No Rest For The Wicked

You know, it is really disappointing that at least one of you people with whom I regularly converse in blogland does not have an other than normal schedule. What is an insomniac like myself supposed to do at 3am if none of your are continuing any rational conversation? Stand out on the street, smoking and listening to gunfire?

Strike that. I don't wish these sleepless nights on anyone. Continue with the sleeping and dreaming and other relevant aspects of life, or something close to it.

Continuing in the series

For those of you wondering when the next "White Wolf" installment is coming, it is being worked out on paper and should be up shortly. I have been busy at work and so it is slow coming, but should be up shortly.

In reality I know that none of you, even amongst my regular readers, have the slightest concern about whether the next installment in that series comes out or not, but I am engaging my delusional self and thus informing you.

Real or fictional, that is the update on life, or something close to it.

My Life Path Number

Your Life Path Number is 3

Your purpose in life is to express your unique self. You are a creative and artistic person with an interesting view on life. Witty and outgoing, you enjoy sharing your crazy ideas with anyone who will listen. A total social butterfly, you're the life of any party. In love, you inspire and enchant your partner. You are often an object of fantasy and desire. While you are very talented, you sometimes lack the ambition to put your talents in play. And while your wit carries you a long way, you occasionally use it to mask your true feelings. Your natural abilities can bring you all the success in the world ... if you let them

What Is Your Life Path Number?

Oh yeah. That sounds like me. Especially the "social butterfly" and "object of fantasy" parts. Nevertheless that appears to be the number of the path of the life, or something close to it.

The Shadows of a Tireless Mind

Headaches seem to flutter from left to right, from back to front. I open my eyes, carefully: the light seems to make my headache worse. I take stock of where I am. I don't remember how I got here, but I'm face down on the side of a dirt hill. I raise my head a bit, and realize it's not a hill, it's the inside of a crater, from which much smoke is billowing.

I spit dirt.

I wonder if I have anything with me that might help me find my way out of this place. I study my surroundings in hopes of recognition. There are mountains to the left, a forest to the right, and an indefinite horizon to my front. I turn to see what's behind me and almost fall off the hundred foot cliff on the ledge of which I find myself standing. Chunks of packed dirt from under my feet tumble to the ocean below, colliding with the rock face on their way.

One thing catches my eye, so I step back and get down on my stomach to peer over the ledge more safely. There is a tree root jutting from the face, with a satchel slung around it. I try to guage the distance to the satchel. It seems about ten feet, and my curiosity could not be more piqued.

I slide back, and I sit up. I can't get my mind off it; what's in the bag? I can't help but feel that it may belong to me, as I and the bag seem to be the only manmade objects in the area. By what means did I even get here? Could I have been flung from somewhere in such a way that the bag could have been dropped in flight and snagged that root?

That brings to mind a fairly relevant question itself. I stand up and lock each of my joints, testing for pain. I feel none. I stand on one leg, then the other. I get down and do a push-up, and still no pain. I seem uninjured. This much is good. Though I was trained in combat lifesaving in the Army, I don't see any supplies around if I needed treatment. Maybe there's supplies in the bag.

What is in that bag?

It was hanging from a root. Logically, there ought to be a tree around here somewhere, but I see none. Odd, that, that a root should stick out where the is no tree. I must just not be seeing it. I look closer, and I see a stump, almost flush with the ground, and smooth. How terribly peculiar. Natural forces are too rough and unguided to have done that; someone had to have cut that tree. But whom and for what? I can't tell if it was done recently, I wonder if the tree being cut down has to do with the bag, whatever the hell is in there.

It's too bad the tree wasn't still there; I could use a branch from it to reach for the bag. There's a fire in the center of the crater in which I found myself; I could use the heat to form a hook if I had a green branch. I look around again, maybe there'd be another tree. I remember the forest and feel like an idiot. I wander over there, and look for a long enough branch to hook the bag. I find one, but the branch is too thick to be snapped off. I go back out to the dirt area, and find a large rock.

After cutting my hands serverely and possibly breaking my left thumb, I have severed the branch from the tree. I clear all the minor branches from it, until I have a fifteen foot long pole. I carry it back to the fire, and I notice the shadows which fall over the land. I crane my neck skyward and realize there's a hell of a storm brewing. Since the fire is pretty important to my plan of fashioning a hook, I hurry.

