Neologism

A neologism (from Greek neo = "new" + logos = "word") is a word that, devised relatively recently in a specific time period, has not been accepted into a mainstream language. By definition, neologisms are "new", and as such are often directly attributable to a specific individual, publication, period, or event. The term "neologism" was coined in 1803. -- the Wiki

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I've been well known for creating my own set of words for things that I think are real words. Another way to describe this is malapropism. I think it's a healthy learning experience that many people face, but many are afraid to point out to them, or that the misuser of modern language is afraid of his- or herself. One reason is that such a common mistake can be connected to Psychiatric diseases such as thought disorder or schizophrenia. While I'm pretty sure I don't have either of those, I do find the possibility enlightening (haha... yeah... intended).

All that aside, I've found this page which I think you might enjoy reading. I know I did. I used the word super-objective in a poem I wrote as a kid, and I was certain I'd heard the term before, though I suppose it was just entering its Unstable stage, and quite rare. I can't recall where it was I picked it up, however I'm proud to pass it on.

http://www.illiante.com/SuperobjectiveEvil.aspx

Problems

I've found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind...
Well, even the best fall down sometimes,
And even the stars refuse to shine... -- Collide, Howie Day

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I've some time on my hands, and the majority of that has been spent wondering what to do with it. I see things that I need to do if I want to advance in my life, and I see things that I'd like to do for fun, as well as things that could help me with the advancement. Of course, what do I choose but the fun, and not the business. Perhaps I should grow a mullet? At least then I'd be putting business first.

....
No. That's a terrible thought. Forgive me for speaking it aloud.

I do find myself, still, having trouble concentrating on the task at hand, whether it be writing a few poems for Literary Journals to publish, or writing a few pages in my stories to get done with what needs to be done. And why? What is the deal with my priorities? I like them the way they are, sure, but whenever I get off work, all I can seem to want to do is lounge about and play video games. I've been able to keep away from the computer and television for some amount of time, lately, though it becomes a problem when I want to write, and by the time I get on my computer to do so, I go and get distracted by the game link nearby. Perhaps I should do away with it all together? Or perhaps not... let us not get too hasty, now, eh?

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Just an excerpt from my livejournal.com blog. I've way too many of these things to manage, but I haven't quite decided what to do with all of them yet. I know I'd like to keep my xanga. That one is for poetry at least. This one I've kept about for the in-and-out drama of life in general, and for dreams, though I've not done much of either of those for you guys here lately. I suppose I should get to work on fixing this issue, or at least the problem with writing more. I figure if I can fix that desire, then at least I'll be back into the habit, and that's all I really need, right? I hope so.

The Battleground

I fly like paper
I get high like planes -- Paper Planes, M.I.A.

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I find it odd that the local popular coffee-locale is the current battleground in the war waged between the Pious and the Gay. Perhaps not openly, and perhaps not even openly to either faction, though it remains quite obvious to the workers and "conscientious" observers that the two side vie laudably for space both inside and out; and the glares and side-ways glances from one front line to the next shout the subconscious feeling loudly.

Other than the war in Morality, there is the war in my own life of duty. I've a lot to do on my plate, and I've recently come by the time to do it, by way of quitting my serving job. Sure, I know what you're thinking, and believe you me, I'm thinking the same thing as well. However, and quite unexpectedly I might add, I've recently been conscripted to create several articles of clothing for those very same Neutrals at the coffee locale. I'm content with that. Therefore, not working as much, and deciding what I get to do with all the unadulterated free time I am now allotted, is something I'm feel I'm growing quite enamored with. I should hate to lose it so quickly. Though I mustn't complain, should it ever occur, for it is as they say: "Like sand through the hourglass". Or, do they say that?

True enough, I'll soon find myself picking up more hours in the long run, looking to turn my golden time into some form of splendor more profitable, especially when it comes time to pay the bills.

So good night from me, and a good night, indeed.

Another 9/11

So this picture to the left of me is from Dattebayo.com -- the best place for fansubbed material, insofar as it is what they choose to work on, which happens to correspond to what I like to watch... ah, I digress. The point is, it's from there, and you can clearly see their icon in the picture (note red circle). I thought the picture was keen and well-placed, as it can be seen in the upper-left-hand side of their main page.

I know what you must be thinking: "How uncouth!" But allow me to present to you their journal over the subject: "DB Celebrates the Passing of Another 9/11".

