One breath away

From Wikipedia

In language, a metaphor (from the Greek: metapherin) is a rhetorical trope defined as a direct comparison between two or more seemingly unrelated subjects.

Reaction to being immersed underwater, unexpectedly, is amazing. The instinct to survive coupled with human emotions of fear, love, desire all act together to pull that hunk of flesh out of trouble.

The nightmare begins before touching the water. There is a vague sense of fear that something is not as it should be. "Is it possible?" the mind races as the answer is confirmed in an instant. There is a rush of air and you know things are out of control. Splash. First contact. The fall took forever and every second is distinctly etched in the mind. At first there is shock. Disbelief that something horrible just happened. The water is cold to the skin and the first strong sense is of the smell of all the water. Before you know it, for an eternity you head straight down and you realize how deep 12 ft can be. The arms and legs flail helplessly as the brain tries to make sense of it all. The water burns the eyes and the nostrils. All you can hear is the passive sigh of the water. You cant hear the world above you, cant see a foot on any side. Paranoi ensues as you realize you're on yor own. Some sanity returns and you organize your efforts. Fat help that did. You go nowhere. Your lungs are begining to announce their presence. The heart is still pounding from the fall and you chest feels like an over-stuffed stomach after a free meal. As the arms get tired, a new reality dawns. Maybe this was meant to be the end.

Maybe accepting this will make the rest of my last seconds more peaceful. You breathe in that cold water but choke and cough. More water in your nose. The cold wave hits you in the back of the head. Your lungs are exploding with fury, eyes red, nose is burning and the head is heavy as lead. But the mind gives it one last tug. "I wont die in the bottom of a filty pool! I can make it! I need to try, I cant give up". You look up and do your best to move your arms in a rowing motion. Your legs follow feebly. All those lessons bounce around in the back of your head. You curse yourself for not listening to your instructor well enough. You promise to make ammends when you survive. "IF you survive" says a cynic inside your head.

I dont know where this ends. Will there be fresh air to breathe at the end of this? Will the body sink to the bottom taking the soul with it?






From Wikipedia

Clinical depression is a state of sadness, melancholia or despair that has advanced to the point of being disruptive to an individual's social functioning and/or activities of daily living. Although a low mood or state of dejection that does not affect functioning is often referred to as depression, clinical depression is a medical diagnosis and is different from the everyday meaning of "being depressed".

When I grow up....

I dont have anything to say about them. They're a group whose songs always make me smile and sing aloud. Rock N Roll was never the same after such outrageous songs and extraordinary guitaring.

In the clip below, Angus Young shows us what we wont be able to do @ age 40+

An interview

Comfortable?
No, but I will be

You promised you'll behave
I'm doing the best I can

Never mind.. So. When was the first time?
First time? First time for what? There's a a first time for everything you know

There should also be a last time for all the cliches you use. Go on, you know what I'm talking about
But whats the big deal? I did it less than ten times

Thats ten more than most people will ever do in their lives.
They arent people. Sheep in a flock

You arent very unique with that Nike merch
Hmm... Nike's good. I like whites

Get to the point
Some friendly interview this is. You promised you would be nice

I'm trying hard sweetheart. Now tell me, what made you do it
Nothing in particular. I just wanted to feel it

So it wasnt depression? Feelings of rejection?
Hell no. I'm friendly and happy, people love me, many cant do without me

That death metal stuff you listen to all the time?
I dont listen to death metal. Talentless jerks. You should listen to The Doors. Will change your life

Like it did to yours?
Oh come on, thats saying too much

What made you do it? Sense of adventure? Wasnt bungee jumping enough?
Nah. I've never done anything that drastic. I did it for the taste

Excuse me?
The taste. It lasts a few seconds. But you'll love it

Back up. Tell me what exactly goes through your mind before this..this uh practice of yours
Its not a practice. Not even a habit. Anyway, the feeling before I do it is of intense anticipation. My heart thumps wildly, I had goosebumps the first time, my tongue sticks out, mouth goes dry. Then the last sight is the gleam. A flash

I thought you were afraid of razor blades.
I still am. I used safety blades. Ironic isn't it?