After heating and bending, very incrementally and carefully so as not to burn the wood, I have a rather decent hook with a good amount of strength. I could still pull it straight. I hope the bag's not heavy.

Then again, if it isn't heavy, it probably doesn't have anything important in it. Kind of a discouraging choice, between a heavy and possibly unobtainable bag and a light and therefore probably unhelpful bag. I suppose it's a moot point.

I get back to the cliff and the storm has begun. The winds are whipping the waves into a froth and hail is pelting my skin. I keep my eyes squinted out of reflex as I slide the hook under the strap of the satchel, and very carefully heft it's weight, testing the resiliency of the hook while the root was still there to catch the bag. I feel it's quite heavy, but the hook is holding, so I start hoping and guide the satchel off of the root and start hoisting it up.

The hail is increasing. There's lightning, and the wind is strong enough to make my kneeling position untenable. I carefully lower myself flat to my stomach, ad wince as the hail hits harder. I can see chunks the size of grapes slamming into the rocks around me and hope one isn't destined for my skull soon.

When I get the bag to the top and secure, I find it zipped closed. I hurriedly search for the zipper handle when a ball of ice he size of my fist slams into the ground a few inches from me. I take off my shirt and form a tent over my head, hopefully protective from the tension of the cloth, and notice a light coming from the mountains. Is that a cave? If it is, with a fire inside, there must be someone in there. At the moment, I nevied anyone with a cave and a fire, and hoped they were friendly. I strapped the satchel around my neck and re-constructed my shirt-based head shield and ran towards the mountains.

I picked my way up the path I'd found until I got to a wide ledge. I figured the cave was around this height, so I ran to the right seeking it. Pieces of ice were hitting my shirt and tiring my arms from absorbing the impact, but better my arm muscles than my skull.

I spot the entrance to the cave and as I round the corner, I see the fire and a rather large surprise to go with it: a beautiful girl, I'd guess in her early twenties, with flaming red hair and crystal blue eyes to offset her alabaster skin, awash in the oplaine iridescence provided by the fire. She laid on a velvet sofa, with rich tapestries adorning the well-smoothed walls of the cave. The floor was covered with a fur rug, and I was amazed that such opulence was present in this bizarre locale.

A chunk of ice rebounded off the wall above the entrance to the cave and clipped me in the nose. "Fuck!" I exclaimed, which woke the sleeping siren. She looked at me through eyes blearly with recent wakefulness, and stood up.

"Are you the one who fell from the sky?" she asked, becoming more alert.

"Probably," I responded, unsure whether or not that description could be applied to me.

"What's in the bag?" she asked, with well-emoted curiosity. I laughed a little.

"That's a good question, I don't know yet." Another chunk of ice rebounded and slapped me in the ear. "God damn it... can I come in for a minute?"

She flicked her gaze from the bag to my eyes. "Give me the bag, then, I'll see what's in it and you can shelter yourself and get warm."

Suddenly, I felt very protective of the bag. i could not explain why but I sensed somehow that the bag held the answer to everything, an explanation, and a way out. Perhaps I'd come here for the bag in the first place. In either case, my delay in answer was seeming to make her a bit angry, which only cemented in my mind the notion that she was plotting to take my bag.

"Why don't I open it when I come in?" I responded.

"If you won't give me the bag, you can't come in." She crossed her arms, tersely. I was at a loss, what kind of brazenness would it take to demand someone give you the only possession they have aside from their clothes for shelter? It occurred to me that it would be easier to negotiate if the bag were a known quantity.

"Hold on, I'll give you an answer in a minute."

She looked me in the eye and I nearly melted. She was so beautiful, and surrounded in such luxury. It could be considered my dream, and I was being asked to risk everything to share the space with her.

"Give me the bag or leave. You have three seconds." I couldn't even begin to formulate an answer when the three seconds were up and she turned her back to me. The rocks above the cave entrance fell and blocked it in perfectly. Now it was just me and the bag, for better or worse. I searched around the mountain, but the best shelter I could find was a minor overhang that did nothing to block the wind and only a little to block the hail.

I opened the bag.

