Don't Copy this Post

Seriously. Don't even think about it.

People, let's start with something simple. Copy and past a link to something awwesssommmeee. This isn't so bad. Hey, I do it a lot, even. Linking to a Youtube video is second. It's more annoying 'cause you can't be sure it's not interesting until you've seen the first few seconds of it.

But forwarding emails, copying and pasting posts or statii on Facebook.

Please. Please, listen to these simple tips.

One: we're in the information age. That means you have gazillions of images, articles, games, blogging sites, video upload sites, oh, and photo upload sites. Soooo many.

Lots.

So I ask you...with all this information at your fingertips, seconds away from your eyes, why, in the name of Q-tips and apple pie, would you copy and paste almost anything? Hey, I may be a radical who practically forwards/copy/pastes anything, but really. It took me less than five seconds to make sure a story wasn't true. There's Urban Legends, there's Snopes. For heaven's sake, there's Google. Things like these go around, and people ask about things like these. Thus, there's information on things like these on the internet. A couple clicks and a dozen or so keypresses away.


Two: Use common sense. I perhaps use this to an excessive degree, where I won't even forward the awe-inspiring or tear-jerking emails to friends or family...but that's not the point. There are very, very few times when your forwarding something or reposting something or copying a status will actually have a meaningful effect on someone's life. And guess what? If you spend ten minutes researching someone who's actually legitimately in need, or, heck, volunteering at a soup kitchen, or even visiting the bed-ridden...

Well, just ask yourself this: which is most self-sacrificial? Which shows most you care to the person in need?

Granted, there are times when forwards aren't the worst possible thing in the world. Occasionally, they're funny, cute, gut-wrenching, or something. Moderately tolerable. Sometimes these forward/repost/status things aren't completely bogus. That's where you really need your common sense.

My apologies if this wasn't helpful and was just annoying.

I get ticked off by this stuff easily.

To cheer you up from that rant:

youtube.com/watch?v=KCSA7kKNu2Y


!Noah!

Eight in the Kitchen at Eight

Ten years ago, I woke up and came downstairs to the kitchen. I can't remember the exact time, and I can't remember exactly when the towers were attacked, but I remember Daddy telling Mommy something and her being significantly taken aback. I understand better today what he'd told her about, but I remember the feeling then of rather infantile, formless horror.

"After seeing just one video concerning eight years ago's events, I have little to say. On September eleventh, men raised their fists at America, and struck down more than three thousand of us. It is our duty to remember this, tell it to our children, and inspire the, "quiet, unyielding anger" that Mr. Bush spoke of on that dreadful day. Forgetting that terrible day, and what it implies for our future, is akin in magnitude to forgetting the knowledge, but mostly wisdom, that centuries before wrote in books, spoke to crowds, and thought with conviction.


We must never forget September the eleventh. Then, we were brutally and mercilessly assaulted by men who hate America solely for the immense and wonderful liberty that Americans have, share, and allow, to anyone who enters our country legally. Imagine a world where we forgot that there used to be two gargantuan, near identical towers on Manhattan Island. Forgetting any part of our past is to flout the wisdom and knowledge of those before us, and endanger those who will proceed us. The stuff of the past is more valuable than ten thousand times ten million times all our nation's wealth. Few or no other mediums can teach us as much, admonish us as aptly, or commend us as correctly. Few of those before us would wish themselves forgotten, if not because they were wise and knowledgeable, then because they were proud. Our past, if studied, ensures our future security.


The importance of the present and future are second only to the past."


I can't say I'm as eloquent as I was then at this particular moment, but I couldn't really say much more or say it much better than I did then. We have enemies who are strong, strong enough to strike out in cowardly and despicable manners. Moreover, we cannot expect Al-Qaeda and Saddam and bin Laden to be the only haters of our great country. Without a doubt, more will rise up and attempt to take freedom from us--even within our borders. Fear is not the answer. Not even close. We're in a battle for the survival of not our country, but the liberty that our country provides. The solution is to spread said freedom, to protect it, to teach our children how blessed they are to have it.


The terrorists would have us stripped of our liberties, so our duty is to come together and pull against them in this great tug of war. Our country and our liberty are at stake. This is no less true today than it was ten years ago.


Remember, remember, the eleventh of September.




!Noah!

Easy A

Yeah.

I guess I won't comment on why I watched it, but I felt like it was worth writing about in some length or another.

