Freaky Styley

It's time to write again. This place is slowly infusing me with the will to put pen to paper. Out here, surrounded by all this dark energy and machinations of war and death, I have the urge to bring light.

I've been reading, which is another reason to start up again. It puts me on top of my game, and there's no reason to put my creative flow to waste, to die out here so feebly in the desert. This place will not be the death of me, but a place of baptism.

Now, I do not expect to wite ballads or epics or short stories or limmericks. I do not expect anything at all. I just know that I will put pen to paper and see what happens. Whatever comes forth will be unfiltered, unchoked.

Some may be too personal to post here. Some may be utter nonsense. Some may be deep in a matter unfathomable. But as I look out at all these boys, marching to the drums of war, I see not fine tuned killing machines, but different walks of life.

There are so many stories, here in this desert, waiting to be captured. As I lay on my cot, counting the minutes, I can feel the harsh winds whispering them in my ears. It's time I listened.

For Poppa

The world lost a great man today. My grandfather (who all of us kids affectionately knew as Poppa) has passed away. I'm not much for believing in religion, but if Heaven exists, I know Poppa is up there sitting on a Lay-Z-Boy recliner made of clouds.

I'll be the first to admit that I regrettably don't have too many memories of Poppa. But, for some reason, it comforts me. You see, Poppa was the kind of person that you remembered not for the actions he took, but for the person he was. One of those rare few individuals that would give you the shirt off his back, no questions asked.

In his eyes you would find no judgment, no hesitation. He had a goofy, toothful smile that just beamed with childhood innocence and nostalgia, like a boy who just found his long lost toy. As great of a grandfather as he was, I am more inclined to put him in the friends category.

I don't know what Poppa was like back in his teen years, but I like to believe he was a bit of a rebel. I always thought I could see a little twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Those eyes, they were filled to the brim with soul and kindness and love.

I didn't know too much about his past, not for lack of want, but because Poppa was humble, and didn't care much to talk about himself. I remember his pictures in an Air Force uniform and his medals hung in frames scattered around the house. You wouldn't think it to look at him, but Poppa served over three decades in the armed forces, climbing his way to the rank of Chief Master Sergeant, which is no easy feat by any stretch of the imagination. He survived through three wars as well. As a Marine, I can safely say my Poppa was one of the Few and the Proud, and I would have been honored to have a man like him as my squad leader. Poppa was a fighting man, right up to the very end.

He was also a loving man, and a faithful man. He stayed married to my Omi for over 50 years, and I'm confident he would have stayed with her until the end of time. He was a wonderful father, to my mother, her sisters, and her brother. You raised up one hell of a family Poppa, but I think my Ma got her strictness from Omi, but we'll keep that a secret.

In turn, the grandkids are all grown up Poppa. I hope we made you proud of us, as we were proud of you. When we all have children, and our children have children, we will tell them stories about you, and how you were kind to us, and everybody.

In short Poppa, you were a wonderful grandfather, and an even better person. I wish I would have spent more time with you, but somehow, I don't think you mind too much. You were, and still are, a beautiful example of how a man of virtue should act. The world unknowingly cries over your departure, and your family misses and loves you greatly. And I love you too Poppa. Rest in peace.

Sincerely, Your Grandson,
   Tyler

Chapter One cont.

Won't lie, Kid's got me curious. Don't see too many travellers round here. Specially not too many bearing arms like they've got a purpose. I keep digging through his bags, don't think he'll mind.
What's this, another picture. Same girl he's holding hands with in the other one. Must be a wife, girlfriend, something. Might be wrong, looks like she's pregnant. Can't tell how old the photo is, not sure if the Kid has one of his own. If so, what's he doing all the way out here? Wouldn't you believe it? Looking for answers, find more questions. Back of the picture says 'Princess.' Can't help but chuckle. Young love, never changes.
And that about wraps up the rest of the belongings. Couple food wrappers, some pills for who knows what, and some trinkets. Oh well, guess I'll find out more in the morning. Been a long night, no doubt about it. Kid's still snoring like the apocalypse. Guess it's about high time I took a ticket to Dreamland too. Goodnight Kid, get your rest. Something tells me, your journey ain't over.

