The Parable of the Brown Rat

Once, there was a brown rat, living in a drainage pipe. He was happy there, knew his section of the pipe as the entirety of his world, his few breif incounters with other rats only occuring at the far ends of his range. There was food, there was water, and while neither was in plentiful suply, there was enough to live on, and not starve.
One day (though day had no meaning to this dark dwelling rat) there was a sudden noise far up the pipe in one direction. Instinctivly, he froze, and suddenly found himself born down upon by a wave of water filling the drainage pipe. Helpless, he was caught in it, tossed against the sides of the pipe, unable to breathe beneith the surge. Every part of his brain screamed that he was about to die.
Suddenly, his nose broke the surface of the flood, and he could breathe. He pulled himself to the surface, and, still caught in the current of the flow, tried to swim to the sides of the pipe. The current was too strong, and soon he was tireing, about to slip back under the surface to his death. But just as he was about to slip under, a wooden board floated by, and he managed to grab ahold of it with his claws, and scrabble on to it. There he sat, half drowned and soaked to the skin, wondering where this flow was taking him.
Time passed, and soon there was a bright light ahead of him. With the bright light there was a roar of falling watter. A waterfall. He dug his claws into the board, and closed his small black eyes, knowing he was about to die in the fall ahead.
He fell....
And only moments later, he found himself still on his board, floating in the middle of a placid pond. He was alive.

Sometimes what seems to be certian death is often not.

Nos perituri mortem salutamus! - We who are about to die salute death!
Morituri te salutamus! - We who are about to die, salute you!

6:50. Java exam at 7:15. 65 going into the final.
I face it without panic, without fear. Perhapse this is the certianty that one faces unquestioned death with.
We all have a little bit of heroism in us. Be it to face death, insurmountable odds, or the demons within our own heart, we all are heros in some way. Even, even if it is only two our selves.

Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim.
Be patient and tough; some day this pain will be useful to you.

Yes, those words are right. Learn from pain. Use it to your advantage later.
I learned the pain of failure once. Now, I do not fear it or feel its bite. Come and do your worst to me, I will survive it.

Non est ad astra mollis e terris via.
There is no easy way from the earth to the stars.

Mars is waiting.

*sighs*
What a life. Looks as though im going to fail my java class totally. Dispite spending allot of time trying to get my first and only project to work, my prof gave me 5 points out of 100 on it. 5 points... what a slap in the face. *sighs* that, and the 46 on my mid term, thanks... i think ill go take C++ instead.
No proffessor should every be allowed to teach the ONLY section of the ONLY class for the completion of a class sequence every semester. between that and my project grades.... since we didnt get it to work at all... *sighs*
As i calculate now, i have a 65 in that class....
a 65

I hope the world goes to hell tomorrow.

O-la Sanctus, E-u Sanctus, Où est la Lumière . . . Ah, c'est toi?
Are we more Holy, Are we more Holy, Where is the light . . . Is that you?

I am blood, and I am flesh
wings torn, bone ripped from bone
the divine I am not, do not seek me.

Prophet, Metatron, Nisroch
why brand me with these curses
yet raise me on an altar?

My eyes are not blinded - I see clear
my flesh is not purified to ash - I live still
I speak what I am told to - nothing more

If you seek my wisdom, pilgrim
seek too the pain it will bring flesh and soul
knowledge is sin without redemption


I have messages for some of you. Seek me.

Night Bird

so yes, im better.
My laptop... is dead.
I have to reformat the drive tomorrow. *sighs*

Worried, unstressed - both at once. I feel despair as the surge before panic, the void left before the breaker's curl. Too much waiting. Not enough action. Wens is too far... Satruday even further.
Let this end now, so that I may not suffer any longer. Damned finals.

I write to find comfort. The persicion of the bonsai in a poem, grown old with time still seems young in its smallness.

Four Haiku, in responce

sweetness, the winter
night air washes us clean of
the sins of thought

lotus, from the soil
to the stark black blossom
of hearts desire

what is the meaning?
tengoku wa doko?
wispered secrets fall

answers await you
open closed eyes and see them
you know the way home