ciaravisquette

Promenade

2008-08-24T11:37:48Z

The flame of a stout red candle burned and flickered aimlessly in the breeze.
The window was about half open, and had been for some time.
It was only March, very chilly; not yet even spring. An hour or two had passed of us only laying there on the bed, staring blankly about us, gazing out the window.

I stared at the candle, I peered across the street at the apartments nearby, and at the dead of night overhead. Utter silence, pierced only by the sound of a soft chill, and our breathing. My breathing pattern was erratic compared to yours. You laid on your stomach, despondent, eyes glazed over and your head nestled in your arms. At that moment, you looked like a wolf cub. But you always sort of looked that way; rugged, insatiable, hungry. The rawness of an animal.

I, in a way, was insatiable at that moment as well. Not a word you could have said would have satisfied me enough.

The soft breath of the air whispered lullabies along my naked spine, the chill racing along my bare back and sides; you lay silent still.
I couldn't find the words to speak. The candle didn't seem so aimless anymore, but seemed rather taunting. It was the only thing in the room that had any passion about it.

I found it harder and harder to breathe.

Small noises arose from your mouth, scraping away at the soft, silky silence that surrounded us; as soon as I brought myself to focus on you, I realized you were speaking to me. I turned to face you slightly.

"Did you think that I wouldn't notice something like that?"

I was perplexed, but only for a split second. Of course it made sense.

"Th-" I started, only to have him interrupt.

"That you bring out the worst in me, and I bring out the worst in you."

I hung onto the edge of those words for only a second, before I weakened, slipping and tumbling violently into the yawning chasm beneath it, hanging only an inch from the very bottom; it was a sheer thread.
As long as I was certain I lay beside you still,
the yawning chasm would appear surmountable.

Utterly Baffled

2008-08-23T19:02:35Z

Unrelated: I don't even know where I stand with this guy.
How annoying is this? Thanks, ambiguous guy #1.

Work was eventful, we had a party of 40 drunken business men who enveloped us into their room, dubbing us the Gods of Beer.
How I became a God of Beer in one night, not sure. Could have been because I was holding the tray of beer.
They ordered like over 100 beers!
Their bill was 1,500!
Jesus.

Coworkers were no more or less flirtatious than they always are. They keep grabbing my face.
One of them seems to enjoy scaring me a lot.
He also picks on me quite a bit. He looks kind of like a villain, like a movie villain.
The other one is very cute, and he likes to pet my head and squeeze my face.
Not sure what that means. I actually had a dream that I kissed him a while ago. Not sure what that means either, but it's very bothersome, to say the least. Especially when he gets near me and stares at me with those silly, brown eyes of his. I always remember that dream. Amazing how everything resides in the mind. Thanks, dream.
He also likes being called "oppa" which is cute, and doesn't surprise me.
They are flirtatious in a very interesting and impressively covert way.

The man we affectionately dubbed "stalker man #1" followed me into work from the Herald Square station and stood there awkwardly for about one hour and a half, coming over every 15 minutes or so, trying to coax me from behind the desk. I'd just be like "pshaw" and ignore him, but it was irritating to say the least. That's why I appreciate covert flirtatiousness rather than overt obsession. Thanks, stalker man #1.

Stalker man #2 is actually wheelchair bound, which makes the situation interesting. He comes every weekend to see me. That's nice and everything, but I really wish he'd stop sending his paid prostitutes over to me, trying to convince me to have coffee with him. The prostitute part of that equation really isn't helping, stalker man #2.

Towards the end of the night, when people are fucking eachother in the rooms, everything in existence reeks of vomit, and people have done poured all manner of liquids on, around and on top of everything and myself, I only have one last thing left to say to all you insane people out there:

GO THE FUCK HOME! AND GO TO BED.

Fly (My Baby) Even if love leaves you behind
Fly, fly get em up high...
Fly, even if you’ve got nothing
You Can Fly, even if love abruptly leave you behind
You Can Fly, even when you’re suffocating from pain.

Epik High, Fly

God bless the soul, divine festival
Let this cold rainstorm resurrect the soul
Eternal sun, dance with the infernal one
To the rhythm of the heart, universal drum
What you become is what you were destined to be
Your cold blue lips are confessin' to me
Be my infinite true wife
Death is the start of a new life.

Epik High, SpiderWeb

Getting all my thoughts out in a journal format is becoming very helpful in coping with all my feelings which usually compound into massive stress and confusion. Writing it out like this makes everything so much more manageable, even if I only record about half the story.

