Salvor's new journal

[Salvor-Hardon]

06-26-10 Discipline

I've been trying to keep a healthy lifestyle, eating right, exercising, blah blah blah. Thursday however, I forgot my goggles for swim practice. I was tempted to walk out as swimming without goggles is always a problem and the lazy part of my will really wanted to just go sit in a coffee shop and enjoy a croissant and an coffee.

I stayed, I swam. It wasn't really a good work out, but it was an exercise in discipline. It was pushing through the lethargy and one step closer to vitality. It was taking control of my life, crafting it to be what I want it to be, not waiting for something magical to happen.

I admit that writing this now is the same thing. I promised myself when I start this again I would post at least once a week. Every Friday would be a new entry, and I would keep it less of an article and more personal journal. Last night I started several times, but by the third sentence all of them were just self promotion, drivel or something closer to fiction than fact. I couldn't keep writing, and I avoided the submit button like the plague.

I want to be a writer. Not so much that I make my money with what I write as my few forays in being published have been savage and akin to being abused then charged for the privilege. The whole industry is a giant cluster fuck, and I am happy to be out of it.

But I like expressing my thoughts, feelings, desires and "self" in words. I also take photographs, dabble in water colors, sketch, and tinker with electronics. All of them are skills, that have to be practiced and honed. I will never be an artist, never have a book tour, never a life of leisure because of my handiwork. Those are all done for passion, as an amateur, a love for the act and giving of myself to the piece.

I know though that I have to keep at it, even when I don't feel like it, even when I have nothing profound, even when I forget my goggles.

 

[++Encore++]

friday is over : )

 

[Salvor-Hardon]

07-03-10 Friday is over

Yesterday I sat down to write, but each new revision was more filled with anger and frustration than the one before. I railed against America as a country, against women in general, against particular friends and family members, about internet trolls, about politics, about misconceptions, false perceptions and every manner of hatred I could think of to loose my poison pen upon. I was angry, frustrated, and tired.

Mostly, I was angry at myself but aimed my wrath outward rather than inward. I've known for years the truth of "we teach people how to treat us" and I know where my weaknesses lie when dealing with people. The long and the short of it all, I shot myself in the foot with bullets that took months, and sometimes years to penetrate and wound. Then I blamed the gun for behaving exactly the way i was designed.

I didn't want to post because I knew I was angry, and I hate doing any public act when I am angry. It always leads to a regret. A few conversation from thursday on have helped me clear my head, to center me and let me see things aright and well. I am the deciding factor of my moods, my existence, my life. While blaming others and indulging in self pity was easy, it wasn't going to change how I face the world, or how the worlds faces me.

Now, late on a saturday, very nearly sunday, I am calm, though still a bit unsettled. The only change effected so far is my choice in responses and reactions. I'm a bit tired, and I may have distanced some people but it is for my good, and I need to focus on self preservation and growth.

 

[++Encore++]

: ( thanks for sharing

 

[Salvor-Hardon]

7-8-10 Confessions of a voyeur

I am a huge fan of flickr.com and will browse around during down time in my day. I did several years worth of photographic work in college and a few years after and still today I am fascinated by photographic art. Between the compositions and displays, its easy to get lost in the virtual gallery it can become.

The other side of flickr is that it is a portal to the world. I can see the vacation photos of a family from Scotland, wedding shots from a Japanese couple, parties from Spain, and South African gardens. Its like peeking into the lives of people of every stripe and season. There is also the collections of pictures that people steal and post, to show what they are excited to see, and want others to share in the visuals.

I sometimes get frustrated when I am searching on random key words, and find a photo that is captivating but there is no information other than a file name and that it is from some poster. I was looking at shots from The Secret Garden Party held near Cambridge, England. There was a group of people that seemed so full of life, so happy, so joyous you can almost hear the laughter looking at the photo. I wanted to crawl through my monitor and emerge around the world, ready to party with these carefree spirits.

I'll see a woman, and something about her just makes me want to get to know her. But then I look and the date is two years old, and the photographer hasn't posted for over a year. The quest to introduce myself is over before it begins, the dead end not even a full step from the beginning. I flip to another photo to forget that I ever saw someone I wanted to meet.

I know I am a horrible voyeur, that I am spying into the lives of people who opened their windows to the world. I look and I watch, and I see so many things, and even as I close the link, I want to go back and look again. Calling it a window seems perfect in many ways.

 

[functioncurve]

Just wanted to say hi. This is an interesting journal. Thanks for your help with the pm's.

 

[MagicaPractica]

Yesterday I sat down to write, but each new revision was more filled with anger and frustration than the one before. I railed against America as a country, against women in general, against particular friends and family members, about internet trolls, about politics, about misconceptions, false perceptions and every manner of hatred I could think of to loose my poison pen upon. I was angry, frustrated, and tired.