Anywho. If you want to watch this movie, don't read this. Yet.

I don't know why, but I liked this movie. Not a ton, but I did. The humor was alright, (some) of the characters good, and the whole confession thing gets me every time.

If you don't know, for some reason, Easy A is about a girl in highschool who ends up, by a series of decisions and circumstances, thought of by her school as a slut. This came about because she pretended to sleep with this one guy because he wanted to be relieved of the troubles that are being gay. One thing led to another, and she'd "slept" with the whole school, if hyperbole is fine with you.

I think why I liked the movie wasn't because of the sex (little or none of it though there was) or the talk thereof, but rather because of the effects her lies had on her life.

Gah, it sounds really unpleasantly typical that way. I guess I found myself thinking, "This really could happen!"

Or so I think. It seemed believable. I still think it is. But the point is it was real. Actions had consequences. She originally thought having sex wouldn't be fine, but pretending to would be, but in the end, it seemed like she just might have seen that lies have their own consequences.

I don't write about movies often, and even less so because they really got to me in some way. I guess I'm sort of a truth freak. An honest guy. Granted, I don't tell the truth all the time, and I quite frequently lie instead. I'm not perfect, nor close to it.

But I appreciate the difficulty and weight of honesty. Lies are easy.

I think it would be stupid to say this movie amounted to a moral about lies and their consequences. There's more to it than that. A bit of humor, of course. Heck, it's a story! And the way it's told is a way I like, I think.

You know. Author inserts comment here, author issues warning there, author denies liability for injuries sustained while perusing this book.

Stuff like that.

They/she didn't do it as well as me, granted, but it was nice nonetheless.

Aah, the Christians.

I was honestly alright with what they did with us. Sure, they made nutjobs and oddballs and bossy girls the bringers of Good News, but they didn't do much more than that. For a second I thought she'd even go the whole hog and actually understand some words from the Bible, but no such luck. Pretty dang close.

I think it was true. For me, that's all there needs to be in a story. It might not be good because of it, it might not be beautiful because of it, but truth I do adore.

I'm not going to rate it. If you're above the age of seventeen, I'll recommend it, but mildly. The worth of the movie separate from the message is probably minimal.

The movie has minimal violence, little nudity, no sex but a good few minutes pretending, and plenty of language.


!Noah!

'Cause I'm Feeling Writy

At this point, I feel like I just wasted my money on that awesome Bluetooth keyboard and mouse and accompanying USB dongle.

Why?

I'm too happy for that sort of stuff to matter. Sigh. It'll probably be over tomorrow, I'll probably forget what the heck I was happy about...dang, I don't even know now, really...well, there is Windy. I don't think I've ever fallen in love with a fictional figment of some fictional character's fictional imagination before.

It's new.

It's unorthodox!

It involves little self control and a lot of dreamyweamy!


I want to dance. I think I've come to the point where I'd dance with a willing guy, if given the chance. So long as there was good music to go with it. Gosh, I could dance an hour if anyone was willing to. Maybe someday I'll go to the Midtown Global Market and bring a boombox...

And my dancing clothes.

Which reminds me, I need to get some dancing clothes. Dude, that should be top priority. Back burner for all this bluetooth nunchuck swishspittle bucketknuckle dunkreef golfmote stuff.

Yes, I just made up a whole five words in the space of one sentence.

Aye. For tonight, life is good.

For always, God is good.


!Noah!

Windy

Here's the deal.

Life keeps throwing me curve balls. And all those awesome ones Bugs Bunny made up. Those too.

I haven't been enjoying getting up in the morning.

I haven't enjoyed going places, doing things, meeting people, seeing people, thinking about what I'm gonna do...

But, for reasons wild and mysterious and lovely and strange, I'm not feeling pessimistic right now.

I might be getting a job in the next few weeks (prayers, if'y'please).

Life is amazing. God gave me free will, for goodness' sake! I can do anything I want! Within reason and the boundaries of the law, naturally, but ANYTHING! AUGH!

Windy. I don't care what you think, I don't care what you say. That's beauty, right there. I don't care about the music too much. I like the tune, sure, but the words describe a girl, for me. Also, that song happened to be in a TV show from 2008 named Life on Mars. And there was a girl named Windy. She was a figment of the main character's imagination. I'm not sure such a beautiful thing is possible this side of the reality/dreamworld border, but I don't think it matters. Windy's best for the lonely.