I agree with what they say, and it seems right that by this time we should be over the tears of this subject. I by no means want this to be a painful thing for anyone, as I, too, had family involved in the incident, though they were spared. Please don't think I'm being insensitive, either, when I say these things, but they're right; we should be happy we've gone another year without incident, and rejoice at how much stronger it has made us, and the changes the event is still bringing about today.

So think on that, and be happy, and realize that we've all grown a little in the past 7 years.

The Weather Outside

I bought an old home in Del Rio... -- So-So, Brooke Waggoner

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I've been back from the race and the subsequent vacation for a couple days now, working every step of the way. Though, when I was lucky enough to find some off-time, and not being doing errands, I spent my time resting up and trying to recover the state of my health.

Today has been a wonderful experience. I went to bed early, I slept in late, and I feel great compared to what it has been. The weather outside when I rose was somewhat dark and cloudy, and I could tell by my few furtive glances through the window-blinds that there was a soft and gentle music resonating sweetly on the wind. I do have to work tonight, and that makes me sad, somewhat, but mostly because of the weather outside. I had figured that by the time I got around to walking out to work, I would find a wave of heat rising up to greet me, but instead it has just been clean, cool air rustling a playful hand through my hair.

Perhaps I should be happy that the weather is finally turning, and that for once, it seems the seasons might turn in the old fashion they used when I was a child? Still, it does rub me wrongly that I have to go in and work on a beautiful afternoon like this. It's not often that the heart of Texas sees such beautiful weather...

Alive

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The air is alive with a subtle humidity: a warm and vibrant mist permeates the atmosphere of the city I grew up in...

In the middle of the night, I awoke to the sound of rolling thunder, crashing violently overhead. Several times, it seemed as though the lightning struck the ground outside my window, as I figured from the intensely bright light and the loud sharp crack akin to gunfire. It sounded uncomfortable. It sounded angry, and even at times it sounded joyful. Though through it all, in all its mixed emotions, I couldn't fall back asleep for long; it almost seemed as though the world was trying to tell me something.

At work today I waited to go, and I stood just inside the doorway to the patio. The juniper tree across the parking lot shuddered with joy in the ambiguous breeze, it's dark earthly colours clashing strongly and even endearingly against the bright yellow and dull kaolin-clay gray of the building's exterior. It seemed to say "hello" to a world that it had long-since grown bored with, and who could blame it? This town has done a lot to me; as I'm sure to any other person. To see it in the weather we have today is almost like falling into a world and time completely different form our own land-locked landscape. I could even feel the direction of the earth's rotation changing, and then I faced the East, and the sun was on it's way to setting across the deep lagoon of a harbour less than 50 miles away. I felt I could stand out in the weather as the gentle precipitation which came and went periodically returned, and as it fell softly on my forehead and shoulders, I could be transformed into that child that loved this kind of weather more than anything, and laughter would all but overcome my riddled, aching heart and mind...

But perhaps that is wishing for too much?

Boku wa...

The Foremost raised his hand in preparation to speak, intending his every word to be heard and felt and obeyed without question. But then a strange thing happened:

“Why is this man here?”
-- excerpt, personal writings

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I don't think I am a good person.

I don't like who I am. I've stated that, before, and you've read it, before, as well.

I think...
I think I am not confident enough in who I am.
I don't much like others--can't seem to stand them long enough when I don't see something in them I really like.

Then again, there's those people I do "really like", but for some reason, I end up ignoring everything about them that could hurt me until it does so multiple times. And even though I've known this for a couple years, I've not been able to change that. Sure, I have been able to reduce the amount of time it takes for me to realize whether a person I see as "good" has a "bad" side or not... but it hasn't seemed to help much in the long run.

A thousand words rush to mind, an even to the heart of my tongue, when I think of all the things I want to say. I've not said much, lately, but what I have said, I wonder if perhaps they weren't the best words I could have used. And, then again, I never have been good at public speaking...

All I can think to say... I'm sorry, and I'm sorry for that.
I can try to be different the next time. I can. And I will. I want to wake up and be a different person. A better person; someone you or anyone likes to be around. Perhaps, I could see it this way, this new leaf could be a testament to who I am going to be? And, in so many words, that's that! That's it! That's what I want! I want to be different! I want to wake each day and know that what had happened in the past is not what has define me in any way but the way I want!

And so, I want to look at it and say, "I'm not going to do this, anymore" and "I've tried this, I've been through this--why do it again? Let's find a different route!"