don't believe that God is confined to a religion, but on the other hand, religion speaks about the traits of God; they can't be ignored. So which religion, if any is, one to believe?

All right. So here's how it works:

You're connected to a DSL or Cable Modem line. You decide that you want to download a simple song file- let's say the Super Mario Brothers remix of NIN's "Closer". You fire up KazaaLite and do a quick search, there's fifteen sources that come up within a few seconds and the file is only 5 MB. Naturally, you click on it because the combined bandwidth for said 15 resources is some ungodly amount that your high-bandwidth internet connection can definitely handle and it's a relatively small file. Your friend has heard only a snippet of the song, but not the whole thing, and has asked if you could get it and play it for him. Of course it's such a mundane and droll thing, interesting for about thirty seconds, that you absolutely have no intention of keeping the file for this one-time playing... it's just not worth taking up your HD space.

.....And, for the next three hours, you find yourself wondering just why in the hell this tiny, little file is coming in at .05 KB/sec after you've done a dozen more searches and there are now more than thirty resources to pull from, no matter HOW many times you try to encourage the software to search for more sources on its own and expedite the download.

The concept of a peer-to-peer network has become nothing more than a massive tease. Phuq, this is frustrating.

Why phuqing bother? I think this shit happens on purpose. I think the MPAA or whoever the hell it is these days that has it in for P2P has bots which randomly download files from every source possible, just to clog the internet's arteries with wasted bandwidth. This is not verifiable fact, just supposition, but I would not be at all surprised if it were so.

I hope the demons or whatever drove you to it are gone and you are at peace. If you are in heaven, or wherever people go these days, I know you're up there with a fat spliff in your gob and a load of Bob Marley CD's, kicking God's ass at Streetfighter 2.

I'll miss you man. You were one of the most chilled out motherfuckers I ever met, coming from the only black family , growing up in a place like Dundalk would be enough to freak anyone out, but you never gave a fuck. It was just one of those things. Just thinking about the home-made Batman tattoo on your ankle makes me smile.

I never thought you'd go out like this, though. It was a massive shock, but I'm starting to get over it and trying to understand your pain. I only wish there was something your friends could have done. I spoke to Lav last night, he's pretty devasted. Everyone is. But hey, fuck it. It's too late for mulling over the what-ifs. You did what you felt you had to do, there was no other way out that you could rationalize in your head. I'm just sorry I never got to say goodbye.

I'll miss you man.

See you on the other side,
Your friend always,

Spare a thought too for Hermetic.

Only weaklings post in the Daylog...

This is the last message I saw in the chatterbox last night (or something to that effect), before I logged out.

For some unknown reason, I was bothered with what the writer posted. Is it because the daylog is free for all and senseless or not, your post gets to stay in it anyway? Or is it because I post in the daylog most of the time? And it also left me thinking on how people here in E2 judge a weakling from not. Is it the grammar? The delivery? The content? The topic?

Well, for whatever's the reason, I don't like what he said and I definitely don't agree with it.

As for all the ignoramus out there who think my rant sucks and thinks I'm a so-called weakling because I post here in the Day Logs, I suggest you commit a suicide. But before you do it, I have some suggestions to your safe, peaceful and unforgettable departure in this turd forsaken world:

    1. Before anything else, don't ever think about the people who love you, the material things you own or anything else that will make you think twice. Condition yourself and make yourself believe that you'll do the world a great service if you commit a suicide.
    2. Choose the way you'll die. some of the popular ways are poisoning yourself, lying on the railroad tracks, shooting yourself in the head (or in the heart if you're still alive after blowing your head off) using a gun or a harpoon, and by hanging yourself in the ceiling. Some ghetto ways of dying are jumping from a high rise building, lying in the middle of an expressway, and by not breathing. Remember that you can still survive in any of these techniques in committing suicide so choose the right one that works best for you. Other than that, most of these methods are gory and messy. Bear in mind that it sucks when other people peek in the window of your coffin and notice that you look like a dehydrated fly.
    3. Don't forget to write a suicide note. This is the most exciting part because you get to blame all the people and they can't do anything but feel guilty. I suggest you make a softcopy then copy paste it here in E2 and make a hardcopy to be distributed to all those concerned (that way, I get to know if you did the right thing). State there that you really don't want to day but its because of them (the one who gets the blame) that you committed suicide. Suicide note is important because it informs the authority that you were not murdered.
    4. Choose a theme song. Something mellow. Like Let's Get Loud by J. Lo.
    5. Write the suicide note legibly. Have it written by a stenographer, if possible. Put it in places where it can be easily seen. Stick it in your forehead.
    6. Get a nice coffin. Color white. With broadband internet access. That way, you can post here in E2 the outcome of your decision.
    7. Plan the kind of clothes you'll wear. You'll only die once so better die with style. Get the kind of textile that will not shrink or is not itchy to the skin. bring two pairs in case you soil it.
    8. Choose a good spot in the cemetery. The grave of the people who are born in the year of the dragon, rat, rabbit, chicken, beef and pork should face the Pentagon. Other than those mentioned, they should be cremated and used as a foot powder to ensure a safe journey to the other world (Feng Shui Journals, page 69).
    9. If you have any identification's such as working permit or a driver's license, better bring it with you. Else your name will end up in tabloid alongside the news about the horse with 3 heads or about an elephant with 5 balls.

