Just another blog?

Well, okay then! here's something new, because fuck this, fuck you, and fuck that pile of pancakes you've got next to your laptop! damn straight, I'm in your computer, looking on your porn, and emailing lists of it to your exwife! No actually, I'm not, though that WOULD be pretty impressive at this point. Actually, I'm just incredibly bored with the whole prospect of multiple blogs, searching different sites and all of that, plus, hey, who know? I'm might just get a following here on pastebin if I work hard enough on writing whatever the fuck is on my mind! this include IRL stuff that normally, I'd not care abbout sharing, because if you've read my other stuff, the fictional thread stories and all of that, these aren't things I want spread around. But then again, pastebin is lie the tiny interent... So what're ya going to do about it, right?

But, I'm sure this place has a pretty supportive community. But 'nough of that bullshit! Let's get to the nitty gritty! I work for MetroPCS as a sign waver, for about 9 an hour. for aroud 4.5 hours a day, five days a week. So, I don't know if I'm getting the shitty end of the sick or not! I keep forgetting about the exclamation points! though, I can never truly figure out just what the fuck is really going on there, I am kind of expecting a raise in the near future, I'd have to talk to my boss about it.

What else? Oh yeah, this one woman I had trouble with in the past work at the grocer store in the same plaza as  Metro, so we talk on occassion though I can't really tell who's more on edge, her or me! We get along well enough though, I just don't want to talk to her that much, but I already have something in place that'll cut that tie pretty quickly... All I did was add her on facebook, though I highly doubt she'll accept, so it's all good in either case!

Love your projects

So, I decided to leave Chapter 8 as is, I figure I can always leave the ending a cliff hanger and work on Book 4 of the Dorikame Saga, which is my one true love. It kinda feels like I've been working on it forever, you know? but that's the thing about writing books, you never truly want anything you start to ever have an ending. That's what I'm guessing G.R.R. Martin feels like when he finishes writing a book, 'How can I make this thing even better than the last one?' that's a question that a lot of coders also ask themselves I'm guessing? Though, I don't think I'll get many replies, lol. The thing is, I'm thinking of writing parts of the book either through email, because that's the format I've been working with for so long, it usually makes for the best way of doing this, though I know that email can be hacked, but since there are so many parts to chapter 8, it's just mind bogglingly repetitive, I like to think of it as the new way of doing things.
But, that's the thing about this process, you have to have a great story closer, something that ties up every single loose end you can think of, although there is always the option of leaving a few loose ends, from which to create spin off series... The stories I created three years ago, not that many of you actually care, were meant to see just how far down the rabbit hole I could dare go. I made it several stories before I had enough, before my technique in creativity was nothing more then often repeated and uncreative scenarios in which the evil get punished, reborn only to commit those same atrocities and be punished again in a never ending cycle.

By all means, in essence, I think I might've created a saga of souls unknowingly enduring an eternity in hell. Of course, I didn't know that until I peiced everything together through the fictitious world I had created. But, when enough time has passed, even the most wonderfully created universe are newly seen as lifeless abominations. I'm sure there are those of you who feel the same way about certain coding projects... Anyways, I really wanted to finish this entry, post it updated, and maybe get some feed back from you?

Love is... Love?

I made out with my homeless, alcoholic, fourth ex girlfriend seven months ago and almost had sex with her. Let me just get that out of the way right now. If not for the fact that she was on the rag and looking for her asshole friends who had taken her backpack, I might've been balls deep in her asshole. That's always a pretty opening line, right? well it's true. We hadn't seen each other in quite sometime, and it was just fucking perfect, we made out for a good solid ten to twenty minutes, out in the open, and to be honest, I loved every minute of it. Do I wish we were back together? Fuck no. She has problems that I, unfortunately, am ill equipped to handle, and as much as I'd love to handle her, I've got other priorities on my brain that require more of my attention. I'm wondering if this kind of makes me a giant ass hat from the whole thing, or if I just stopped caring about the whole aspect of relationships to begin with?

