Her eyes closed in pleasure. Her head, tilted just at the right angle for her to have a look at heaven. Her body was reclined in such a vulnerable pose ready for that blissful surrender. Her captor stood in front of her. Clad in his angelic regalia with his wings outspread set for the strike. The spear was drawn up…and then the thrust.

Fire.

She felt searing fire.

The sweetness of pain engulfed her sinews with such force, she felt weightless. Again and again the fiery weapon sought her. Every plunge of that weapon was excruciating, delightful pain, but she wanted more. Inside, it produced bursts of pleasure. Raging pleasure not found else where. She was afire. It was total surrender; the senses could not be classified anymore. The blaze was coiling and swallowing her. The senses had converged. Every thrust pierced every muscle. She was pulsating in fire, until…relief. She was overcome with the greatest sense of satisfaction.

a glimpse eternity followed ecstasy.

She swooned.

I know that it’s been a while. A long while. There were some computer issues, and then an imposing review board, and then I had to move house, and then I had to ensure that my zombie survival plan was up to date with my new living accommodations, and then I had to check that my new flatmates weren’t zombies, and then I had to go to London, and then I had to fly to Toronto, and then back, and then there was a summer of Fringe activities… etc, etc, etc. A busy time is a stressful time, and stressful times detract from my heightened zombie-awareness state of mind, making me think about other, more mundane, and much less un-dead things.

Fortunately, I now have a new thought to put to you regarding the preparation for, and survival of, the imminent zombie apocalypse. Okay, so I didn’t have any new thoughts, but then I took a break and spoke to my most trusted advisor (aka my little brother), and we brainstormed. And now I have SEVERAL such ideas, which I shall dole out to you piecemeal, in order to increase your expectation for the next, and ever more brilliant, post.

Tonight, I shall be revealing to you two of the biggest hotspots for zombies. These two locations are, if you’ll permit my use of the term, the “hangouts” for the hordes of un-dead. Your knowledge of these locations will benefit you in two rather monumental ways: first of all, you can avoid these places on a daily basis, should you not be prepared to take on masses of rotting face gnashers. Second of all, should the zombies begin their inevitable uprise, you will know where to strike first in order to achieve maximum damage to their numbers.

Location the first: RAVES

Yes, raves. You know, ecstasy, trance music, glow sticks/paint, scantily clad young people making poor decisions under the influence of alcohol and/or illegal substances,lasers, etc. Oh yeah, zombies love them. It could have something to do with the zombie-like appearance of many ravers towards the end of the evening, after hours of dancing and whatever they have been imbibing have taken their toll. Naturally, this setting would offer the zombies a sense that they are returning to the fold. Furthermore, the light shows and throbbing crowds of young people create the greatest possible draw for a zombie, an attraction which they simply cannot refuse.

Spot the undead... it's harder than any Where's Waldo book.

Whichever of the many, many reasons for why zombies frequent raves, it is a good thing for us that they do. In addition to gathering them together into a perfect target for a well-placed air strike, the rave’s hypnotic “UNCE-UNCE-UNCE” beat enthrals the zombies, keeping them away from areas of refuge as the major urban centres empty in panic. The music can also soothe the un-dead, making them slightly less resistant to chainsaw attacks and attempted decapitation. Keeping some rave music on your mp3 player can therefore aid in your struggle against the rampant brain-gobbling army of death.

Location the second: T.G.I.FRIDAY’S

I know, I know. It’s so innocent looking – with the stripey logo, the “I sympathise with your dull, repetitive work week in a way that is charming and alluring” name, and the mildly greasy, casual dining atmosphere. You’d never think that T.G.I. Friday’s would be the watering hole for the un-dead. Well, maybe you wouldn’t. Personally I don’t really find it comes as much of a surprise.

Consider, for a moment, the T.G.I Friday’s appetiser menu: loaded potato skins, some sort of artichoke dip, and maybe some deep fried squid tentacles of sorts… Stuffed mushroom caps, chicken wings, chicken strips, mozzarella sticks, piled high to share. Yes, all of these sound very appetising, and none of them sound particularly suited to a zombie’s palate.

Innocently delicious?

However, consider the fact that zombies, being un-dead, probably can’t see too well. We’ve already discussed their cellular degeneration process in a previous post, and you can see this process in its clearest physical manifestation as “rotting”, evident in nearly all zombie examples. This cellular degeneration would clearly have internal ramifications as well, such as a visual experience no doubt far less than 20/20 – for evidence consider Shaun of the Dead, in which the heroes were able to escape being eaten alive by impersonating zombies. This would indicate that the zombies were only capable of perceiving vague shapes and motion, and thus don’t attach anything exhibiting slow, rambling movements.

