The poet and the King

A perfect life.

Sun, 18 May 2008 20:32:19 GMT

I believe I know where I'd like to be 10 years from now. I want to live on an island. Near the beach, near a jungle or a forest, far away from civilization, in a wooden hut with electricity, water, and everything, but once I'm out of the house, nothing but the sand, the ocean, trees, plants, strange animals.
And I'd drink a Long Island Iced Tea every evening while listening to music. And reading a book at night. Sometimes I'd sleep outside, on the beach.
Of course, I would need money for that dream to come true. So I'd work as... lab technician, as is my plan currently. Perhaps 22$ an hour can afford me that. And if not, I'll find something.
Ideally I'd share this hut with someone, though. It's always more fun than alone. We'd both have our jobs, probably, and live in a paradise island.
Ideally... of course. If all was perfect.
I wouldn't mind if this island was in Europe, America, anywhere. But I've always wanted to live in the wilderness like this. At night, instead of hearing cars pass by and drunk drivers yelling, I'd hear birds and mosquitoes. Which I would have to get rid of. And every morning, I'd go swimming (I'd make sure to get a place with no sharks).
The traniquility of a forest is what I seek... an island with a waterfall, ideally, many rocks, many paths, rocks where I can climb, trees as well, so I can look at the world... paths so I may travel with my bike on them, and I'd hide in caves in the middle of the forest.
Surely such a place must exist.

The King and the Wine

Thu, 15 May 2008 01:43:49 GMT

So, this is a sudden inspiration, written in no more than 10 minutes... a poem/song, meant to be different from what I usually do, but it ended up the same. I love writing about manors and kings, if you haven't noticed yet. But this has a special meaning in my eyes.

Another evening comes by
As the moon sets up in the sky
And as usual, you sit by the fireplace
The bright fire gently lightening your face.

With a cup of wine in hand,
The gaze of your eyes follow the cat
Stretching in its litter of sand,
Little prince, you thought as he sat.

All you own is pure beauty
A collection of luxury
But are you really happy
Do you enjoy frivolity?

The music of your grandfather clock
Slowly ticking away, in accordance with your chair
You suddenly drop your wine in shock
The cat runs away, seeking a safe lair.

What have you seen, my dear friend?
What have you heard that made you yell?
I see your face has turned red;
As beautiful as the red wine that fell.

The royal blood allowed you this,
But what you sought after was hidden in the shadow;
You'd give your fortune for a moment's kiss.
But of all this, what do I know?

A peasant, a peon, in a giant game of chess;
And you, the King, at any moment able to move me.
Yet you should settle for no less
Than the equivalent of royalty.

Is it a Queen you seek, my dear
Or, of course, perhaps a King?
From this solitude you suffer
Choose, and for you I will sing.

Bend over, pick up your glass now empty
Allow the cat to come back to your feet.
Sit back in your chair, your face pale in agony
This wine will never be as sweet

As the lips of the one you seek
The taste is the one of dark blood
"Enough of this folly!" I hear you speak;

Oh, my friend, you needn't look so far away
My hand is there, I am waiting;
And my heart as always on display.
Do you fear losing the game, my King?

The pieces are here for you to play.
You both the player and the King
And I a simple peon in dismay
My salvation or doom you'll bring.

Do you fear losing the game, my King?

Wed, 14 May 2008 01:00:25 GMT

I've been in a mood to listen to only Italian music lately.
Oh, and I won an award for best actor Monday, which explains my absence, sorry, guys.
Details at festifilm.com
Provided you read French. The pictures and names won't be up for a while, though.
And I met Jean Francois Harrison.
I nearly jumped of excitement. This guy's one of my idols of Quebec TV.

Sat, 10 May 2008 17:09:09 GMT

Seeing Francois tomorrow.
He might be able to fix my mental instability.
Hopefully.
Provide me with the answers I've been dying to know.
And perhaps, save us all from a great apocalypse of the mind.
Oh, so poetic, so tragic, so ridiculous.
Ridiculously beautiful.