Chuck E. Cheese Heroics

After my last posting my wife, daughter and I joined the rest of the family in going to Chuck E. Cheese to celebrate my niece's birthday. Not necessarily the most exciting way that I would have chosen to spend the evening, but we make such sacrifices for family.

Of course some of my niece's friends were there, and she is at that age (eight years) where you can count on some really annoying drama. Particularly when one of the friends is a year or two older.

This particular friend convinced her to hand over some of the tickets she had won at the games so that they could get a cool toy that they could "share". We became aware of this when this girl had expended her allotted tokens and was trying to get more from Tessa to use toward this goal.

My sister (Tessa's mother) explained to her that the friend had already spent her own tokens and was just trying to trick her out of her own, and this is when we learned of the "sharing" plan. My sister was quick to point out that the friend would simply use the tickets toward her own end, which upset the birthday girl who declared that she suspected that the other girl was doing so as we spoke.

Now, I decided to leave the straightening out of the shenannigans to the respective parents and took my last dollar over to the token machine to acquire my own tokens, with which to play skeeball. Four tokens later, I returned with thirty tickets to replace the lost five and save the day for our grieving guest of honor. As it turns out, they had caught the perpetrator in the mean time and the five tickets had already been returned. Not that my addition to her ticket volume went unappreciated.

In the end, my niece had acquired forty four tickets and with my thirty she was able to purchase a defective whoopie cushion. So all are happy now. She is happy with her new toy, we are happy that it doesn't actually work, something that hasn't seemed to bother her yet.

So there you have the story of how great a hero I am. Now go forth and be heroic in your own life, or something close to it.

More Pictures

I have some more pictures for you folks. Yes, somebody went crazy with the camera in the last couple of days.

First we have the dinner time photos. Before:



And after:



Then we have the pictures of her new trick:



Yes, she is learning not only to stand while holding on to something, but as the next picture shows, she is enjoying it immensely.



And, since I was playing with the camera anyway, we have a couple of pictures of her from today, all cleaned up and ready to terrorize the world.





So there is the most recent edition of a young one's pictorial life, or something close to it.

The Summer Solstice

Today is the Summer Solstice, also known as Midsummer or Litha. It is the longest day of the year and one of the Great Sabbatts. There is much that can be said about this Sabbatt, and much already has. However, since this day has felt every bit like the longest day of the year, I am tired, and as a result you folks might end up feeling a little short changed.

As has already been indicated in prior postings, the Great Sabbatts fall on the four points of the cycle of the sun. As such, the Summer Solstice falls on or about the 21st of June. It is almost always on the 21st, but it can fall between the 20th and 22nd.

Litha celebrates the God and the power of the sun. In fact, while both are always to be considered, the Greater Sabbatts tend to focus more on the God and the Lesser Sabbatts on the Goddess. A confusing terminology to many fluffbunnies and Wicca 101 students. If asked, and quite possibly if not, I will delve into this more in the future.

While referred to as Midsummer, depending on geography this is misleading. For many, we aren't in the middle of summer at all. Where I sit, and in most of the states, summer is just beginning. Still, the season is not as much of an issue here as the position of the sun, which is more static, at least in regards to our hemisphere.

One of the most popular traditions of both Solstices are the various myths of the battle between brothers. Now would be the time when the darker brother wins, and holds power until the lighter brother returns to conquer him at the time of the Winter Solstice. Some legends in association with this are of the Oak King and the Holly King, and of Jesus and John the Baptist. Well the latter doesn't necessarily fit for the traditional roles, but the early church tried to make them do so by celebrating the dates of their birth around the two Solstices.

While these myths can be fun, and the re-enactments of the epic battle at many Solstice parties can be hilarious, they are just myths. I have not ever met anyone who actually believe that these entities exist and do battle. Rather, it is the persona, and the impact of the course of the sun. Similar to the waxing and the waning of the moon, we almost see a waxing and waning of the sun over a longer period of time.

Most Litha rituals involve the outdoors and lots of food. Picnics are the most common, combining the two. Much like any other picnic, more attention is paid to eating, socializing and having fun than any solemnities. Many don't practice much of any ritual on the Summer Solstice, since this marks the God at his peak, and so many prefer to ignore Him in favor of the Goddess. However it is all intertwined and it is all one.

