What has been happening of late?

I suppose this is possibly the worst month of effort I have made ever. I guess it was a mixture of me not particularly having anything to blog about, and sort of just feeling everything is mundane. Don’t worry though, I haven’t written in my uni blog either. I think tomorrow I will blog there, then maybe start reading for my assignments.

I will do a quick catchup, though. I have finished Chapter 8 but I actually want to post Chapter 8 and 9 together (if not 10 as well) so, sorry, but you do have to wait.

In my actual life, not much has happened. We started on our mid-sem break, and I have put off work. I suppose I’ll work for the 2nd half of this week, and first half of next week. I also should organize all my notes, start doing reading in my leisure time (force myself to enjoy it) and prepare for my exams at the end of the year. I don’t have my schedule, so I don’t even know how early my liberation is.

I may or may not go to badminton on Friday at Monash, but most likely not. My body was very sore this weekend from its lack of exercise. But apart from my last venture to the other university, I really haven’t had much of a social life – and I want to keep it that way these holidays. Call me a shut-in, but sometimes I prefer some quiet time (alone, with internet, so not alone. Basically I can talk to people without having to be all presentable. At the moment I am in my PJs). In fact, I rented (and it costed me more than I like, so I will probably refrain for a while) the first two seasons of True Blood, and I suppose you can say I got hooked, but it really does try your patience for gore at some point. I don’t look forward for more hungrily (but then again, after marathoning 2 seasons in 4 days you do get turned off) as I do for NCIS, Glee, House, HIMYM, TBBT, The Vampire Diaries etc…

Speaking of which, NCIS and Glee comes back tomorrow, but Glee will air on TV pretty much straightaway (wow Ch 10 is REALLY fast-tracking. Then again, they’ll probably take a 1 week break randomly so that they’ll be a week behind, AGAIN). The Vampire Diaries is only a few days behind, and since I don’ t follow many blogs on Tumblr for TVD, I’m not too fussed about spoilers that I might come across. I watched HIMYM today, and it was a rather exciting preview to what we’ll learn in this season. My biggest beef is Dexter, which I don’t really have the bandwidth to watch but I know the blogs I follow will spoil them for me. I guess I will soon have to decide what to do.

Anyway, as per usual, an update about my life has turned into a rant about TV. Splitting hairs aren’t we?

Everything else is still the same. I’m nearly halfway through my Project 365, and literally nothing has changed about my life. I think I already emo’d about this, so I won’t today.

Mom has been home, obviously, and I think she’s getting a bit bored so she’s cooking a lot (which Dad appreciates, I think, except he still cooks most of dinner and on weekends). I know I’m meant to cook, but I really don’t like learning from my mom because she’s not a great teacher, but a great yeller. Dad usually just wants to cook and get it over and done with so he can rest and watch TV (they bought a crap load of new Chinese drama, but thankfully the DVDs play on the other DVD player which is a bit temperamental, so I don’t have to move from my position), so he doesn’t really want to teach me either.

Anyway, because she’s cooking so much, I’ve also gained weight that I didn’t actually want to gain. That, on top of my lack of motivation to exercise lately, means this summer will be spent indoors. I will start collecting as many TV series as I can from friends. And maybe get my paws on FRIENDS, too. Again, yes, shut-in.

Anyway, that’s enough of a catchup for now.

Hope everyone else is doing well.

Alex.

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I Make One More Wrong Turn Tonight

[Vegas Skies – The Cab]

Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain

I already wrote one to my parents, and the person I am thinking of is for a later, more fitting day. The only other person that has caused me significant heart-ache and pain I don’t hate. And the person I hate, I haven’t been hurt by (I just hate ’em).

I suppose I hate Miley Cyrus and/or Justin Bieber and they have caused my ears some pain but I don’t think this is referring to that.

You know who I don’t like? Gary Oak. He’s not hard to defeat, but he’s such a jerk-face. I know, I know, he was the good guy all along because we never realized that we killed his Raticate. I had a blog about that. But he’s still a douche.

Oh you know who I don’t like? Wormtail. That snitching fucker. And that bitch Bellatrix who killed Sirius and killed (?) Neville’s parents. What the hell is wrong with her? But Helena Bonham Carter is a fucking gun.

Oh you know who I don’t like? Trinity from Dexter. That bastard…oh maybe no spoilers here.

Alright, I made my point…

Alex.

Soy un perdedor, I’m A Loser Baby, So Why Don’t You Kill Me?

[Loser – Glee Cast Cover, original by Beck]

I finished all my essays today, and I thought it shouldn’t hurt to share my Creative Fiction here – if the Uni asks, I can prove this is mine.

