Father, father, father... Help us...

It shouldn't take a genius to know from what song I got that one from.

Well, blog time once again. I feel good. Well, not that hoop-dee-do, click-my-heels good... but I'm aight.

I'm writin' in to...correct myself in the previous blog I wrote.

This internet cafe is still so fuckin' noisy. Oh well. What else can one expect. And if anyone is lookin' over my shoulder, readin' what I'm typin... get a life, pal.

Now then. I mentioned in my previous blog that samaritans and martrys don't exist. I was wrong, and I think I owe some people an apology. After some thinking and talking... and a few cigarettes, I had a better understanding of it. Samaritans do exist. I know someone. Heh, I don't even know if he knows about this blog. He'd prob'ly scold me for some of the shit I said... like so. Anyway. Samaritans are those who give unwillingly, without expecting return or worse...recognition. That's what pisses me off. But first... priests are more or less the perfect example of today's samaritan. They have practically given their lives for service to God... and I gotta say... Wow. That takes nads, baby. They are the ones who give, and not expect return and/or recognition.

I think I have a better understanding of it. The ones that piss me off are self-proclaimed samaritans and martyrs... those who give, and expect recognition, and start bitchin' if they don't get it. Do they even have the right to call themselves samaritans? Please. Then there are those self-proclaimed martrys... those who'd prob'ly expect (and want) a hero's funeral if they committed "a last act of honor." Those who donate a school building and WANT it named after them... that's a self-proclaimed samaritan. Someone who takes trouble for you, but expects for you to do the same... that's a self-proclaimed martyr. I can keep going. Piece of advice: For those who think life is all about recognition and approval, seek recognition and approval of yourself first, 'coz I personally believe that's where the main problem lies in.

Well. What else is floating in this vast emptiness I call my head?

Ah. Jam left. Jus' the previous weekend. I finally shed those tears, and I needed those. We been through shit and stone together, and I will miss those times that he's not here with us. But he's there, and he'll do good... and that's all we need to know to make it all better. You better bring your skinny-ass back here! Haha!

Yup. It'll prob'ly be another three months or so 'til my next post... or 'til when the laptop's fixed. Either way.

Holla.

You bleed, you learn...

Wow. I jus checked as to when I updated this last... Jan 12, 2k6. In two days, that's exactly two months! No wait, not really... February has less than 30 days. Ah, screw it.

Week's over, so that means the weekend's here... But it ain't gon' be like any other weekend. Jam ain't gon' be here with us. Err... I mean this isn't the first time we wouldn't see him for the weekend, since we knew the.....

THIS INTERNET CAFE IS SO FUCKING NOISY.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. Jam. Since we knew we'd see him the weekend after, or real soon. Well, this time we won't see him for another thirty-six months or so. Wow.

To be honest, I have seemed a bit indifferent about it. I guess it's a defensive mechanism, really. When people act indifferent, even a bit cold, towards somethin' or someone, in order to make themselves... You get the point.

I could use a cigarette right about now.

I really should quit smokin'. Who am I kidding.

You know, as much as we hate to see Jam leave, one can't help but feel happy about him. Perhaps that's why I'm not as much as an emotional wreck as I thought. I mean, Jam is leaving, to greener pastures, if you will. Let's jus' say... the grass is all dried out on this side of the pasture.

I mean, we wouldn't be his real friends if we were bitter about him leaving. Sure, we're sad, but we aren't bitter. Unless, of course, if one of us left the country jus' to follow around his/her abusive boyfriend/girlfriend. We're glad for him at the same time, well, I am... 'coz I know that him moving out is a good opportunity for himself to grow. In a way, I kinda envy him. Of course, I'm sure Jam's a bit sad about his leaving, but hey... people should think first of themselves, anybody else second. Taking a bullet? Ficitional.

As much as I hate to admit it sometimes, this really is survival of the fittest. Dog eat dog. Man eat pork. Really, though. You ain't gon' get anywhere jus' by sittin' on your ass, and expect mama and papa to pay for your Lamborghinis. If there are any Hollywood-type brats out there, I hope they realize that even if mama and papa hand them down an MNE, it's not gon' run itself. I jus' read an article about children of some of China's most successful businessmen. I think there's a Chinese word for that... Mu-tse. That's "mooch", by the way.

Dog eat dog. Samaritans don't exist in this world. The last one was in the Biblical times, dated centuries ago. Literally. Martyrs? They're called martrys 'coz they die. I'm not tryin' to discourage anyone out there who feels like they can 'change the world.' Go ahead. It's your life, and I have no right in interferring in it... but I do have the right to my own opinion. The world can't be changed; the world changes you.

I learned that the hard way.

For once, the title of my post makes sense to my point. You bleed, you learn. The classic tale of the moth and the flame.

A lot of people live in fairy tale worlds.

It's nice to dream once in a while.

God bless you, Jam. Be safe, and be back.

Holla.