Comments?! Bite me.

Running Log

Running time: 23 minutes. Spent five glorious minutes on the W&OD bike trail.

I stopped at the 12.12 minute mark to watch seven young deer watching me. The bike trail crosses a flood plain close to where I run, and Difficult Run was so high with the melting snow that the deer couldn't jump from one bank to the other.

Deer are creatures of habit. Every day they follow the same trail, doing the same things, grazing the same areas. When their paths are blocked, however, their little rodent brains just don't know what to do. They stare at the water dumbly, then me (because I'm watching them), then the water, then the water some more, then head back to the woods and mope. Their collective intelligence is frighteningly low, this group of young deer.

I watch them for a few minutes. The temperature is in the low 40s and I'm sweating in shorts and a tee shirt, but the wildlife along the trail is celebrating spring. Two woodpeckers with bright red tufts atop their heads are going at it on a felled tree branch, their bills jackhammering into the wood. Woodpeckers are amazingly loud when they're doing this.

Watching them is a squirrel in the tree above the woodpeckers. He's got his little body pointing straight down, his claws grabbing the tree trunk firmly. For some reason this motion captivates him, and he doesn't move. Squirrels are the Brownian motion of nature personified, so this squirrel's stillness is a bit intriguing.

Cardinals are also flitting around, the males with their bright red plumage, and the more discreet females in reddish brown.

The Difficult Run is actually running backwards today. This little stream usually runs into the flood plain area, but for some reason today the flood plain must have so much water that the Run's flowing backwards. I've never seen that happen.

It's a glorious day on the bike path. Another 12 minutes to get home, stretch, come inside, log on, compose these words and then jump into the shower...

The phone rings. It's my neighbor Jim. He tells me DSL's available for this neighborhood. WAHEY! How soon can I get rid of this dialup connection and jump to broadband?


Platitude, platitude, lie lie platitude.

welcome to surreality bites. Happy birthday from Planet Motherfucker.

Sometimes I talk about people in the present tense so I can pretend they are still part of me.

Of all the gin joints in all the world, he had to walk into mine.

I wonder how long he's been sitting on that bar stool, watching me dance and talk and laugh, feeling the grievous embarassment of the adolescent who suddenly discovers their teenage antics are being watched by real grownups.

Smoking, drinking gin. Quit playing my song, dammit. Thelonious Chipmonk on the juke, what an unbearably wierd piece of music. I may be the only person who has that tape, and several others, sound of a toilet flushing and your voice, along with a bundle of Stagebills and a few letters, in an architectural hand.

Angel from Montgomery

You meant for this story to be read by me and I would like you to respond.

As if he knew that words were how I kissed.

You have no idea how much....

a case of the might-have-beens.

Hey, Umm… Ok, so this is my first day log … well my first write up of any kind, so I’m going to start it a bit GTKY, but don’t worry! It’s not going to get freaky or anything, then I’ll just get right on with my day and it’ll all be over before you know it!

Ok, I guess I’m here because I want to day log… and make contributions to the main database? Yes! But I’m fairly young (17) and most of the stuff I’d want to do has been done (Hell! I’ve been using this place as a reference point for almost a year now!). I used to hang out in chatrooms to meet interesting people online, but you never really get to know anybody! (and you always have to start a/s/l … yeah that’s real friendly!) I like hearing about how other people lead their life, this place is ideal, you get all these different perspectives on how different people see different things! Of course you all know this because you are here! Ok, I think that’s enough… see that wasn’t so bad was it?

Ok, today started like any other Sunday… In bed because lets face it that’s where everybody should spend their Sunday. I’m not overly religious or anything, but God had the right idea: Sunday = Rest.
So anyway at about lunchtime I decide to surface and stumble in my usual fashion downstairs which involves usually hitting the bottom before you’re ready and doing that weird step thing where you think that there is one more step... but there isn’t! Go into the lounge wave vaguely at my family and stumble back up the stairs managing to fall over again because this time they’ve added a step (‘They’ or ‘them’ I’ve discovered are responsible for a lot in this world!) About an hour later (2-ish) I surface again. This time showered and fresh and ready to start the day… If only I had something to do!