Old picture + Photoshop + Free time =

Wed, 07 May 2008 16:32:01 GMT

Wed, 07 May 2008 01:45:23 GMT

My uncle just told me that Francois accepted talking to me.
Probably tomorrow.

It makes me immensely happy, except for one thing - he doesn't know... that I'm a man, now.
Last we talked to each other, I was an 11 year old girl. I'm a 17 years old boy. I hope he'll react well. He should... I hope.
I still don't know what I'll say to him, but I am so happy. He was my best friend, for so long, my source of knowledge... and he accepted talking to me.
There is at least one problem fixed. I'm nervous, but we'll see tomorrow. We'll see.
He still refuses to get in contact with my mother, but that is not my problem.
This is between him and I.

Oh, my old friend.

The escapist

Mon, 05 May 2008 02:30:23 GMT

If someone would be so kind as to lend me a tent and a sleeping bag, and point me to the nearest empty forest that has food in it, I'll be leaving there for vacations.
I need to get the fuck away from this bloody world. Surely there must be a way that doesn't require money. If it wasn't from my mother, I'd be long gone somewhere quiet. I don't want her on my back whenever I do something, but I must leave. Anywhere but here. Anywhere. Alone. Just a small escape, is all I want.. and the forest is the only place where I'd feel at home. The trees, the birds, the wind, the silence, the lovely nature in all its splendor, but most of all, it's tranquility...
I need it, I crave it, I want it.
I don't care if anyone would be looking for me, they can look all they want. I've waited for people. I've tried reaching them. No matter what excuses they can have, I'm tired of being the only one having to understand and nod whenever something happens. I expect no pity, nor understanding, simply the truth.

Oh, how can I explain? I will try, I must...

There is an ocean around my mind, and it is trying to breach through the wall. I am standing there, in the middle. The wall is weak, but I am trying to strenghten it. I have a small sword and an armor, but I know against water, it's useless - it'll simply go through the metal. I am trying to protect myself from the ravaging water, because I know it'll take me, the insanity, the madness, all the horrible thoughts trapped inside it, if I let them come in, if the wall comes down, it'll all wash over me, I will drown, I will never survive this tide. I am not allowing the thoughts to flow freely because if I do I will lose much more than I have lost already. And so I stand still, with ridiculous armor and weapons, against something that can not be fought, but only restrained.

I remember what you said. Maybe this is the time. Maybe it is now. But oh, alone, how can I do it? When I am so uncertain of where you are, where you'll be, in the future, when I come out, if I come out, what will await me on the other side? I wish tears would flow, I wish I could show some humanity, who am I, who am I to feel this way?

Should I let the wall break, or restrain this tide further? I am afraid of the horrors that will happen if I let go of the ocean. They are deadly, the waves, they are beautiful, tempting, but deadly, and I barely know how to swim. Not a single hand to reach for, only memories, only wishes, but what good is a memory in the blackness of the ocean?

If I had ever known you would be the cause of it, I cannot believe, it is a cruel irony. But I feel somewhere I must apologize.
Too many conflicting feelings, I can not choose, I don't know which is right. But I cannot act by myself. Speaking to a shadow, to a dream, to a memory, will do nothing.

In the meantime, I will apply more bricks to the wall; small breaches have opened. They must be fixed. I will not allow these wounding thoughts to reach my core.
I can wait, I can. But it's only feeding the already ravaging ocean.
Oh, if I had known, if I had only a chance.

Revival of the beast

Sat, 03 May 2008 01:25:30 GMT

When one is suffering from lack of sleep and slight dizzyness due to a headache (all caused by the clubbing and its aftermath yesterday), it is very hard to concentrate on something.
I have the feeling this screen is a dream. I feel like I do in my dreams.
...
What... wait, I got it!
When I'm asleep and dreaming, I feel the same way I do now, that it's real, but vague, I can feel all of my five senses but very faintly, like in dreams, I cannot explain, but it's nearly the same, nearly... except I'm actually not asleep.. which means..
Maybe, in my dreams, that wonderful dream I had, it will happen, or it has happened..
But that would require complex equations of time and 3 dimensional perception of the universe, and..
I think I'm simply in need of sleep, so I'll shut up and go read because I cannot, I cannot sleep.

