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-- Edit --

Sorry about that guys. I brought Sitdiary back but forgot to update some of the scripts so they work on the new installation. You should be able to write posts as usual.

For now, I have registrations turned off because we were getting tons of spam previously.


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Find Stength in Pain
Listening to: Passenger - Let Her Go
Feeling: abused

Ask me to give you fire; Ill give you an inferno.  The best days are always the ones you hate at the time.  Those days of fucked up passion, the ones you wake up regretting.  "You only need the light when it's burnin low."  You cant make up for these nights, youve always been sorry youve never experienced this; now that you're here, you're lost.  Compus and gps in hand and you still cant find your way.  How tired and faded is this?  Youre dream is so out of reach that you kill yourself every night trying to reassure youself that this is okay....you're no okay dude. Grow the fuck up, man the fuck up.  You're better than this.  That fire thats been building. it means something!  Go fucking do it.  There is an inferno inside you, something unseen that only you can feel.  Harvest it, let it fuel you.  Give that dream the spark it needs to burn the world down. 

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Dreams and Other Uninspiring Moments
Listening to: The Early November - Every Night's Another Story

Like most of my prolific thoughts, it came at a time of mental impairment.  Typically this is defined as an evening of copious amounts of cheap bourbon.  As I have gone through life, increased in rank, increased salaries; my taste for Jim Beam has remained the same.  However this profound thought was not sparked by the standard brain juice.  Come to think of it, Ive been deployed for over 8 months now with no alcohol...thats gotta be a personal record for the longest streak without booze since I was 14; but I digress...Despite having a degree in psychology, I dont find any real desire to delve into theories of the subconcious or dream interpretation, I simply found this dream almost too real.  It was clear but distorted, close but distant, tangible but out of reach.  Take it for what you will and nothing more.  I feel like I lack the adolescent flair of trying to use abstract comparisons to describe things like I used to, but here goes..  

It all seems to end exactly where it starts, in whatever endevour I find myself in.  I'm staring into the eyes of a beautiful brown haired girl, we have our hands interlocked with each other at our sides.  She is telling me something very important but I cannot hear a word of it.  Everything seems to slow down to the absolute minimum required speed for motion to be noticeable.  The only thing I am concious of in this delay in reality are my senses. I can feel wayward strands of her hair brushing against my face with the slightest breeze pulsing at her back.  She isnt tall, nor is she short; she is nearly eye level with me.  I can smell her hair and perfume, its indescribably intoxicating.  I have never seen or met this girl in my life, but I feel so at home in this moment; like I have been here before, with her.   She looks terribly concerned about something as I can feel her grip on my hands tighten ever so gently as time still passes in fractions of its normal cadence.  I can feel her warm breath on my face as shes attempting to talk quickly and explain.  I blink, feeling like I have shut the world off for an eternity as my eyes are closed to everything going on around me. As I have the world shut out to my most prevalent sense, my others kick into overdrive for this false eternity.  

I feel heat and wind, slowly pushing against me, forcing this beautiful girl closer into my arms.  I can feel her cheek aginst mine as I feel her hands disengage my own and move to grasp around my neck.  I feel the weight of a weeks sleep deprivation against my eyelids as I try to open them to take this moment in.  I feel the moisture of tears on my cheek as she starts to speak into my ear.  All I can hear is the rush of air blowing past my ears.  I can think of nothing else but wanting to live in this moment for a lifetime with this beautiful girl who seems so perfect.

I finally manage to open my eyes and time begins to increase its rythmic cycle slowly as each second passes.  Suddenly I am more concious of my surroundings and am entirely focused on finding out what is wrong with this girl in my arms and what I can do.  We are standing in a garage, an empty garage with the door open, facing out to nothing but barren desert.  Grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her away from her grip on me, I look into her tearful eyes; suddenly locked on to them like they are all that exist in the world because they are showing me more than I could ever imagine.  Her eyes are deep set, but bright; brighter than any normal eyes I have ever seen.  As I look into these eyes I can feel everything being laid out for me just by looking at them.  She knows everything; everything Ive never said, everything that a stranger would have no way of knowing.  Her eyes have the universe in them, spinning around its systematic pattern of life and death.  I can see everything she wants me to see and more, they are like starry skies on a clear night in the middle of nowhere, clear and beautiful.

At this moment I become aware of the chaos that is about to ensue, why this beautiful girl I feel at home with, has been crying and clinging to me.  The heat on my face begins to become an annoyance, like being directly in the sunlight on the hottest day of the summer with no shade.  The rush of air I have felt moving past my ears, the temporary deafness; was not just a symptom of a beautiful moment in time.  Over her shoulder in the distance of the desert there is a fire, shooting into the sky with extreme speed and force, like it is trying to bring the sun down from its perch. This fire looks like a pack of fiery wolves charging into the sky, chasing down some prey ready to be consumed by the molten teeth of these beasts. My mind is beginning to catch up with my senses as I am taking this chaos in.  

The air rushing past my head was no summer breeze.  The lack of sound I experienced was not a blissful pause in reality.  The weight that held my eyes closed was not the comfort of resotrative sleep calling.  The moisture on my cheek was not just tears. What I am becoming all too aware of is that this is it.  

The shockwave of a nuclear explosion travels nearly three times the speed of sound.  Judging by the length in time that it took for the sound to travel to us before our eardrums exploded and began bleeding, we have less than six seconds left in this life before our bodies cast their final shadow on the ground as we are ripped apart at the molecular level.  

I grab this girls hands and turn her away from the blast as I turn my back on it, embracing her as tightly as possible, trying to provide the only form of protection I can offer from this fate.  I feel her hand grab mine as I embrace her.  Looking down at her I can see her mouthing the words, with no chance of hearing them one last time, I love you.  I place my hand on her cheek and put my forehead against hers.  As our movement overlaps, I can see her left hand is adorned with a simple silver band on her ring finger with the date 05-01-16 inscribed on it.  I catch a glimpse of my own hand, as its pulling her into me against her cheek and neck,  with a matching band and inscription. Its all over in an instant and I wake up feeling wonderful.   



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