The Punisher is my Spirit Animal

The Punisher is my Spirit Animal

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Hope is Just a Wish

What is hope?

     Well, there is no way I can say this without sounding like edgy trash but...

     I believe that hope is just a wish, a synonym to be more exact. Hope comes from the same place whishes do.


     When someone says "I hope you do well," that is the same as saying, "I wish you luck." Or when you hope that you'll get that one expensive piece of nonsense, when really that's just a wish too.

     A wish is something that you HOPE you could eventually have, experience, etc. People hope for world peace, but it is more like they wish for it.

     A bit harsh? Sorry.

     Hope is word that has been thrown around to signal faith and what not, and wish was made to seem like a hope that is almost unreachable, but hope is just as far down the road as any other miscellaneous wish. The more accurate word that people are looking for in terms of 'hope' is 'believing'.

     Truth be told, I do not believe that we will ever achieve world piece and everything is going to go careening down until there is nothing left because the human race is to petty and uncooperative, but I would like to believe that there are plenty of good people on this planet, and that very little can make a huge difference...

     In metaphorical terms anyway.

     I don't have a story to tell you unless you feel like reading an entire novel's worth of reading, so here you go, my thoughts on the term 'hope'.

Friday, March 17, 2017

"The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas"

     In the society of Omelas, their supposed happiness stems from a suffering child that is kept in a basement that is never to be shown kindness of any sort.  If this child were to be let out, fed, loved, it would destroy the joy in the society.

     There is a saying that their cannot be happiness if there is no suffering.

     I am going to relate this short story to the The Giver,  by Lois Lowry, in which in order for everyone to be happy in the society proposed by Lowry, there must be someone, in that case, Jonah, who must hold in all of the painful memories of the past and the nasty secrets behind the society in order for everyone else to function.

     This child is exactly that, the pain bearer so that everyone can enjoy their lives, and the ones who walk away are those that see this corrupt and somewhat artificial way to preserve happiness and they leave in hopes to find something more realistic.

     In today's society, and more literally, the more wealthier countries (take the US for example), exploit the lesser developed countries for things such as resources and labourers. Countries such as this one would know no happiness in their luxuries if it wasn't for the suffering of those who are less fortunate.


Monday, January 9, 2017

Happiness? I guess...

See there, the quote? Read it, stare at it. Do you understand it? If you do, do you find it hard to deal with and accept? I do.


     My mood has been somewhat off for a long time, I can go from joyous to angry in a second due to simple things. The worst part about it, is that you won't know when I'm past my tipping point, because I have learned to bottle up my emotions. Doesn't sound very good does it?

     Happiness has become a very vulnerable emotion to me, and being happy is not when I smile or laugh. It is when I am comfortable in my skin, which is very rare, and am comfortable with my surroundings. When I'm not constantly tired and cranky and my temperament is moody and "Emo" as some as called me.

     I have a record with all of my friends that I have set for myself and I wish I could take back. You see, they see me as a hardened creature that it very cold, rough, and a little violent, but there is something through that shell of mine that I only wish I could show.

     Being with family that I love and friends that I trust bring me great happiness, not always, but for the most part. I wish I was able to show my friends how much I appreciate them, that I'm not always some demon thing, but I'm constantly distracted my lack of happiness that I have blamed for so long on my surroundings. Because I've let my anger settle itself inside my emotion bank to long without doing anything about it, I find myself constantly being upset, as the days go by finding it more and more difficult to be Truly Happy. 

     I fake it a lot at home so I don't concern my mother, and I cover a lot of it up at school too so I don't place an annoying burden on my friends. Heck, there's still a bunch of emotional crap that I didn't share in this post.
     I want to be TRULY HAPPY so bad...
   

You see this? Do you think it is easier said than done? I do.


     SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO many things have upset me during 2016 that are completely out of my hands legally, and I am not that type of person that just lets things go. No, nothing is ever that simple for me.
     The happiness that I want is nearly out of reach.

This blog wasn't what it was supposed to be, but hopefully you guys -or whoever reads this- will take these quotes and learn from them, so you can be happier. 