So yeah, here it is, very very Dexter-inspired.

Hear My Whispers In The Dark

These things tend follow a pattern, a routine that I sit through on auto-pilot, like the period of time between the wake-up alarm and the key in the ignition. Almost every aspect of my Ritual is done on auto-pilot, though I have to admit I do take pleasure in some parts.

I’ve often wondered – and I’m wondering again now, watching her show the first signs of consciousness – why I always wait for them to wake up. I suppose that the only variation I get in my Ritual is the conversation, which is why I let them wake up, just so I can talk to them. One can say that I am lonely, but I don’t like being around people enough for that to apply. I simply like to be stimulated by conversation.

“Where am I?” This is always the first question. I can’t blame her for the lack of originality; one moment she was about to get into her car – a normal, safe place in her life – and the next she wakes up in mine. The sense of displacement…I know that feeling. Except unlike for her, my experience won’t be ending within the next hour, but continue every day, no matter where I go. Everyone I see looks like me, but the things I do on a daily basis exist only in the most horrifying corners of their conscience.

I am that monster that slinks into people’s thoughts at night, the one who whispers ideas from the darkness.

The next part is interesting. I think I can tell what kind of conversation I will have just by what they do next. The kind that struggle, well, they’re bound to be the aggressive kind. Stupidly in denial, they would (try to) tear at their plastic wrap-trap, fighting against what they already know until the last strained breath.

I really like the ones who silently see what is happening to them, and then resign themselves to cry.  They say they deserve it, because they’re guilty of one thing or another. I don’t really care about what they did;  but I do like hearing their stories. If someone like me can have friends, I would call them my friends.

She says nothing, even though I know she’s fully coherent. I feel a small swell of satisfaction that I’d managed to find the better kind.

I dim the lights, like a cinema before the movie starts. I like going to the cinemas, and when the lights dim I’d know I am in for a treat. Maybe that’s why I dim the lights for her, and for the ones like her. Without the light, I get to see a great show without any light to distract me.

“Do you know why you’re here?” I ask. There isn’t actually a reason, apart from my own personal needs, but I like to know what she’ll say.

She still doesn’t answer, but she’s looking straight up at me. She’s fat – I wouldn’t pick her otherwise – so I try not to look at her body bulging under the layers of plastic wrapping. She’s not beautiful either, but under the dimmed light, and with her damp hair loosely framing her face, I can bear to look at her. She’ll look a lot better against the dark crimson of her own blood.

“Alright then, do you know who I am?” She moves her head side-to-side as far as the tape allows. She still doesn’t speak, but I can tell she is starting to abandon her initial shock.

I turn up the light again, drowning her imperfections. I move around the surrounding shadows, readying my equipment. The clanging of the blood collection tub that I toss unceremoniously near her head stirs some urgency into her.

“What is that? What’s it for?” she asks, starting to shift in her restraints. Once that shifting starts, it usually never stops, until I stop it.

“It’s to collect your blood. I find that having to mop it up is very hard work.” I pick up a pair of rusting scissors and a big, black garbage bag from the bench-top. Cutting a large hole into the bottom of the bag. I slip it over my head, and rip the plastic at the sleeves. I wrap the torn plastic around my arms, securing it with rubber-bands, making myself a disposable shirt with sleeves. Over this shirt, I put on my stained apron. During all this, she is quiet, but fully aware of every move I make; her breathing stops every time I make an exceptionally loud sound.

“Why are you going to kill me?” she asks the moment I appear in her field of vision.

“Well,  there isn’t a section at the butcher’s for my liking, so I basically have to go out into the farm, or what you would call your neighbourhood, and kill one for myself.” I lean closer to her distastefully ugly face, “I’m just being a smart-arse. Yeah, I’m going to eat you.”

Her eyes grow big, as her face expands to accommodate for the sudden surplus of fear. The monster has swaggered into the light, announcing itself. But the thing that is really making her writhe harder in her bonds is the realization that the monster had always been there, just beyond the pool of light.

“Will it hurt?”

Of all the before-meal conversations I’ve had (that I remember, anyway), this is the first time that someone has accepted their fate so quickly.

“Will it hurt? Is that all you’re going to ask? I’m going to be eating you! Bleed you out, cut you up, and skin you! You’ll be made into stew, roast, stir-fry…come on!” I slam a fist down onto her torso, immediately regretting bruising her flesh. “Beg for your life! Don’t you want to get out? For fuck’s sake, woman!” She stares into my eyes, a glow burning in her eyes from the reflection of the light.