I do not believe zombies can taste or smell, either: one would imagine that zombies would have been able to distinguish the living from the dead by smell if not by sight, and yet in no zombie movie that I am aware of are zombies capable of sniffing out a sweating, reaking, hidden human in the vicinity. Hence: no sense of smell. And that particular sense being connected to the sense of taste as well would suggest that zombies have no idea what they’re actually eating when they go to T.G.I. Friday’s (all the better for them, I think).

So what is left? What would draw them to T.G.I. Friday’s all over the world to consume nibbles they cannot see, smell, or taste? Consider the texture, my friends. The feel of ripping apart a chicken strip; of biting through the crunchy skin of a mozzarella stick to find the warm, gooey, stringy contents dripping down your chin and hands; of squishing stuffed mushrooms, with their spongy yet wet consistency, between your teeth; of tearing the flesh from the bones of a chicken wing; of feeling the rubbery crunch of the calamari rings; the soft, mushy filling of the loaded potato skins. Remind you of anything?

The Times Square Platter: stemming the tides of the insatiable undead?

Now imagine that you are a zombie eating a living person: I feel that certain phrases and descriptions would easily carry over from our previous sensory experience. “Ripping apart”. “Biting through”. “Warm, gooey, stringy contents”. “Spongy consistency”. “Tearing the flesh”. “Rubbery crunch”. “Soft, mushy filling”. Yes, zombies eat at T.G.I Friday’s because it is the nearest experience to consuming someone bit by bit. Rending flesh from bone, feeling the oozing of blood and other fluids, squishing eyeballs and internal organs, gnawing on cartilage, and finally scooping the soft, mushy filling from our skulls to satiate their unquenchable appetite for brains.

Yes, for now we are safe. So long as T.G.I. Friday’s keeps their appetisers cheap and plentiful. However, in the current economic climate many businesses are facing trouble. Fewer diners are splurging on heaping portions of bland fettuccine Alfredo dishes, and fewer partiers are laying out cash on glow sticks and “E”. Could our collectively shit financial sense be that which springs upon us that final, most devastating blow?

I think it’s time we all buy American, folks…

Your secret irresistible voice whispers in my ear.
When you are close enough for my mind to feel the heat
of your Sen-Sen scented breath the desire in me
rattles the bars of my mental confinement,
screaming like a simian in a circus cage.

Desire is replaced with unfathomable passion, longing,
the corpse past, the moment a bog of unformed sculptors clay.
Your hands will mold it, thumbs, fingers gouging, stroking
the flesh until it is what you want it to be.
There will be resistance, a denying of the inevitable.

That cloying thrill when your body barely touches mine,
the anticipation an ecstasy, the taking a sensual summit,
sucking at my soul, devouring it until your creation is finished.
Fired by passion, this ceramic investment of chelations awaits the
cast when again your secret irresistible voice whispers in my ear.

Copyright: 2009, Donald Harbour

Don’t get me wrong on this, but it’s only my dad ^_^!

Last Saturday marked the start of the extended classes. The issue was I did not attended the class due to a high fever which gave me all the chills all night. So I spent the whole day downing on those painkillers and whatever medicine above the counter just to feel a sudden relief from both headache and fever.

Then I started to feel a quite better by Sunday and asked my classmates about what happened and what were the things that I missed on that Saturday Madness. After a few moments, I sneezed so badly. (as if the whole world notice my doing) Similar to that Saturday moment,  I was nothing; another vapor in the air. Fine, I don’t give a damn about you guys caring about me.

By Sunday evening to Monday morning, as expected: the damsel had a flu. At first, I thought that I just need a stretch but what I needed was a day-off from all that paperwork and system overload at school. Dad came home from work and arrived at some time at 11 am. He kept on asking mom why am I still swimming at my bed at such an hour. Mom was just too aggressive and was blaming me for getting sick. She said that everything was my fault. She said that every misfortune was because of me. She kept on bragging about me as the negative, the idiot, the black sheep, and everything that associates better on those words. I just cringed on my bed and try to feel that as if I was deaf that I did not heard anything. I cried and cried till I felt painless, benumbed and paralyzed with my eyes on the ceiling…dreaming of a better mom.

