Of rocks and time capsules.

It is quite mellowing to see that a large chunk of the posts prior to this one begin with the idea or the sentence that goes like so: "I should post here more often."
However, with the highs and lows of college life tugging at the hands of my life-o-clock, I believe that is a futile goal to look forward to. Instead, I will turn to the old times of '04-'08 (perfect times they were not, to be honest, but they were damn near close to good) and muse on my pointless outbursts both poetic and prosaic on these hallowed... HTMLs.
Perhaps it does me some good indeed to return to these pages, for I fear a cycle that ended sometime ago will begin anew in a few more days. Perhaps it is unjust to find solace in the arms of someone whom I have never invited to my house for a cup of coffee (what is the procedure to invite a bunch of code hosted online for a cup of coffee at your house? Surely, there is a connection here to Java, am I right?), yet I believe that Fealdamar is the rock. Perhaps not a Casterly one, but definitely a grounded boulder favoured by donkeys and ogres alike!
For all I know, as the road leads through many woods and lands unknown, this little corner of the internet shall remain mine and will be a camp where I can rest and recover my strength over bread, butter and a bit of ink.
Dear Fealdamar, you are a rock, you are a stone.

OH LOOK 6 years old!

If LD hadn't told me, I would've forgotten all about it.
Happy Birthday Fealdamar! :D
And that's that - making up for a huge number of unposted posts.

A Villanelle of Lost Times

I believe my talents faded away yesteryear.
With coded lines and an electronic wave-
It’s been far too long since I wrote, I fear.

Looking back on amber trees that stood austere,
Carven words and mellow sounds are what I crave.
I believe my talents faded away yesteryear.

Tin can sounds with gimmicks filled my ear-
Thus they pushed my Words away, though they didn’t deprave
It’s been far too long since I wrote, I fear.

A medium with restriction quite queer
Enlisted my skills as an apologetic knave
I believe my talents faded away yesteryear.

Dastardly yet courageous, a newfound premier-
Became my master, and for a while I, its slave
It’s been far too long since I wrote, I fear.

‘Twill be a while before I sit down to revere
And force my belief to sit down and behave
I believe my talents faded away yesteryear.
It’s been far too long since I wrote, I fear.

Two Decades

That is the amount of my existence on this planet. Twenty times it has gone around Sol with me sitting on top with a wide CheshireCatGrin on my face. There have been times when the grin was not present, but it mostly existed and for a time things were nice.

It has been a worthwhile time – existing and working around it. I made some plans back when I was nimbly nineteen about this year – and for the most part it had been quite a likeable year. It had its ups and downs but it had a great many moments I cherish now and would like to get back to them again and again no matter what the circumstances.

I completed two of Something Else when I was nineteen. I achieved two out of four things that I had thought about to fulfill my materialistic existence. I started earning and am quite proud of it (why shouldn’t I?)

So it is indeed with hope, (Hope!) that I embark on this Journey,
As Sojourner and Compatriot
And many more titles will be bestowed
As I leave the portals of teenage and into a New Dawn.

And if you guessed the games some of the words are from, you get to see cookies! Happy Birthday to me!

Hello wishmaster

Wishes are like dishes. They need doing.

Once you get over that horrid sentence that has been playing over my head, might I remind you that this place holds memories of mine that no other genuine collective offline does? For the most part, I have chronicled mostly everything (and some nothings) here and even with its infrequent updates Fealdamar will not go down anytime soon.

But don’t take my word for it.

**

College, that immovable spire of civilization after a long and dusty cattle trail, is about as green and yellow as it ever was. Forgive me if my words are colour-deficit, but work and study and work and gaming have taken my descriptive prowess completely off me – at least where fictional descriptions are concerned. Make me describe a living person that I dislike a lot (or conversely like a lot), however I can prattle on to no end. Take for instance...OHNOES

Twitter has become my new office while the [\refer to shameless plug below/] has become my penthouse. I believe I speak like a broken record – yet everytime I try to write something the only thing I repeat are what I do for the most part, and where I do what I do for the most part, mostly. It is sad that most of my writing skills have been taken over by a hunger for success – something I might regret later on.

And this is pretty much why this blog is still awake and functioning, sending bytes of data to the poor wary Wanderer, or the occasional spider, who walks into these portals.

And I’m a believer of this impromptu haiku

Work for money spent
Write for beautiful feeling
Both can survive.

Hello there, nice to meet you.

Listening to my own mind a few days ago, I realised that it had been at least three to four months since I wrote a story. By that I mean a story I looked at and was happy. It comes as no surprise to me thus that my skills with the English language have been falling and that my literary ventures have always been stopped by some seemingly unknown, yet frightfully corporeal factor - laziness.

'Tis a guilty pleasure, indeed. I have known no other time of my life when I had so much to do and yet I passed away most of this time being busy with absolutely nothing.
This particular facet was best enhanced when an old teacher of mine took a new class on soft skills development and taught us time management. He told us of this Quadrant of Waste where we busy ourselves doing absolutely nothing of note.

I did a couple of things of note, now and then, but in effect there was (and still is) a void that yet remains to be filled. Is it the void of not posting to my dear confidante, with or without a mask, or is it something else, altogether? Perhaps if I return to regular blogging, I might get to know one fine day. But torn in bits between this one and another, I do not know.

The year comes to an end - the dull aching that 2009 left behind seems to have lifted off the start of a new decade. The second millennium enters its teens after three more years - but knowing how puberty sets around these years, I would not be surprised if the forthcoming year turns out to be precocious while being worryingly immature.

Suffice to say that I will have left my teenage far behind and will most likely have set in the rhythm of a now-familiar life.

This past year has also been quite the teacher, teaching me everything from the basics of writing to the advanced intricacies of handling situations I previously thought went above and beyond anything that I could ever have done. Funnily enough, I can say the same about a number of people I know - as they all look up to a different, if not difficult, future. But what mysteries will 2010 hold? I have no idea.

But I am brimming with ideas and a single resolution - I will not let 2010 go to waste. Not my 31,556,926 seconds. No sir, not one bit.

Number 5

Happy Birthday, Fealdamar!