I tend to do little other than a short blessing and giving of thanks on this day, as the enjoyment of the sun is much better than the formalities. Think about it. On father's day, would a dad rather the kid stand and recite a long drawn out poem about how great he is, or that the kid play catch with him in the back yard?

Eat, drink and be merry is very much the creed of today. And so the seasons pass, and we move on with life, or something close to it.

Blog Anniversary

My blog was officially one year old as of yesterday. I must say that it has turned out to be quite an interesting entity, and very different from anything I had originally expected it to be. In fact, at the time, I wasn't sure what I would expect it to be.

It has transformed several times. First being primarily about my wife's pregnancy and the early stages of father hood, then just odd little thoughts, now a whole religious and personal exploration. It was a barren thing that now has a number of links, pictures, buttons and banners that I didn't know how to do when I started.

My one or two visitors slowly grew to a rather large number, although only a small few could be called regulars, and I have had hits from almost every state and a number of other countries.

All in all, this entity is not anything like I might have expected. It is larger and more read (if still small by the standards of many others out there) than I had expected. Yet, for the most part, I like what it has become. I enjoy hopping on and seeing what comments people have to share, what occasional posts MC has to offer and what's going on with the places I have linked to.

It's been a year, and another year will follow. That's the cyclical nature of life, or something close to it. I'll catch you on the next round.

Times Change

I am thoroughly exhausted and I still have seven more hours to spend at work. When I left work yesterday morning I caught the bus home and then waited around for an hour until the family was all packed up to go to Syracuse. Then it was into the car where I got to take a brief nap during the hour and a half long car ride. Interrupted of course by getting out to help my father change a flat tire that we got en route.

My cousin had a baby shower today, so I spent all day hanging around with the family, talking, swimming, and occasionally participating in the inevitable stupid games. It was a good time overall. The only down side being that the other half of my three hours of sleep came on the car ride home.

Five or six years ago when I used to work the overnight shift all of the time, I used to do things like this on occasion. I don't recall ever having so much difficulty in doing so or being so exhausted by it. In fact, I used to do so with very little in the way of repercussions.

Perhaps it is just that I am getting older. Not that I am making a claim that I am an old man, but I am not twenty-one anymore either. Perhaps it is the fact that most of the rest of the week when I did these things I would have slept for 10-12 hours a day and so I was much more rested. Perhaps the very fact that it isn't my regular shift, so I am not acclimated to these hours has an impact. In any case, it is going to be a long seven hours, during which time I may find myself needing to keep myself busy and entertained to keep the mind functioning in the long lulls between calls. So if I end up posting another series of pictures or quizzes, don't be surprised.

In the mean time, I am going to watch the end of this weird creepy movie and look fondly forward to the point where I begin sleeping through most of my first father's day. I imagine it is quite possible that I will be back around to talk about life, or something close to it.

We'll Start With a Quiz Again

I contemplated going back and altering a couple of questions to try to bump Lara Croft up to first place so I would get a cooler picture. Then I decided to play fair.

You scored as The Amazing Spider-Man. After being bitten by a radioactive spider, Peter Parker was transformed from a nerdy high school student into New York's greatest hero. Peter enjoys the thrill of being a super hero, but he struggles with the burdens of leading a double life. He hopes someday to win the heart of his true love Mary Jane, the woman he's loved since before he even liked girls. Right now, he just wants to make it through college and pay his bills. The Amazing Spider-Man 92% Lara Croft 88% Captain Jack Sparrow 88% Batman, the Dark Knight 88% William Wallace 79% The Terminator 79% Maximus 71% Neo, the "One" 63% Indiana Jones 58% James Bond, Agent 007 46% El Zorro 33% Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0 created with QuizFarm.com

There's my superhero life, or something close to it.

Raccoon

Raccoons are extremely intelligent, and fairly mischievous creatures. They will go for what they want with little concern for stumbling blocks, more inclined to figure the puzzle out then search for an easier target. They don't tend to take this tendency to the point of stupidity though. Example: something is in a tin on a porch you are sitting on. They will come to the porch and try to sneak it off, to figure out how to open it elsewhere, with little reaction to your being there. Still, if you throw something at them or display other hostility, they will be inclined to drop the object rather than face the danger of holding onto it.
While not overly aggressive, they are capable of being vicious when cornered. Neither pack animals, nor anti-social, they can be seen roaming together or separate from each other.

