The bending Willow

Life can be a whirlwind. I tend to view myself as the willow tree, bending to-and-fro with the direction of the wind. The problem is that often, the wind keeps blowing and I get a bit dizzy from it.

I seem to have been assaulted with too many choices of late and from too many directions that the wind keeps blowing. It is not so much the amount of choices that I have but the fact is I cannot seem to make a decision on much; that I have grown too dizzy from the constant directions of the wind that I cannot think of which way to bend.

Perhaps for a set amount of time, I need to ignore the wind and make some solid decisions. Once set, I shall face that direction and let the wind blow it self out.

Spring and its wonders

Well Spring has hit, meaning its unpredicatble weather and storms. I love the storms part but wow, 95 degrees one day then 40 the next?

Rain, cleans. I enjoy rain. I enjoy the wind and the lightening and the thunder. Everyone I know hates rain but I love it. I love running through it. I still like to put my harness boots on and splash in puddles. I love driving my car through deep puddles in the streets, throwing a massive amount of water all over the place and freaking out the other drivers. I love that smell of rust and metal you get just before an electrical storm and how the trees show the undersides of their leaves from the updrafts of the air. People also don't realise what they are smelling is ionization. I so want to duplicate that in a lab somewhere. "Crazy Marcus' Ionization in a can smell". Its like new car smell but better. You can get that smell too when you know you are going to get a massive snowstorm. Electrical snowstorms are the best. The white powder coming down, the sound of thunder, the sky turning a greenish-yellow and it reflects on the fallen snow. So beautiful.

I have been busy with CIB Radio gigs lately. Working keeps me focused and happy. I just don't want to give the apperance to my fellow DJ's I am trying to take over CIB Radio, I am not. I just want it to succeed. I have added hundereds of new songs on my library of music and my Rave on the Rood tonight is not actually in Kintyre but on Erasmus and AutopilotPatty's roof which they have graciously allowed me to setup on. I like what the three of us have come up with for decorations. I think its going to be a fun time, I just need to get the word out about the location change. Half my playlist tonight is new music. Change can be positive and good and I think adding more music is great to keep us fresh.

With May comes new weather, new Spring, new ideas and new changes. All of which I feel are good awakenings for me, my mind, my body, my spirit.

The futures so bright I need my tinted goggles...

Well, I think I am starting to settle down and get serious. Relay For Life is doing well and I am assisting with the 1920’s Flapper dance on the 19th. I am also pouring more into making CIB Radio a stronger company. I am putting uncertainty and shaky feet behind me and looking forward. I am no longer going to be a mass of unstable neurons so these entries will start changing.

Anger has begun to drive me a bit. Anger at cancer. Anger at people that make promises and try to beguile me with drama and lies. Anger that I have wasted my time wallowing in self pity and uncertainty. RFL is too important to me to not be focused on it. Any of my other insecurities and complaints seems petty in comparison. CIB Radio needs to succeed and I have no problem throwing a great deal of my energy into it. I can do a lot for the company and for those that are co-owners and staff. I think it is about time to do and not worry, to cut loose dead weight and self promotion. I wasn’t going to do themes for my Wednesday raves but in seeing what Bob is doing for the disco, I think it’s a good promotional thing for CIB radio. So, come the 30th I should work on a theme and get billboards out for it. Thanks Bob, you certainly have inspired me.

I feel energized. I feel motivated. I am closing another chapter in the book of my life and looking forward to the next, newer chapter. Its clean white pages unbent and stainless look beautiful to me.

I never seem to be able to do enough. I have many friends and I try to communicate with them on a regular basis but it’s tough. Folks are busy, I have projects to do, and time seems to be filled with smallish things. Then there is SLRFL. The cause is very important to me, not because of anyone close to me or anyone I know that well having cancer. It’s just because. Then there is CIB Radio. That’s important to me. I enjoy being a DJ. It pleases that people enjoy my personality and the music I play. If I inspire anyone with music, it’s been a good day.

