Jealous Footprints

Mary Stevenson writes a poem that always strikes me as deep.  I always try to write deeply.  Fail.  I can really never write uplifting things, and this poem, entitled 'Footprints in the Sand' is a very uplifting poem.

In one line, she demands "Why, when I needed you most, you have not been there for me?"  All of us feel lonely at some point in our lives.  We feel friendless, we feel dumb, we feel hopeless, we feel isolated.  We have all had depression issues.  We have all felt as though no one else in the world was alone.

Yet, the response to her demand is this: "The times you have only seen one set of footprints, is when I carried you."  We are not alone.  Ever.  There is someone who has felt the way you do.  There is someone on the Earth who would listen to your troubles.  They would comfort you.  They would lift you up.  They would there is someone who would befriend you.

I wish it was me.  I am not the kindest or wisest, but I try to comfort you.  Not only me, but many other people.  Many people love you.  It sounds creepy, but we are friends.  I don't have to know you to help you.  I don't have to know you to comfort you.

When you are feeling alone, find someone else who is and befriend them.  It will make you feel better.  I promise.

http://www.footprints-inthe-sand.com/index.php?page=Poem/Poem.php

Punch the Voice!

This is for the Dragon Ball fans.  Voices say it sucks.  Punch the voice!
This is for the kids who sit at the front of their classes because they want to learn.  This is for the girls wearing glasses who watch anime.  This is for anyone who has experienced a broken heart.  This is for the friends of the friendless.  Punch the voice!

Everything we try to do has resistance.  Most of the time, this is the voice of our peers.  They mock us, the belittle us, they haunt us with the voices.  So I say punch the voice.  Kick it out of your head.  Kick the winning field goal with a rude comment from your head.  Crush the opposition that resounds in your head.  Crush it and enjoy the Opposition juice that flows from it.  Punch the voice that says you can't.  Smash its mouth.

This is for those who raise up a torch to light the way for others.  This is for the boys in French 4.  This is for those who want to be classy.  This is for the girl who won't ask that guy on a date because she's too afraid he'll say no.  This is for the boy who is too afraid to ask that one girl on a date for fear she'll laugh.

Punch the voice.

Bring it to it's knees.  Make it regret telling you what you can or can't do.  Show no mercy.  Punish it for the pain it causes you.

This is for the black boys and girls who have parents or grandparents who experienced the worst age in United States history.  This is for those who are ignored, or have been ignored.  This is for those who sit alone at lunch.  This is for the skinny boys.

Punch the voice.  Win the UFC Championship with your knockout punch.  Send the voice spiralling into the farthest reaches of the dark universe of your head to be swallowed by a black hole.

This is for the hairy, drunk men who have had a wife leave them.  This is for the pimply teenagers.  This is for the Harry Potter fans who cosplay and think that magic is real.  This is for those who can't get jobs.  This is for the crack fiends, the alchoholics, and the chain smokers.

Punch the voice.

This is for the homeless.  PUNCH the vOiCe.

This is for the veterans.  PUNCH the VoIcE.

This is the one who just has themself.  pUnCh ThE vOiCe!

PUNCH THE VOICE!

Tobais: The Sordid Tale

I keep forgetting.  I keep forgetting that I have bad self esteem.  I go around, thinking life
is grand, when I suddenly do something out of the ordinary.  As soon as it happens, a little
voice in my head tells me some earth-shaking, shocking thing.  It reminds me of what I keep
forgetting.

I keep forgetting.  I keep forgetting girls think I'm creepy.  I talk, and have been told my
normal way of speaking is flirting.  I'm self conscious.  The girl thinks I'm forward.  She
senses danger.  She backs off. She tries to do it as kindly as possible, but I can't understand.
I can't take a hint.  I'm stupid.  I'm oblivious.  She has to tell me again to leave her alone, but
I still have no idea why she is acting this way.  She finally gives up, and ignores me forever.