And there, is a belated answer to a comment, the post of which is far enough back that I just decided to put the answer to. If you know which post I am referring to, congratulations. If not, that's life, or something close to it.

Its Starting

Will this be another one of those nights? We will see. In the meantime, here is my State Map.



create your own visited states map

That's where I have been during my life, or something close to it.

Another Fun Picture

Not sure what is scary about balloons, I guess that is one of the mysteries of life, or something close to it.

Another Quiz

I know, I know, you people are probably just waiting for me to shut up. Here's another quiz for you.

You Are Storm

Exotic and powerful, Storm descended from a line of African priestesses. Emotions can effect your powers, but you are generally serene. Powers: controlling weather, creating winds that lift you into flight, generating lightning

Which of the X-Men Are You?

Do with it as you will, and then return to your life, or something close to it.

An Amusing Post

I found this while wandering about the blogs this am. MC may very well be the only other one besides myself to find these quotes amusing, but it is here for the rest of you to enjoy as well. Just a humorous look at military life, or something close to it.

What's In A Name?

Here are some apparent thoughts on that question:


width="240" height="180"
alt="Wicked, Abhorrent, Nun-Devouring, Explorer-Reaping Enigma of Rage"
border="0">


width="240" height="180"
alt="Wonderful Adonis Needing Delightful Embraces and Rapturous, Erotic Recreation"
border="0">


width="240" height="180"
alt="Wireless Artificial Neohuman Designed for Exploration, Repair and Efficient Research"
border="0">

What's in your name? Feel free to share, or not. Now get back to your life or something close to it.

Safe Kitty

I have always loved this picture:



I am posting too many times today to think of variations of "life, or something close to it."

How Evil Is My Site?

So there we have it. My site is basically good. Aren't you all glad that I provide such wholesome reading? Now you can all thank me for enriching your life, or something close to it.

Even Lizards Need Loving

Just because they are monsters doesn't mean they don't need some personal "together" time.



Just remember, sometimes after a long day of destroying Tokyo, your special monster might just need some personal attention. It's a fact of monster life, or something close to it.

Quizzes!

I am bored so a stole some quizzes from here.

Your Career Type: Social

You are helpful, friendly, and trustworthy. Your talents lie in teaching, nursing, giving information, and solving social problems. You would make an excellent: Counselor - Dental Hygienist - Librarian Nurse - Parole Officer - Personal Trainer Physical Therapist - Social Worker - Teacher The worst career options for your are realistic careers, like truck driver or farmer.

What's Your Ideal Career?

Interesting. I like that the worst career options are realistic ones. Good thing I stick to the fictional or fantasy careers.

You Are a Chick Rocker!

You're living proof that chicks can rock You're inspired by Joan Jett and the Donnas And when you rock, you rock hard (Plus, you get all the cute guy groupies you want!)

What Kind of Rocker Are You?

Yeah, I'm a chick rocker....wait....does anyone see a problem with this?

You Should Be a Poet

You have a way with words... and a talent for drawing the pure emotions out of experiences. Your poetry has the potential to make people laugh and cry at the same time. You just need to write it!

What Sort of Artist Should You Be?

Love this one. Obviously the quiz gods haven't actually read any poetry written by me. Not good. Trust me.

I'm still bored, so I will probably back. In the meantime I have blessed you with some (accurate?) insight into my life, or something close to it.

Aggravating

It is aggravating that nobody has responded on any of the blogs I commented on, leaving me nothing to say now.

It is aggravating that this can bother me when I should be sleeping now and not wandering these blogs.

It is aggravating that I can come to a personal revelation and text it to the person who would best understand (as we had just discussed this) and not get a response beyond "ok."

It is aggravating that I will have no time to talk to a person whom two different people have told me will want to talk to me until Goddess knows when.

It is aggravating that my need for sleep cannot outweigh the certainty that if I call, and if he is awake some wonderful growth might come out of what he wants to say to me.

It is aggravating that I know that doors have been opened that can't be easily closed over a short, impersonal phone conversation were I to call him now or on the way to work.

It is aggravating that I am certain nobody seems to understand the core of me, let alone the little details.

