A New Beginning

As I walked out of Borders in downtown Palo Alto, I saw an amazingly beautiful girl smoking a cigarette. I asked for one and told her "Thanks, you're a lifesaver." She smiled and I realized what silly thing I said. But right before I left, I also said "And I mean no disrespect, but you're incredibly beautiful." Her facial reaction was to die for. The intense smile, instant blushing, and overall euphoric expression.

My words can be a complete terror that leave you in tears and catatonic huddle, or I can be the most affectionate person you have ever met. It all depends on how you treat me.

Stay with me on this one, it's still on topic. About a month ago I could barely run 3 miles under 30 minutes. And now I can kill those 3 miles in 20 minutes. It's all about improvement. If I can improve physically, what other areas in my life can I sharpen myself into and perfect?

I've made a list, and there are numerous things I'd like to accomplish before September. They won't be posted here, but believe me, they are paid attention to daily.

I have goals. I've had them for quite some time, and although I've had distractions, both emotionally and financially, they don't fade. And I'm going to accomplish them. Nobody that I grew up with ever believed I would raise myself to the level at which I'm at. And although there may be those pussy boys talking tough and having the family support to go to school full-time or to a nice college/university, they will never understand the advantage they hold.

So this is a new beginning for me. I needed to learn how to chill out, enforce my will, and now it's about organizing my tasks. I've learned what makes me happy, something as minuscule as flirting outside of a bookstore, and what makes me unhappy, the guilt and burden of being in a loveless relationship.

These following months will be my bootcamp, my own intense form of training. And when I step into September it will be in a Portland coffee shop, typing out a new blog post on my computer, and enjoying the sound of gentle delicate rain on the window.

Not Afraid

I change my mind often. You could say I'm indecisive about a lot of things. My intentions are always pure, or at least, I can recognize what they are before I do something. But my goals and plans change because I often discover new ways of accomplishing what I want.

Speaking to an ex-girlfriend, if she could even be considered a once "girlfriend", I discovered a lot about myself. Insecurities, fears, and overall things that I am not pleased with myself on, or that I think could be done better. There's a good chance she is reading this, I think she follows this blog, but no matter. I have no intentions of contacting her again because relationships break, and if you try to put them back together, it can be solid, but glued on broken pieces. I don't want to disrupt her life any further, and I don't want her to do the same to me either.

"Very well, you have made your choice. I will never contact you again and will ignore all contact from you for the rest of my life. You were the perfect relationship I lost. I'm sorry for my mistakes, and take care of yourself."

That's all she needs to remember me by.

The list of goals and things I'd like to see in my life get sharper. Not necessarily longer, but more confirmed and focused in a sense. I don't want to go to God forsaken Florida. My life is just starting and there's no need for me to settle down with one person, or decide my fate.

I still have a strong desire to join the Marines but only for the personal self-pride of surviving bootcamp and combat action. That's a wrong way to enter, it should be out of patriotism, and heh, I'm the last one to be patriotic. I don't take pride in my race, my surroundings, or people I grew up with. I am myself, a wolf igniting in the shape of a Black Flame.

In simple terms, or tl;dr: I can survive Marine bootcamp without going to bootcamp. When I look at myself I see limitless potential. "What I do I do at will. Shooting from the hip, yeah, shoot to kill. Half a breath left on my deathbed, screaming "fuck that!"

From as early as people can remember me I have always been defiant. Moving out of my father's home as early as I could, the night before my 18th birthday was the ultimate symbol of independence and fierceness. That was a tattoo in itself saying "Übermensch", my Wolfsangel, the Sigil of Baphomet,  Lucifer's rebellious decent: the moment Fenrir bit the hand that feeds. My friends know that if I ever get into a fight that I am to lose in, even when I'm on the ground, bleeding and unable to move, I will still be screaming "fuck you" and spitting the opposition in the face.

In my dreams, death appears as a hooded teenager with a nightstick on a bike, and I get close to him, bring down his hood eloquently, and say close to his face close enough for a kiss: "fuck you."

Here is a poem I wrote almost a year and a half ago, and already I can feel the flames burning me into a sharper shape, with fangs even longer, and a stare to leave you in a catatonic state…

I am a Prelude

Metamorphosis shackled in guilt

Transparent

Like an iceberg of oil

This yew tree is waiting to be ignited.