I would also like to add that I have no intention of jumping from any vertically inclined surface of more than 5 meters high anytime soon.

Thu, 01 May 2008 19:16:13 GMT

Alright, I may be over exaggerating. My uncle is nice, I called him, and all went well. He told me he'd get in touch with Franky and let me know.
One thing I forgot, though, is that my mother asked another friend of his, Ron, to ask him if he'd talk to me - he refused.
Assuming Ron didn't lie, maybe Francois still doesn't want to talk to me. Am I gonna have to go all the way to his daughter's house, where he lives, to catch him? I have to talk to him. It's been too long, there are thigns I must say, things he must know; he was like my second grandfather.
Why wouldn't he talk to me? What.. all of my life teachers are leaving me behind, now? Am I no longer worth anyone's time? I've gotten wiser, since the last time we spoke, obviously - godamnit, he has to talk to me. And if he still refuses, I'll call his daughter, and tell her to force him to get on the phone.
I don't know what I could say to him, though. Many, many things need to be said, but right now, no words are in my mind. I know that once he's in front of me (or on the phone) it'd be much easier.

Are you all leaving me because you're afraid of telling me a truth I might not want to hear? Well, don't be. I'd rather learn something unpleasant than being left behind. That's even more unpleasant. And is the cause of my ascending insanity since the past few weeks.
So forgive my strange entries lately but if nothing changes, if I don't get news soon (and not just Francois) I'll jump off a bloody window. I've had enough of this little game.

Thu, 01 May 2008 01:47:14 GMT

I think I should let everyone know that I have a phobia of phone, and that if I never call you, it's not because I don't like you, but because I am very scared of phones.
And so, it will require me great courage to call my uncle (whom I'm sure dislikes me) so that I can ask him to get in touch with my friend, Francois.. whom I miss so much and absolutely.. need to talk to. He knows things, I am sure.
Well, so be it.. there we go.

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 16:48:25 GMT

King of the moon, lay your sword on the altar
Let the energy flow from the star

And I pray the sun never touches the blade
Of the sacred weapon always kept in the shade

Sacrifices made in your name
Will forever end in shame
For I am the one you seek

King of the moon, let go of your weapon
Before you destroy your world
Allow the stars to be free once more
King of the moon, let go of your hatred.

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 00:21:53 GMT

I know I'm stupid... I know I'm not realist...
But can't a man dream of a perfect life and get it?
I am not asking for world domination, nor for luxury...

I don't even know what else I want. Nothing, I'll be honest, nothing.
I could live in a dump and have no belongings and I'd still be happy if only...
What's wrong with me?

Requiem for a dreamer

Sun, 27 Apr 2008 02:24:55 GMT

It was the greatest moment of my life, and I was not even awake...
Am I made only to live in the realm of the abstract, where all I desire is untouchable?
Is my flesh and blood made to forever be denied the most simple pleasures?
Yet it is not the physical which I am longing for, though it is a part of it.
Am I not human, after all?
Or am I a beast...

And who... could ever learn, to love a beast?

I have long believed that our souls are what links us to one another, that the bodies were but shallow ships that carry us, the true essence within. And we must look past it. Does justice still exist?

- Difficile est longum subito deponere amorem....

Sat, 26 Apr 2008 12:48:41 GMT

That dream. Last night. It was mocking me, again! Giving me what I can only dream of, of course, making it feel real, because I could swear I felt it all, that I was inside the dream and not in my bed, but no, I had to wake up... again...
I cannot give details, not here, but one person must have a hint of what it was. If my mind keeps playing such tricks on me, I'll go insane.
Sure, it's amazing to have it happen and feel as if it's real, but the disappointment when you realize it's a dream... no. Never again. Please. It's torture.
And no, it's got nothing to do with me wanting to be fully male. It was something else. Something more important to me than being a real man, and you all know how important it is to me.

Fri, 25 Apr 2008 20:46:29 GMT

How the hell did I manage to develop a ridiculous crush on the chemistry teacher, even if he's amazingly good looking?
God...

