Eye Roll

Horrible writing.

You know the, "omg i like totally got pissed off the othr day. that stupid bitch tried to steal my bf and i was like, get away from him. and if she reads this, if you don't get away from my bf i will hurt you. srsly. i will fuk u up."

Oh you will, will you? Thats funny, I didn't even notice the threat amongst all those misspelled words. Hmm, I'll have to read it again to catch it this time. Oh, THERE it is; no wonder I missed it! I didn't know it was a threat! It looked more like you were venturing out on your first attempt to spell the English Language. Whoops, sorry. Continue your scary threatening.

My automatic response to misspelling a word is to spell it correctly. Learn how to spell, it will improve your lifestyle and maybe your boyfriend WON'T cheat on you.

Lesson number two. If you want this girl to take you "srsly" then threaten her correctly! Use words she can't understand, mixed with words she knows. It'll be like feeding a child, mix some yummy unknown food with the yummy food they know and they'll eat it up without asking about the difference. They just know it's delicious. Use language like the example above, and the girl will probably laugh at you while doing her nails. At least if their anything like me they will which, I'm guessing she's not. I wouldn't want to steal your boyfriend.

So whenever I see writing like this, I can't help but roll my eyes. I can't take you seriously, you can't even spell your own name for God's sake. Education is a wonderful thing, get some.

Now I don't want anyone to be offended, (excuse me while I go roll my eyes) because I know a few friends of mine who do this and I don't mind because they are generally awesome people who are typing with tiny phone keyboards. I understand the chore it is to type with a tiny keyboard, but still.

For the love of spaghetti, please spell correctly so I don't have to roll my eyes. You know, they say if you roll your eyes enough, they might get stuck in the back of your head.....

V: [Evey pulls out her mace] I can assure you I mean you no harm.

Evey Hammond: Who are you?

V: Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask.

Evey Hammond: Well I can see that.

V: Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.

Evey Hammond: Oh. Right.

V: But on this most auspicious of nights, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona.

V: Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin van-guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition.
[carves V into poster on wall]

V: The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous.
[giggles]

V: Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.

Evey Hammond: Are you like a crazy person?

V: I am quite sure they will say so. But to whom, might I ask, am I speaking with?

Evey Hammond: I'm Evey.

V: Evey? E-V. Of course you are.

Evey Hammond: What does that mean?

V: It means that I, like God, do not play with dice and I don't believe in
coincidences.

That last line says it all for me.

People sometimes ask me whether I believe in God or not, what is my evidence that he exists, why do I believe and I quote them this quote above.

Sometimes I wonder, sometimes I doubt, and sometimes I flat out refuse to believe. However, when I'm done being angry I realize that if I have nothing to believe in, I am nothing. I'm like a doll, with no stuffing; without belief we have no substance.

Back to the quote. The reason why it is my favorite is that it rang true to my ears. I have been struggling for years to find a peaceful creed that I could live by, a small phrase or bunch of words that would tie together what I thought about God and why or if he exists.

I often hear scientists trying to prove that this planet was an accident or coincident, that something trigged and explosion, which triggered a huge reaction blah blah blah and then BOOM! Earth just decided to happen with all of it's intricate little details that we have yet to fully uncover. May I use some of John Constantine's words when I say, "They call it science. I call it hypocritical bullshit."

Science is good, like money is good, but when either of these are misused it creates a big problem. You're going to tell me, using science, that there is no "Supreme Being"? No God? No Allah? No what's-his-face-on-a-cloud? Then I shall promptly tell you, "Bullshit" yet again.

I won't tell you that I don't care what you believe in because every person who says that has just slapped a disclaimer on themselves. We do care what the person believes in, and sometimes we want them to believe in the same thing we do. So I'll say this, I do care what you believe in and like everything in this world there are good and bad religions so I want you to believe in mine because I think mine is right. Humans have been doing that for centuries so if this offends you, fine. This is America, and you can walk away if you don't like me.

