Who the hell are you?

Who are you, and where did you come from?? How did you get access to my blog? That looks like my picture at the top of the page, and these words seem like they could be mine. I even remember writing some of them. But were they really mine? They're so familiar, yet they seem like they are someone elses. I would never write that, yet I know for sure that I did, I must have.

Has it really been a year since I've been here. Has it been that long already? I know I've meant to come back here so many times, and I've even payed a few visits, glancing in on what used to be such a record of me. And every time that I left I felt guilty, feeling that I should have added something, anything.

I think it might be time to close this chapter, and start documenting something new. I feel like there would be something very new to write if I started up again, a new chapter, a new era. Like what I'm reading here, it'll be the same, but something different, old and new at the same time.

So here we go again. Welcome back to me. Welcome back to my skewed up view....

The long goodbye...

I left for my second year of undergrad university in September. At the time of writing, I'm looking forward to heading back home for Christmas next week. That's to say, it's already mid-December. So why, you ask, am I writing after all these months?

Back when I blogged on a regular basis, I was surfing around, looking at random blogs in my spare time. I wanted to see what other people were writing, and it dawned upon me to create an "Emo-blog": a record of all things emo....thoughts, feelings, art, music, so on. I could get everyone I knew or even those I didn't to contribute. It would be a great idea. So, I started to look for an emo blog. I found several, none with any relevance to emo-anything. But one caught my attention. The website is here. It hadn't been modified for several years, and the last post was written by the author, a man, about to propose to his girlfreind. He'd already gone and bought the ring, and was planning to give it to her soon. And then it ended. I had seen into one of the most important moments in this mans life, and then I was abandoned, left in the lurch at the very climax of the story.

So I wanted to give my blog closure. Even if this isn't the last post, I'll try to keep it at the top. So if any wayward travellers happen across my site, they'll know what happened to me, and that this blog hasn't died. It's just sleeping until I come back. And I'll be back. No one will be here to read it, and I'll have to start weaving my stories all over again, but, I'll be back.

I'll see you soon,

Pete

Take me at face value...

A reputation. A pre-judgement based upon something that may or may not be entirely or at all factual. Sure, reputations are usually associated to a person for a good reason, but does that mean that he or she should always be labelled as such? Is it fair for someone to work from anothers assumptions, without being given the opportunity to form their own?

But assume for now that the reputation is just. Can this person change? Sure, they can, nothings stopping them, but in the eyes of others they are still the same person that they always were. The reputation will fade with time, but for now, it's stuck. And that means that the person with the reputation must battle against everyone's judgements and scorn to prove that they can change. And this is why many fail, because we are so often exactly what others think we are. If we are percieved to be a crook, then why try to be anything else?

All that you need is for one person to believe. For one person to take a leap of faith and forget about the past, worrying only about the now, and about the future. Though this is hard, and requires much trust, the benefits can be earth shattering. This is not to say that things cannot go wrong, but as long as there is trust from one other, and desire from the one with the reputation, progress can be made.

This just leaves one final question. What will it take for you to trust me?

Hiatus...

So, for the record, I didn't disappear from the face of the earth, nor did I suddenly cease to exist. So, just to recap, I'll let you all know where I've been for the last few weeks. After I stopped working (about 2 weeks ago), I lost the structure from my days, and became a little preoccupied with finishing loose ends that I had before I left for the fall term at university. This didn't lend well to writing, since, though I had a lot that I wanted to write about, I also had a lot to do, that I needed to schedule in on my own. And to be honest, I just didn't.

And then I moved up to school. This all went pretty smoothly, as would be expected. Soon after, I started a week of job training for my new job, working with the university's IT services. The following friday, I finished training, and started frosh leader training. That brings me to now. We're still in the midst of training, and there's still a lot on my mind.

With all of the challenges that the new year will bring, I'm anticipating a lot to write about. So if there are any of you who still care to check this page, please stick around. The post's will start to take yet another new path, this time heading toward the personal challenges that I meet, while still sticking to the emotional side.

Now, time to start writing the real post.

My faded shirt...

[EDITED] At the beginning of the year I bought a shirt. A red shirt, a beautiful cut, very stylish, and a really excellent fit. I wore this shirt to work and washed it and wore it again. And now it's the end of the summer.

Now, as I look down at my arms, I can't help but think that the shirt has now faded. As i gaze at the soft crinkled fabric, the deep maroon appears to have softened to a dirty, brownish red, and the vibrant trim has dulled to just a plain red line. My once bold and powerful shirt has mellowed with time. It has become bland, worn thin by the long summer days and scorching heat.

And as I gently rub my fingers across the fabric, I can't help but think that it too has softened, worn down through repeated and repetitive use. The once stiff cuff now hangs limp from my wrist, and the formerly sharp lines of the seams now flow into a non-descript figure. Even the delicate wrinkles that once made this a modern and stylish shirt now seem to serve no purpose, making the shirt seem messy and unkempt. There is no longer the beauty and charm that it once possessed. Now my shirt just hangs as another shirt in the wardrobe, unable to distinguish itself from the others.

The sharp lines, the bold colours, the distinct look...all now gone, replaced by a tired, haggared rag, worn by time and battered by the harsh machine.

Hopefully the shirt on my back will brighten again soon.

_____________________________________

I like this post. It's the first in a while that a) I've finished in one shot, and b) I've felt good about. It seems to flow well. It reminds me of some of my older posts. This is good. Having said, it may just be the result of an abundance of ideas. You may have noticed that this is my 3rd post in 2 days. Looks like I've been given something to think about again.