The Kid's Tale (working title)

Kid starts sprinting, like there's no time left. Maybe there isn't. Hard to tell if he's running toward a dream, or running from a nightmare.
Aww, but that ain't the beginning. Every tale's gotta start somewhere, and for the Kid, this story goes a little further back.
I remember the first time I met the Kid. Came in from the East. Clothes a mess, hadn't washed in days, smelling like the gutters. Could tell he hadn't eaten or slept in a spell either. I take him in without a word, give him some hot dinner, not too much. Haven't said a thing, and he passes out on the table. Poor Kid, doesn't even look old enough to shave, let alone carry that sword around. I carry him to bed, real gentle like. Looks like a boy, snores like a werewolf.
I rummage through his rucksack, looking for something about him, a name at least. Find a picture, real nice one too. There's the Kid with I dunno, a ma and pa, looking real happy, smiles as wide as the horizon. Kid's holding some girl's hand, real looker she is. Got a dog too. Don't see too many of those around here, not in these times anyways. Lighthouse in the background, gotta figure it was taken in Windsdale. I hope not for the Kid's sake, it's not an easy walk from there. Two hundred miles over a mountain pass. Kid's gotta purpose, ain't no one doubting that. Question is: what's the Kid doing here?

End. This is the first part of the first chapter. Really like where it's going. Gotta lotta kinks to work out, but this isn't bad coming off the top of my head. Fitting into the narrator style pretty well, I'll keep it for now.

Any thoughts or opinions, please let me know!

The Progress of the Airwaves

Was thinking about writing a blog today. Then I remembered it's a double experience weekend on Call of Duty. Maybe Monday blog.

Epic Title

Kid's heartbroken, that's for damn sure. Anyone can see the tear stains under those eyes of his. Love's a fickle thing, I say. But he already knew.

So what are you gonna do now Kid?

The look on his face, it says it all. Kid's got no idea for the first time.

Must be tough, growing up alone. I did it too, but times were easier then. Before the Great War, and the Rift. Folks were kinder back then, had a little more generosity in their hearts.

But none of that don't matter, not now anyways. Go to the Wall, honor the dead all you want, but the past is gone.

He knew this already, the Kid. Always figured him to he smarter than he looked.  Not that it'd be hard, mind you. Aw, I'm just kidding. Kid's not a bad looker. Always wondered why he wanted to settle down with an old belle like that. But, business is business, and there's nothing more to be said about it.

So I ask the Kid, what now? Kid seems a little more ready to answer it this time.

But what do you know, he just gets up and walks away. He's heading to the forest. Kid's never been there. Always was scared of the darkness behing those mean old trees. I'd be a liar and a fool if I said I wasn't a bit scared too. I've seen the inside of that dark place. Trees will make you lose your mind.

I ask the Kid what he's doing. Without even turning, Kid just shrugs his shoulders and keeps walking.

The Kid was always the silent type. Don't blame him. Seen a lot of bad things. Wouldn't wanna talk about it either. Nowadays, too many folks talking, not enough listening.

-END-

This has been heavily inspired from the game Bastion. Anyone who's played that game will know exactly what I mean. Thinking about doing more with it. Joe, hope you liked the title.

-CS

The Path Less Traveled.

Disclaimer: if you're a religious stickler with high blood pressure, you may want to leave. Now. If you find yourself wanting to argue with me about this, don't. I normally welcome debate about my views on any topic, but not on this one. No, instead, if you don't like what I have to say, or how I see, think, feel, exist, please disappear from this page.

We're going to talk about my faith today. First off, let me tell a story. And by story, I mean a declaration. Here we go:

Atheist. I am one.

WHAT?!? YOU KRAZY DAWG!!

No, I am not crazy bro. You're crazy if you think I'm crazy for being an atheist. And this brings me to my first point.

Atheists are not crazy. Stop labelling us as such. We are everyday people. Your Tommys and Jamies, your teachers and dentists. The only reason why we are given the label of crazy is because when an atheist makes a mistake, his (I use 'his' loosely, referring to both genders) lack of a religion is always skylighted.

Typical scenario: "Oh he was always a bad kid, doing naughty things all the time. He should have spent more time in church instead of with those weird kids."

Church wouldn't have saved him. He made his own choices. Perhaps they may have been influenced by others, but the choice, ultimately, was his. That's one of the most important things I've learned from my new belief. Fate shall not control us, gods cannot confine us, society cannot stop us. We are our own masters, free to do as we damn please.

Now, to be fair, atheism isn't a free ticket to do whatever we please. It just gives us the freedom to make decisions without fear of a higher being, or an eternal damnation to some lava pit.

(P.S.: Fun fact, Hitler was a Christian)
Next point: we don't dislike your faith, we dislike your religion.