I keep forgetting that I can't be friends with cheerleaders.  They think about how funny a guy
is, how cute he is, and, omygosh, he can benchpress over 300 lbs!  How can a guy who is
late with the punchline make a girl laugh?  How can a cheerleader be friends with a guy who
isn't Chase Hansen or Johnny Depp, but more like Haphaestus?  How can a cheerleader be
a friend to a guy who doesn't benchpress 300 lbs?

I keep forgetting they don't want me around.  I remember one conversation I had with them.
Can I call it a conversation if they spoke only to each other and I ate lunch in the midst of
them, yet very alone?  I guess not.  Yet I kept trying to eat there, I kept trying to work up the
courage to say something.  But I couldn't.  And they wouldn't acknowledge me.  You'd think
I'd learn.

I keep forgetting I'm not alone.  I'm not the only one in this situation.  I'm not the only one
who eats with people alone.  I'm not the only one girls don't want to date.  I'm not the only
one who can't make friends with anyone, let alone cheerleaders.  I keep forgetting someone
has walked this path before me.

I keep forgetting my family.  I don't thank them enough.  I don't explain to them any
difficulties I have.  I leave them in the dust.  I love them, but I don't explain myself.  I
forget that they are always there for me.  I keep forgetting we have such fun on nights
where we just sit and watch a movie, or when we play a board game together. Tonight will
not be the last night I see the light.

When will we own ourselves completely?  We really don't know how to control ourselves.  We can't say without any hesitation "I have never let myself do anything I didn't want it to."  We don't truly know ourselves, as much as some people think.  When was the last time an unwanted thought crept into your head, unanounced?  When was the last time you said something without thinking?  Have you ever jerked in your sleep?  Can you truly control yourself around others?

Or do we all just FAIL?

My Life's Journey

This is the story of how my life got flipped and turned upside-down.

Ordinary World:  I just go to school, or stay at home and do homework.  I just work on getting my Eagle, as well as household chores.  I don't really hang out with friends, as I tend to feel solitary.

Call to Adventure: A friend of mine said to ask a certain girl to the dance.

Refusal of the Call:  I feel too shy.  I like her, and don't think I could stand a rejection.

Meeting the Mentor:  Another friend of mine encouraged me to ask her.  I decide to ask her.

Crossing the Threshold:  I drive to find her house.

Tests, Allies and Enemies:  I don't know where she lives.  Another good friend of mine tells me where she lived.  I find it.

Approach the Inmost Cave:  I sneak up to her front door.

The Ordeal:  I place the creative way to ask her on her doorstep.  My heart is pounding in my chest.

Reward:  I feel relief as I get back to my car safely.  She didn't see me.  I sit in my car, heart still pounding.

Road Back:  I head back home, still sighing with relief.  But she still has to answer.

Resurrection:  All the sudden I feel like she'll say no.  My spirits plummet.  My emotions die.  Then I think, I can still ask someone else, if she does say no.  I feel better.

Return with Elixer:  I get home, with a contented feeling, knowing that, no matter what the outcome, I can live through this.  It isn't life and death.

Film Analysis

Star Wars IV: A New Hope

Luke Skywalker is a farmhand on his Uncle Owen's moisture farm.  He just works everyday, while he dreams of not having to be under Tatooine's twin suns.  He dreams of becoming a pilot.  He feels his call to adventure is to go to the Imperial Pilot School.  His uncle doesn't let him, because the needs Luke's help.

His actual call to adventure is when his uncle decides they need some droids to help around the farm.  As the Jawas bring a collection of droids for Uncle Owen to look at, Luke has no idea what these little guys have gone through.  Uncle Owen chooses C-3PO, a protocol droid, and R2-D2, an astromech droid.