Now I may have mislead you into thinking I had no motive or purpose for today.. but infact I have. I have the same motive and purpose every weekend… and that is Ryan. At this point I’m supposed to, as a teenage girl, go off on one about how wonderful he is and how he doesn’t really notice me… to save time I’ll just say “You get the idea!”

So I start calling/txting people and manage to get a group of us to goto the flicks so all I have to do now is call Ryan. Now, I know it sounds stupid, but I’m sure loads of people have been in the situation where they have to all someone they really like. I dialled the first 6 digits and hung up “Damn! I’m crap at this!”. For about half an hour I sit there in front of the phone looking at it with that vague hope that somehow he’ll know what I’m doing and call me instead…. He didn’t! So I do the only thing I can do… I call my best friend and get her to do it! She won't! (Hmmm.. some best friend!). So after alot of practice I dial the number and I am completely baffled when his Brother picks up the phone! It ruins my whole flow and i end up sounding like a complete idiot by the time Ryan gets on the line... but I manage to incoherently get a point across. Something about the cinema and tonight... He says "I'd love to" ... which makes me happy.

Anyway we all get to the cinema and he turns up wearing a black shirt looking as wonderful as ever and with one of those smiles that … sorry! I’m doing it again, I’ll try and stop it! I hardly pay any attention to the film because I’ve managed to end up sat next to him, and I spend the entire evening trying to work out what deodorant he’s wearing. Of course he’s engrossed in the film so he doesn’t notice me looking over at him once every ten seconds!!
At the end of the evening we all go our separate ways and he gives all the girls one of those big guy hugs where you suddenly realise that he’s a lot bigger than you and can practically hug you and all your friends in one go!! Then he left...

So that was my Sunday… and my life at the moment! Without sounding too angsty I’m trying to say that all I can think about is him… I spent an entire day of my life just trying to arrange it so I could sit next to him in the dark at a cinema for a few hours. Without speaking and only being able to see him by the faint glow of the screen. It was worth it!… but he doesn’t know…

Today was my birthday, and my first day back at e2 in almost a year. I wrote a lot of trash in my past here, most of which I attribute to my invincibility as a teenager. For that, I apologize. Now that I am 20, I'll try to write trash with the sophistication associated with that age. Insert laugh track...

The two of them stood there, smoke tumbling from their nostrils. It was late, downtown was deserted, the rain was pouring, and they were somewhere else entirely. Which left the rest of us stuck all alone (with them mind you), getting soaked, not buying coffee. The soggy smoke drifted across my face, nagged at my nose, reminding me why I don’t like cigarettes. Indian ritual turned cash crop turned beacon to amateur nihilists. Art students, both of them. God damn. Don’t get me wrong, they’re good people. Brilliant people, in fact. The kind you wouldn’t mind being trapped with at a cocktail party. But something was occupying their minds, and it wasn’t Lichtenstein or how much they didn’t care about anything.

Those fuckers were in love. You could smell it on them. They were doped like a horse, and that horse’s name is not important.* We watched them as they let the rain bombard their ill-equipped, artist-type “vestments.” They floated farther and farther away from everyone else, on clouds equal parts love and nicotine. They seemed oblivious not only to us, and the rain, and the bitter cold, and the complete lack of coffee, but to their delightful predicament as well. Maybe they didn’t know it yet, but everyone else did. It was ridiculous. They smoke the same kind of cigarettes (Camel 100s, in the hard pack). They hate the same artists (Everyone except maybe that one guy…you know, whatshisname). They fit into each other perfectly, and walk disgustingly well together.

Not that I was jealous or anything. I’ve had more than my share of love. Which gives me just the right perspective to comment on this glorious train wreck. Love is a cruel mistress, like Kathy Bates would be as a dominatrix. I mean it. You see, Robert Palmer was right. Scientists are saying now that love is a chemical addiction to another person. Sympathetic oxytocin release. Given the right atmosphere, curves, smiles, jokes, what-have-you, certain chemicals launch millions of what psychologists call “events” in the synapses of the human brain. Like a lightning bolt in the primordial soup, bang! Love.

I know, not just because I read old copies of Scientific American in my dentist’s waiting room. I know because I’m a junkie, a love fiend. I was there before, spiking my vein for the first time. That one day, that lasted forever, but not long enough. With that one person you’ll never forget, but try not to think about. You know, romantic comedy featuring Meg Ryan/Tom Hanks type bullshit. Fuck that. The truth is, love is a high. The shit feels good. Really fucking good. You’d kill to get it again, and kill if someone took it from you. police report. Those fools are getting hooked and they’re loving every second of it. Fucking art students. They don’t care about anything. Except themselves and their cigarettes.

The rest of us just want coffee. Jesus.

*The horse’s name is Not Important. Seriously, that’s the name of the horse.

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