Whatever the answer, I don't care. It was a long time since I've experienced that level of happiness with any woman, and I KNOW for a fact that it has everything to do with her height, she and I are about the same height, around 6'5, and I fucking love it. But I'm single, and am entirely new to the concept of hooking up, and for the most part, it does show. I'm thinking this is the reason I haven't felt the need to go find a girlfriend, because i know that I've already got one. I think I stopped short of proposing to her becausei n hindsight, I realized what the fuck I was getting myself into. I'm done living in the past, not because it's a major drag, but because it slows me down in prgressing forward with my won life.

After all, happiness is the epitome of the Human Experience, right? So why shouldn't i prevent myself from being happy, even if it does contradict and overwrite my previous beliefs in ordered chaos and all of that!? I can no longer have my own mind unfettered by these illogical strains of nonconformity, of noncommitalism, of not giving any fucks.

After all, strong hearts bread strong heartbeats.

My reason for being.

I don't know what I want to do anymore... It just seems a little horrifying when you think about it. All I've ever wanted to do is write books, that's it. I've no higher ambition besides creating works of fiction thatp eople may or may not like. But why all this pressure for me to find a job? Serious, I'm an author and a youtuber. Writing IS my chosen profession, and with my limited attention span every minute that I spend compiling old works into Publishable material is vitally important to me. I hate the feeling of being rushed, I hate it when people doubt me, I most importantly hate it when others keep trying to sabotage my efforts because they don't like my line of work, or feel that it's inferior to their own.

It's a very frustrating feeling over all, and I guess I'm just kind of sick of being told the same thing over and over again, especially when theres an accompaniment of the same, tired, old messages ground into my head over and over again... It's ridiculous, especially when, after everything I've done. Everything I've created, even the OKC stories... Which I think that's all I uploaded to THIS site, are all pieces of a larger whole. The time of focusing on the negative is over. Now is the time for me to look towards the future, ignoring the blind assessments from others that I need to break away from this. I'll never give up writing, it's my BAE, it's my forte, it's my everything. It's my way of tuning the madness of the world out. My time to focus on something that truly means the world to me.

You may read this, and think I DO need to move on. But I honestly don't have any drive to have a family, or find a "9 to 5" because why the fuck would I want to stress myself out like that for? No point. I know who I am, I know what I want out of life, and even if it's not what the majority would care for, it's still my choice. After all, we each live our lives according to our own wants and needs. The sad thing about this I'm 32, live with my folks, and recently resignedfrom my job as a sign waver after 2.5 years... Scary when you think about it... Two and a half years.

this is kind of a strange twist though, it wa the first steady job I've held, but I had to leave because they kept cutting my hours, because of the health risks involved because of the rising heat levels, and I sure as hell wasn't planning on staying at job that put me in physical danger on a near daily basis. Is this America? where we're able to follow our dreams? Peruit our happiness? Isn't that IN the U.S. constitution? The Declaration of independence? since when in America have we had to work for the Freedom of Speech? the right to say what we wish and deal with the consequences later? Aren't we, as humans, free to choose whom to love? to not be so brow beaten that we actively avoid initiating conversation with women out of fear that our mother will say something snide?

After I left college, I lost my fiance to another guy... guys. And from there I went through a five year derp fest, where each day seemed to get worse than the one before it. Before long, I was so angry at the world that I just didn't care. and she, my mother, had gotten so fed up with me that we regularly fought day after day. Snide comment after snide comment. Her trying to control me, me just not wanting any part ofi t. Eventually, it got so bad that they threw my ass out on the street. which I went to stay at a homeless shelter for a while until a simple question, "would you like me to get you a glass?" got twisted by another person into "Would you like me to touch your ass?" Stupid fucking people. Anyways, I left shortly there after, went back home, struggled for a while long, still having residual anger over a bunch of things that no longer mattered, and were out of my control.

