Good evening my fellow shadows. I am incredibly drunk right now so please excuse my lack of vocabulary if it arises as I am too intoxicated to notice its presence.
Anyway...
Let me fill you in on the days events. I spent the majority of the days sunlit hours confined to an office, sniffling and sniveling, drowning myself in a sea of mucus and spit which I later passed on gracefully to a bunch of tissues. Pretty big waste of fucking time if you ask me. (Please excuse my swearing also; if you wish to see why I believe it appropriate to include it in everyday English, please scroll down to the end of my blog, or hastily leave because it only gets worse). So there I was in the office, wondering why I had bothered dragging my diseased arse out of bed, when my boss presented my with an interesting scenario; more paperwork. My mind was asphyxiated with three words, 'Thanks for trying'. Upon leaving work, I was informed that my colleagues were heading out for drinks and asked to tag along. 'Why not?' my alcohol-malnourished brain thought. I deserve this. I proceeded to the pub and ordered my favorite; a double shot of rum and coke. AUD$12.00, and a warm buzz later, I decided I better inform my fiance I would be a little late home from work, only to be hung up on. I then briskly decided it was time to head home. Upon arriving home, I was greeted with nothing less than every males greatest fear, the silent treatment. I had all intentions of spending the rest of this night with my dear loved one only to have her pass out on the couch. And now I sit in front of my laptop, crazed in a self-induced drunken stupor, whinging away my anguish to you. Perhaps time to put down the bottle? Not going to happen :)
Another thing that really pushes my buttons. In Australia, it is workplace law that if: you have two or more consecutive days off, or if you have either a Monday or Friday off work, you MUST provide a medical certificate to your employer. Whilst again, I do not disagree with this, it still pisses me off. Sure, I understand both concepts, but they're still annoying. Take for example, my particular situation. Last Saturday, the 16th of May, 2010, I felt myself developing what I described as, 'flu-like symptoms'. Sunday night came like the coming of Christmas, and I felt more like shit than a freshly squeezed cow pattie. I called in sick Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, and was informed that I would need a certificate; please keep in mind, I could hardly get out of bed. I then had to drag myself to a doctor, for him to tell me that I had nothing but 'the common cold', to take Nurofen, and drink plenty of water. Thank you very much Captain Fucking Obvious. The whole experience of having to leave my place of comfort and get to a GP by train left me so debilitated, I was more fucked than when I left. This alone then forced me to ask the question, 'Why am I doing this?'. God forbid there are actually honestly, legitimate sick people out there that genuinely need to rest; nope, fuck them! Lets make them all have to drag their sorry little butts to the doctor. What a waste of time and energy.
Referral to my previous (Please excuse my swearing also; if you wish to see why I believe it appropriate to include it in everyday English, please scroll down to the end of my blog, or hastily leave because it only gets worse) comment...
WHY I DO NOT GIVE TWO FUCKING SHITS ABOUT SWEARING
Hahahaha, thought the title was funny did you? Well, I included these little profanities because:
Swearing has become such a custom of everyday English that they actually decided to include it in the dictionary; and, following the rules of games such as boggle and such-forth, 'if its in the dictionary, its a' fucking 'word'. Yes I did exclude the word fucking, because I do not believe that they would put that in the rule book. Also, yes I know many of you may say, "Well yes it is in the dictionary, but the definition listed does not fit the sentence in which you are using it in." Two words to you people, "Fuck off", its all about context!
That's all I've got for now.
Go hard or go home.
Ithler
Friday, May 21, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Green eyed Monster
Jealousy can be defined by www.dictionary.com as:
jeal·ous·y
/ˈdʒɛləsi/ Show Spelled[jel-uh-see] Show IPA
–noun,plural-ous·ies for 4.
1.
jealous resentment against a rival, a person enjoying success or advantage, etc., or against another's success or advantage itself.
2.
mental uneasiness from suspicion or fear of rivalry, unfaithfulness, etc., as in love or aims.
3.
vigilance in maintaining or guarding something.
4.
a jealous feeling, disposition, state, or mood.
Jealousy is even considered as one of the original seven deadly sins as defined centuries ago by the Roman Catholic Church. Joseph Epstein, in his book titled "Envy", defines it as: to be jealous is to want to protect what you have.
What I would like to know, is at what exact point does jealousy become a sin? Take for example the events that unfolded over the past day or two.
