The Fortisixth One

The following is a stream-of-consciousness post. Apologies.

A person can make only so many promises to someone. People are incredibly harsh when it comes to mistakes, depending on how severe they are. And yet, some of us, the foolish ones, remain faithful to the liars who continue to break those promises.

My father the drunken fucking bastard.

The clock has run out.

It's been rewound many, many times before and even replaced after it breaks, but finally it's run out. After 19 years, the clock has stopped running, and I've had the nerve to throw it in the trash.

When you accept that life is a roller-coaster that peaks in its insanity and drops in interest constantly, what is the point of riding the same coaster over and over again when every ride ends in a violent, fiery crash?

The brute, the barbarian, spewing out his bits of language in different settings like a sprinkler. Only swear words can escape his lips, putrid words that falter in flight as soon as they're spoken, dragging themselves onto the ground much like pouring salt in the gardens.

He stands proudly on his territory, a broken household filled with cockroaches and rats, his closest companions. A tiled-up porch broken to bits, a gaping hole beggin' for someone's leg to get caught up in it and snap right off. A house that has a clear view onto the neighborhood, full of fools, bastards, drunks, liars, adulterers, idiots, believers, nonbelievers.

I sympathized with the beast many times. It was his birthday the following Thursday, and we did very little to recognize it besides sending a birthday text. How lonely can someone be when his own sons abandon him like this? He has a very difficult job. He's a construction worker and a damn fine one.  I wouldn't be surprised if that was the reason that sets him off.

The beast is capable of camouflage, disguising reality with trickery, able to produce tears that even the saltiest oceans couldn't. He stuck to his story for almost a year now and we kept pulling ourselves back into it but we couldn't help but listen.

It's morning time now but my body is still in action mode. I don't think I fell asleep to tell you the truth. If I did, I'd probably feel more in tune, refreshed but instead I can only remember the position of the room, the yellow light marking its way in the room as the beast stumbled from his cave to cast us out. The brave warriors holding their weapons but forced to drop them as they knew they would only be repelled by the beast's scales.

If none of this makes any sense, how could it ever? How does it feel to have irrefutable proof that someone you once loved can't be saved.

In 11th grade, I was the only one who defended Blanche Dubois of not being crazy, but at the very end of Streetcar Named Desire, I found out she was. And so I've made it to the end of my own play, with all the ducks in a row ready for fire.

Life sucks. That might be the most blunt way to say that but sometimes, that's the only way you can say the obvious. Life fucking sucks.

End scene.

The Twentieighth One

The advent of the past year concludes with the customary New Year's Eve post, where we reflect on the choices and events of the past year...and my blog is no exception. It's only been up for a few months, but already it seems that the blog is taking on an unusual direction as far as content goes. Originally, the blog was meant to only be a public anthology of my writing, but I've also posted updates on my first semester in college, as well as trying to create continuous segments such as "The Presenters" and "Ideas That Will Never Happen". The blog has been very challenging to update and maintenance, but it has also been such a pleasure writing up each post(unless, as this post shows, it becomes painful to write about anything) as I've been able to see the development of my writing as the year progressed. The next year will bring about other challenges...
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With the impending end of 2011 comes the impending start of the numerous blog posts that "reflect" on the events of the past year. I will continue the tradition with my own customary post.

2011, like it or not, was a terrible year for your fellow blogger. Many challenges and experiences have threatened to ...yada, yada, yada.
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2012 is almost upon us, as well as 2013, 2014, and the impending invasion of Bigfoot and his many siblings.
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Things to look forward to in 2012: Hopefully, by February or March, my short film, Semaphore, will be completed and I'll post the screenplay. In other news, a pet project I've been working on since 11th grade will finally have its proper debut(Here's a hint as to what's coming). Sides that, I'm not sure what my blog will have. At this point, the blog is shifting from a showcase of my old projects to a showcase of...well, anything that comes to mind. I know from reading other blogs that most of them have a central theme that the blog revolves around, and admittedly, even if my blog claims to be about "simple words from a complicated man-child", even it has a central theme: my imagination and how overrated it's becoming to me. When I talk to friends and colleagues about their interests and intelligence, I always tell everyone that my creative thoughts are what differentiate me from everyone else, but as the first semester of college has shown, realistically how far can that take me? Course, other people say that one semester of college cannot define what you'll become, and for others, not even the first year will do that, so again, I'm at a loss at what I'm supposed to believe or think. Nowadays, any outside thought influences more than my own...or so I think. Course, sometimes, even the outside influences can be more damaging than helpful. How complicated does the world have to become that a simple post about reflection wraps itself around endlessly as I've allowed to be? AGH! Seriously, what did I just type? Can anyone explain it to me? Let's try again.
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This year has taught me that writing things is really f*cking hard, and yes, I will censor it this one time since even the f-word doesn't completely envelope the countless struggles I've suffered in writing essays and blog posts, and as this post continues to show, even a blog post about reflection and revision demonstrates just how much more I will have to go through before I feel comfortable with saying hello and goodbye. Happy New Year and much luck in your...damn it.
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Merry Christmas and happy...wait, hold on...
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Another year has come and gone, as all of them tend to do. I'd like to say that for those have been following the blog that I greatly appreciate your support and will try to be more active with the blog in the following year. Also, it's been somewhat unusual seeing the difference between my older posts and newer ones and noticing how even with simpler ideas that slowly but surely I am progressing as a writer. With 2012 coming very, very soon, I'd just like to say that the blog will improve in the following months, and hopefully, I will become more coherent and understandable, and less of an annoying man-child as I currently still am. One of the biggest changes to the blog is the inclusion of more personal, update posts, much like these, as occasionally, the numerous complications of college and life demand those kinds of spontaneous posts. Rest assured, there is still a lot more of my past works left to be posted, and I will start working on the episode descriptions of the Presenters if the shorter ones don't completely explain the intent of the episode. I'll admit that whatever difficulty the blog has given me, it's been completely worth it in trying to have my voice "properly" represented in the middle of a seemingly brilliant universe. One thing I will try to do is highlight other people's projects so that they will also have an opportunity to bloom within this cynical spectrum of internet users. As my patient readers, if anything is going to happen, I'll be sure to tell you all about it.
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Sorry for the spontaneous rambling in the beginning.
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I hope you have all have a wonderful New Year's Eve, a fantastic New Year's Day, and a great year. With the amount of complications the world keeps presenting, a positive outlook could only help us further.
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Stay safe. Give hugs. Be nice, be kind, be good.

Your confused, yet enlightened friend,
Arley Harold