The only thing that i've actually been able to hold on to, the only thing that's kept me sane for any amount of time is writing. I've published a few books with a friend of mine a while back. Even though they aren't selling, it's worth noting that I gained valuable experience with self publishing. then I discovered Createspace.com, which was a life saver in terms of self publishing. Still no advertising though... lol. but it does give me an outlet whenever I have a project complete. Which I do! I've several... tons, really. So I've been going around and saving all of them to txt files to get them ready. It's a lot of work, but it's worth it. All I want to do is write books... Why is that so hard to understand?

Wasting time or energy?

I'm wondering something. Are we wasting our time? not with this server, but... Just with stupid things that takeo ur attention away from the bigger picture. It may seem like a stupid thought at first, but when thought about  at length, you actually start to wonder about the true nature of our existence.
It's not so much the fact that we're simply randomly popping up and going "Boof", but rather that we're attempting to go about 100 different paths, sometimes connecting, sometimes disconnecting, but always moving alongside one another. If we are wasting time, which is a stupid idea in and of itself,  because how can we waste something we can't get a physical feel for?
In that regard, it's not a matter if we're wasting TIME itself, but rather if we're sticking our heads into a bunch of useless and counterproductive projects... but, the creation of anything is regarding as productive, and essential for keeping our minds at ease as a way to relax.
but does the production of useless things for our own enjoyment, and by extension, the enjoyment of others in due time, mean that we're not really wasting our time, but still contributing to the greater whole?
there's a lot of variables, figures and facts to consider, but when it comes down to it, I don't know the exact answer. Part of me says that, yes we are, because what we create doesn't reach a large group of people, only a small group at most, and if we're lucky, they share to their own groups.
And part of me wants to say no, because even if we only reach a small group of people, that group, in and of itself, still finds enjoyment from our labors, and they are labors in and of themselves.

I love you.

I love you. Let me get that out of the way right now. I've loved since the first day I talked to you, the first time we kissed, and the memory of your voice still rings true when the happy memories kick up. I know that there are some days where you doubt yourself, and just know that whatever you decide to do with your life, where ever your choices take, just know that I will always still love you despite our parting.

Maybe I'm feeling sentimental, maybe I'm just heart broken, maybe I'm drunk. who the fuck knows, and more importantly, who the fuck cares. I see myself not as someone who's suffered great heart break, but rather, someone who met an absolutely amazing woman, with an amazing son, and an amazing family, and for the while it lasted, we were happy.

You never truly know a person till you meet their family, and see how the family dynamic works, and with Caasi, I got to see every side of her. She's truly an amazing woman, nad there will always be a part of me that still loves always, even years from now.

Random shit

Wanted to take a moment out of my workday and just hammer out a few interesting thoughts. Also, fuck Donald trump, don't give a shite, bring on the weird comments.

First and foremost, things are going great, if you haven't already, swing on by to Amazon.com and grab your physical and ebook versions of "Wrath of Puppy monkey Baby"
right here:
https://www.amazon.com/Wrath-Puppy-Monkey-Baby-Inhumanity/dp/1533309205/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1479171969&sr=1-2

Also, why not grab your copies of "Debate of Factions" as well?

https://www.amazon.com/Debate-Factions-began-simply/dp/1539974065/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1479171969&sr=1-1

Next off, I'm working on a series of short books, a collection of short stories, a book of blogs, a book of collective tweets, Sogno Della Dinistia is becoming a real thing, and various other farts of genius I have.

The reason I've kept relatively silent on FB is because, well, I had other things to do with my time than be distracted by whatever pointless FB game is the current craze... I dunno, "Donald Trump Simulator"? The goal being to annoy your way into the Presidency?

That said, hello!
Hi!
How are you? This year is pretty shit, isn't it?
Yep, I agree, there's a lot to worry about, and quite frankly, we shouldn't just sit around with our hands under our butts, because while the majority of you thought CURRENT POTUS Obama was going to steal your guns?
The proceeding POTUS Trump REALLY will try to personally play grab ass with you.
Most likely while you're not looking.
And without you even knowing that's going to happen.