I live in a rather modern house with my fiance and her son. Out of a fortnight, we only get one day together. I work Monday to Friday, she works Saturdays, and then every second Sunday, she has to take her son to his fathers - leaving one Sunday out of the whole 14 days where we get to just relax and enjoy each others company. She was on the couch, curled up in a rather picturesque position under a blanket; her gorgeous dark brown hair catching every ray of sunlight poking through the wooden venetian blinds in our lounge room. I sat quietly on the couch next to her as we both stared vacantly at the TV. Spontaneously, she receives a text message. Now my full intention was to spend this once-in-a-fortnightly day together, so I told her, "If that is XXXX, tell him to fuck off. I want to spend this day with you uninterrupted." She then turned to me and so pointedly replied, "It isn't", and continued texting.
This of course infuriated me, and I retreated to the study to find some kind of outlet; hence my being here. What followed was an argument of war-like proportions, where I tried explaining to her where I was coming from, only to be shut down at every angle. I was told that she was talking to a very good friend from high school, and that I was being stupid. Then came the silent treatment. Then came the denial. And then, came the apology. This could all have been avoided if but one of two things had happened.
1. If she had of just said, "No honey, I was actually talking to XXX. But yes, I will now turn my phone off."
2. If I had not have let the green eyed monster take over my ability to be rational, and therefore kept my mouth shut.
So, I now put it to you, my readers, if you are existent. At what point does jealousy become a sin? Was I wrong to be jealous that someone else was consuming her time, away from me? Was I wrong to question her about who she was talking to? Should I have just sat there, silently in anger? Is there a limit to caring too much?
Any insight would be great.
Ithler.
jeal·ous·y
/ˈdʒɛləsi/ Show Spelled[jel-uh-see] Show IPA
–noun,plural-ous·ies for 4.
1.
jealous resentment against a rival, a person enjoying success or advantage, etc., or against another's success or advantage itself.
2.
mental uneasiness from suspicion or fear of rivalry, unfaithfulness, etc., as in love or aims.
3.
vigilance in maintaining or guarding something.
4.
a jealous feeling, disposition, state, or mood.
Jealousy is even considered as one of the original seven deadly sins as defined centuries ago by the Roman Catholic Church. Joseph Epstein, in his book titled "Envy", defines it as: to be jealous is to want to protect what you have.
What I would like to know, is at what exact point does jealousy become a sin? Take for example the events that unfolded over the past day or two.
I live in a rather modern house with my fiance and her son. Out of a fortnight, we only get one day together. I work Monday to Friday, she works Saturdays, and then every second Sunday, she has to take her son to his fathers - leaving one Sunday out of the whole 14 days where we get to just relax and enjoy each others company. She was on the couch, curled up in a rather picturesque position under a blanket; her gorgeous dark brown hair catching every ray of sunlight poking through the wooden venetian blinds in our lounge room. I sat quietly on the couch next to her as we both stared vacantly at the TV. Spontaneously, she receives a text message. Now my full intention was to spend this once-in-a-fortnightly day together, so I told her, "If that is XXXX, tell him to fuck off. I want to spend this day with you uninterrupted." She then turned to me and so pointedly replied, "It isn't", and continued texting.
This of course infuriated me, and I retreated to the study to find some kind of outlet; hence my being here. What followed was an argument of war-like proportions, where I tried explaining to her where I was coming from, only to be shut down at every angle. I was told that she was talking to a very good friend from high school, and that I was being stupid. Then came the silent treatment. Then came the denial. And then, came the apology. This could all have been avoided if but one of two things had happened.
1. If she had of just said, "No honey, I was actually talking to XXX. But yes, I will now turn my phone off."
2. If I had not have let the green eyed monster take over my ability to be rational, and therefore kept my mouth shut.
So, I now put it to you, my readers, if you are existent. At what point does jealousy become a sin? Was I wrong to be jealous that someone else was consuming her time, away from me? Was I wrong to question her about who she was talking to? Should I have just sat there, silently in anger? Is there a limit to caring too much?
Any insight would be great.
Ithler.
My Vindication
Hi,
My name is Ithler and this is what I have to say. I do not intent to have this read, nor do I care. I believe everyone needs an outlet, and this is mine. So here it is...
I believe a synonym of life would have to be a line or a cue. In life, we are all waiting, all cuing for the same inevitable end... which ultimately is death. From a young age, I have always had this bizarre curiosity about death. What will it be like? Will it simply feel like I am asleep for all eternity? Does heaven and hell really exist, and if so, where will I go? If I were to die right now, and my current life's actions were the actions I were to be judged on, then I guess I already have my answer. Straight down.
If I were to reside in hell, at least I'd already have some experience, because this world is certainly not the peachiest. I believe this life is designed to provide you with some experience for the afterlife, if there is one, and whatever form of corruption you choose, be it good or evil, you are unknowingly preparing yourself for what is next.
