Because it's lovely.

I'd kill to be able to write like that.

"If I should have a daughter, instead of "Mom," she's gonna call me "Point B," because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I'm going to paint solar systems on the backs of her hands so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say, "Oh, I know that like the back of my hand." And she's going to learn that this life will hit you hard in the face, wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt, here, that cannot be fixed by Band-Aids or poetry. So the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn't coming, I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to wear the cape all by herself because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I've tried. "And, baby," I'll tell her, don't keep your nose up in the air like that. I know that trick; I've done it a million times. You're just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house, so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place, to see if you can change him." But I know she will anyway, so instead I'll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby, because there is no heartbreak that chocolate can't fix. Okay, there's a few heartbreaks that chocolate can't fix. But that's what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything, if you let it. I want her to look at the world through the underside of a glass-bottom boat, to look through a microscope at the galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind, because that's the way my mom taught me. That there'll be days like this. ♫ There'll be days like this, my momma said. ♫ When you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises; when you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape; when your boots will fill with rain, and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment. And those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you. Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away. You will put the wind in winsome, lose some. You will put the star in starting over, and over. And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute, be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life. And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting, I am pretty damn naive. But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily, but don't be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it. "Baby," I'll tell her, "remember, your momma is a worrier, and your poppa is a warrior, and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more." Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things. And always apologize when you've done something wrong, but don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining. Your voice is small, but don't ever stop singing. And when they finally hand you heartache, when they slip war and hatred under your door and offer you handouts on street-corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.

Thank you. Thank you.

(Applause)

Thank you.

(Applause)

Thanks.

(Applause)

Thank you.

(Applause)"

-Sarah Kay

~Sam

The Beginning of a New Era?

Well, my copy of George R.R. Martin's "Game of Thrones" has finally arrived. I read about 75 pages so far, and it's pretty promising. Will it be the next big thing for me? Well, I'll just have to read on and find out. As of now, I'm already immersed in the book. I really hope it doesn't disappoint me...and I also hope that it never ends. I hate it when epic books end. It fucks with my brain. Also, I have considered watching the T.V. show. But I'm waiting to finish the books that are out first. So yeah.. I'll keep you guys posted(If you even care).
I just discovered that my thumb hurts when I type. And also that my glee finale torrent is done. And that it's past 3 A.M....well there goes my normal functioning REM cycle.

I used the word "well" a lot. Sorry, I'll try to stop. 

Of Suicide and Apologies

We've been horrible, horrible people. I know. We haven't posted in ages, and I haven't posted something original in even longer. That's more from a lack of things to say than from being busy, honestly, though we've been that, too. I noticed that out of the 50-odd posts I have, I only like about a handful-the ones that came to be spontaneously and not out of this feeling that I needed to blog, ones like this, this, this and maybe this. So I figured I'd rather just not write than write crap.
Anyway, we'll try to be more regular now, now that we're relatively freer.


Now that we've got the apologies are out of the way, let's get down to business. Suicide.
So as I said, we've been pretty busy lately, working on something quite important for us. The importance of the task is relevant and cannot be overstated. National security, life and death, etc, etc, don't even begin to cover it.
This is a paraphrased version of a conversation I had at the time (It was funnier when it happened):

Me: I really hope this works out. If it doesn't, I'm telling you, I think I'll just kill myself. *stretches her back, which aches after a long day of laptop-staring, at that moment* *stares at the ceiling* *laughs at the irony of the situation* Ohmygod, guess what? I just looked up, and what do I see? A hook. A very convenient looking, artfully placed hook. Which I've never seen before, in the million times I've looked at the ceiling since I moved here. Hahaha, maybe it's a sign! Now all I need is to find a rope and learn how to tie that stupid knot. =P"
Friend: *laughs along* *after a moment* Wait, you're not serious are you?

No, I wasn't serious. Of course I wasn't serious. No thing, no matter how important it is, should be enough to make you kill yourself. Make you want to kill yourself, sure. But to actually do it? That's a whole new story. And it's a sad state of affairs in the world if, when you threaten to do that, people actually feel the need to ask you whether you're serious. I can't even blame them, I do the same, because so many people have done it in the past that you just can't be sure anymore.
 I don't pity the people who commit suicide. They might have had crappy lives. They might have felt that they had nobody to help them, nobody to love them, nobody to care. But they had their choice. And they chose. It's the people left behind that I really pity. The mothers, the fathers, the friends, the secret crush-harbor-ers and likers who could never confess their feelings to you. Who never got the chance to. They, they're the ones who'll kill themselves everyday now, the ones who had no choice.
Don't get me wrong. People who commit suicide may have had their reasons. I might have done the same in their position. But really, there are suicide help websites and numbers. Call one of them, if you think you have no one to love you, if you think facing the unknown would really be better than roughing it out on Earth, if you can't think of anything better to do, despite the fact that there are always penguins waiting to welcome you in Antarctica. Go hug your mom. Don't post it on some godforsaken blog and expect God to land you a savior in your comments section, or on facebook, two minutes before you do it. Don't expect people to read your mind.  And don't do things that'll fill them with guilt when you're gone.
Because that, that's just selfish.

UPDATE: For no particular reason apart from maturity and experience, I am now more sympathetic to the plight of suicide-committers. Contemplating suicide when you're happy and when you're irrational and alone are two very different things. However, I do feel the same amount of pity for those left behind, those who didn't have the chance to save their loved one.

~Sam

Our blog is flat-lining, I know, I'm sorry. We're not dead, just busy. We'll hopefully be back in a couple of days. Until then, ~Sam.