You should protest!
You should yell!
Scream!
Stand up for what you believe is true and right!
You should rage and rant, dance and throw things!
However, you should stop before it gets to the point of rioting. We still have hope the electoral College will overturn this thing, electing Clinton into office and collectively upsetting a bunch of already ticked off Republicans.

All joking aside, the protests are a great thing, taking away the Anarchists that just like punching things for no reason, because punk will never die out, keep them going, keep that fire burning brightly, and never let down!
I don't write these things because I wish to tick off a few of the more hard core Trumpers out there, but because this is my personal way of protesting, my way of helping out in a way that doesn't involve screaming stupid things into a megaphone.
I'd use a hyper-phone.
Better combo strings.

If President-Elect Dumbass Turnip is decided to be the 45th POTUS, or, in regards to him and him alone, Problem of the United States, then we should give him a chance to prove us wrong. Offering him at least a peice of wet straw paper to pull him out of the quicksand that is his slowly approaching nightmare, is the very least we can do.

So keep those protests going strong, never let up, never give up, never surrender your ability to protest, to express your thoughts, to prove to the world that you're more than just a bunch of DNA slapped together because two people got really excited about turkey. you are not alone.

#Unitedwestand, #strongertogether.
#Dividedwefall, allowing our opponents the opportunity to #makeamericagreatagain but only in their eyes.

A really great way to make america better, is to buy my books, read them, and then throw them at Dumbass Jumping Turnip when he makes his first #stateoftheunion #address.

RIP Amelie

#rip #pets I'm going to really get into the nitty gritty here, and it's going to suck for me, because I don't actually want to talk about this right now, it's way too soon... We lost a family pet this evening, she was with us for ten years, a pure bred, white, female, undocked boxer named Amelie. She was the greatest dog ever, and I know that might seems a bit childish to say, but... she really was to me. Amelie was kind of a pain in the ass, but she'd run around for ten to twenty minutes before coming back inside, sometimes this was REALLY great, and other times, like when we had somewhere to go, it was fucking insane.

She went peacefully, but in the most badass way imaginable, she took her last shit and piss in the front yard, walked straight in, head held high, barked happily that she had told Death itself to kiss her ass, and faded away in the space of a few seconds. I watched the whole thing transpire, as did my mother. And I'm still in sock at this whole thing. I'm still a bit happy that she went to the bathroom like a fucking BOSS before she went. I don't know why that made me happy. she'd been going through this horrific thing because #Alpodogfood fucked up majorly. she thinned out, her head, neck, and front legs and paws swelled up, and in the end, she still went like a mother fucking boss.

I'm sure i'll be crying tonight, it's tough to lose a dog, especially one who was so on top of things when it came to guarding the house, providing comfort, and just being a good girl. In fact, writing this, i'm starting to tear up, but I have to get through this, it's part of the mourning process, and everyone handles it differently. Amelie, to us, was THE Alpha Female of the pack. Oh, sure, there was Grace, with her six foot high jump from a solid stand still, or our Apple head chihuahua, who'll pretty much bark at everything, or even Bella, who fetches the fuck out of everything until our arms fall off.

But Amelie? Dear god, for about a year, Amelie slept in my room, and she'd plop down on my bed right next to me, and about a half hour later, she'd worm her way underneath the comforter, her ass next to the back of my head, and fart. A lot. Like, WTF levels of farting, good god, could that fucking dog make thunderstorms seem like a faint whisper.

I ended, most mornings, waking up on the floor wondering what the hell happened. After setting up my camcorder and recording the following night, I discovered that after about an hour of her machine gun tooting into my hair, I'd have a panic attack in my sleep and fall onto the floor and stay there for the rest of the night.

Truly, I was the brave one. Another memory is when my best friends, Blake and Dan came over and stayed the weekend for New Years Eve, we watched, that weird johnny Depp movie about the mind of a dying person being transferred to an A.I. platform, and then it went nuts? Amelie plopped down right next to Blake's feet for about half the movie. she knew when to leave, when Real Depp died and Fake Depp was born.

i'm still pretty numb, and I don't know when it'll truly hit me that my Baby Gir, my nickname for her, has passed away. Probably a few days, but at least I got this out of the way.