It is aggravating that I am the greatest opposition to this understanding.

It is aggravating that I don't have sufficient capability with human emotion to fix any of the above aggravations, or even have a personal conversation.

It is aggravating that it takes alcohol for me to come out and say this rather than just shut the fuck up and deal as best I can.

It is aggravating that none of this is likely to matter to anyone who reads this.

It is aggravating that I couldn't possibly get drunk enough to state my worst fears to any of those to whom it matters.

It is aggravating that this is just a part of life or something close to it.

This is funny

I saw this here and thought it amusing enough to share:



Just an artistic example of some of the stupidities in life, or something close to it.

The Wonderful Distractions Of Family

I woke up this evening around 7pm when my wife and daughter came into the room with that course of action in mind. When Martha ascertained I was awake, she laid the baby down in bed next to me and I played with her for around half an hour. Then I got up, ate dinner (breakfast?) while just chatting with Martha, something I haven't done other than over the phone in a couple of days. It was great to just relax with them for a while. So great that it led me to forget a couple of things. Like bringing food with me to work. I was also too busy thinking about how enjoyable the start to my evening was to recall the phone call I had told a friend to expect. The plan was to talk with that friend during the bus ride to work. Instead I was too busy wishing I could have more days start like this one had.

So, to said friend whom I told to expect a phone call, if you were actually waiting for it, I am sorry. I will call again at some point in the very near future. Perhaps even on my way home. To said forgotten dinner, I will call upon you when I get home.

To everyone else, I suppose this has little impact on your life, or something close to it.

Well Said

On the heels of yet another attempt by Bush to push his marriage amendment on us, many people have share their opinions on the issue. Particularly out here in blogland. Out of the comments I have seen about the issue, though, I haven't seen it better put than here.

Like it or not. Agree with it or not. That's life, or something close to it.

The Strong Sun Moon

The Strong Sun Moon will become full today at 2:03 pm Eastern Daylight time. It rises over Rochester, NY at 9:29pm and will set tomorrow at 5:43am.

It will rise over Farmington, NM at 9:09pm Mountain Daylight time and will set tomorrow at 6:19am. It becomes full in that region at 12:03pm today, Mountain Daylight time.

Once again, little explanation is likely needed for the name. The Strong Sun Moon comes in proximity to the Summer Solstice (which will be on June 21 this year) which is the longest day of the year. This coupled with the warmer weather gives it its name.

On the moon features now and in the future I will give advanced notice of the next phases of the moon and any upcoming Sabbatts. As mentioned, Litha (the summer solstice) is on June 21. Details of that Sabbatt will come on that day.

The last quarter of the moon will be June 18 at 8:08 am Eastern Daylight time.
The next new moon will be June 25 at 10:05 Eastern Daylight time.
The first quarter will be July 3 at 10:37 Eastern Daylight time.
The Blessing moon will be July 10 at 9:02pm.

Their are your moon facts for this month. You may return to your regularly scheduled life, or something close to it.

Gathering Positive Energy

OK, I performed a shenanigan tonight that was blatantly hilarious. I haven't caught Wanderer's reaction yet but how about all the religious types pray and all the atheist types think good things for Wanderer's sense of humor.

How bout it Wanderer? Have a sense of humor? I did it with the explicit forethought that it wouldn't be your job to clean it.

The Path Of The White Wolf

So now I had two primary focuses, spiritually speaking. The first was to share what I had learned, as appropriate with those who sought this information from me. Bearing in mind that I could only offer that which I had come to understand, and to be careful not to mislead those I spoke with into thinking I knew more than I did. The second was to resume my own path towards spiritual growth and enlightenment. The path that I had started on, prior to taking an offered opportunity to accept somebody else's pre-packaged answers again.

I had in effect failed myself by allowing my journey to stop when I looked to someone, not to teach me, but to think for me. To provide the tidy little answers as to how it should be. Don't get me wrong, I am not attempting to trash the woman in question, moreover just pointing to the mistakes I made along the way, that I needed to rectify now.

What I needed to do was sit down and sift out the truth behind the various things I had learned and been exposed to in the previous year or so, as well as applying it to the earlier teachings of my life that had led to me being where I was now.