“Why would I beg? There’s no way of getting out,” she shifts slightly, and then closes her eyes, breathing out like she’s waiting for her attractive masseur to start on her. Through her closed eyelids, I can still feel the embers of that glow.

“Yes, yes it will hurt. I will cut your carotid artery, and let you bleed out. This table can be tilted sideways, and your blood will flow through these little channels on the table here, and into this tub. Through all this, you cannot move. I am good at this; I’ll make sure to draw out the bleeding for as long as possible. The only consolation I can give you,” I completely turn off the light, and wait until the friendly darkness has settled heavily before continuing, “is that at the end, you’ll be able to see ‘the light’ that you so believe in.”

In the darkness, just below me, I hear her breathing, slowly and deliberately.  I synchronise my breathing with hers, pushing out my rare anger and pulling in a lungful of my old friend. The smoothness of my Ritual comes back to me.

When the lights go back on, she is different, her eyes are just another part of her flesh. I don’t want to talk to her, and I definitely don’t want to look at her. I’m simply hungry, and this is a step I have to take before I can satiate that hunger. I move to my bench. The familiar layout of my equipment brings the buzz back into my arms. I tug out two latex gloves, put them on, and pick up my scalpel. Moving back towards the table, I survey over the mass before me, making a final decision, and cut into the carotid artery by the side of the neck. A pool of dark red forms almost immediately, its clean integrity smeared by squirming. I slip the scalpel in my apron pocket, and move to the crank by the table. A few turns of the handle, and the pool of red slide down past her left shoulder and start rolling steadily into the tub.

I tear off my right glove, and turn on some music. Every piece of equipment that is in this room has its use in different steps of my Ritual, and my speakers have served me well. Chris Martin’s voice drowns out the growing whimpers from the table. Grabbing a chair, I dim the lights to the weakest rays, sit by the table, and wait.

Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you.

Alex.

Living Under The Code

For Creative Writing, I decided to do a Dexter-themed pantoum. The structure of the pantoum is quite an interesting and rather lyrical one.

In order to fit the rhyme, I am worried that I have compromised some of the poetry, but I was rather happy with the subtle change in meaning at the end.

The problem is, you won’t understand how clever and subtle the change in meaning is at the end if you don’t watch Dexter. That’s probably a bad thing, right?

So here it is (I warn you, there is a major spoiler for Season 4 in there):

Living under the code
Taking care of scum
His dark side never showed
A killer he’s become

Taking care of scum
While leading a normal life
A killer he’s become
His instrument’s the knife

While leading a normal life
He finds truth about his mother
His instrument’s the knife
And same deal for his brother

He finds truth about his mother
Hides it from the cops
And same deal for his brother
His trophies are blood drops

Hides it from the cops
His sister will never know
His trophies are blood drops
He takes his killings slow

His sister will never know
Him and his art
He takes his killings slow
A butcher knife through the heart

Him and his art
To do what is just
A butcher knife through the heart
To stem life with a thrust

To do what is just
Kill those who have killed
To stem life with a thrust
His own life he must build

Kill those who have killed
You will have to agree
His own life he must build
But lie to what degree?

You will have to agree
Karma gets her man
But lie to what degree?
His unravelling began

Karma gets her man
Trinity killed his love
His unravelling began
Her blood stained his glove

Trinity killed his love
His dark side never showed
Her blood stained his glove
Living under the code

I’m going to go ask my CW tute group what they think now.

Alex.

Dexter

Why do I like Dexter so much?

Is it the gore and the corpses, and such?

No. “Saw” provides even more of that, and apart from the 2nd movie I don’t really like them as much as I do Dexter. Or, to be more precise, I connect much better with Dexter.

Why?

I guess the idea of someone who gets rid of the bad people in life, the people who, dare I say, deserves it. Of having to hide it from the people around them not in fear of what they might think of him, but because he knows they won’t understand. Of not having any emotions attached (well, it changes in the later episodes but I’m talking about the initial ones). Of just being that powerful and being that able, but not craving the power.

I remember saying to someone, I like it because I can relate to that. The only difference between Dexter and me, and perhaps the most important and what separates me from being a serial killer (har) is that I do have people I care about. So, you’d think, wouldn’t that mean I’d have more motivation to protect them? Yes, but also those people have a different set of morals to me. If they find out that I kill people, even if they are bad people, then they will distance themselves from me. And the thing is, I can’t have that.

But, if I ever do have to kill someone to save their life…

De Fluffe, Out.

“The voices are back…good.”