Moving Out:
Pros:
I'm getting an amazing two story loft in the upper east side for 1/1 thousandth of what it's actually worth.
I'd be living with some nice folks from Hunter, and we'd have the huge apartment to ourselves.
Not that I don't have enough freedom anyways, it just seems like such an amazing offer, I don't want to pass it up.
You wouldn't find a deal like that in the city once in a hundred years, for real.

Cons:
It seems like an unnecessary expense, when I already have a place I can live for free.

Love is for suckers.

2008-08-22T04:09:46Z

Yeah, you heard me motherfuckers.

Art Drawn In Vomit

2008-08-22T01:23:09Z

Like a dog that returns to it's own vomit,
I have learned nothing from the past.

I've got this feeling of foreboding.
The past threatens to repeat itself for those who do not take heed of its lessons.

Its that same masochistic tendency of mine to jump into situations that I subconsciously realize are inherently bad.

I am some kind of masochist.

Who do you think is a happier person? A masochist or a sadist?

I'd rather be a sadist than a masochist. In a way, I am a bit of both.

I have a lust for blood and destruction; psychological warfare, manipulation, death, gnawing away at someone from the recesses of their own mind, torturing them with aspects of their very own soul.
There is a part of me that is very, very bad, and wishes to act upon it.
There are times I'd rather die than associate with people.
I'd rather enjoy seeing all of them dead on the ground.

Angela reminded me of this poem, it's actually a very interesting poem:

Love At First Sight
Wislawa Szymborska

Both are convinced
that a sudden surge of emotion bound them together.
Beautiful is such a certainty,
but uncertainty is more beautiful.

Because they didn't know each other earlier, they suppose that
nothing was happening between them.
What of the streets, stairways and corridors
where they could have passed each other long ago?

I'd like to ask them
whether they remember-- perhaps in a revolving door
ever being face to face?
an "excuse me" in a crowd
or a voice "wrong number" in the receiver.
But I know their answer:
no, they don't remember.

They'd be greatly astonished
to learn that for a long time
chance had been playing with them.

Not yet wholly ready
to transform into fate for them
it approached them, then backed off,
stood in their way
and, suppressing a giggle,
jumped to the side.

There were signs, signals:
but what of it if they were illegible.
Perhaps three years ago,
or last Tuesday
did a certain leaflet fly
from shoulder to shoulder?
There was something lost and picked up.
Who knows but what it was a ball
in the bushes of childhood.

There were doorknobs and bells
on which earlier
touch piled on touch.
Bags beside each other in the luggage room.
Perhaps they had the same dream on a certain night,
suddenly erased after waking.

Every beginning
is but a continuation,
and the book of events
is never more than half open.

Cuddle withdrawal

2008-08-21T15:02:12Z

I need to buy a full sized body pillow.

Going through cuddle withdrawal. Sigh.

~.~

Dresden Dolls Tribute

2008-08-20T18:37:23Z

1, 2
1, 2, 3, 4

You can tell
From the scars on my arms
And the cracks on my hips
And the dents in my car
And the blisters on my lips
That I'm not the carefullest of girls.

You can tell
From the glass on the floor
And the strings that are breaking
And I keep on breaking more
And it looks like I am shaking
But it's just the temperature
And then again
If it were any colder I could disengage
If I were any older I could act my age
But I don't think that you'd believe me
It's
Not
The
Way
I'm
Meant
To
Be
It's just the way the operation made me.

And you can tell
From the state of my room
That they let me out too soon
And the pills that I ate
Came a couple years too late
And I've got some issues to work through
There I go again
Pretending to be you
Make-believing
That I have a soul beneath the surface
Trying to convince you
It was accidentally on purpose!

I am not so serious
This passion is a plagiarism
I might join your century
But only on a rare occasion
I was taken out
Before the labor pains set in and now
Behold the world's worst accident
I am the girl anachronism

And you can tell
By the red in my eyes
And the bruises on my thighs
And the knots in my hair
And the bathtub full of flies
That I'm not right now at all
There I go again
Pretending that I'll fall
Don't call the doctors
Cause they've seen it all before
They'll say just
Let
Her
Crash
And
Burn
She'll learn
The attention just encourages her

And you can tell
From the full-body cast
That you're sorry that you asked
Though you did everything you could
(like any decent person would)
But I might be catching so don't touch
You'll start believing you're immune to gravity and stuff
Don't get me wet
Because the bandages will all come off

And you can tell
From the smoke at the stake
That the current state is critical
Well it is the little things, for instance...
In the time it takes to break it she can make up ten excuses...
Please excuse her for the day, its just the way the medication makes her...