Monday, December 19, 2016

Book Project For ONE PUNCH MAN: Short Fanfiction: I Moved To Saitama, Japan

Chapter 1: Z

     I take another confused look at the small slip of paper and then back at the door that I catch myself standing in front of. I didn't think that it would be like this.

     You might be wondering 'ok, where are you' or 'why are there in the first place' or even 'what the heck bro', but don't worry, I got you. Having the grit to want to and the money to do it, I decided to fly my dense American self over the pacific ocean from California to Japan. Why you might ask? Because I am a nosy journalist who needed a really extravagant and exciting story, but I had none to tell. So, desperate, I browsed the web for hours until I stumbled across some Japanese website. 

     Looking from the boring tourist stuff to the weird merchandise, I went to the breaking news, and then Bam! Some crap about some Heroes Association showed up in the headlines. Navigating my way onto the interesting website that I had to translate, I found that there was a program specifically and oddly convenient for journalists to 'study' a hero. So I pressed the good ol' Get A Hero button, and here I am.

     Japan has a registered place for heroes due to the increasing threat of monsters appearing and destroying their cities, and a story can't get any more intriguing than that. I just didn't expect to end up here. All of the cities names in the country go by single letters, and I ended up in City Z...

     That's it, just Z.

     Finally accepting the fact that this is the right address, I suck in my breath and lift my fist up to the door. My nervously feeble hand barely taps the door, and I stand anxiously waiting for someone to answer.

     "Who are you?" A extremely bald but shockingly young man answers the door. No older than 23 and eyeing me with the most blank expression, my heart drops.

     "Uh..." I stutter. "I'm Alayna Staten. A-are you Genos?"

     "I am." Both baldy and I look over his shoulder at a cyborg that looks around my age, which is about 19, and with a full head of hair, but just as intimidating.

     As the cyborg leads me in the place, now quarreling with the bald one over my stay, I tune them out and look at myself compared to the both of them. My seemingly small height, my feminine looks, my human brain... 

     Where's the bleach when I need it? 



Chapter 2: Triggered

     Luckily, the bald guy didn't mind me staying, but I decided not to bombard anyone with questions yet. The air in the place is unsettlingly awkward, it's like they have never been occupied in the same space with a person with two X chromosomes before. Baldy lays on his mat thing watching TV as Genos sits by what an American would call, a coffee table and surfs the web on his laptop, no one exchaging any kind of looks or words.

     Eventually getting bored with myself and the silence, I sit next to the 'to cool to make conversation' cyborg. Getting use to the Japanese and lack of furniture is going to take me a bit as I squirm to sit comfortably by the coffee table. I look over to his computer to see what is on his screen, but the moment I look at it, I look away, because it is all in Japanese, and I'm not going to take the time t read it.

     Trying to be annoying, I purposely disrupt him from whatever he is doing and ask, "What is that guy's name?" hinting at the one with the shining dome.

     Not even bothering to look at me, Genos says, "Saitama."

     I mean, I guess. "Cool..."

     I remain sitting in an painfully awkward state, wondering when someone will acknowledge my random existence, but no one does, and I guess that means that I must go the annoying route. Just as I am about to start harassing Genos, Saitama calls his name, and the cyborg immediately perks up at chants, "Yes, Sensei?"

     I try not cringe into oblivion as those words spilled out of his barely human mouth. His tore shirt, black jeans, and biker boots strongly contradict his overly obedient personality.

     Observing, I watch as Saitama points to his television screen. In record timing I see that Genos is ready to go someplace for his 'sensei'. Stopping before he walks out he turns to me and asks me if I want to join him. Not really wanting to, I get up anyway and follow him.

     "Where are we going?" I question.

     "Grocery shopping," Genos answers bluntly.

     Wow, so amazing. 

     As we stroll into the inner city, unwelcoming stares head my way. I don't know if it's Genos or me. Is it cause I'm black? Or because I'm walking next to the literal Iron Man?

     A hand waves in front of my face, returning me to the earth.



Chapter 3: Fite Me

     Genos stares at me quizzically, but then all of a sudden, he disappears. The next thing I know, the air is knocked right out of me as I land back first on cement. 