Earth Day

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 20:24:31 GMT

Today was, as the title says, Earth Day. So at school, a few students (we were 40 or so, we didn't expect more than 15) joined us and cleaned up around the school. Afterwards, since we were allowed to leave earlier, a few friends and I went to the park, after getting some beer cans. We played ball, I showed some martial arts moves to my friends, who were impressed, and in return Van showed me some Kung Fu. The dragon stance is impressive, so is the tiger and monkey. So we talked, played, and enjoyed our beers.
I'm glad to finally have some friends in my immediate surroundings. I don't feel as alone as I used to. I was mocked by everyone during high school. Now, everyone knows me - but not for the bad reasons.

Sun, 20 Apr 2008 00:20:10 GMT

I only feel like a worthy human being when I'm singing or playing a role. Basically, when I am not really myself, when the attention is not on me.
With singing, though, it's different. I feel alive, and happy. Singing makes me happy. Must be the feeling the music brings. But I dislike silence when it is not for meditative purpose or when sleeping.

I went to the seminar today. It was amazing, really great. And I believe at the next one I'll be able to pass the exam. 5th kyu.
I hope I'll make it.

Oh, and Di Villadorata sensei has exactly the same jacket as me. The beige one? Maybe we shop in the same places. I found it quite amusing.

Also, there were two spots of light shaped like rectangles on the tatami. I sat in one. It was amazing, how I looked all illuminated like some godly being. Random spots of light are fun to sit in.

Metaphorical prophecy/wish/whatever the hell I meant it to be through lyrics

Sat, 19 Apr 2008 01:12:44 GMT

" Be still, my son
You`re home
Oh when did you become so cold?
The blade will keep on descending
All you need is to feel my love

Search for beauty, find your shore
Try to save them all, bleed no more
You have such oceans within
In the end, I will always love you"

Nightwish - The Poet and the Pendulum (part 5)

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 02:40:56 GMT

You're such a gentle person. Your eyes are so soft, deep, and real. I like you. We should be friends.
Oh.. we already are.

I wonder... do I seem like an arrogant snob to others? Or like an extremely shy one? It's one or the other, because I am too quiet.
I try not to be. I used to be worse. But, I hate starting conversations with strangers in fear of bothering them, or joining an existing conversation for the same reason. Also, I'm not interesting compared to all these people chatting away. What would they talk about with me? I'm boring.

The main reason I don't speak is because I think too much.I think, and my mind gets my whole attention - there is something bothering me, and as long as it is there, it will take my full attention.. pardon my lack of sociability, but the sadness it makes me feel is something that would be mean to make others cope with.
I hope that sentence made sense.
Nothing ever does anymore. I can't write. I can't talk. I can only stare and hope you understand.

Mon, 14 Apr 2008 02:35:57 GMT

Today I got two new books for one dollar.
One which was free, because I won a 20 dollar card at a library, and the other was just that - one dollar.

And since I have a brick to read already (Douglas Adam's trilogy of four books) I won't be bored at least for a month.

I also re-edited my OKCupid profile because the last one was annoying me.

I wish my life was interesting.

Fri, 11 Apr 2008 16:37:26 GMT

While I was coming back home with my bike, a car passed by me and missed me by barely an inch.
It didn't touch me but it damn well nearly did.

This is why I don't bike in the bloody streets, godamnit! I hold on to my life!

Of rememberance

Sun, 06 Apr 2008 23:05:15 GMT

I had two strange dreams in the past two nights.
When I was at the loft, but that didn't feel like a dream. I know it was, though, because the things said in dream wouldn't happen in real life.

And another here, yesterday, about a certain LJ post I made that earned me 10 comments. I never wrote that LJ post, though. I barely remember what it was about; something about how attractive I am, I think. Hah, yeah right. As if that were true. Maybe my brain trying to tell me something.

Though today, the subject of my entry is not dreams. It is real life, yes, for once I am not speculating, nor daydreaming...
I was at my father's place for 2 hours this afternoon. We discussed many things while drinking white wine (which is quite delicious, I must admit), one of these things being his life. The life he had in Columbia, South America - when he was young. If you do care, I will share some of what I learned with you all.