Which I am. Heck, you probably know it. Either that or you envy me or somesuch nonsense. I don't know, honestly. But I officially have...I can't remember how many exactly, but one more inmate in the crazed, wondrous prison that is my mind.

Windy makes me wish I were delusional or insane, 'cause then she'd be real.


!Noah!

Not Happy

And now I'm not happy.


Why?


So many reasons. Dishes. Trash. People. Myself. Girls. Family. God. Stuff. Job (the lack thereof, rather).


I don't get it. I've got it good, and I know it. I know God, and I love him. I have a family, a great one, and I don't appreciate them, I don't engage with them, I don't love them.


But I do. And yet I don't.


I want to talk to people and know them. I want them to talk to me and know me. I want to love them despite their faults, and I want them to love me despite my faults.


I know God loves me, and yet I haven't felt like he's really there recently. I've been sporatically joyful and sorrowful, hyper and grumpy. I don't know why.


I want someone to know me and to care enough to ask how I'm doing more than once every two weeks. I want someone who'll in turn allow me to care about them and ask them probing, even unpleasant questions at will.


I'm unrepentant and sinful and I don't seem to have the will to change it myself, let alone ask someone to walk through this proverbial fire with me. I can't figure out who could do that, who has the time to talk when I need to talk, to care for me when I need to be cared for.


The irony is that I'm living in a house full of caring, loving, kind people. Moreover, I live in a community (CityLife) whose members are at least preaching the embrace of community, and most wholeheartedly establishing it.


I bought myself a new computer recently, and no matter how much I tell myself I needed it, that it was for my own good as well as others', it's not entirely true. I got it 'cause I wanted mine to be better than Gregory's, for starters. Pride point. Also, I wanted to spend more time playing more impressive games. Another pride point, I guess.


And I want a girl. I've heard practically everything I could ever hope to hear about girls, dating, love, sex, and marriage, and yet it seems like it's either gone in one ear and out the other, or it's just not saturated me, I guess you could say. I want to get married, and yet I can't help feeling I'm depending on that, my greatest dream ever, to fulfill my desires, solve my problems, and make me happy. I know that's not the case, of course, because there's God, and if Girl X can solve all my problems, God would become obsolete.


I want to love my family and know more friends, to be someone who opens up easily to brothers who can actually understand and help and keep loving me even then.


But would it be permanent? I keep asking myself this. I don't want to continue Taekwondo unless I do it my whole life. I don't want to go out with a girl unless it ends up in marriage. I don't want to do a job unless I see it finished. I don't want to tell at all unless I tell all. Why should I make friends if they'll move away next year? I've got plenty of friends I've never met and some I've met a couple times, tops. Why should I add to their number?


But life is fleeting! Friendship perhaps even more so. Carpe diem! But how? When? With what intentions? How can I take control of my life, my friendships, my loves, if I can't figure out why I'm so ticked off in the first place? How can I hope to make my life better if I can't figure out why it's so bad? God? I don't know what I haven't tried! It's hyperbolic, probably not true, but life is too disappointing to be optimistic. At this point, I don't want anything to solve my problems because I'm too sour and convinced they're permanent and unchangable.


Why must I be so desperate? Why must I be so secretive, silent, so sour?


How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?


Psalm 13:1




!Noah!

Happy

Ok, so, right now, I'm happy. I don't care what you say, I am.


And I'm not. It's weird. A few minutes ago...wait, no, it was probably an hour ago, I took out the trash. In a sour mood indeed.


And now I'm hyper, talking my head off. Can't figure it out.


Anyway, if I were to select a phrase for the day, it'd be "old flame"


No, it has nothing to do with girls or love or anything like that.


The thought.


The very thought of it.




Anyway, I'm trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do with my life if I intend to marry this girl. It's a lot to do for such an old dream.


Dude, I'm so absolutely sappy. Gosh, people, how do you put up with this guy.


I mean, me.


Yep, I'm totally referring to myself in the third person.


The Third Person.


It could be a film about a multiple-personality guy. You know there's a film by the name The Third Man? It'd even have subliminal parody status! Yeah, I don't know what that means either.


Anywho. I've got myself a new computer. I think there are pictures up on Flickr. Die if you don't know the address. Either that or comment and ask for it. I've got some other new pictures up there too.


I've neglected this bloooggg. Like so many other people. I know, people may say cats are the most neglected pet of all time, but, I'm telling you, it's actually blogs. Seriously.