     My survival instincts kick in, making me get up and hold up my fists, but then there is a detail that I had failed to realise. How the heck did I end up on the top of a tower?

     UGH, why is this happening to me? It's only been five minutes since I got here.

     "Don't like heights, huh?" My head swings over to some guy that looks like he LIVES at Hot Topic.

     "Who the heck are you?" I ask. 

     "Speed o' Sound Sonic," the guy answers proudly.

     I hold back a laugh at his redundant, and rather stupid, name. "OK dude. I guess. You sound like a knock-off variation of Sonic the Hedgehog."

       By the angered look on his face, I assume that he doesn't take his infamous title lightly, but before he goes all crazy with his sword, I ask, "What do you want from me anyway?"

     "I was actually going after the cyborg, but then you just so happened to get in the way."

     "Well maybe you shouldn't have been snatching people up in the first place, huh?"

     Sanic buddy, done with me, lunges straight at me with his katana at a deathly speed. I barely catch the blade in between my hands and cover the sheet of iron in ice. After a second or two, it shatters.

     Speedy looks at his bladeless sword with twitching eyes. "My sword..." He begins. "That was my third replacement!"

     Oops.

     Before he can even shed a tear, in the distance we hear a thundering boom. My god, this place is crazy.




To be Continued... Maybe...

Monday, November 28, 2016

"Unbroken" Excerpt: Fictional Narrative

Looking down, I try to calmly take in my surroundings.  My eyes that are barely adjusting come to the conclusion that it is is dark - no, it is dimly lit.  In the distance a lamp is on, it’s light weak enough so that it barely touches me, giving the black sofa that I reside in a feeble orange glow.  I close my eyes and inhale deeply, trying to focus my mind, but I can’t.
The monster is in my head.
“Hey,” A man orders me suddenly, abruptly bringing me out of my trance. “Look up.”
With a second’s delay, I force my head up to look at my mentor, Darius.  As always, he shows his overused concern not on his face, but in his eyes.  The blood red color in his eyes slightly glo and stand out in the poor lighting of the room.  Within him, the color of fury is turned into that of love.
He thinks he’s going to lose me.
Darius makes sure not to come to close to me and asks, “Are you alright?”
Him having to keep his distance ticks a nerve in me, but I know that it isn’t his fault.  This spirit - no, demon inside of me makes it a dangerous task for people to get close to me, which gives me both mental and physical pain.  I can’t even hug my own mother, let alone my father figure, Darius.
With a huff, I answer, “No. Whatever it is… it keeps trying to take over my brain. It’s like me but… a different person.”  I think deeply about what I had just said, about the slightest idea that something else will be able to take over my body.  It is a thought that makes me cringe at the thought that I could no longer be ME.  All I know so far is that this demon thing wants to do destructive deeds using my corps, things that I could never imagine myself doing.
“Please tell me that this is a tumor,” I half joke.
Suddenly walking into the scene, someone asks, “Is there a way that we can get whatever is inside of her out?”
Darius glances at his nephew, Dominic, and then back to me with his fingers on his chin.  For a full minute he did this, wasting time staring at me and then to the floor.  While he was doing that, he actively tried to avoid making eye contact with Dominic.
Oh it’s bad.
Things are real bad when he doesn’t want to tell Dominic.
“I don’t know,” Darius lies.  “But until we figure out what’s going on, she’ll be staying here.”
For a moment, that doesn’t sound to bad, but then Dominic asks, “What are you going to tell her mother?”
Darius jaw ticks ever so slightly, knowing that keeping me will include a confrontation with my mother. “I’ll think of something, but both her mother and sister are human.  If something were to happen-”
“They wouldn’t be able to protect themselves,” I finish for him.
Darius doesn't hesitate to nod.  “Until either you or someone else figures out what is wrong with you, you will not be seen by the general public.”  With that said, Darius gives both Dominic and I a stern look before retreating upstairs.
Now it’s just me and Dominic.
The idiot makes sure that Darius is nowhere to be seen and does the opposite of what he was told; he invades my personal space and comes to kneel down right in front of where I sit.
“What the heck are you doing?” I ask him.
“I don’t want you to feel isolated,” Dominic answers matter-o-factly, provoking a smirk to appear onto my face.
He wants something from you, a whispered voice in my head interjects.  I frown at the sudden not-me thought.
Dominic gives me a quizzical look, telling me that he sensed that something was off.  “Are you OK?”
“Y-yeah…” I begin, but I am soon interrupted by a strange throbbing in my head.
At first it is not that serious, but then it begins to feel as if someone is banging on my head with a hammer -repeatedly and as hard as they can possibly manage-. The excruciating beat causes me to clutch my head, ball up, and shut my eyes closed in a sad attempt to suppress my pain.
A muffled voice tries to say something, and a pair of hands grab at my arms, only amplifying the pain.   “GO AWAY!” I shout at no one in particular, hoping yelling will ease the random torture.
The pain in my head suddenly subsides, but when I open my eyes, all I can see around me is a thick blanket of black.
Did I just die?
“No,” A woman says.