So why is it that I never feel like I am doing enough? Is it because I want to be in control? I want the attention? Almost every day I am in Caledon. I dance and think. I flirt and think. I explore and shop and build and talk and still, I think. I feel that if I am not doing something constructive I am wasting time. If I am not playing music or building or improving my relations with others, if I am not promoting CIB Radio or SLRFL I feel like I am wasting time.

How many dances can one attend to feel worth? How many clothes can one have? How much money to donate and how much time to give?

It still never feels like enough. I told Erasmus the other day, you do what you can and have to be satisfied. I offer advice, but I can’t heed my own?

SLRFL has made me think too much, to care for others too much. I have made too many mistakes in not helping enough, too many turns left instead of right. Too much falling down where instead I should have been looking up. Am I stronger because of this? Will I stop kicking and torturing myself for my mistakes? My errors and mistakes tarnish my soul. Not even time cleanses that.

A Pec-cular Event

I enjoy attention. Actually I crave it. I absorb it. I desire it. It is lust and substance and wine for me. In a few conversations with friends and associates, I have expressed my concerns about the unquenchable thirst of attention I desire. Most of my close friends acknowledge this desire but really cannot explain it further than I can as to the machina, the mechanical aspects of my spirit so to speak, as to why I feel the need. Some even joke about it which I take in stride for if I cannot laugh at myself, I cannot laugh at anything else.

I did the Rave on the Roof event last night and I was actually sad. The event started on time, the music was more positive and upbeat even though I decided to go with a darker side of music. Nobody came. I don’t know why really, its not like folks don’t know where we are. I suspect it may be perception and location really. I had heard on the Caledon Independent Channel the previous night some rumblings of male chests and some comments on how furry my particular chest was. I really wasn’t paying too much attention at the time due to a rather in depth conversation with some friends so I did not really tune in as much. Some of those rumblings and discussions started again tonight and after 30 minutes of only having a few of the usual crowd there, I announced that I was taking off my shirt. The reason why I did it was pretty simple, I was trying to shine and nobody was paying attention. I work hard. I work harder for others. I DJ because not only does music enlighten me, move me, carry emotions in word and thought and sound, but I wish to share the positive imagery and motivation and impact music has stirred in me with the rest of the world. When nobody seems to care, that cuts me deeply. So I turn to using every trick I can to get people to listen.

Thirty minutes later and a few more folks start to trickle in. Then more come and I am a bit buried in IM’s for requests for music.

Apparently I now have a group dedicated to the appreciation of my chest. No not me at all, nor my personality nor any other part of me, just my chest and its follicles. Part of me is overwhelmed by the attention being the attention lush that I am. I also derive satisfaction that some of my imagined friendly rivalry with a few other gentlemen in Caledon society over chest appreciation seems to have reached a new, higher level and now I am a high contender. I get to be in the big league, YAY! I also get to anger a few people greatly that all ready despise me because of who I am. Part of me is, well frankly, terrified. Shaving is now out of the question and maintaining my newly declared asset is now a requirement. Too much exposure also and folks will get bored just like they do with my silks, OMG dancing, and flirting. It is not insecurity, for I am confident in my looks and my physical centering in the universe, but it will be a test for my more unstable spiritual and emotional centering. I must not disappoint least the attention wanes.

Signs posted at the Toxic Waste Dump....

I notice most of my postings have been rather negative. I try to be a positive influence in Caledon and beyond, however, it is almost impossible for me to have a plastered smile, a masque full of sunshine and rainbows all the time. There are moments when I feel like the standard courtesies and grinning lies wear me down faster than truth. Truth I can accept.

I suppose I should get in line with everyone else to be a ‘good’ boy. Society dictates it and like a lobotomized sheep, I shall mindlessly waltz with the best, pardon the drool.

What has been disconcerting as of late is how often my honesty or opinion stops a discussion dead in its tracks. Two nights ago I made a statement on how I thought that even if it were in jest, general chat could be so cruel and hateful, could not we all get along a bit better? All discussion stopped…for over 15 minutes. I think I broke them or they just wandered out of the Chat area out of sheer boredom.

