Codesmith

Life, Or Something Like It
2004-02-16 14:01:54 (UTC)

Need to write that email

It's 842am. 4 degrees fahrenheit. Almost no wind. It's easy
to maintain a heat layer around your body, as long as the
wind doesn't steal it away. No snow.

I've arrived at the Uni. I have made a few observations of
myself between the hot shower and the trip to class. I cut
myself shaving, I'm bleeding on the face. Although, it's no
where as near deep as the blood I've been spilling in my
heart. I'm not afraid of the sight of blood. Especially my
own. Well, I mean, as long as I haven't lost a gallon of it.
Cause then I'll probably be quite anemic and close to dead,
blood empty from the chamber in the heart... not a good
sign.

I am so fucked. I haven't written that email yet. I wanted
to at first write a brief I am sorry email. Then write a
longer one. But I am going to heed the advice of my old
friend, and just stick to one email. On a random note, I
got my grade back for my project. I got a 97/100. "Your
program was not designed to handle multiple files. -3
points." What?

I am afraid still. Afraid of what she will say to me. But
that is where my observations come in. I noticed that
before my shower, I was freaked out about her not wanting
to have anything to do with me. Then as I listened to some
music, ... some depressing music I might add, I started to
feel that she would want to talk to me. She loved me so
much afterall. She even said she wanted to marry me.

It made me realize, that I really am fucked. I have no
balance to speak of. My mood swings change quite on the fly
at the slightest change in stimulation. My hopes rise and
crash with every little positive or negative feeling that
occurs. It's like a worst case scenario in nuclear war.
Everyone is now dead, and the pocket of surivors on both
sides get wiped out one by one, at random on both sides.
You win and cheer. You lose and feel like the world is
coming down.

I have 6 minutes left. I guess I should mention the
Samurai. In feudal Japan, it was not uncommon for war to
occurr. I guess you can say it was commonplace. That might
also be why Samurai, or the warrior class, were ... well
they were pretty high up. Not as high as aristocracy. And
even the Samurai had different levels of aristocracy in
them.

But I'm digressing. For a die hard warrior, death could
come at any moment. In the field. At home. At a challenge
on the dirt road. He had to be prepared for death at any
time. They trained their children from birth to not fear
death. Errands would be sent through cemeteries at night.
During the cold. Extended for no reason at all. Until they
grew desensitized to superstition. Bushido. Way of the
warrior. There are so many facets to Bushido, but I'll just
talk about the one that means something to me. Facing
death.

I can't say that I don't fear death. I do. On some level.
And on another insane level, I want it. I want this prison
to end.

Samurai accept death through an interesting twist of social
obligations. Religious, Social, and by law. Religious, in
that when they die, what is there to be afraid of? We
simply go back to heaven, the place from whence we came. I
have a haiku of it written in the shingoku jidai period.
I'll have to find it sometime. Social... It's the warrior's
honor to die. And by law. Samurai who can not fulfill their
duties have pretty much fucked their families for the next
three generations. Social outcasts, and it's hard to rise
back from to grace.

I've digressed too far. Time for class.




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