Monday, October 24, 2016

If You Had the Opportunity to Get a Message Across to a Large Group of People, What Would Your Message Be?

If I had the opportunity to get a message across to a large group of people (preferably 7 billion people), my message would be...

To think about the future rather than destroying it.

     It surprises me how simple and great it would be if people would just take the time to cooperate with each other, ignoring the differences.
     Here are some problems that could be EASILY resolved if the highest powers of every country would cooperate with each other: World Hunger, Global Warming, Gender Inequality, Financial inequality, and War over whatever countries fight over nowadays. 
     If the Powers would just do away with their petty mess, everything could be made much easier for every single person on this planet.

Literally, it COULD BE that simple.

(drops the mic)

Wednesday, October 5, 2016

My Ability to Conform is Trash

Conformity is the compliance and behavior in accordance to socially accepted standards, rules, or laws. 

The common things that will occur with most beings that decide not to conform is multiple forms of ridicule. In high school, the most frequent occurrence is being called 'weird'. 


"Your weird," as well as "Your white" are the most common things my peers have said to me. Whether if it was meant to be negative or not didn't matter, what they meant to be 'normal' or 'black' was. 

After the summer of 2013 (I think), I decided to screw the mask of conformity and be the person who I was. I decided that being girly wasn't my thing, and began to wear jeans and hoodies most of my time. May you understand that at this time, I was already out of place being one of the only black child in a predominately white and Mexican middle school [Diegueno in Encinitas, where I used to live before I moved to Spring Valley]. I was raised in a nicer environment, so I didn't have any problems there at Encinitas. 

Two years of living there, I had moved here, where I definitely didn't conform to racial stereotypes, and was made aware of that very often. 

I had made friends with the 'weird' people, only because we didn't care much what people thought. We didn't dress for attention, and we liked Anime, and video games, and Marvel, and were expressive. For that, we were considered 'weird'. Because normal people think that "Anime is weird"... I don't know what to tell you if you agree.

Any-whale, my mom would always say to me, "Black people say that Anime is weird", I honestly didn't know why she'd think I'd care, so I'd always shrug and say, "OK?" The other day, she was like, "You need to listen to some black people music." I just looked at her, because... yeah. I listen to most things except Rap, Jazz, most R&B, and Trance, and I guess that bothered her.

One of my friends near the beginning of my freshman year called me 'white' because of the way that I spoke and presented myself. I didn't really get much of stereotyping up until that point, and I was mad. It was like "are you saying that Black people don't usually speak proper English?" "Are you saying that African Americans don't cover themselves up?" "ARE YOU SAYING THAT ALL BLACK PEOPLE ARE GHETTO and I'M AN EXCEPTION. WTF BRO THAT'S RACIST!"... I was triggered. Simply because I don't conform to the terrible stereotypes of African Americans, I quickly get a response by being called 'White'.

Over the years, I lost the ability to care about the pop-culture standards and bull, therefore facing the persecution that comes with not conforming. But I really don't care...

OH my god... I went on a tangent didn't I?