I don't necessarily believe there is a cure for this
So I might join your century but only as a doubtful guest
I was too precarious removed as a caesarian,
Behold the worlds' worst accident
I am the girl anachronism,
I'm the girl...
I am the girl anachronism.

What?

2008-08-19T18:37:54Z

If you walked in the sun, I would be your shadow.

We would be together,

Lovers forever.

A Deeper Vileness

2008-08-18T13:36:56Z

SIRRAH!!

08/17/2008.
The four year anniversary of something immensely painful.
It went more smoothly than I could have imagined, considering the fact that when I woke up, I was positive I would have a horrible day.
The month of August in it's entirety is difficult to survive. I'm on the fourth year. I do wonder how long things will continue to be this difficult.
I miss you, mother. Let me tell you about the day I had on your anniversary.
(It wasn't that great, but I don't care, I really wish you were here. I really do.)

It happened to be Cosplay Day at Kinokuniya which I found to be funny. I knew I wouldn't necessarily enjoy it, but I was desperate for something to take my mind of things, especially on that particular day. So I stuck on my wig and headed to Bryant Park.. It was actually really crowded, the two girls from the American Cosplay team to go to the World Cosplay Summit were there, which I thought was cool. Also, there was free cake. I definitely ate some with my bare hands. o_o

... Lol.

So it was fun, due to the free cake. I'm still mad I didn't get chosen for the maid cafe at NYAF this year, though. ~.~
But anyways, afterwards, we all hung out for a while.
I took Amber home on the train, or rather, we traveled together, and something odd happened.

Or not so decidedly odd or unusual, because it itself wasn't, it was more of my personal reaction to it that was.
Maybe I really am starting to change.
This whole process began four years ago, and perhaps significant changes to my actual character have taken place. I found myself incredibly frustrated on the train ride home, and was about two seconds away from kicking any random mofo in the balls, maybe twice. Maybe even Amber. Yet something remarkable happened. Upon reaching the apex of my own personal frustration, I was about two seconds away from taking it out on Amber, when she started to break down in tears (before I did anything bad, mind you ~.~). She started explaining to me that the book she was currently reading had unearthed some very painful memories that were still lurking about her unconscious; suppressed memories from the past, regarding the loss of a loved one. It immediately alleviated my frustration, very simply due to the fact that my immediate want and need to comfort her exceeded the intensity of what I had just previously been feeling. A large part of that, I believe, has to do with my own personal experiences with love, loss and losing a loved one. Most convenient timing, most convenient indeed. (Fists at sky.)

She was in tears for the remainder of the ride, maybe about 40 minutes or so. People love to gawk, I kind of like it too. But anyways, I mean, we got off at my stop, Sheepshead Bay, and we actually just sat at the end of the platform for a long while, maybe about two hours, just talking. For the first time, she had opened up about her past to me, and at the moment I decided that it meant something to me. She told me all about her past, the whole entire story (which was definitely a VERY odd story, and one I think only a person like me could even follow) and the whole story was actually incredibly interesting, and was even relevant to my most recent studies. (More on that later, mom. You're going to think I'm crazy just like dad, well, wait, I am.)

The sky was really clear during this time, and I could see the stars perfectly. The breeze also happened to be perfect, and I noticed this. I also noticed the moon, and its (not to be too poetic, but I'm serious) matronly light, peeking through the trees. The night itself, I noted to myself at the time, was actually remarkably beautiful. I did cry a bit. Thankfully, she didn't notice. But I did, for my own reasons.

I think the reason why this is so important to me, and the reason why I'm writing about it now, the morning after, is..

When you passed away four years ago, to the date, my ego split into two. One girl, named Christy, was left behind, in mourning, in despair: lost, afraid, suicidal, angry, so passionately angry - teeming with hatred, and a deep, unrelenting vileness in her heart. That girl stayed there and she didn't move. The other half of my ego was forced to move, simply by standards of modern survival. Her name is Sana. She was forced to grow, forget, forgive, learn to love, accept, cope, and grow, regardless of that deeper vileness. She learned to accept, understand, or at least for a while, live with, the pure hatred in her heart. These two girls do not really know eachother that well. They speak to one another once in a while, yet are two shards existing from the same broken mirror. You can certainly claim that they stem from the same entity, yet at the same time, they are obviously separate, individual pieces. For the past four years, I've been engaged in an brutal, relentless battle for.. solace. Peace for two disagreeable beings that happen to exist in the same body. One being that has stayed motionless for years, frozen in that very moment that they removed the mask from your face, folded your arms, and you left me for good: frozen in the moment that her father shook you and shook you and shook you, begged and begged and pleaded, but you did not fucking wake up. The other, who walked away from the funeral home in Leesburg, firmly dried-eyed, repeating the phrases, "I am fine, and I will always be fine. I'm stronger than this, and death doesn't scare me," and never returned to the scene of carnage, ever again, except only to contemplate, and seek strength from it. These are two very different people.