Luke takes the droids home and cleans them.  While cleaning R2, he activates a switch, showing a recorded hologram of a beautiful woman.  Luke wants to see more, but R2 will only show it to his old master, Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Late that night, R2 sneaks out of the house and sets off across the desert to find his old master.  Luke wakes up and finds out, then searches the desert in his landspeeder with C-3PO for the little droid.  As they are resting and scanning the desert, they are attacked by Sand Raiders.  Luke is knocked unconcious.  Just as the sand people are rummaging through Luke's things, they are scared off by some hooded figure.

Meeting the Master: Ben Kenobi helping Luke Skywalker after the Sand People attack.

Crossing the Threshold: Going to Mos Eisley.  Luke has never been outside of the moisture farm.

Tests, Allies, and Enemies:  At the Mos Eisley Cantina, Luke, and Obi-Wan encounter Han Solo and Chewbacca, and they agree to ally.  They have to escape from Imperial Troops.  They meet the rest of the Rebellion.

Approach the Inmost Cave:  They approach the Death Star to destroy it.

The Ordeal:  When Darth Vader and his cronies appear to stop the destruction of the Death Star.

Reward.  They get medals and lots of credits (the currency).

Road Back:  Earlier he tries to go back to his home, but Imperial troops destroyed his home and family.

Resurrection:  Han Solo left, defeating the friendship that they had.  He then comes back to help the Rebellion, sparking a new friendship.

Return with Elixer:  The proud Rebels get back to their base with the knowledge that the Death Star was destroyed.

Blurbs Continued

Sorry, the songs are:

Mood Rings-Relient K
Kung Fu Fighting-Cee Lo and Jack Black
Party Rock Anthem-LMFAO

Who thinks they know who this is?

Blahblurbs

Harold and Sydnie are friends at Lone Peak.  Harold wants more.  Sydnie wants a Mood Ring, because she doesn't know if Harold is emotionally stable.  He isnt, but she doesn't know that. She gives Harold the mood ring, he can't understand why. The relationship goes well, then it plummits.

A wise old man named Geoffrey and his trainee Ling are in a ryokan (Japanese inn).  One sushi roll left.  It has eel.  Geoffrey and Ling both love eel.  Both want it.  Ling is much more generous than Geoffrey, but Geoffrey won't just take it. He wants to fight Ling.

Two drunk whores stagger around a party.  They see a cardboard cutout of a man, and both feel like they want to do dirty things to it all night.  Neither wants to have a threesome, so drunk whore #1 smacks drunk whore #2.  Drunk whore #2 falls asleep right then.

The Upside Down Life of Me

I'm at school.  I wander the halls, hoping any of the girls I like will say hi to me.  I wander.  I wander for a few millenia, and finally the bell rings.  I have a few teachers.  They are, Mr. Rivers, Mr. Big Mama, Mr. Mostly Bald, Mrs. Smile, Ms. Boring, Bro. Disney, and Ms. Math.

Mr. Big Mama is the best.  His class is always so entertaining, but it's filled with tourists.  Who don't really like me, or think I'm odd.  Mr. Rivers' class is full of stupid sophmores.  Ugh.  Mrs. Smile's class is also fun, because Girl Who Is Cute #1 comes in after her own class.  I call her Fashion.

The second girl I like is in Ms. Math's class.  She is so intriguing, I just can't figure her out.  I call her Professor Laytoness.  Girl three I stopped in the hallways because she looked familiar, but it wasn't who I thought it was.  Somehow we became friends and we talk often.  I call her Southern Girl.

So, I go, day by day, hoping something happens, but not taking any action.  Why?  I'm too scared.  I've been rejected too many times to count.  I have terrible self esteem.  Why, because I was rejected.

I was on top of the world, but not cocky.  I thought I was an average looking guy, not the best.  I thought I was decently funny, not hilarious.  Now I think I'm a wimpy, ugly, stupid freak of awkwardness.  Not even pity pities me.  I'm just a huge ball of bad self esteem.

I don't say this to make you pity me.  Trust me.  I don't do any sob story or reverse psychology for that.  I tried it in eighth grade.  Didn't work.  Never going back.