I fail to see the irony. Anyway, describe the act
So the gleam is the last straw. The blade then goes quickly across the skin. I used the upper forearm. Its easy to justify injuries to that area. Faster, deeper the better. When the metal makes contact, the skin turns pale white. If you hear carefully, there's a small tearing sound the skin makes. The two seams part, and for a second nothing happens. But the pain...ah the pain. Its right where you want it. All the way down the arm. A tingling sensation in my lower body. Then an explosion of senses. You realize you havent been breathing. You can taste blood. And I suspect the adrenaline in it. Did you know adrenaline is called Epinephrine?

No. Go on
So thats my favorite part. I do it just for that. That taste in my mouth. Then my head swims and I feel so alert. I can smell better, perhaps my own senses. I am so much more concious, more alive, if you will.

No cliches, please
Never again. Then the blood flows. That red blood. Its such a turn on. It actually makes noise when it drips. I let it drip on my thighs. It feels cold. You know you hit pay dirt when the blood is dark red. And then, just as quickly as it happened, it all shrinks to that one line on your arm. Its silent again. Just oozing blood.

You let it bleed?
Hell no. You know how you like cleaning up right after sex? I just need to dry that wound and patch it up ASAP.

Thats it?
Yeah thats it. I told you, no big deal

Still, what makes you do it? Scarred childhood?
Haha. Stop being the shrink. You know I had a great childhood. I was spoilt rotten. Its just the rush. Some jump off a cliff, I cut myself.

Do you believe in the devil?
Ah screw you. I'm an atheist. We're gonna die, and rot to dust and bones.

Jeez. You look so different in real life. So much more vibrant. Who can guess you're um, uh
Insane?

Are you? I wouldnt know, not a shrink
Good for me

Sure is weird living with you
With me? Or inside my head?

Aint they both the same?

And then

Its been over a month since I wrote last. Its been a tough little month. Lots of fun, some pain. Its all good.

I was convinced this blog was almost dead, for there was too much out there to live. There still is, but today I want to write. The "blog" will have no more comments for users to post; I truly dont care. This is my page. Back to my dead blog. Having a blog to me at first was no more meaningful than my first gmail account. Gee 1 Gig? Why would I need that much? I still dont, but the nerd in me took to gmail like a Republican to Catholicism. Anyway, the blog was much like a new 5 MP camera. You want to photograph every damn thing there is. That sunset, the ant on your neighbours patio, that blonde waiting for a bus, the woman's beautiful hand in yours. I notice I'm a city animal and there's no ambition to see tuskers on film. Elk in my shotgun's crosshair, maybe, but thats for later. Anyway, so you have this hot new camera, and its your friend's bday. You click away to glory. The candles go out, cake is cut, everyone is so happy. And you're right there, behind the camera. "Did you like the cake?" "Oh, I didnt eat, there were so many photos to take".

"Did you finally talk to that girl you see at the stop everyday?" "Nah, I was hiding so I could capture her on film". And so it goes. A day without your camera has you thinking "What would this moment look like on my 4.5 in LCD screen? On my 1200X900 plasma screen?". And it hits you. All those moments, all the smiles that you missed. You dont want to share photos on flikr anymore. You want to be in those moments yourself. You want to hold a warm hand, not a cold clammy cannon. Thats the story. I spent the last 1 month blissfully with the ones that care for me, not to get great "posts" that people could ROTFL for, but for ME to squint my eyes and laugh at.

Boy, do I have tales to tell. Tales of friendship, anguish, love, bliss and crashing troughs. Great times indeed, but what exactly am I upto here? I realized today that maybe writing is not that bad after all. Its like when you pull yourself out of a high after a joint. There's that field of view around you. You take a deep breath and say to yourself "Alright! Steady now". Floyd mumbles about his wasted dreams. And then the vision pans out. Or is that zooms out? You are outside the picture now. Everything is so clear. That 19 year old is hitting on that 24 yr old chick who likes him but cant figure out why he's hitting on her. Both know what a hopeless case it is. And yet the music plays and the masks are worn. Then there's that chap who needs to talk about his failed relationships to sympathetic ears. I should get him to blog. The girl kissing her boyfriend at his farewell party. Ah, the sentiments are non zero. What a relief. And then there's the 23 year old confused about that 25 year old. Will she, wont she? Why doesnt she say whats on her mind? 4 languages that they share, yet no words to address the grand mess. But yet, the track changes and that fantastic french woman guides you to sunlight. Tomorrow's a fresh day. I'll talk tomorrow they think. The dance goes on. Smiles, kisses and hugs.

Life is so perfect. Its keeps a blogger happy