When I held another person in my arms, who was feeling the same gnawing, consuming horror that I had, been feeling every day and night for years, I understood something all over again: how my capacity for compassion, empathy and understanding had been so expanded due to my suffering. Sana has limitless love, patience, and understanding for anybody who needs it. She had grown and flourished and is a young woman who cares, loves, pities, cries tears of innocence and joy, and has successfully combated that deeper vileness. It is the need and want to help others that help bring Sana to the surface.

This has all shown me that I have made considerable progress in gathering the pieces of my broken ego.
They've, for a while, been amassed into the.. two, aforementioned, larger pieces. The two pieces of glass. But it's not, by any wild and reckless stretch of my fine imagination, anywhere near being over. The deeper vileness: the void that formerly housed half of my being, is still just that: a large void. The void threatens to overcome me at any given moment. The deeper vileness that gives rise to Christy's well-known sociopathic tendencies, belligerent anger, and that deeper vileness, so help me, threatens to consume me every time I revisit the moment that he shook you and shook you and shook you and you never fucking woke up!

However, I have made progress, and I'm pretty happy with who I am today. I am happy with what I've done, and where I am, and what I am capable of. I believe there is a good reason I've met the people I met, regardless of how insignificant I normally view social relationships, and I believe I am in New York for a reason. Yet, to be honest, I feel so far away from your spirit. However, I don't know if being closer would necessarily be any more comfortable. I'm not sure what to do. Sometimes I'm not sure who exactly I am. I don't know how to expel this deeper vileness from my soul, one that seems to deepen, and deepen more and more.. with the passage of time.

Is it inevitable that it will consume me?

If you can hear me, please help me.

-Sana K.

O_O

2008-08-16T19:29:39Z

Damn you, you exceedingly attractive Korean asshole!
Damn you!!!

SIRRAH!! *ANGER*

Everything Will Shatter

2008-08-15T04:41:04Z

Do you remember what it feels like to believe in something?

I can hear the rain outside, it's soft. It's cool outside, but hot in here. I'm breaking out into a cold sweat.
I cannot remember what it feels like to believe in something.
Yet my inability to extract specific beliefs from all the muddle, and my tendency to allow one fundamental, overarching belief to overwhelm and permeate all that is around me, indicates some form of belief. Or is it just another way to hold on to something? To scrape on the edges of nothingness, and with fire, scar the walls of my mind, clawing and begging, fighting and screaming, in need of a meaning. The sensation of nothingness washes over me with a satisfying chill.

The illusory qualities of the world never cease to taunt me. From what I feel, sense, need, want, and know, to the energy that emanates from me and all that is around me. Caught in a web of petty intricacies. The world around me seems so disgusting and stubbornly illusory! The most persistent of illusions! Each and every thing on earth from monetary systems, to systems of law and legislature, to governments, nations, religions, and boundaries, pale in their illusory qualities when compared to the largest illusion of all. The one that so permeates every aspect of human existence that our lives, actions, thoughts and feelings only act to further perpetuate and validate it. The one that is bonded to the essence of our very being. Intertwined, and up and down, and in a cage of only mirrors, it's impossible to know where to go. You can lose yourself in the infinity mirrors.

The illusion of heart, soul, and mind. The illusion of being. The illusion of separated substances and separated states of being; states of awareness. An illusion so clever it has us fooled. One so deeply rooted in the mind of the human that it has us operating under the constant belief that we are independently acting, separate organisms, a separate substance, bound by nothing, yet restricted by everything. When in fact, the very energy that surrounds us, creates us, and binds our very sacks of flesh together at the most fundamental level is the same in all that surrounds us. Every single thing on earth is only a separate and unique manifestation of the same exact thing. All appearing, behaving, and existing as one of an infinite amount of variables. A universe, and an existence, where everything can and does exist. Beyond the human scope.