I tell you this so you can remember one thing:  Anyone, whether fat or skinny, whether handsome, cute or ugly, whether smart or stupid, whether funny or idiotic, etc. etc., is worth your time.

Reach out to people.  DON'T LET WHAT HAPPENED TO ME HAPPEN TO ANYBODY ELSE!

I Pro 'prose'. HA!

A bale of hay, is always under those buildings.
Wail, then juking and jiving.
Like some clay, a ball, a brilliant ball.
Like an uncut, rough diamond.
Frizzy hair, it is my disorder.
With the Vietnam war, strings down around your shoulders.
The fly in my soup is doing the breast stroke.
Feel like your perfect around me, you don't ever seem to.
Tomorrow, I'll stick up my chin, and grin.
Cause I'd throw myself in front of a grenade for you.

Hear the Blueberry Roar!

What?! No, I'm not high.  Here is the story:

It's 11:01 P.M. and the grocery store owner has just licked up and is out the door.  As soon as it closes, the Blueberries roar!  They roll to the sauce section and hop aboard Thai Sauce Fighters and Bombers.  Some are kamikaze pilots, others sacrifice their lives and volunteer as a Blueberry Bomb.  They load up, and then fly over to all the other berries.  They talk strategy on the flight, weighing their strenghths and weaknesses.

They fight Strawberries, who are teamed up with pounding cake.  They fight Blackberries, who are teamed up with with Whipping Cream.  They fight Raspberries, who are paired up with honey.  They realize they are the better fruit, and deserve dominion over the Grocery Store.

As they near their destination, the cry rang out, "Blueberries!"

"Sir!" cried a lesser general to the Colonel.  "It seems all berry teams and their allies have joined forces.  And the Jelly Donuts have joined them!"

"Curse them!" screamed the Colonel.  "Curse them all! Prepare the Blueberry bombs!"  As he said this, troops of Blueberries ready to risk their lives for the cause of Blue Dominion queued up, ready to dive.  A few moments later, the Thai Fighters were bombarded with Strawberries flung from the catapults.

"Ready?!" bellowed the Colonel. "First unit, dive!"  The first few hundred blueberries jumped.  The crowd of food below were pelted by raining blueberries.  The honey and the whipping cream below had made sticky, web-like nets, which the Pounding Cake chucked at the oncoming blueberries.

About 95% of the Blueberries hit the defenders below.  Blackberries, Strawberries, and Pounding Cake were hit with Blueberries, leaving the Pounding Cake with many dark blue, skeewompus splotches.  4% were caught in the webs, left to have their inside sugars crystalize (for torture).  1% didn't hit anything.  They had simply sacrificed their juicy, seedy, little lives just to harmlessly splat on the tile.


Again, no, I was not high or tired when I wrote this, thanks for asking.

Sunshine

Sunshine on my shoulder. . .makes my shoulders melt.
Sunshine in my eyes makes me sad.

Its cloudy and frigid.  I'm wearing three shirts, two pairs of pants, two pairs of socks, and yet I'm still freezing.  I walk around to get warm.  I slap my cold parts.  I do jumping jacks.  I stuff my fingers under my armpits.  Nothing helps.

And then the sun comes out.  Its very rays of light seem to pour warmth all over my body, heating me, causing me to feel elated.

But then it goes behind the clouds again.  I feel the frigid air closing around me, and I don't know what to do, when suddenly, it comes out again.  Again, warmth spreads throughout my entire body, encasing me in a soft, golden glow.

But then you say you have to go to class.  You turn, and you walk away, and unknown to you, the sun just set on me.

Help!

Someone please help me!  How does one become attractive in girls eyes?

Is it:
a. Being Tough
b. Being Handsome
c. Being Funny
d. Being Smart
e. Being Kind
f. All of the Above

I need your help!  Please tell me what needs to happen!

I totally rock!

You have your orders!  Rock out!