This is a strife in blood and sweat,

to thaw my bruised palms,

in the warmth of the Black Flame.

Disarm

Disarm you with a smile,

and cut you like you want me to.

Cut that little child...

Inside of me and such a part of you.

Ooh, the years burn.

I used to be a little boy.

So old in my shoes,

and what I choose is my choice

What's a boy supposed to do?

The killer in me is the killer in you.

My love, I send this smile over to you.

Disarm you with a smile,

and leave you like they left me here.

To wither in denial.

The bitterness of one who's left alone.

Ooh, the years burn.

The killer in me is the killer in you.

Love You More

The best way to describe my relationship with my ex-girlfriend is conveyed in the song "Love You More." There was some sort of sexual attraction to the anger and stress of the relationship, to the point in where it actually turned me on when she made me jealous. When she did, it gave me all the more desire to dominate her in bed, ravage her, and fuck all thoughts of anybody else out of her head. I've been more aggressive with her than with anybody else I have been with, to the point of even painting my adopted symbol on her skin with blood.

But underlying the "fun & excitement" of sexual anger was the need to prove myself in terms of masculinity, self-worth, and morality. Her opinion meant everything to me, and it changed me as a person as well. I partook in things I didn't feel comfortable with, and continued on even when I thought we were best separated. It's amusing - despite the fact that I fucked her roughly with her hair in a clenched fist, and torso held tightly, she always held the dominant hand over me.

I highly doubt she cares enough about me to read this blog, so it's safe to be frank and honest. I still care very much about her. One of the hardships of intense relationships is that emotions can get so high that it leads to rough fighting and what Eminem describes as "spitting venom in your words."

I'm sure in time we will both grow as people and exercise more maturity in the way that we deal with people, but now that I'm on good speaking terms with her, I'm just afraid of either of us screwing it up.

Marines Corps Medical Disqualification

There is a strong chance that I have a medical condition that will disqualify me from joining the Marines Corps. Initially I felt strongly disappointed, and later in the day I experienced some relief.

This was supposed to be the ultimate redemption, a way to clear my head, and able to be comfortable in my own skin. I'm highly elitist, and judge myself and others harshly. Passing the challenge of Marine Corps boot camp would have been my lifelong pride. Taking it a step further, going into active service for four years as I planned, and experiencing war was something else I looked forward to.

Another case of "walking the talk."

And now that I've reviewed the medical conditions throughly I'm thrown back into my life, and I don't know what to do. Should I continue training? Is there a chance that I may not have eczema, but some dry skin condition that doesn't disqualify me?

I'm confused also with how I feel. There's relief in that I won't be in a desert with bullets soaring past me, and that I can continue living in the civilian world, but I have also lost one of the biggest challenges that a human can experience....

Parents & Independence

I hate people who wear the illusion that they are independent. Idiotic kids who turn 18 and think they are entitled to do whatever they want because they are now "adults." It infuriates me to see them talk about how big they are, when they provide no means for themselves and are still dependent on their parents for support.

I resent those given jobs by their parents. Their claims of having a "rough family life" make me want to spit in their face. Sucking Daddy's cock for a nice job, when others struggle day by day to raise themselves up without any cum slurping.

I resent those with the luxury of being able to move to another state for their simple pleasure of discovering something new. Their emotional "adventure" is seen as a hard task by them, instead of the glorious rewarding option that it is.

I hate 26 year olds who still live with their parents, and go snowboarding every other weekend. They spend their money on luxurious things and don't even go to school. At the end of things, they will probably fellate their father as well for a job, and wear the image that they found this hard job by themselves.

I hate smug whores who grab claims to independence yet they don't have a real job. They talk enormously about what important people they are, and how they don't need anybody, yet they don't have money for their own school or other necessities.

I hate the bastards who are able to collect financial aid. In California, the state stupidly assumes that you are financially supported by your parents until you are 24. I have been on my own since I was 18 and I don't qualify because I can't provide a parent's tax information. A parent? As if I had one.

When I go to war, I will take pride in the fact that although I don't receive any help or assistance, I was able to take care of myself and go forth. And if I die, equally, knowing that I was pushing myself to my own limits and entered into a compromise that would give me a better future.

So, little bitches, go ahead and continue thinking that you're what you say you are. Meanwhile real men are walking the talk.