The question again was how. How was I supposed to sort all of this out and figure it out? Who was going to lead me along this journey of discussion, without taking over with their own dogma?

It seemed obvious that this was something that was going to need some prayer, reflection and meditation. As such, I sat down to do this in somewhat of a reverse listed order. Using the meditation techniques I had been taught by a member of the coven I had been in, I relaxed myself and my mind, trying to open myself up for some answers. Trying to clear all of the garbage out of the way so that my brain had room to work.

Having done this, I was relaxing my mind, and wandering through a field in my mind. As always when I did this, the field led to the sea. Diving into the sea, I swam down to the opening I knew would be found near the bottom. Through the tunnel to a hidden cave. The cave had always been dark. This was the deepest part of the meditation. Darkness. No sound. Just a warm, calm, emptiness. I would stay here for a time, until I was ready to open my eyes and deal with what needed doing, or I would sit here in the dark and reflect.

This time I just sat there reflecting. Asking in my mind, "Who do I turn to for these answers? Who is going to help me along the path? Who will help me figure out what is right and what is wrong?"

This was the first time I saw the jewels, as they flickered with their own light, coming to life and bathing the room in a soft glow. This was the first time I saw the altar. This was the first time I saw a clear image of Her, as She stepped into the light. Her gaze was stern, and cold. She looked at me like something that could be brushed aside off-hand. Not like She wished me harm, but like I was something of so little significance that She wouldn't blink if I was destroyed.

"Do you really want to know me?" She asked in a distant, empty tone. No malice there. Just, nothing.

In that She was terrifying. I saw something so powerful, so awe inspiring. Something beyond comprehension. Before Her I was so insignificant that I could be brushed aside.

"Yes. I do." I responded.

She smiled, her expression softening, and the whole world seemed to light up with that smile. "Then I will guide you." She said warmly.

So began the true journey along the path of the White Wolf.

Drawing Attention To An Ongoing Conversation

First, and relatively irrelevantly, let me note that MC stole the honor of posting the 200th post. I was thoroughly amused, but I must say, somewhere down the line, if you steal the 500th post, I am deleting it. Otherwise, please continue, your posts are wonderful.

To the serious stuff. My drunken rant. The thirteenth comment (coincedentally once more) belong to me, and being quite lengthy, is easily identifiable. I had argued back and forth between making it its own post or not, but felt it belonged firmly attached to the post that generated it. I ask all of you to read it, as it began addressed to one, but leads to a comment to all of you.

I hope more than a couple of you take the request in the second half of it seriously. If you don't, I suppose that is just life, or something close to it.

The Failings of a White Wolf

* Lost to Mc heads-up in the first tournament
* Lost to Mc repeatedly at Twisted System
* Utilized shenanigans, villainy and rape to somehow edge out Mc in the Fuzion Frenzy tournament mode, twice
* Realized was not nearly as cute as Mc
* Defecated himself (one assumes)

and lastly

* Did not get hit by missiles despite Mc's urging

Angry Drunk Ranting

This was going to be a portion at least of a "White Wolf" post but then I decided I was too intoxicated for the general (at least attempted) intellectual atmosphere of such. Perhaps I will touch on this later, but it came to mind now, and lest losing it, I simply throw it out there as one of the problems I had with the background of my Christian upbringing.

Namely? The promises. Open your heart to Jesus and he will was away the guilt, the pain, and the sins. Now I know you may jump up and say that isn't the truth of it, but that is the advantage of my alcohol induced superficiality. Bottom line, whether this statement is true or not, preachers and evangelical individuals DO promise this. Fact: It is bullshit.

Nobody wipes this away for you. You are human. Deal with it. Absorb it. Use it or find a way around it, but no matter how much the fact sucks, you are stuck with it. Why did She speak to me instead of Him? Because she promises reality. He sends armies of bullshit artists trying to make a quota. She speaks for herself. She doesn't send "Diana's Witnesses", or members of "Brighid, Isis and the Latter Day Pagans" knocking on our doors or shoving tracts in our faces offering promises of a better day tomorrow if you just sign on the dotted line.

She expects you to live, not play a little training round in wait for the real thing. Newsflash: Look at any training scenario. No matter how much it prepares you, the real thing sucks worse. If you are training now for the afterlife, I think you should pray you have plenty of time to prepare before you face that shit.

