lord_shade

Hey everybody! Welcome to my blog! Thanks to all those whom said hi. I appreciate hearing from you people. Let's hope to more correspondance.

Sorry about the lack of updates during the weekend. I was kept busy socially, and my boss took away one of my day's off. He may be a dick, but an extra day's pay helps during the holiday season.

I had a great time saturday night, playing Dungeons and Dragons with my old group. I played the Dwarven Fighter (often called 'Meat Shields'). He's a hard drinking soul with a Scottish accent, like stereotypical dwarves. But the difference? He's not reckless like most stereotypes. Here's an example.

Party Member: Well? Aren't you going to go fight them?

Arnam (That's me): There's a hundred and fifty goblins over there! I may be a dwarf, but i'm not stupid...


I like playing a gutsy, but cautious type. It's hard not to look like a coward in front of the party, but explain it with logic, and they start to see things more clearly.

On sunday morning, I went to church. Funny, I found as of late that I feel uncomfortable being there. Not like one of the churchgoers, but as an observer on the outside, looking into an entirely different and facinating culture, complete with its own slang and cliques. The difference from any other grouping? They all mingle a little. Such a complex relationship web they weave. Would keep a sociologist busy for months. *L*

But a bizarre thing happened that day, which I still think of. I once again meet a girl at the church I used to have a crush on. The love I had in my heart for her died a long time ago, when I found out it was nothing more than a powerful form of lust. Now, I look at her as the outsider looking in, not being sure what to make of this potential threat to me, for the scars of her rejection, though long formed solid, still smarted.

She must have sensed my discomfort when I was talking with a group, when she happened to come by. However, I doubt that she understood what was vexing me. She talked to another churchgoer, talking about going out to lunch with some others after services, and then she invited me to come along (and very innocently at that).

She said, "You have a mean face."

That's when I realized she knew I was disconcerted, though from the inquisitiveness of her question and the lack of discomfort on her part, I don't think she found out that I didn't want to be around her.

I told her, "I would like to go, but I promised some friends that I would play Risk with them." All the while, I was making apologetic hand gestures to eloquate my point, and trying hard not to catch her gaze (the eyes are the windows to the soul; if you don't want people to know too much, don't let them look into your eyes). It was the truth. I promised I would play Risk and have my armies of Black Death conquer all. So conveniently, I had an excuse. I was off the hook, and didn't need to risk being rude about refusing an invitation.

Without missing an emotional beat, she moved on to my friend, whom arranged plans with her.

I'm not sure what to make of it. Not what she did, but how I feel. I don't love her anymore. When I think of her, I only think of the coldness of my emotions towards her as I tried to detatch myself from how I felt about being rejected. I thought of how she seemed cowardly, for she did not reject me herself, but sent a third party to do it for her (and my friend, at that!). I felt lonely, but knew that what had happened was right, for there was nothing worth getting from her.

But that rejection still hurts, and it leaves me bitter. It disgusts me, this bitterness, but I can't deny that I feel it.

Perhaps I'm overtly passionate? Desperate? Or maybe I wanted to reach out to someone, to find a companion, after so many years of being a pariah in highschool, and a recluse in college? All three? None?

Either way, I lusted for something. Lust doesn't have to be physical. It can be mental as well. And it can be a very dangerous emotion.