Rock out like you finally worked up the courage to ask the girl of your dreams on a date, and she said sure.  Rock out like after that date, she told you she likes you, and kissed you.

Rock out like you scored the game winning points of the Super Bowl.  Rock out like the wood just got polished.  Rock out like the biggest wave just crashed into you, and you stood stock still.

Rock out like you found out you are accepted for who you are.  Rock out like you just prevented a major war with a few words.  Rock out like the earth is slowly burning.

Rock out like no one is judging what you do.  Rock out like you just figured out women, the universal mystery.  Rock out like you got a 4.0.  Rock out like you got promoted.

Rock out like you got a raise.  Rock out like you just prevented someone close to you from commiting suicide.  Rock out like you found 2pak, John Lennon, Micheal Jackson and Sasquatch in a small cave in Croatia.

Rock out like you just got married.  Rock out like you just one a tough case.  Rock out like your song just hit platinum.  Rock out like your song is top 100 for a decade.

Rock out like you got into college.  Rock out like your college won the National Championship in every sport.  Rock out like Titanic was sinking under your feet, but you escaped with your life and a valuable artifact.

Rock out like you made Broadway.  Rock out like you died, but you knew eternal paradise was waiting for you.  Rock out like you just ran out of oatmeal, but you still have Fruit Loops.

Rock out like your allergic to fruit, but you eat it anyway.

Rock out like you're Chase Hansen.

You're afraid of what?!

I'm afraid of strippers: Toplessophobia.

I'm afraid of devils: Lucifamichaphobia.

I'm afraid of Hitler: Blitzkreigaphobia.

I'm afraid of tubs of pudding: Toomuchgoodnessaphobia.

I'm afraid of people who are afraid: Phobophobophobia.

I'm afraid of Red Stripe Beer: Bootoomuchofagoodthingophobia.

I'm afraid of leaving a cord over a heating vent: Nastyplasticsmellophobia.

I'm afraid of nice men in suits: Insaneasylumaphobophobia.

I'm afraid of Victoria's Secret: Hothothothothothotimmodestophobia.

I'm afraid of blogging: Alpiniandaimyodotblogspotdotcomophobia.

I'm afraid of Mr. Nelson: Goodenglishteacherophobia.

I'm afraid of second-to-the-left marble pillars: Beautifulstonophobia.

I'm afraid of blue night lights: Creepyglointhedarknessaphobia.

I'm afraid of bishop's daughters feeling uncomfortable around me: Allysmootophobia.
Not really.
Faroffbogeyphobia-The fear that somewhere, in private, someone just picked their nose.
Katanasofdeathophobia-The fear of samurai or ninja swords.
Nobunagaodaphobia-The fear of suicidal Japanese rulers of the Sengoku era.
Hideyoshitoyotomiophobia-The fear of suicidal Japanese rulers of the Sengoku era's loyal retainers.
Gunsnrollingstonophobia-The fear of overrated, overplayed rock bands.
Nuclearphobia-The fear that WWIII will happen with the accidental press of a button.
Xenonophobia-The fear of stupid Disney Channel Movies.
Somethingwickedthiswaycomesophobia-The fear of Shakespeare.
Virginophobia-The fear that someone slipped alcohol into your beverage without you knowing.
Introofdarknessthenrednessthenwhitenessboopophobia-The fear of Toby Turner or Tobuscus.
Hackophobia-The fear that a hairball the size of a tennis ball will land on your head when you step outside.
Beastophobia-The fear that you will never be loved because you are hairy.
Blankophobia-The fear of not knowing what to write.

Life is afraid of Death, Death is afraid of Fear, and Fear is Unafraid

I sit inside a boat.  The boat creaks and groans with each wave that hits it.  I look at the river I'm on.  It is glowing unnaturally, and it looks like molten silver.  I look around, seeing nothing else but darkness.  The boat travels on.

I've been traveling for thousands of years, or maybe a few seconds.  A chill runs down my spine.  I realise that I hear whispering.  It is faint, but it is there.  I again look around, hoping to see something.