Root Canal blues

I am so fucking scared. There's no way to tell you how nervous I am about the root canal tomorrow. I haven't been under since I was a kid having tubes put in my ear, and it was the freakiest damn thing ever.
I so fuckingn ervous that any number of a hundred things could go wrong, that I'm not able to sleep right now. the only thing I can think about right now is, if something does go wrong, or they fuck something up and I bleed out, or I wind up in a coma... Who's going to finish my books? who's going to upload my videos? when will I find time to find someone to have a family with? These and many more questions keep circling through my head as I struggle to get some sleep.
I know it's nothing compared to what your going through over there, but for me, these are the fears that are keeping me from having a decent nights sleep, and hard as I try to relax,to count sheep, to do anything really, I find myself not even able to fucking drop off to snooze land.
I found myself questioning a number of things i'm attempting right now, whether the long term goals are worth the short term frustrations, whether chipping away at the mountain of doubt is my best option, or should I have worked harder to make every one of my goals a reality? Stupid pointless questions, true. but they are valid concerns that I'm having. I need to figure something out, I need to do something to smoothout whatever wrinkles are currently preventing me from getting myself some slumber.
I found myself think about us, and whther I was just fooling myself into believing somethign that might be just some idiot fantasy, or whther this was actually the real thing. questioning myself isn't going to get me any sleep, nor will doubting myself about the path I'm currently on.
I'm worried about tomorrow, terrified about it, and even though I joke and play around about the whole situation, I can't help but feel I'm out in the cold again, and I don't like being cold, never have, never will. But, I have to remind myself this:

The sun will always rise again.

Expansion

Escalation. the expanding upon of a once simple idea into a complex array of definitive answer, so that each might fully compliment or confuse the other. That is what Sogno Della Dinistia has been for me. All about escalation, all about the next stage, evolution, pushing my mind to try and find something to reinvigorate and re-energize a seemingly stale idea. When you write a story, there are four arcs that you must consider. To, as closely as you're individually able to, simulate life as put forth by your imaginations.

The first is the setup, either a grand or simple situation, like a morning breakfast, a calm breeze, or a quote from a famous or unknown book, or any number of other situations.

The second is the introduction of the Main character. Again, this follows directly into the first arc, and usually is either exciting, boring, or influential on how the book with unfold.

The third arc is the situation with which the first two arcs might have to overcome or be swallowed up by. this is pretty simplistic, and easier to do than most would think.

The fourth and final arc is the overcoming of said obstacle, and the setup for the next quartet of arcs, creating a self healing machine of creativity.

with these four arcs in mind, and admittedly, a lot of coffee, free time, a keyboard, and a need to heal whatever scars I have attained throughout my life, I have created an ever evolving, ever escalating, complex-as-the-human-genome series of books. forcing my characters through a series of permutations of evolution, giving depth and humanity to them in certainly a harrowing series of situations which must consistently and equally grow in strength to further challenge them to improve themselves.

After a certain point, you find that you are no longer the director of your book, you are merely a passenger, a parent watching their child enter the public world, and hoping to dear god they don't fall down. you find yourself merely writing down their exploits, but without a sense of control. As if you're simply a printer, and the characters themselves are writing it for you.

I constantly find a sense of enjoyment in creating, in writing the beginning of new stories or projects, even if they only become one shots, or incomplete, or just simply end. In many cases, I find myself actually wondering if the slight pull in the back of my mind is my own creativity, or if there's actually a kind of dimensional USB plugged at the base of my neck, feeding me the latest update.

As a writer, you are both the creator as well as the creation of your works. you are the living embodiment of the universe, or in my book series case, universes. I am oft times amazed at some of my creations, and wonder what further adventures they might have while I am asleep.