I just woke up, had a few bites for lunch, and very well had lost my appetite. All of a sudden after drinking water and all those pills,I collapsed down to bed. During the warmth of my fever I felt another warmness. It was my father. He caressed my hands and face. I just remember the times when he’ll laugh at me and say that I am just one carbon copy of my mom which I probably am disgusted of. He covered me with a blanky and let me perspire for a bit, fed me up, and let me watch those basketball games: San Beda vs San Sebastian! hahahaah! Even though  it was not the UAAP Games still it was nice to see the guys on the court with all their hopes raised in the finals. By afternoon my sister took care of me for my dad was already in need of his work in the office.

It was fun to know that after all the shame that I felt from my dad was melted away. Fathers will surely never upset their kids. Who could ever imagine that someone cared for me as I was  sick except for a close guy friend of mine who’s too paranoid of me when I’m off to have a fever. Yet no matter how one’s fathers upset you, one should always bear in mind that they might be that way for they’re just afraid of you doing the choices that they made when they were your age.  Well, I guess that’s just for me now.

For now, all I wanted is to spend the rest of my days with him for he will always be the first guy to care for me, who loved and treasured me the most.

Darn it, now I realized how abnormal ate thea’s life is. A life without a father. A life without my dad. Very much, I am looking forward for this Sunday’s meeting with her.And of course, sana makapasok at hindi na ako mabinat!!!

When I want to show someone how I feel toward them but don’t know what to say, “A Sloop of Amber slips away”, by Emily Dickinson demonstrates an alternative to wringing my hands. “Just look at what a day does in expressing its parting,” the poem implies.

A Sloop of Amber slips away
Upon an Ether Sea
And wrecks in peace a Purple Tar -
The Son of Ecstasy -

A sloop, a sailing vessel with a single mast set about one third of the boat’s length at or near or toward the stern of the bow, is a mighty lovely thing when watched from the shore. Instead of using flowery adjectives to describe a sunset, the poet draws on metaphysical elements of this time of day.  Erasure of time. Non-visible impacts of its loveliness. The day at its end, in amber colors, “slips away”.

The recipient of this poem can enjoy the subjectivity of loss and beauty and the interplay between the two as, in Dickinson’s poem, they are eternally combined “Upon an Ether Sea”.

Also, there is a tint of war’s claim on most sailing vessels of that era, “And wrecks in peace a Purple Tar -”. The instantaneous peacefulness we feel when viewing a gorgeous sunset breaks up, is wrecked, as quickly as it settles on us. For, we are tarred, trapped in the knowledge that it also means that it will never be again.

It is the going, the departure, that is “The Son of Ecstasy”.  The parting months of every year arrive with fall; the hours of every day with sunset, a sloop slips away, here, in a poignant dramatization of loss. These moments of bitter-sweet, and sometimes just plain bitter, are the offspring of ecstasy: that of love and being together.

Perhaps, too the recipient is one who is leaving. No heavy handed good-byes, here. Only the potential of the recipient of this poem to regard his or her move out of town, or of a deadly disease, or, simply of two friends growing apart. The demureness in the poem is as nature itself, which offers endless pictorial displays to say for us what we somehow fail to say.

I am too bold, I’m sure, to think Dickinson may have broken with her habit of not doing so, and given one of her poems a title: “Please accept a Sunset -”. I see in my book of historical recordings of the poet’s notes and other information gleaned when she left behind more than one version of various poems, (The Poems of Emily Dickinson variorum edition, edited by R.W. Franklin), that at least part of her intention in writing this poem was to send a gift to a friend or loved one. Dickinson’s introduction of her sentiment is expressed, when, as Franklin notes, “the poem was introduced with the request: ‘Please accept a Sunset -’ “.

Digest A Poem A Day – Accept What Comes Your Way

Probably the most obvious correlation between recreational drugs and popular music is within the genre of dance music. Public use of the drug MDMA (popularly known and sold as Ecstasy, a concoction of MDMA mixed with amphetamine) could well have been the trigger for the revolution of electronic dance music, and the continuing change in the youthful society’s perception of drugs, due to the birth of ‘rave culture’.

MDMA was first synthesised just before the First World War, by the German pharmaceutical company, Merck, who wanted to produce an amphetamine-like drug to suppress hunger. However, it was never marketed, and was not rediscovered until the late sixties. Like LSD, the ‘psychedelic amphetamine’ was used in tests by psychiatrists, due to the drug boosting an empathetic response in the patient. Of course, like LSD, it was leaked out onto the streets and by the mid-seventies had become very popular with the gay scene in New York, Chicago and Boston.