Anywho. I'm in a weird mood. I like it, but I'm not sure if it's healthy. It's sorta hyper, but, unfortunately, dear old Lilliopathy isn't on. I'm not sure what I'd do if I didn't have her to spazz to every now and then.


I've got things to do. Jobs to search, noodles to boil, tigers to tame. I might even clean my ears along the way.


People, if I do this, I'm gonna need prayer like heck.


Dude, I'm so horribly dramatic at this hour.


Don't worry, most likely, I'll only get myself horribly shamed and lose all will to support myself and end up 40, jobless, 300 pounds, and playing video games 12 hours a day.


See? Told you so?


I'll get off, before I get into a full-scale argument with myself.




!Noah!

The Prison of Worlds: The Grand Entrance

two

The Grand Entrance

“All hope abandon, ye who enter here!” Dante Alighieri

The sun beat down on the clouds and thus completely missed the ground. The clouds in turn threatened to rain upon the Earth, but forbore to do so in a sort of grumbling fit. The result would have left a blind man searching for cover, but the avid meteorologist would simply wave away doubts and worries and say it would pass over.

This was largely due, in part, to the fact that there weren’t any meteorologists within fifty miles of this building.

Ah, the building. Yes, I told you I’d get to that. As if the rest of the world weren’t convinced it ought to go back to bed and sleep the day through, the building was the sort of thing that just looks out of place without rain pouring down in sheets, lightning striking every other second, and an terrifying tune playing in the background. In short, this building seemed to have been uprooted from some land of utter darkness and horror, and been flown to this place of relative joy and calm.

The reality was much less believable.

Still, the building itself was something worth describing. It had a couple wings, one on each side. Ivy crawled up and around to such a degree that, if it weren’t already a prison of sorts, it would have ensured escape was impossible. The front doors and a few windows here and there were the only places where the incredibly overwhelming ivy wasn’t beyond the management’s very capable handling. These few holes in the mass of wood were maintained regularly by the local handyman, who somehow had managed for twenty years to use a chainsaw as a tool for myriad lawn and garden tasks and, even more miraculously, managed to keep several of his fingers.

The windows and doors weren’t a viable escape option because the grounds were overgrown with gargantuan nettles. One footstep in the formerly brown and unpleasant lawn would quickly render one unconscious. Given a couple seconds, gravity, and the loss of balance, the nettles would pump into you more poison than an elephant was meant to handle.

In effect, therefore, nobody had ever escaped by any means. A few people had tried, and most of them had died. But I’m not here to rhyme.

The driveway was long, and somehow, gravel though it was, was also covered in the deadly nettles. A sign over the doorway explained, in bright and unpleasant colors, that footwear of any kind was not allowed in the asylum. It also explained that hope was pointless and one should abandon it. It used a bunch more words and probably sounded like it actually meant it, but the effect was more than I care to let my readers know.

As the limousine pulled up and slowed to a halt at the front steps, the man raised his head from the seat. The driver looked back, unsure whether to pity this man or deride him. The insane are hard to judge.

“We’re here,” he said, apparently compromising. The information was unneeded, as the orderlies had already begun to escort the man out of the car. Oddly enough, he didn’t resist. He walked rather proudly and managed, once or twice, to keep pace with the men who guided him. His head was held high and he appeared to be taking the sight in. The orderlies saw his attentive gaze and tightened their grip on his arms. It wasn’t like he could escape, but the job paid well, so they were willing to do it well. The limousine hummed off behind them, leaving nothing but nettles to be seen.

They continued up the front stairs, which also seemed to have been recently cleared of ivy. There were green clippings and fresh, wet, angled pieces of wood, some large, some small. The pieces of ivy got between the man’s toes as he strode on toward the door. The threshold was rather large, and the handyman seemed to have done a bad job this time. The man instantly imagined that the handyman had found love and thus become distracted from ordinary life. A slight breeze passed them and overturned some leaves.

“Weird day, eh?” said one of the orderlies. He had obviously forgotten he was guarding a man certified insane by the top doctors in the United States.

“Yeah, aren’t...” the second man started saying.

“Yes. This place is odd even without an odd day to go with it. Peculiar,” said the strange man, interrupting the second orderly.

The orderlies blinked and remembered who was next to them. They blushed, faced front, and resumed their stoney expressions.

The asylum was an asylum. The strange man sighed. He had expected no better.

!Noah!