I have finally realized no matter how hard I try to just be me and to stick by my principles, people don’t care. I am just background noise to most people. I try to strike up a conversation, almost all of the time not about me, but they don’t take me seriously or they have better things to do. I can understand I don’t have to be, and frankly, I don’t want to be the center of attention, but can I actually have some courtesy? I wish I could have something more besides “How are you?” Those three words are so insincere. Nobody really cares. It is mock courtesy.

*Sigh*. I need to stop using my Blog as a toxic waste dump. Its not helping and I am sure if I have a single reader, they don’t want to hear my crap.

Hmm...pessimistic? Perhaps...

Some days I wonder why I even bother to express myself in any form. So many people I know do a arm-chair, under-the-bar form of diagnostic on my psyche and decide who and what I am from a few moments in talking with me. More often they are totally off mark and when I state something to that effect, suddenly I am being defensive or an incompetent since they themselves are the ‘professional’. Everyone always seem to want to pigeon-hole you, to classify you so that they feel secure in their knowledge and place in the universe little realizing that such feelings and placements are in reality, a myth. The reality is far more scarier than they can possibly imagine but I tolerate their moments of superiority since it gives them a warm, fuzzy feeling. There are days though I wonder why bother? Slapping them with the horror of reality would maybe awaken them, maybe put them in some sort of catatonic state. No, I have to tolerate their incompetence and satisfy their delusions that they are morally and mentally superior because ‘it’s the right thing to do’ or we can’t have truth when it hurts others now can we.

This past week I have had some revelations on society and groups. People would rather give up a part of themselves either personal truth, or to modify their ways so that they can be part of a group. They can’t or won’t be themselves. I am finding that the more I try to fit in, the less of me I become. I think I will stop doing that and just be myself. If people can’t accept that I am being me, then I don’t want anything to do with them.

I shouldn’t have a part of me be suppressed or even cut loose so that I can fit in.

I also notice I can be on for hours and my friends don’t even acknowledge my presence. Where did I sign the contract that stated I should have to be the one to initiate conversation all the time? That to be acknowledged, I have to be the one to exist first? I am reminded of the line of a song “I don’t exist when you’re not here”. I shouldn’t have to be here just for others, I should be here because it matters to me. Still, I question my relationships with others when I must breathe to be heard. I think I am beginning to understand the belief of the tragic artist, “I need to die to be known”.

Caledon continues to be amazing to me. It’s like having its citizens being in an endless dance with their thoughts in a perpetual dream state and they fearing to wake up, ruining the dream. One can be lost in its siren song. It’s not perfect, not by a long shot but it does have its fantasy and that fantasy does override its tarnish. If there were just more tolerance and less definition of ‘acceptable’ behavior, it would be a more inviting realm.
I have found other realms but generally the same method and attitude prevails there too. Perhaps it is a universal human trait and really won’t change, just the window dressing.

One of these days I might actually write something here that has meaning instead of my negative concerns and beliefs being transferred into a journal entry that people may peruse yet never really care about. It is more about my state of mind, these entries instead of any fact, fiction, or belief. It’s more of an inkling into my being, so to speak. Putting such words onto written form can be dangerous though for most folks are always trying to find that ‘edge’ over someone else to use them or bend them to their will.

Pessimistic to a fault I suppose but then, I have seen a lot of the human spirit and generally, it feels and looks to me to be one of dangerous, powerful, corruption, greed, and hate. These reflections overwhelm those aspects of humanity that are positive, overwhelm them in sheer mass and numbers.

Events, stipulations, and musings.

Looking back I see that time, is fleeting. more days and weeks go by then I can hold on to and my journals show that there are vast times and massive gaps in updates.