Mostly, I was angry at myself but aimed my wrath outward rather than inward. I've known for years the truth of "we teach people how to treat us" and I know where my weaknesses lie when dealing with people. The long and the short of it all, I shot myself in the foot with bullets that took months, and sometimes years to penetrate and wound. Then I blamed the gun for behaving exactly the way i was designed.

I didn't want to post because I knew I was angry, and I hate doing any public act when I am angry. It always leads to a regret. A few conversation from thursday on have helped me clear my head, to center me and let me see things aright and well. I am the deciding factor of my moods, my existence, my life. While blaming others and indulging in self pity was easy, it wasn't going to change how I face the world, or how the worlds faces me.

Now, late on a saturday, very nearly sunday, I am calm, though still a bit unsettled. The only change effected so far is my choice in responses and reactions. I'm a bit tired, and I may have distanced some people but it is for my good, and I need to focus on self preservation and growth.

My brother and I were talking just recently about the propensity to justify our actions to the nth degree in order to avoid feeling guilty rather than face what we've done. I believe the antidote is to accept the mistakes we've made and then forgive ourselves. The latter part being just as important as the former.

 

[++Encore++]

I am a huge fan of flickr.com and will browse around during down time in my day. I did several years worth of photographic work in college and a few years after and still today I am fascinated by photographic art. Between the compositions and displays, its easy to get lost in the virtual gallery it can become.

The other side of flickr is that it is a portal to the world. I can see the vacation photos of a family from Scotland, wedding shots from a Japanese couple, parties from Spain, and South African gardens. Its like peeking into the lives of people of every stripe and season. There is also the collections of pictures that people steal and post, to show what they are excited to see, and want others to share in the visuals.

I sometimes get frustrated when I am searching on random key words, and find a photo that is captivating but there is no information other than a file name and that it is from some poster. I was looking at shots from The Secret Garden Party held near Cambridge, England. There was a group of people that seemed so full of life, so happy, so joyous you can almost hear the laughter looking at the photo. I wanted to crawl through my monitor and emerge around the world, ready to party with these carefree spirits.

I'll see a woman, and something about her just makes me want to get to know her. But then I look and the date is two years old, and the photographer hasn't posted for over a year. The quest to introduce myself is over before it begins, the dead end not even a full step from the beginning. I flip to another photo to forget that I ever saw someone I wanted to meet.

I know I am a horrible voyeur, that I am spying into the lives of people who opened their windows to the world. I look and I watch, and I see so many things, and even as I close the link, I want to go back and look again. Calling it a window seems perfect in many ways.

you share your writings and others share their pics. i believe anyone having had the pleasure to know you just a bit, would be honored to have you as a voyeur

 

[Starr_girl]

I enjoy reading your journal.
I'm a writer and a musician. Not by trade. I may never make a dime off either passion but that is okay because they are my passions. The need to express in those mediums comes from within. While I would love to make my living with one or both of those passions, the business sides those ventures I believe would take some of the joy out of it for me...that's a decision and choice you make and have to be prepared to live with. But for me, because I don't get paid to do either of those things there is no forced requirement to create. So I have the luxury of having what I do create be sincere... Everytime.

Thanks so much for sharing here like this Salvor.

I've been trying to keep a healthy lifestyle, eating right, exercising, blah blah blah. Thursday however, I forgot my goggles for swim practice. I was tempted to walk out as swimming without goggles is always a problem and the lazy part of my will really wanted to just go sit in a coffee shop and enjoy a croissant and an coffee.

I stayed, I swam. It wasn't really a good work out, but it was an exercise in discipline. It was pushing through the lethargy and one step closer to vitality. It was taking control of my life, crafting it to be what I want it to be, not waiting for something magical to happen.

I admit that writing this now is the same thing. I promised myself when I start this again I would post at least once a week. Every Friday would be a new entry, and I would keep it less of an article and more personal journal. Last night I started several times, but by the third sentence all of them were just self promotion, drivel or something closer to fiction than fact. I couldn't keep writing, and I avoided the submit button like the plague.

I want to be a writer. Not so much that I make my money with what I write as my few forays in being published have been savage and akin to being abused then charged for the privilege. The whole industry is a giant cluster fuck, and I am happy to be out of it.

But I like expressing my thoughts, feelings, desires and "self" in words. I also take photographs, dabble in water colors, sketch, and tinker with electronics. All of them are skills, that have to be practiced and honed. I will never be an artist, never have a book tour, never a life of leisure because of my handiwork. Those are all done for passion, as an amateur, a love for the act and giving of myself to the piece.

I know though that I have to keep at it, even when I don't feel like it, even when I have nothing profound, even when I forget my goggles.