Man I get easily sidetracked. Back to the quote we go again.

So I guess I chose that quote because it gave me comfort. One, because it puts me in the same place with God and two it gives me the unique right to say to anything that comes my way, "It was not a coincident. Something good will come out of it." No matter what happens in my life, this quote helps me to believe in God, in His amazing yet somehow mysterious plan for us all, and my small part in it. Whatever happens to me, good, bad, strange or weird, it happened for a reason.

It's the only way I can live. I must live without coincidence.

"A coincidence occurs when something uncanny, accidental and unexpected happens. The word is derived from the Latin co- ("in", "with", "together") and incidere ("to fall on"). In science, the term is generally used in a more literal translation, e.g., referring to when two rays of light strike a surface at the same point at the same time. In this usage of coincidence, there is no implication that the alignment of events is surprising, noteworthy or non-causal."

I don't remember when it first occurred to me that I was losing something and gaining another.

I remember sitting in my room when I was younger, imagining myself in a totally different dimension with magical creatures, dragons etc etc. You know, the normal imagination junkie child who can't get their head on straight because it's to busy running around with a three foot creature called a hobbit. So many times my mother would call my name and I would forget it was my name. I had given myself a new name in my new world, and if she didn't know it she could never call me. I would be so lost in that world that nothing could touch me; no pain, no mother who would scream and cry at me, nothing. I could wish myself away and be happy, safe and loved.

When the suicide next door happened, my imagination came up as a defense mechanism instead of a pleasant way to spend my days. The screaming didn't stop, the crying and yelling didn't stop and the pain blinding. I realized, climbing up the small hill behind my house into the woods, that this was reality. This cold, hash thing that adults lived in every day was reality. The screaming, the pain, the tears and the death filled my thoughts as I wondered what I was supposed to do now. Instead of facing reality, I lost myself. I had entered the world as a child with dreams and came out as a child with a force field around my heart. My imagination was now created as a desperate attempt to shut the world out instead of looking at it through rose colored glasses. Every time it would hurt, out came the imagination. It was the patch, the "drink me" bottle, and the problem solver to all pain. It was my drug.

My mother used to come home after listening to the survivor of the dead man and she would cry. She would scream, cry, and find something to yell at me about. Her anger hurt me, her pain hurt me but she couldn't get away from it, and neither could I. Then came the bottle, that dreaded blood red liquid that changed her anger to rage. I knew when I saw that bottle that something bad was going to happen, it always did. I would sit quietly as she ranted and raged, grasping at whatever dreams I could to keep me from bursting out into tears while she broke apart at my feet. I never realized how fragile the human psyche truly was. I tried to keep my face immovable, tried not to feel the intense pain running out of my body but it was hard. I kept it in, hid it until it forced it's way out of my body in the shape of scars and blood. I grimly realized while drawing red lines on my skin that it was reality I was trying to escape from. I couldn't make the pain go away anymore. It was chasing me, forcing me down and shoving my life down my throat. I had no control, I had no choice but that didn't stop me from dreaming. Even if the blood would trickle down my arm, I clung to my dreams. They felt like the only things I had left of my once strong defense. One more crack came in the form of love, but that is another story.

I began to grow up and try as I might, I can no longer easily access the world I once held in my hands. I have lost the ability to wish things away, immerse myself in a magical world or otherwise. The safe egg I had built around myself had begun to crack and the imagination began to leak around me in pools, dying while the ground of reality sucked it up hungrily.

I lost so much of my amazing ability to dream. I gained the ability to see reality for what it is. Which is better? Did I lose something valuable or did I gain something valuable?

I still believe that reality and imagination can be intertwined. I know I can because when I see the fireflies at night, I know I'm really seeing fairies. Belief is there, the dreams are real, only reality is the odd man out. I made the decision to never believe in reality, only in dreams. I may have lost the easy access to my imagination and I may have to work harder, but never will I ever lose my determination to believe in dreams.