He had quite a family. They weren't rich, nor famous - but still known in their city. Bogota. My father's uncle, my great uncle, has a stadium named after him, with a marble representation of his head in it.

But it is not this I wish to tell.

It's my father's life, before the more influential members of his family climbed the social ladder (or descenced, in some cases.)

So, here we go, some small stories... but first, the most recent, what led to my existence, shall we?
My father, when he was in Columbia, worked for some mafiosos - south americans, cubans and mexicans dealers, most likely. Not only drugs, but also some wine and bananas. They were imported illegally. My father was in charge of holding a gun and watching the load - intimidating, basically. He never killed anyone with it.
But it was a job my father did not enjoy. After a while, he decided to quit; this wasn't the life he wanted, so he decided to find a real job. And so, he crossed over to Mexico, met with a few friends, and later, left towards the United States - illegally through the border. While I do not know much of his life in Mexico, I know he went to Guadalajara and Mexico city. He said those are both beautiful cities. Maybe I'll find out myself one day.
One of his friends was carrying illegal drugs with him, something my father was not aware of. And so, as they went by car, they arrived at the border of the country. The police did not check their car, and they successfully passed. Later, my father learned he had been the unwilling partner of a drug transfer. But that did not matter; he was in the US, safe and alive. He stayed one year. Afterwards, he decided to move to Canada, since the US was unwelcoming for people of his kind; he was often mistaken for a Mexican, and we all know what the US think about them...

And so he moved to Canada - legally, this time. He earned his residency, found a job and an apartment and started living a normal, semi-honest life (he quit the drug dealing, but he does work under the table. Some people never change). He worked at a restaurant as a dishes washer (there must be a name for that) and my mother worked on the second floor, as a salesperson. They met each other there. What happened between them is touchy to talk about, so let's not get there and move on. I'm very surprised to even be alive, considering everything that happened to the both of them -
My father's life had been very dangerous and he nearly got killed several times. Most of his friends in the past haven't been as lucky as him and lost their lives. As for my mother, she had lots of trouble making a child.
Yet, here I am, since my father's alive and my mother managed to keep me.
I still wonder why. It was so unlikely.

But I am straying from the subject.
On to the more interesting part, the past.

A way my father almost died, was when he was standing in a tree with a friend. Doing nothing out of the ordinary. Then, suddenly, a bullet whizzes by his head, only a few inches away. Cursing, he falls off the tree as another bullet gets by. Apparently, a farmer thought he was stealing his vegetables. And in Columbia, the law was decided by firearms. If they so much as suspect you to be a criminal - they can kill you, even without proof.
And this is nearly what happened to my father.

He was in a friend's house, with a few other people, all delinquants. The mafiosos kind. The police then knocks at their door, aware of who they were and wanting to catch them. All the men left through back doors and windows, including my father. He passed through the backyards of some houses and climbed in a tree with another guy. But a woman saw them, and she yelled, "I'm calling the police!" so the two men jumped from the tree. The other one, taller than my father, managed to find a higher tree and got out safely. But my father is short; so he ran to another yard, and with a strength he did not know he possessed, grabbed onto the high branch of a tree and pulled himself on it. He jumped on a roof nearby and layed there, on his stomach, listening. Thankfully for him, the house was empty; it was for rent, so nobody had a chance to catch him, assuming he kept quiet. It was night. He head voices, the police looking for him. One of the policemen had a charged gun and was aiming at the tree he was previously in. My father stayed still. Somehow, he fell asleep; when he woke up, it was 5 AM and everyone was gone. He jumped through the air vent, went inside the abandoned house and left through the door, heading home.