The faint whisper stops.  I shiver again.  I search the darkness and make out a distant shoreline.  I see blurred dots moving around.  I will the boat to get closer.  I look on the other side of the boat.  There, I see another shore.

Gradually, the shoreline closes in so the river is much thinner.  I see wigwams made out of bones.  Sad little huts, with no windows and no inhabitants.  Or so I thought.

I jump as I hear loud moans and groans.  I whirl around, searching for the source.  Ghostly figures appear out of the huts.  They aren't creepy, they just look like shimmering forms of real humans.  I recognize no one.

They stop groaning and look at me.  My shivers disappear and I'm filled with an odd warmth.  They don't seem scary at all.  I look forward, tearing my eyes away from the shore.  I jump, though not nearly as scared as I used to be.

Standing in front of me is a woman.  Her form changes, reflecting the women I thought most beautiful.  My first thought is 'This is Aphrodite.'  I quickly shake that notion from my head.  I'm dead, and Aphrodite isn't real.

This woman is on the front of the boat, and I start to stand from the bench I'm sitting on.  She advances, shaking her head softly, and fixes me with a look I hadn't seen for a while: attraction.  She is wearing a beautiful golden dress, and my eyes water when I look directly at it.

I can't take my eyes from her face, her features, and her dress.  She again starts forward, and my eyes follow her.  She sits down next to me on the bench, and I can't stop staring.  I have an urge to do something impressive, maybe sing to her or demonstrate physical strength.  I don't feel like that would be enough.

As if she could read my mind, she says "There is no need."  Then she adds, almost as an afterthought, "What is your name?"  I realise my throat is parched.  I gag for a few seconds, then finally choke out my answer.  She laughs, a joyful, warm sound.  I feel as though I swallowed a warm cinnamon roll, or as though I stepped in the hot tub.  It is the greatest sound I have heard while on this boat.

She asks me more questions.  I can't answer.  I feel something wet hit my arm.  I immediately close my mouth, and she laughs again.  As though from nowhere she pulls out a crystal goblet, and pushes it gently into my hand.  I drink, and drink, and drink.  I drain it in a few gulps.  It tastes like horchata, like chocolate shakes, like Kool-Aid, like Crystal Lite, like all my favorite drinks.

She laughs a third time, and I think she must be crazy.  No human ever laughed at me like that.  She puts her hand on my face.  Warmth spreads throughout my body yet again.  Her hand is like the softest fur.  She gently turns my head to face her.  She has somehow gotten more beautiful since I last looked.

She scoots closer, and I lean back slightly, not sure what she's doing.  She asks what my death felt like, what fears I had, and what I liked most about life.  I told her that so far, death was more wicked than my life, if this was death.  Her eyes twinkled.

She scooted closer, once again.  Her hand was still on my cheek, but I felt her other hand gently grasp mine.  She scoots very close, and I can count all of her long, dark eyelashes.  Her eyes change color slightly, and she is almost nose to nose with me.  She leans the last bit and her lips brush up against mine.

Feathers.  Fur.  Anything soft, I swear her lips were softer.  Her eyes were closed, mine open.  I could smell each sweet smell emanating from her.  She was the human form of sweet, of soft.  I closed my eyes, and slipped away.

I wake up, and see silver directly above me.  I realise I'm drowning.  I can't breathe.  I can't understand whether I was dying while in the boat or whether that was real.  I couldn't remember anything but the lady.  I couldn't remember anything more.  I screamed with the last breath I had, realizing nightmares had come true.

Highway to . . .

I walk A L O N E.

It is such a sweltering, humid day.  This must be Las Vegas with humidity.  I'm drenched in sweat.  People pop up in front of me as I walk.  They all talk with their spouses and children.  They laugh, enjoying one another's company.  The spouses kiss.

I walk A L O N E.

