The beauty in the end

The vast majority of people fear death. Few people find comfort when faced with their own mentality. They draw their comfort from dreams. From the though of the afterlife. That death is not forever. People don`t handle forever very well.

I can not be sure of what will happen after my heart stops, but because of my interest in all thing morbid, I have a pretty clear understanding of the `process`of dieing. The steps everyone goes through unless their are extreme mitigating factors. (i.e. vaporization, complete instant crushing...) I won`t get into them in great detail for brevity but I will say if there is an afterlife it definitely comes after brain death, any aparation you see between your heart stopping and brain death (as much as 7 -15min) are just that, aparations.

Consider this, someone who "comes back from the dead" rarely talks about being outside their bodies above themselves in the morgue or even the emergency room with the doctor milling about. They come back while the doctors are still trying to save their life. BECAUSE THEY'RE STILL ALIVE!

So the point? I can't understand why some people would CHOOSE to believe in an afterlife. Afterlife is creepy. If dead people know we love them hear us talking to them and all that hogwash... that's creepy. I love my granddad (he passed away this year) but I don't want him milling about. And I certainly don't want to spend my aged years hoping to get back together with my wife of 50 years. (assuming she dies first ((She is way older ;p )))

So ok say there is an afterlife and I pop out of hear and pop up there. I think I am going to be really really pissed off. Not JUST because I was wrong... but because you were right.

Setting goals

The result is what matters, not how it's achieved (unless, of course, the
process of achieving is itself a series of results).

- Iain M. Banks
Player of Games

I have never been one to be organized. I have forgotten things my whole life. If I didn't forget I often put off. And subsequently I sit at 31 years old with not a lot accomplished. I have a wonderful life don’t get me wrong. But I have accomplished almost nothing measurable as far as goals. It is not a lack of desire but a lack of goals. I have said “Someday I will X” but it never really meant anything. One of the only things I every promised myself was to be a dad. I have achieved that but not by setting a goal. It literally fell into my lap.

So why don’t I have goals. I have a wild imagination, you would think I would have long list of goals. But I had none. You see I used the word had. I learned something from a very wise man. “Goals are never unreasonable”. When you realize this, and you also realize you thought your goals where unreasonable because ‘nothing that good will ever happen to me’. It has become clear nothing ever “happens” to you. You have to make things happen to you.

Well I have set a goal. It is a big one. It is huge. But it is being slowly broken into smaller goals and further still into individual tasks. You need ten years to become a master at anything if you put in the effort. And that will be my final test. Can I put in the effort? If I can I will have achieved a life goal. If I can’t at least I will have achieved something and that is a better personal understanding.

I am broken

Not like a glass thrown against a wall, or a heart smashed against a step. But more like a horse that was wild turned tame.

I see that I want to be ridden. I want to be worked. I was to be bridled not as a slave or as a prisoner but an entity in a symbiotic relationship.

I want to be the anenome protecting the fish that swim in my person. I want to look to the surface and know that up there I would die and my partners aren't stupid enough to follow me.

I am poisoned at the moment so the fish have left at first I thought "go to the surface that will show everyone how you feel". But I realized that was my distructive behaviour trying to get the best of me. I flushed my poison. I sat in my sickness and looked at the floor for hours. Noticing stains I never have before. I wonder is that blood? No it is likely jam dropped by the people who make my house a home.

I returned to the sea to realize that I had in fact lost my home. I still have my house but it is empty.

Even my dog didn't care I was home.

I will fight for what I believe in. What I know is real. What I know is right. I will wear a ring on my finger with pride and I will be me over and over and over again. I am not such a bad guy I have tonnes of potential. Even if no one has faith in me at least I do. Thats all I can say