Recently I performed at the 2ND Anniversary of Caledon for the fine folks that attended and enjoyed my musical performance. Albeit it was for a brief hour, it was intense. The music I chose was modern but folk-like with pipes, traditional instruments and an occasional 'epic' piece. One such piece by Globus, one of my favorites actually, announced the arrival of Guv'nah Shang. Tipping well and enjoying his time dancing for the rest of my set and into Duck's set was an exciting moment for me. What was also exciting was dancing with Eugenia Burton and LilyDay. I am very glad that the celebrations turned out the way they did. It tends to rekindle the reasons why I love Caledon, even though the weeks as of late have been moody, dark, and foreboding. I don't really wish to leave Caledon but I am finding other things to keep me occupied. I have a great deal of work to do still and even though I still feel a bit out of the community or more exactly, a stranger in a strange land, I continue to stay and contribute. The events that have been happening within Clan Kintyre, while not as dramatic, have left a vile, bitter taste in my mouth and when I attend each of the Raves on the Roof, there always seems to be a cloud of misery over the entire event. It seems to be a lurking shadow really. Kintyre lives but as a wounded animal and I don't know if it will ever be healed. Dirty Dancing with Her Grace was enjoyable, especially since she was between two Tairovs but I recognized quite early the intent was to have her Grace enjoy herself and to also still hurt and scorn ZenMondo, who in honesty, I still can't get over my anger with him for. Funny. I can love like God loves but cannot forgive as he does. I must work on that.

As far as the work goes on the AEther Battle cruiser, I am still not happy with the rear. I think I shall work more on the engineer room and perhaps start to work in Blender to design more of what I am looking for. I have learned a great deal from a lot of builders and giving up on the project is no longer an option. I enjoy the challenge but I do get frustrated at the lack of ability I possess in being able to make my dream a reality. Lukos keeps riding me to finish the job. I tend to look at it as a long term project that has challenges to overcome when I feel like tackling them and frankly, I don't feel like tackling them every minute of every day.

I need to talk with Erasmus. I know he has been busy with his new bride but I want to get my point across that I want to help more in Caledon Independent Broadcasting and in the Second Life Relay for Life. Backup DJ is always an option. I didn't volunteer for being a runner, I want to contribute more but not with as much spotlight. Having the fate of a race on ones shoulder is not the attention I crave.

*Sigh* I always seem to be trying to find my path. So many others seem so sure of themselves and I respect them for it. I have learned though that I can't follow in ones footsteps yet I don't have the confidence and security to blaze my own path. What a mess I seem to be.

Thoughts, explanations, motives, twists and turns

I often do not enjoy writing about myself. I find it to be rude to force oneself upon others in any aspect so you shall find updates to this diary of sorts to be very infrequent at best. I usually do like to write about reflections and thoughts though, so expect that.

There are about 250 diaries out there on Caledon and its people. Events are covered from every aspect of Caledon including those of Babbage, Winterfell, and many of our friends and Allies. Seek those out for they shall cover much more than I can possibly cover and enjoy life through their eyes.

I shall though break my vow slightly and offer a bit of insight upon myself to let the reader know my reasons for doing this said diary, upon which afterwards, I shall and in the future discuss more of my thoughts on matters and events that transpire instead of being the braggart.

If you have read my introduction, then yes you know I have an unusual history. I have since changed my habits and my ways. "What ho? One cannot change such as thee for a leopard cannot change its' spots!", you may say. True. However I must admit, my experience, from what I have seen and heard, is very unique. It sometimes even defies explanation.

For one, I arrived in the lands of Caledon an adult. Not a child, a teenager, or of any other point in my life that I can barely recall. Second, I appeared as I did originally upon my death. I was rather tall, in fact, my people where on average, only 4' 9" to 5' 2" in standard English or American measurements. I am at present, and as back then, 7 foot. My first life, I was a giant of a man. Believe me, it was more trouble than it was worth since buildings were difficult to enter, I consumed enough food for three men, and I believe that my height lead to my eventual death since as a warrior, I stood out amongst my peers. It did help as I was often a rally point but that is another tale. Third, and this is also very strange, I no longer speak my native tongue. I recall certain words and sentence structure but try as I might, I seem to be fluent in English only even though I was originally able to speak some 3 tongues which included Etruscan, Latin, Greek and about 12 dialects of the area tribes and people indigenous to my lands.

Such is the way of Gods.

My patron deity is Menrva. By your accounts, she has manifested herself into what you call Minerva. She is the one that tested me, taught me, and granted me this gift of a second chance. I know, it sounds silly, but it isn't to me. This is a gift I have no intent of wasting. I shall never betray her or speak ill of her for her wrath is mighty and her kindness beyond measure.

