jerminator

House party dance party and art on the weekend make jack a happy boy.  Finally got a chance to kick it with my good buddy Saulty Dog rough the same as me but all good people.  rocked it pretty hard, and still had a chance to make some killer artwork pics coming soon.

I was just thinking today of my life this far an how it might relate to an RPG game.  What sort have classes skills an other such stuff have I picked up so far on this crazy trek through the woods of insanity called life.  So here is at least some of what I thought of.  

FANTASY:              SCI-FI:
Born under the twin      Born under the broken star
Young Rouge                Street Punk
Young berserker            Loner
Barbarian                  Free Lancer
Broken spirit              Lost pilot
Squire                     Cadet
Knight errant              Trooper
Holy Knight                Battle monk
Missionary                 Zealot
Spiritualist               Fanatic
Mage                       Psyker
Shaman                     Rouge Psyker
Tortured medicine man      Chaos Psyker
Dammed                     Dammed
Mercenary                  Hired Gun
Magician                   Cyborg

What does it take to turn art into a full time occupation?  Determination? Well I've got ten fold an still, I wonder?  Networking?  Haha I hope not because now a days I have none of that?  Skill?  my hands have been washed in blood an born from countless fires! Ruthless?  Most of the ones I've met have had to be in order to get to a certain point.  

   Hell I just don't know anymore?  It seems to me that in today's world there is the possibility to make just about anything.  Then why is it so hard to break out and get to the point?  Perhaps it is just time that holds one back, the wait to be discovered?  

   Freedom?  We all want it but as the say fortune favors the bold.  Bold maybe that is where the truth resides.  

   However whom ever I just want Art...  

  I have brainwashed myself...

Twice removed from....        the WORLD...

      Blood sacrifice....

Show your real face............   ... ... ... .. .. ...

Irregularity it flows from my veins like a rich poison.  Growing stronger and stronger like a floating rain, hovering above and bombing below.  I feel the strangest oddities about life the older I get, holding myself down unable to cast myself from the mold.  The more I worry about not becoming who I don't want to be the more I block myself from becoming me.  I touched myself once or maybe it was what I hoped to be me.  Whatever it was, I was impressed and could do nothing but tear it down, it touched a goal I had only dream of.  My understanding could not comprehend this oddity before me, so the order was made out to destroy it before it ruined the dream.  Vortex, down it went clinging to my shoulder like guardians that were so easily brushed off dandruff to fall to the ground.  Echos of follow your heart ring in the empty places inside, till finally my nose begins to bleed and the white noise of mind finally fades out to a mountain stream.  Remnants that is all we have to look forward to, does it force us on instead though.  If my name were carved in black stone lined with the others would it be any better then in the heart of them who accept it?  Butterfly trapped in your hand cage why no worry?  Can you feel the pain that joins these two?  Your freedom it is Worthlessly priceless and so you flutter away from trials hands.  Wounds healed in a moment, a moment that lives on forever.  Forgive me this lesson and some day I'll bleed for you.

Fourth chance maybe?  This rising from the ashes life style that i continue to lead would be nice to lay to rest.  Maybe i should jus stop trusting in people so much.  So far I have been left to face the fires while the other escape like joyous butterflies to frolick on the gentle breezes.  I'm just tired of being kicked around I desire to be me and will accept the pain that comes with it, rejection is no worry of mine i have lost all my so called friends and the state I loved most of the things I owned and none of it bothers me anymore.  Hell I'm ready to gladly accept my class of starving artist again homeless as well just anything to be back in my saddled mind of insanities upon which I have thrived.  I'm sure that my mom is the only one who reads this anymore which is fine with me cause this is just a place to relieve those trapped thoughts in my head that plague me to suicidal ideals that get tossed away because i know my purpose is not done yet.  A horn upon the mountain top rings out and I shall answer the call amen.