And sitting here, I feel so utterly detatched from the heightened awareness that allows the flow between myself and the world to be activated. Even in deep mediation, I am bound to my essence. I am my essence. It is inescapable. I am a prisoner in my own body, forced to play a cruel game. I am a prisoner, trapped and embedded within organs and muscles, bone and blood, forced to manifest my personal essence in a physical manner in which others can understand, forced to operate within the realm of finiteness, a place where the world is truly only a cage.

The qualities of the world as I see them impede my ability to apply trust, faith, and belief to anything I see around me. The universe is a mesh of variables, energies, and manifestations of the same energy. It has come to the point of cruel complication, where it would seem that humans themselves, in all their tenacity and free-will decision making, seem to only perpetuate the same persistent illusion, never ending! Unknown to them that all they see have no actual meaning such as they have been applied superficially. As we struggle to understand all that is around us, the table upon which the whole puzzle must rest to be solved is utterly missing! Look beyond the physical. My pen, my camera, this desk, my computer, my hands, my feet, my eyes; all substances of matter, yet only given a meaning when it's antithesis exists. Thus, the utterly maddening paradox of our dimension.

MIRROR MIRROR ALL AROUND
ON THE CEILING ON THE GROUND,
SPINNING FASTER ROUND AND ROUND.
ARE YOU UP OR ARE YOU DOWN?
ARE YOU DOWN OR ARE YOU UP?
IT REALLY DOESN’T MATTER
BECAUSE WHEN THIS MIRROR BUBBLE BURSTS,
EVERYTHING WILL SHATTER.
Lose yourself in the infinity mirrors.

...

2008-08-14T19:41:03Z

Remember when we found misery?
We watched her,
Watched her spread her wings.
And slowly..
Slowly fly around our room,
And she asked for your gentle mind..

Misery is a butterfly
Her heavy wings will warp your mind
With her small ugly face
And her long antenna
And her black and pink heavy wings

My torn flesh.
Your bated breath.
Coalesce into one: a virginal death.

Time-space dissipates, an embittered laugh. It's far too late.
The voice of mind has gone, the soul has severed, beaten and shredded amid our feverish endeavor.
Saliva on spit, ....and you are completely fucking sick.
Lusting for more, this carnal embrace, a conditioned acquiescence, a fall from grace.
So twisted and deformed, it's your beauty transformed - it's my flesh in transition, it's your boils and legions!
....honey!
You are my ambition! My only addiction. Complete submission. Spiritual assimilation.
Spread your mangled wings, unbind your horror, salute to me!
I alone can believe in what your sorrow sings.

The air becomes saturated with the sound of your voice.

My mourning dove, you, my only love. Hush.
The splitting of mind, our dissociation,
Thousands of you, thousands of me, split like branches from one single tree.

Upon which, you see..
Lay our bodies dismembered.

Only the sweet air alone is aware. Sweet nothingness ensues.
The entity alone asks, "Why would you want to?"

Because I cannot see a single thing.
Because you are right, my love,
Because I am no believer.
Because I believe in the chase. I believe in the game,
                  Your hand, your breath..
                                Your mangled wings, what you became.
                                                  I believe in bloody lips,
                                                 In an unlocked chest,
                                                                          That it's all the same.
                                                                          Because I believe in the game.
                                                                          Your wings crushed upon my pictureframe.
                                                                          It's because I believe in the game.

                                                                                            Wings on the frame.



A small tribute to someone.
Sometimes what' is logically best for a person is so ironically contradictory to everything they ever wanted.
A cruel paradox. Excruciating irony.
How that all we strive for in the end: fulfillment, gratification, happiness, joy, union, can at times only seem within reach when you stumble upon all that lays behind you.

Something From May

2008-08-14T19:28:43Z

LOL.
I found this thing I wrote when I still had my job with Vector Marketing.
.....Still can't believe they gave me knives. Those idiots. ;]

Cosplay.com Journal - May 22, 2008

"Why Marketing Sucks" (And it really does..)

So, ever since I got hired by this new marketing corporation, I've been trained thoroughly and sent out in the field to work. It's a salaried position, with additional commission. Fortunately for me, I sell many a different manner of knife and cutlery. I do get to carry them around with me wherever I go. Lets just say the conductors on the 4 train have been far more accommodating during rush hour. However, what disturbs me about the entire situation is that 1) Somebody has given me knives and 2) Someone has given me knives. ;] So after getting over how disturbing my new job is, I started wracking my brain for marketing strategies.