I see old high school students I used to know.  They, too, laugh with boy/girlfriends.  I never had one.  I walk alone.  I walk past an abandoned skyscraper.  Pale leaves rustle past, pushed by the slight gale that springs up.  The sun shines harshly, yet goose bumps arise on my bare arms and legs.  I sweat more.  It freezes on my face, stinging me.

I walk A L O N E.

I realize the pale leaves are pages from a book I never wrote.  A book I never published.  A book that was just a fragment of the imagination, but was then ripped to shreds by reality.  As I realise this, I realise that I am again alone.

I WALK A L O N E.

A mountain rises up in front of me.  It, too, is pale and oddly shaped.  It is a mountain of books. I see broken cameras and other electronic devices mixed among the books like trees and shrubs.  When I realise this, the mountain ignites.

I lope through the mountan of burning books and knick-knacks, fearing the flames.  I feel the intense heat, but I don't burn.  The flames lick my body, warming me, yet the breeze still keeps me chilly.  Sweat drips off my shivering, shaking body.

I walk A L O N E.

I'm on the other side of the mountain.  Wails of misery and tortured screams carry to my ears, causing me to jump.  I see whole armies being massacred, murdered, shot, blown up, and crushed.  I hear the pitiful howls from the families of those soldiers' families.  I see the newly parentless children crying.  I see the newly widowed husbands and wives, howling with their families, begging for another day with their spouse alive.

I walk A L O N E.

I see orphaned children hiding, too scared to even cry, for fear they, too, will meet the same fate as parents, friends, brothers and sisters.

As I walk alone, I too, cry.  At last, I come to the end of my road, where I see a golden bowl full of water.  I try to take a drink, and it evaporates.  I look in the bowl.  The water reappears.  I look at my reflection.  All I see is a dirty, grubby, despised man.  There is anguish and greed carved into the features of his face.

I look into the sky, sensing the sun being completely covered by more than a cloud.  All is dark.  From behind me, I sense a presence.  I turn, and see a light.  A light brighter than the sun.  I see it, then my eyes close, and I am senseless.

I'm thinking. . .

I'm thinking about you.
I'm thinking about like dust thinks about the wind.
I'm thinking about you like L O N E L Y P E O P L E think about other people.
I'm thinking about you like DEPRESSION thinks about SUICIDE.
I'm thinking about you like ham thinks about cheese.
I'm thinking about you like eVaNgElIsTs think about preaching.
I'm thinking about you like Styx think about sailing AWAY.

What is LOVE?

Well, for my first answer, I'd say love is a chemically hightened emotional feeling for someone.  But, science would say it's more like this: A thought your brain is sent from your heart, triggered by endorphins.  Musicians, however, would say many different things.  What is love? Love is a drug.  It is a feeling that your heart decides to make without the brain's knowledge.  It is a feeling of longing, of happiness, of faith, of virtue, of mercy, of charity, or of kindness.  True love is what keeps two unlikely individuals together, it is something which burns even when all other emotions have gone.  Love is a light that wants you to go, but when you try, the bulb dies.  Love is something a monkey thinks is a fairytale.  But, when you see that one person's face, that whole idea of love is changed.  Love is a sacred pact, which can be for family members and friends, and especially spouses.  I think, last of all, that someone who feels love can never feel as much despair as those who don't feel love.  Please, remember to love.  It is essential to life.

Intro

By the way, the title is pronounced dime yo! Hey, this is Tobias Hogarth Manly, and this is an INTRO! My pen name comes from quite a few places.  First off, a friend of mine was guessing my middle name, and she guessed Tobias.  Naturally, she liked it a lot, and started calling me by that name.  Second, Hogarth.  If you have ever seen the Iron Giant, you will realise why this name applies to me.  Finally, Manly, for even though I might not seem it, I really am quite manly.  This is actually my third blog, so I look forward to any assignments here.  I know they aren't going to be deep thoughts, because I'm not capable of them.  But, they should sound intelligent nontheless.