 

[++Encore++]

here's a and an evil and i'm curling my finger

 

[Salvor-Hardon]

7/16/10 Just before the dawn

It's 5:30 am and I can't sleep. I'm this curious blend of outrageously nasty wild horny, and frustrated with work/family/life in general, anxious to get started on the mini-vacation that starts this afternoon, and missing my time away I've taken the last two years.

Any one of those issues I could handle separately. The hunger for sex, scratch that, for hardcore fucking is not new. It comes and goes like waves. Save for a few moments of grief, sadness, frustration or exhaustion, Horny is a constant. Though to be honest its not. The misconception is that men are always horny and at least for me thats not true. The truth is more like asking someone if they are hungry and their response is "eh, I could eat." Its not the craving and need like hunger is but not the bloated gluttonous over fed satisfaction either. I'm not always hungry, I'm not always horny, but presented with the right enticements, I could indulge.

What I feel now is "I haven't eaten in three days and there is a buffet just the other side of this wall. Now where is the door?" Its been a year since I've had sex, real sex. While the math geek in me is calculating the odds of actually getting some at any given moment, the strategist in me is formulating a plan to increase those odds and target the most likely and most rewarding partner. At the same time, the romantic in me wants to be teased and enticed, the wolf in me is tired of "almost but not quite" and wants to feed NOW, and the social butterfly just wants a place to land and stop flying from flower to flower.

In about 40 minutes, I have to get in the shower, shave, get dressed and face my day. Ideally, there's nothing horrible or odious waiting for me to do. Its a light work load and I'll be leaving work early. I'll pass by women in sundresses, baby doll tops and low rise jeans, sports bras and running shorts, every other head turning outfit that summer brings out. My head will turn, I don't deny the fact that I look. Each bare shoulder, every exposed lower back, cleavage after cleavage, I'll grow more hungry. And when I feast, it will be all consuming.

 

[kiten69]

As always love reading what you write

 

[Salvor-Hardon]

7-22-10 Cue Chase Scene

I was driving along a while back, and the radio played "Somebody to Love" by Queen. In my warped and twisted little brain, there are three great Queen songs: Bohemian Rhapsody, Fat Bottom Girls, and Somebody to love. Not that the rest of the catalog isn't good, but if I was introducing rock and roll to a visitor from a foreign planet and had to highlight iconic songs from various bands, then my three for Queen would be those three.

As I listened, singing along in the solitude and safety of my car, I was struck by the emotions of the words.

Can anybody find me somebody to love?

Each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
Take a look in the mirror and cry
Lord what you're doing to me
I have spent all my years in believing you
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!
Somebody, somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

I work hard every day of my life
I work till I ache my bones
At the end I take home my hard earned pay all on my own -
I get down on my knees
And I start to pray
Till the tears run down from my eyes
Lord - somebody - somebody
Can anybody find me - somebody to love?

(He works hard)

Everyday - I try and I try and I try -
But everybody wants to put me down
They say I'm goin' crazy
They say I got a lot of water in my brain
Got no common sense
I got nobody left to believe
Yeah - yeah yeah yeah

Oh Lord
Somebody - somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

Got no feel, I got no rhythm
I just keep losing my beat
I'm ok, I'm alright
Ain't gonna face no defeat
I just gotta get out of this prison cell
Someday I'm gonna be free, Lord!

Find me somebody to love
Can anybody find me somebody to love?



I can empathize. I joined a dating service site recently, not so much to find a date as part of a joke with a friend. As I filled out my profile, what was supposed to be pure fluff and nonsense found parts of my true personality seeping through the cracks. I made the mistake of answering a few questions honestly and really thinking about what was being asked. I ten revamped everything, the joke was over and I wanted to see who I was "matched" with given my personality, and other compatibility points.

OF the 50 or so matches, there were 5 that I thought could be interesting, and the more I researched their profiles, I then whittled it down to 2. I read through their profiles in depth and realized, I am not what THEY are looking for either. Even if I was single and without kids, and in a better job, I could see from what they wrote that it just wouldn't click. With the other hindrances, any connection is even further away.

AS much as i would love to believe in the romantic notion of "soul mates" and the legend of the split souls from Hedwig and The Angry Inch, I wonder if the reality is more like Sherlock Holmes saying "we twist the facts to fit a theory, when we should twist our theories to fit the facts". Some people click, some people don't. Looking for a mystical ethereal The ONE just isn't a given. Life is hard.

Then I look at old couples who walk down the street hand in hand, and sigh a little wish and whistle "Dream a little dream of me."

 

[MadLove4him]

I don't think there is a such thing as "The One". I think if you are lucky,you can find someone to spend the rest of your life with and have mutual respect and love for one another. As for the old couple walking hand in hand, they were more accepting of their spouses faults. They weren't so quick to throw in the towel at the first sign of trouble. They probably fought and worked their way through problems.