In the movie Forrest Gump, his character so brilliantly states, "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what your gonna get." I completely disagreed from the very moment I heard this apparent 'master line' of literal ingenuity that redefined the meaning of life for a whole generation of mentally retarded, want-to-be philosophers. I mean, if you read the label on the box, you should what's in it. Of course, life doesn't have a box; it is much bigger than that. Life as I see it, is the chance to choose which box you want; and via the tools of corruption, which are not self-inspired, rather inspired by those who will ultimately gain the greatest benefit, we make that choice. Fortunately for myself, I happened to choose one of the boxes that had been mislabeled. I thought the box read "Perfect life choices that will fundamentally result in happiness and immortal well-being. (No added preservatives. No artificial flavors.)". Instead, the box contained ill-decision, misdirection, hardship, pain, blah, blah, blah. Here I am.
Speaking about death earlier, the thing that scares me the most is that at times, I don't fear death, and I will literally try anything. After all, "What is the point in living, if you can't feel alive." It seems now so more than ever, after all that has happened, that my parameters for what would be considered dangerous and immoral have become so warped and mangled; to most conformists it would seem repulsive. When my Nanna passed away in 2008, I had her life's motto of not to fear death, carved on my upper underarm in the immortal words, "Don't fear the Reaper" - meaning, don't let the fear of death stand in your way of making a choice. If only she'd known.
This is a documentation of my choices, so please feel free to make judgment and leave comment - just know this is my life. A lot of what is to come will be the black words of a distorted mind, and a tainted soul. So to define what this is, I would simply have to say that this blog is to be a testament to my emotional and decisive battle; an attributed release of all that swells and dwells in the deepest, darkest corners of my mind. A tome of revelations and twisted thoughts; a real look at what I'm like when the bullshit veneer of happiness that I contort to my peers is removed. My Vindication.
So without further ado, I welcome you... to my hell.
Ithler.
My name is Ithler and this is what I have to say. I do not intent to have this read, nor do I care. I believe everyone needs an outlet, and this is mine. So here it is...
I believe a synonym of life would have to be a line or a cue. In life, we are all waiting, all cuing for the same inevitable end... which ultimately is death. From a young age, I have always had this bizarre curiosity about death. What will it be like? Will it simply feel like I am asleep for all eternity? Does heaven and hell really exist, and if so, where will I go? If I were to die right now, and my current life's actions were the actions I were to be judged on, then I guess I already have my answer. Straight down.
If I were to reside in hell, at least I'd already have some experience, because this world is certainly not the peachiest. I believe this life is designed to provide you with some experience for the afterlife, if there is one, and whatever form of corruption you choose, be it good or evil, you are unknowingly preparing yourself for what is next.
In the movie Forrest Gump, his character so brilliantly states, "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what your gonna get." I completely disagreed from the very moment I heard this apparent 'master line' of literal ingenuity that redefined the meaning of life for a whole generation of mentally retarded, want-to-be philosophers. I mean, if you read the label on the box, you should what's in it. Of course, life doesn't have a box; it is much bigger than that. Life as I see it, is the chance to choose which box you want; and via the tools of corruption, which are not self-inspired, rather inspired by those who will ultimately gain the greatest benefit, we make that choice. Fortunately for myself, I happened to choose one of the boxes that had been mislabeled. I thought the box read "Perfect life choices that will fundamentally result in happiness and immortal well-being. (No added preservatives. No artificial flavors.)". Instead, the box contained ill-decision, misdirection, hardship, pain, blah, blah, blah. Here I am.
Speaking about death earlier, the thing that scares me the most is that at times, I don't fear death, and I will literally try anything. After all, "What is the point in living, if you can't feel alive." It seems now so more than ever, after all that has happened, that my parameters for what would be considered dangerous and immoral have become so warped and mangled; to most conformists it would seem repulsive. When my Nanna passed away in 2008, I had her life's motto of not to fear death, carved on my upper underarm in the immortal words, "Don't fear the Reaper" - meaning, don't let the fear of death stand in your way of making a choice. If only she'd known.
This is a documentation of my choices, so please feel free to make judgment and leave comment - just know this is my life. A lot of what is to come will be the black words of a distorted mind, and a tainted soul. So to define what this is, I would simply have to say that this blog is to be a testament to my emotional and decisive battle; an attributed release of all that swells and dwells in the deepest, darkest corners of my mind. A tome of revelations and twisted thoughts; a real look at what I'm like when the bullshit veneer of happiness that I contort to my peers is removed. My Vindication.
So without further ado, I welcome you... to my hell.
Ithler.
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