I am an honest man. I tell the truth but don't offer it unless asked and what others tell me I keep. I gladly offer anything of myself though. I hold friends dear to me. If I am your friend, you may ask anything of me and if empowered, I shall give. I shall hurt no one. My enemies are those that hurt me, Caledon, or that which I love and my wrath while not broad and grand, is close and deep. If you are a friend, you have a friend for life and if your an enemy, I am not easy to forgive.

I love everything. Passion, is a gift finally granted me from a previous of life that had none. I enjoy it and express it freely. While many have expressed concern about my passion and its boundless borders, rest assured that even if others do not feel as I do, I do understand that my emotions may make others feel uncomfortable. Please understand, I do not follow the dictates of society when it comes to passion for no law or will of man should contain and constrain passion. No boundaries mean just that but I shall respect others thoughts, feelings, and desires primary so if I offend, please understand and let me become aware.

I have been gifted by finding Caledon. Its people are so diverse. Each is a shining beacon of the power, creativity, passions and dreams of man. Everyone I have met, though unique has one thing in common: They take their unique talents, passions, dreams and loves and contribute to the idea of community. With that they give it life, make it strong, make it a breathing and living entity where anything can happen. We are stronger from our individual parts bound together with a purpose, to make a home for universal life.

I begin this new journey as an infant with wisdom. I have experienced much but the road ahead is full of wonderment, passions, new life, and the sheer being of others. I look forward for even though I can see its windy, the path is rough and full of rocks, steep and it dips, it shall be a journey worth taking.

An Introduction from the Past

Marcus Tairov was born some 2700 years ago in what is known today as Northern Italy. Etruscan by birth, Marcus was a skilled warrior. He was a brutal and violent man, evil and corrupt who often tortured prisoners, attacked the enemy with glee and bloodlust, a derived pleasure from hurting people especially during sexual encounters. Although he lustfully and with great abandon, enjoyed being a warrior, he contributed nothing artistic to a society that appreciated creativity more than militaristic pursuits.

He met his end leading a group of soldiers into the Alpine mountain passes. He and his forces were ambushed and slaughtered to the last man even though his troops took out as many as they could beforehand.

Marcus discovered after his life was taken that his spirit would not find rest. After his demise, he appeared on a bloody battlefield. Before him appeared, Menrva, the Etruscan Goddess of War, Art, Motherhood, and Wisdom who informed Marcus that for the crimes he had suffered upon others in life, so shall he have returned ten thousand fold. He blatantly and rudely informed her that he could deal with anything she tortured him with, little realizing the youthful and foolish words he spoke would be the key to lifetimes of unending pain and torture. He died a million times in ways that a mortal man couldn’t even imagine and went through torture only the Gods could create.

After thousands of deaths, his body broken, reborn, and broken again, he lay once again upon the bloody battlefield at Menrva’s feet. He realized then that the battlefield he was in was one of his own creation, the corpses were his victims, and the moans and weeping that he was now hearing were uttered from the victims and their families. Between the eons of torture and pain heaped upon him, the violence and violations delivered unto him he now understood what he had done and it sickened him to his core. He looked up to the hard eyes of Menrva’s and she bored her eyes into his soul and she saw his enlightenment. A touch of compassion for Marcus touched him as she read his very essence. She asked him “You now understand? I had wanted you to be the sum of what I would have offered.” Begging he recanted his former life finally understanding the evil of what he had done, the misery he had inflicted upon others and the ruin that he had brought upon his own self. His former life was a waste of life and was squandered for his own pleasure and his hate. He had created nothing and in return brought nothing but ruin and death. Moved and seeing that his sprit, the core of his being, spoke the truth not out of fear, pain, or the desire for escape the eternity of torture, she felt compassion to grant him a chance. He was to return to the land of man and create, love, respect others. If he ever returned to his evil ways, he would never escape the pain of eternity. Overwhelmed by Menrva’s compassion, he vowed to her that he would do what she asked and would not squander such an opportunity.

With a flash, he returned to the land of Man and began to rebuild his body, mind, and most importantly, his spirit.