One of the reasons I don't like being aroung the religious is because they always feel intimidated. I don't conform to your regimented ways, therefore I don't belong. You act as if you're a blood cell, and we are bacteria. Your brain goes into subconcious actions and you act in a myriad of ways. Here's a few I've noticed.

You try to convert us. "OMG HE'S NOT THE SAME! WE MUST MAKE HIM ONE OF US! ONEOFUSONEOFUSONEOFUSONEOFUS!!!" Begin the cult hive mind brainwashing techniques. First off, don't try to convert me. More than likely, you don't really even know me very well, so why would you try to change one of my most personal, rudimentary business? Dear religious people, I will never try to convert you. I will defend my views all day, but your views are safe from me. I am a peaceful being when it comes to personal choice. Do me the same justice.

You outcast us. "OMG HE'S NOT THE SAME! HE'S OBVIOUSLY A LESSER BEING!!!" Nope. Definitely not a lesser being. I like to think I'm quite intelligent. I have a good head on my shoulders, and I have enough common sense to think that some magical kingdom in the skies sounds a bit outlandish. Know what does make sense to me? Equality. That golden rule, about treating others the way you wanted to be treated? They should make a book with just that one sentence. It would make more sense to me then all of your holy scriptures. And wasn't Jesus big on helping the little guy out? In most religious encounters, I find myself in the position of the little guy, yet my offenders are "followers" of the supposed messiah. Oh snap dawg, did Tyler just call out a bunch of Christians for being hypocrites? Why yes, yes I did.

At this point, I'm sure some of you are mad. Or bored. It's ok, things are about to get a bit more personal, so you know where I stand on all of this.

My beliefs:
Evolutionism. I'd like to think we ascended from monkeys, then descended from angels.
Big bang theory. Yes. Makes a lot more sense to me than some big guy in the sky going "TA-DA! Check it out, I made stars and stuff!"

That's pretty much it. Look at how simple that is! No need to explain it, science has already done the work for me! Yes science. Beautiful, tasty science.

To be fair, science is kind of a killjoy. I wih we could live in a magical land where dragons flew around and we could all rescue princesses from castles, and our oil crisis could be solved with a dragon ball. Science and reality took those dreams from us. However, science was like, "Sorry about that bro, we're gonna make it up to you. Here, I give you an XBox 360."

SCIENCE GAVE ME BACK MY CHILDHOOD DREAMS!!! Sounds like a good enough reason to appreciate what the human mind is capable of. What's this? The big bang theory? Sounds interesting, let's give it a whirl!

Mind=blown. So much sense has just been made to me. I have so many questions, but they can all be answered with facts, and not personal opinions. I like this method.

Sure science has been known to screw us. Tools of war, ways to kill fellow man, industrialization, loss of our animalistic backgrounds. A-bomb? Bad, bad move science. You get a solid thumbs down.

I'm only going to throw one attack on religion. Crusades. I think that makes a fair enough point.

I am a nice person. When I meet people, I do it with a smile on my face and an outstretched hand. Am I judgmental? Yes. It's what I do. But regardless on my personal opinion of you, I will try to help you if you need it. I didn't need a book to teach me that. I didn't need the promise of a heaven, or the the threat of a hell to teach me that. I didn't need society to teach me that. I do it for my own personal reward. I enjoy seeing people smile. I enjoy the fact that when I'm old and on my deathbed, my memories will be enough to make up for my choice to not follow a religion. I will die with my head held high, knowing I did my best to enjoy life. I will look at my grandchildren, and know that I'm already in heaven. I will partake in the feast of my life, my cup will have overflowed, and then I will leave the table, and leave my seat for someone deserving of it.

Religious people don't understand this for some reason. They refuse to see my happiness with the ordinary, without attributing it to some higher being. Sunrises are beautiful. God didn't make that sunrise beautiful. It's beautiful because I make it seem beautiful. I have control over what you call miracles. A miracle, in my eyes, isn't necessarily a gift. It's a portrayed vision of the astounding. When my first child is born, I will see it as a miracle. Because I want it to be a miracle. I will feel no need to thank anyone. I will, because I am nice, but it will because I want to, not because I feel like I need to.

Let's wrap this up. There will be more to this at some point, I'm sure. But for now, I feel this horse has been beat enough. I leave you with this:

I choose my own path. Who I want to be, what I want to do, where I want to be. I am my own master. I was created to exist, but I exist to create. I am free from rules, and I live by my own code. I am an atheist. And I am happy.