I can't play that game. Your history is indelible. No matter how many people can be made to forget, it happened. She asks you to improve and evolve. He seems to ask you to deny and erase. "I'm sorry" you tell Him, and to prove it you say ten hail mary's and give a Franklin in the next offering. All good. "I'm sorry" you tell Her, and She says, "Prove it to me."

I have had my failings. I am not going to shout a name out. I am going to prove it. Nobody is going to wash my past away. Nobody is holding the gate open to a furnace for me if I forget to genuflect either.

I do not fear the end. Why? Because once I feared hell. Then I looked into the eyes of something more frightening than any version of hell I was ever taught. I blinked. Those eyes softened, and She smiled.

That is when I knew the path of my life, or something close to it.

A Metaphor that may be a bit of a reach

Jackboots on pavement. The sound always defied onomatopoeia. And it always gave Vitali that same jump at the very core of his being, that surge of interest and energy, the adrenaline that comes with the rush of the moment, as he unrolls the canvas camouflaging his rifle and pulls the grate covering the sewer entrance. Ammunition clinking in his pocket, Vitali rushed underground to the outskirts of the city. He'd kill tonight.

Leaning a metal sheet against a culvert opening which was exposed from the ground, Vitali snaked himself into a tight position so that his sight and his barrel rifle lined up with a three-inch gap between the sheet and the culvert wall. He settled in, it could be a long wait.

He waited, and waited. Patience over valor was the watchword; and soon enough his patience was rewarded. A Nazi patrol wandered into sight, ambling down the street away from him. He lined his sites up with the head of the rearmost man, made sure his aim was true, and squeezed the trigger.

BANG.

His man dropped, spurting blood profusely from the back of the skull. He was dead, and Vitali was alive. The other two men on patrol paused for a moment, and looked at each other. Vitali made certain they were the only other two, for once he dropped one, he'd only have enough time to fire at one other person, and if there were more, he'd be flushed out. He lined up his sights with the eyeball of the rightmost man and squeezed the trigger.

BANG.

The top half of the doomed Nazi's head sheard straight off with the force of the impact from the .30 caliber grim reaper which had come calling for him. Quickly, Vitali snapped his aim to the other man. It was imperative that he die before he figure out what was going on.

BANG.

The man clutched his throat, and his hands ran over with blood. The man sunk to his knees, and collapsed, a very wide scarlet pool forming around his corpse. Vitali made sure his quarry was finished. he waited about two minutes just to make sure no one else came into view. He wriggled back out of his hole and made his way to the bodies. He searched the Nazi corpses and took from them their dog tags, weapons, and any papers they were carrying. Though he was not a member of the Red Army, the Soviet high command would pay him well for any proof of his kill. He dragged the bodies to the canal and dropped them in, and threw cement dust and dirt into the road, trying to disguise the blood spilled there. He spirited away quickly when the work was done; the longer he was out in the open, the more likely it was he'd be spotted.

Vitali went to another of his favorite spots. The top floor of a tractor factory offered a great view of the main promenade from elevation, it could be an ideal sniper stand. He settled in to wait.

After a while, he sighted another Nazi patrol. This one was heading the opposite direction as normal; usually they headed away from his position with their backs to him; this one was headed toward him. It was also larger than normal. He pulled out his binoculars and surveyed the scene. In the back was a vehicle, an open-top touring car. In the rear seat was a man with the most rank on his collar as Vitali had ever seen. he wasn't an expert in Nazi rank insignia but he could tell by his seat in the touring car and the sheer size and grandeur of the insignia, he was looking at a general officer. If he could find a way to prove his kill, the Soviet high command would make him a very, very wealthy man for this. He lined up the sights, adjusted for elevation and windage, double-checked his aim, and squeezed the trigger.

BANG.

The general was unharmed, but the sniper was not watching. Vitali's eyes went wide and he shrieked, aghast. Had he just done that? Fired from directly in front of the large vanguard? He turned to run but it was too late; his muzzle flash had been spotted by nearly all of them and the whole room erupted in a storm of bullets. Lead crisscrossed through his body and he fell to the ground, his vision slowly going, his mind slowly slipping, but not losing grip on his fatal mistake.