Another story, is back when he sold the items that people stole. Black market, I suppose. He possessed a typing machine that was worth a lot at the time. The man whom it belonged to knew my father had it; he ordered an assassin to kill him. So, the assassin went to his house and met with my father. But my father knew the man had a gun and was here to get rid of him. The man urged him to go near the cemetary, where it was dark and empty; the kill would be safer. My father insisted on going to the other side. Eventually they decided to go to the depanneur, where they got a beer. My father had tried convincing the man not to kill him, telling him he had kids, that the machine was not stolen by him. So the assassin stared out the window, drinking his beer, watching the cemetary. He said: "You're right, the cemetery is a place where lots of people die. Let's go to the movies, I'll invite you." My father had been momentarily saved. But during the whole night my father spent with him, he was always afraid for his life. At the end, they took a taxi. The man went to his house, paid the taxi, and my father went to his. He never saw the assassin again. Later, he learned the man ironically got killed, after performing several kills himself. He had felt sympathy for my father, something assassins usually must not feel when ordered to kill.

After hearing all this, I obviously was surprised to find my father was still alive. I have a few ideas as to why... but those are not of the realm of the material, tangible concepts, so I will not stray from the main topic and close the chapter for now.

Sun, 06 Apr 2008 00:37:48 GMT

I would sell my soul and all my future lives if I had the possiblity to change the future of my life by influencing certain people's thoughts and actions.

In the end I would make everythnig positive for everyone, of course.

If I had the possibility to be a God - if the world was like The Sims.
You would see.. all would be well. I promise.
But we'll never find out.
Life is not my book, nor am I its God.
But if I were, right now... ha.. haha..
No, I will not say.

There is no point in trying to change things that are impossible to change. I can't control how people feel and act.
And I admit, making things better for my reality might not mean best for everyone else.
But I would change it according to their needs.
Erase, rewrite, eliminate - change... write...

Ahem.
Back to the substantial world.

Today, I have learned that claws of a cat hurt when dug into your leg. Especially when said cat is sleeping on you and you don't want to take him off.

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 12:00:23 GMT

Nightmares..

Haven't had those bastards in quite a long time. And now I'm lucky if I can take the metro without thinking of these.

Actually, only the first one was bad. The second was simply my fear of big insects materialized.
But the first...

Imagine.

I was in the metro, walking normally, when for no reason I find myself slipping inside the rail part. Which means electricity, right? But I didn't get shocked to death for some reason, and I quickly tried to climb back up. Yet, as I was climbing, the whole setting changed and the metro became airborne.
How to explain this...
It was nothing but rails, no floor to walk on, just rails. I assume there were stations at the extremities. But how far were those? I was on the rails. I was climbing, but the place changed, so I fell and I was on my knees, on the rails. The metro could be coming from any side, from any of the four rail lines. So I quickly crawled as fast as I could to get the hell out of here. Below me, nothing at all; only an empty sky, which meant a very long fall that could only result in death. And I couldn't walk on the rails - they were as solid as fishing cables. As I crawled more, I heard the noise of a train coming. Shit.
So obviously I crawled faster, breathing heavily. I was at a curve; I couldn't see which way and rail the train would come from, since the curved covered the way. So I only had to guess. Thankfully, the train never reached me because at the other end of the curve was a floor, which I just sprawled myself upon.

No more sleeping for me. Make me remember. What's sleep good for anyway?
I'm always afraid to get killed either in my dreams or in my sleep by an axe murderer. No way.

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 00:03:21 GMT

I'll be honest here, I'm seriously considering changing my first name to Raphael instead of keeping it as a middle name.
The only reason I'm not doing it is because everyone is used to Viktor and I already changed my name twice.
It would be ridiculous to do it again.
Then again..
The official papers haven't been changed, I still have a female name on them. Until the big day, I have time to think, but I'll piss everyone off if I change my name again.
Some people haven't even adjusted.
Godamnit.

I like my name, but I feel really attracted to Raphael with each passing day. I think the only reason I wanted Viktor is to keep the K and X letters in both my names.
I could have went with anything else - Kevin, Kyle, whatever - but it doesn't sound right for me. I prefer more classical names such as Viktor. Raphael.
I can't decide which sounds better and it annoys me.
I also stared at this screen for a good 20 seconds for absolutely no reason.
I think I need to play a game or something.

On another note, I hope to be able to go to the herborist academy this year. That entirely depends on the pre-requistes and if I can get financial aid somehow. It's my final, set in stone decision for the career I want. Actor's still in there - but having a job won't stop me from acting if I get roles.