Vae Victis

Originally uploaded by Any Syler

Woe to the defeated.

I am in a funk. A major, deep funk, and last night, it finally hit me. I allowed myself to cry some of it out, as I did not want those tears to poison me any longer. I talked about it with good friends, as I did not want those thoughts to hammer my skull open. I went to sleep, as I did not want those feelings to take over my senses.

And now, today, it is a new day. I have been given another chance to live another day, which I can create or destroy.

I know this is going to be really ridiculous, but I took a little Facebook quiz before I drifted off to sleep last night. It was titled, "What punctuation mark are you?"

The result:

...

You are an ellipsis. Often misunderstood, you mean well. You are always trying to take care of others, often to the neglect of yourself. You are beautiful, and mysterious, and somewhat aloof, afraid to commit.

I never thought of an ellipsis that way before. It may be because I use it so frequently in my posts. I usually find them better to use when I need to pause and stop to think of something to continue. A dash is too harsh. But, and ellipsis... it's soft and velvety, a much smoother transition into words, whereas a dash, I find that pause too abrupt, and used when you are trying to prove a point almost too fast.

I think I need to write more. I realized that I get in more super crazy ruts if I don't write for a while. When was the last time I truly 'blogged' about what was on my mind? (I am sure you don't give a darn about what I have to say at this moment)

Do you crack your knuckles?
I can't bring myself to do it that often. My ankles and knees seems to snap, crackle and pop on their own. As for my fingers, I can never bring myself to doing it. It just sounds disgusting, looks disturbing... and then there is the myth my mom told me: "Stop, or your fingers will end up looking like a man's when you grow up."

Ha. It worked, mom. I would say my hands are pretty small for a mighty tall girl. I don't have piano fingers... ah, but as I observe those two hands in front of my eyes, I am seeing the beauty if imperfection. The fingers on my right hand are straighter then my left hand. I would associate the slight outward curve of the top digit of my middle finger in my left hand due to the years of pressure added onto it from my pencil. Ah, and the thin layer of graphite that would rub off the paper and onto the side of my left palm and pinky finger... it was especially hard to not have my left hand dripping with India Ink at the end of art class.



Enough of hands.

I need to get some things covered today. And I fear that it will be a long one.



Hej hej,

Any