I do realize that not everyone can do that. I've been married more than once. There are some things I just can't tolerate. Have I found "The One" ? Probably not. But I am lucky to have found love and found someone who respects me and over looks my many faults.

 

[Salvor-Hardon]

7/29/10 Lets play a game.

I miss my friends. Specifically I miss my strange, weird, goofy, creative, and unashamed to be such friends. Long long ago in a galaxy far far away (Athens GA) we would play a game called Baron von Munchausen. It was part drinking game, part creative exercise, and pure silliness through and through.

The rules are:

Everyone playing must assume they are a Noble, and behave as such. Outrageous titles such as "Sir Loin of Beef" "Count de Monay" and "Lady Ekke Ekke Ekke Ekke Ptang Zoo Boing Zow Zing!" are encouraged.

The first player to instigate the game slides a token (quarter, beer coaster, poker chip, rabid squirrel) to another and say "Please, if you would, tell us about the time you " and then insert a scenario that was ridiculous, impossible and above all strange. Notable examples are "the time you impregnated the Pope" "the time you defeated the Spanish Armada with a bottle of champagne and a ferret with distemper" or "the time you invented aerosol spray cheez". This is called The Challenge.

There are two responses to The Challenge; you may begin telling the story, (which we'll get to later) or you decline with a polite and Noble evasion 'Ah sadly my throat is parched" or "I would love too, but sadly that tale is a highly guarded government secret". Using the over used "I could but then I would have to kill you" is frowned upon and if you use it, you have to buy the next round of drinks. You then push the token back, with a token of your own.

the Challenger may then either challenge another or add a third token and push back with "But I insist" or "But as Minister of Secrets and Classifications, I hereby authorize you to tell it just this once". This is Upping the Challenge or Double Dog Dare.


You must now begin your story or buy another round of drinks.

Telling the story is your time to shine. Make it over the top, over act, ham it up. DO it with style, grace, and complete disregard for reality. You must however, remain consistent. If you fought your way through 150 ninjas when you entered the temple to rescue the prince, they may not suddenly become 200 ninjas should you refer to them later in the story.

You may not insult another players heritage or nobility in the telling of your story. Doing so will cost you a round of drinks.

Once everyone has been challenged and told a story, whoever has the fewest tokens, buys a round of drinks.
​

With the right people and on a good night, you could have a surrounding crowd listening to your game that makes half the bar roar in laughter. It was a great way to meet people, get free drinks (without being a well endowed and scantily dressed young woman) and in general enjoy an evening. I always felt like Cyrano de Bergerac doing his "Something betters" or dueling whilst reciting a poem extempore. I once even achieved a feat, only three others (that I know of, no clue how many other people in the world play BvM) have accomplished. With only my rapier wit, silver tongue and devilish grin, I made a young woman laugh so hard she peed her pants. Doing so not only ends the game immediately, for obvious reasons, but also guarantees you don't have to buy a round the next time the game is played.

There's wonderful jolt of mild adrenaline as you frantically try to figure out how you are going to get past the royal guard to return the undergarments of the Queen of England, or steal a pair from the Princess of Jordan. The laughters, the smiles, the camaraderie is intoxicating more so then the drinks, with the possible exception of Jaeger bombs, but if you are playing BvM and drinking Jaeger, somewhere around the eighth story, it degenerates into slurred rambling and incoherent grunts.

Tonight, to honor my fellow liars, and story tellers and raconteurs, I'll open a bottle of Killian's and dub myself Sir Cumstantial of Devance, and reminisce about the time I caused 1000 amazon warriors to climax simultaneously and freed the Czarina of America.

 

[Katyusha]

Tonight, to honor my fellow liars, and story tellers and raconteurs, I'll open a bottle of Killian's and dub myself Sir Cumstantial of Devance, and reminisce about the time I caused 1000 amazon warriors to climax simultaneously and freed the Czarina of America.

Pray, continue...





























This sounds like such an inordinate amount of fun.

 

[cloudy]

This sounds like such an inordinate amount of fun.

I wanna play!!!

Although, as the illegitimate daughter of Duke Ridealot, Sir John Wayne, I don't possess a title, my story may not be worthy of inclusion. Sir John has, however, pledged the manor house and property in Allsandyanddry as my dowery.

 

[kimbalee]

I just want to sit and listen, with my legs crossed and Depends firmly in place, of course. oh, come on... you KNOW you'll need a designated driver by the end of the night!!

 

[Lady_Guenivere]

I have missed reading your musings.

 

[kiten69]

Tonight, to honor my fellow liars, and story tellers and raconteurs, I'll open a bottle of Killian's and dub myself Sir Cumstantial of Devance, and reminisce about the time I caused 1000 amazon warriors to climax simultaneously and freed the Czarina of America.

Where's the story?