1) The Affordable Grim Reaper
Discounted services for ages 65 and up. Premiums or regular service available. Clean or messy. Choice of knife to do the deed.
Hooded garments may be worn by request. I can bring my scythe. Maybe. If it'll fit through the entrance. To the old folk's home. And if I can walk down a single street in Brooklyn with it and not get arrested. Which probably won't happen. Because I have a fucking scythe. Which still may or may not beat out a gun.

2) "May I peruse your wares, sir?"
Become the shopkeep of a local shop/inn, serving and accommodating weary travelers and/or warriors on their quests. Using this as a means to train and develop a group of hand-picked, premium, bearded gentlemen from the streets of Brooklyn. They will hand-craft the blades out of mythril. Training and managing an entire army of bearded gentlemen, bards, and/or elves (short ones). Eventually weaning my army off of marketing, developing their physical prowess, to establish, and eventually become the head of a ring of elite, bearded assassins I've wanted to have since I was a little girl. The assassins continue their cover professions as cutlery experts. But they do indeed get, the job done.

In other words, marketing sucks. It has successfully sucked all the fun out of owning dangerous knives. Also, our divine plots may never come to fruition. Even though the fact that they exist may actually be an abomination in itself. I pitched a few ideas to my manager, who didn't understand whether he should laugh or fire me. Needless to say, I've learned to keep them to myself.

The aforementioned "divine plots" are all thanks to a certain wacky ex-boyfriend. (Miss ya.)

-SanaK.

Otakon 2008 and the beginning of something new.

2008-08-14T19:23:46Z

So this year's Otakon was something I had been looking forward to since March or April or so, and it's already come and gone. Much too quickly. This year was an interesting one. My good friend Vernon "McNugget" Rogers and I kicked off the trip with a luxury 6 hour wait in the LaGuardia Airport Hertz for the big van to drive down to Baltimore. Afterwards, I think we arrived in Baltimore at around 1:30 AM on Friday morning, where immediately after stepping out of the car I was greeted with a lesson on what my real name must be. Apparently my name is Christy. Wait, I mean, Christy "Sexy", as said by one of the very... very, many hobos that inhabit the Baltimore streets..

So we arrived late, did the pre-reg thing, did some rapinz, took some pics, and so on and so on. I liked the hentai programming. But of course I would like the hentai programming. The rest of the programming was conveniently scheduled in a pattern designed to fuck everyone up the ass. The best programming was put in conflicting time-slots. Haha.

I did manage to cosplay a bit, but every photo that was taken of me was me either talking about shoes, or laughing at that Mikami who kept getting on the ground and grabbing the Light's legs for some reason. >.>

So, I kinda failed in that respect, as you can see me in the back next to that Ryuk that scared the ballzzz out of me. O.O I think I was posing. I still haven't found the fanservice pics I did with my dear L! (Blink)

The only safe thing I can assume here is that I might have been talking about thunderdicking. (Blink blink)

Speaking of which, can everyone stop bringing up thunderdick in every conversation we have?!? (Spasms)
Yes, I mean you, Vernon Rogers.

...So gay. :( So there's no decent pictures coming from Otakon 2008, meaning I'll put up the ones that are the most gay.
Ahoy, matey!

EPIC HAIRLINEZ

What happens when Godot puts crack in his coffee.

And in the words of someone wiser than me, "It's rapinz tyme!!"

Basically, this year was sort of uneventful for me, save for meeting a few people that I really wanted to meet. Should I stop thinking so much and leave those kinds of meetings up to chance? Do you think things like that really happen for a reason? It's entirely possibly that my belief in fate could only be an act of self-perpetuated ignorance.

In the end, Otakon 2008 was stressful for me because of the group of people I chose to go with. (Glares at Vernon Rogers) But from others, I had heard it was the most epic of Otakons, and the best year thus far. (Applauds nervously) Good going, you guys. Otakons, you have forsaken me.. (Falls over)

The End?

P.S. An excerpt from the wisest of men, Vernon Rogers:

BlueThunder2K1 (오후 9:38:50): I'LL UNLEASH IT
BlueThunder2K1 (오후 9:39:52): *BLUE ELECTROMAGNETIC THUNDER IN YOUR MOUTH NAO*
TriedTravesty (오후 9:39:52): *dies*
BlueThunder2K1 (오후 9:40:56): *THUNDER DICKS YOU BACK TO LIFE*
BlueThunder2K1 (오후 9:41:01): FEEL THE THUNDAH

-Vernon Rogers 9:42 PM, August 13, 2008

"BlueThunder2K1 (오후 10:18:30): I would give you a hot dicking"

......THANKS.