A culture existed within the gay clubs where drugs were already paramount to the experience of clubbing; speed, LSD, Quaaludes and PCP were all commonly used. As MDMA started making its appearances in this scene, DJs started to change the kind of music they played – originally they mixed disco records back to back, to keep the amphetamine fuelled crowds dancing. However, ecstasy’s effect upon the consciousness soon transpired into the music of the scene; disco was replaced by ‘house’; a style alike to disco that utilised electronic music production, creating a more spacey, and robotically repetitive feel. This repetitive beat would be the backbone of all dance music – due to MDMA creating a longing for repetition in the user. By the eighties, the use of psychedelic drugs was starting to lead the dance genre onto new levels – ‘acid house’ was created, so called because it was said to recreate the feel of an acid trip. However, it was not in America that rave culture first emerged in a big way, as the American gay culture was segregated from the public’s mindset and consciousness. This drug and dance music scene did not reach the mainstream until it was exported to the UK.

Since 1982 MDMA had been coming into Britain in small amounts from the club scene in New York. Due to the low quantity of the drug, its use was reserved for the social elite – the yuppies, musicians, fashion designers and journalists of Soho. However, soon it would break into working class culture, because of its press coverage. The youth of Britain starting getting into ecstasy, as well as the dance music created by the drug users in America and Ibiza. By 1987, new club scenes were taking off in big cities like London and Manchester, and MDMA was right at the heart of them.

The drug was soon spread all over the country, and people were not confining this rave culture to four walls; open air raves were being organised, causing much trouble for the police. These raves were important, because we can link them to the psychedelic inspired open air gigs of the sixties. (These started early in the decade, on the west coast, and then grew into Woodstock by 1969.) However, it is not just the drug use which holds correlations – the sentiment remains the same. The communal hallucinogen experience is a union of consciousness between people, linked by a hedonistic transcendentalism; the MDMA experience is very similar, due to the empathy boosting qualities of the drug – for the users, it seemed to create a deep connection between total strangers. The harsh social reality of the 1980s had created a view of cynicism within Britain, and by the start of the nineties the youth of the country was searching for an alternative; this was found in altered states of awareness and new realties, and their community spirit was rekindled in a tribal sense of fellowship, due to being involved in a strong drug experience with many other people.

So herein lays the truth of ecstasy: the psychedelic amphetamine is a perfect description – half of the drug’s intention is to give energy for dancing to the repetitive music, whilst the other half is concerned with anthropologic missions of consciousness. This helped shape the dance music that was being produced – ambient sounds and filter sweeps created a psychedelic backdrop, whilst a repetitive 4/4 beat blasted away underneath. Building moments in the music became very important, for these heightened the MDMA rush. Break-downs in the music (particularly in trance) were given a ‘spaceyness’ that also brought up the mood of those on ecstasy.

A problem we face when analysing dance music and ecstasy is due to them being culturally coupled so tightly that it is not really possible to consider one without the other. For example, if parts of dance music are designed to create a rise in the drug user, have they ceased to be music and become biological science? Does it really matter if the music appears to be lacking in meaning, and only has a practical purpose?

Rave culture was created by many factors; we could use the set and setting model to demonstrate the mood of the time. Despite the culture being open to other drugs, such as LSD, psilocybin mushrooms and ketamine, ecstasy was the drug which started the trend, and is directionally proportional to the changes in dance music; as the quality of the drug decreased, the music changed to match it, moving from a ‘tripped-out’ soundscape of MDMA bliss, to a hard and fast amphetamine charged stomp of music. But the one thing we must remember, especially if we are not so fond of dance music, is that ecstasy has a lot of music to answer for – it did not just help to create upbeat electronic music, but also relaxing ambient music forms, from the chill out areas in the clubs of the rave scene.

A carpet below of velvet green
 redolent garden in between
the sun the clouds in magical attire
mountains standing even higher
a place full of majestic trees
facing mighty zephyr breeze
rhyming with the nightingale
the song of love,the lofty dale
symphony of the fluttering wings
a kingdom of the king of kings

i do not know,what place is this
a timeless delusion,a state of bliss
abstruse !!! an ecstasy’s kiss
inconceivable but true,like dreams
like you !!!!!

i stand alone and bare feet
spell bounded by a plaintive bleat
underneath the eyes of earth
telling me my lifeless worth
stranger than the strange to hear
any thing but that to appear
i am but i am sure
nothing much was ever pure
its touch,i know ,i belive,i do
made my emotions to constantly grew
and i could see it,very clear
you are there,you are near

my passion,my ardor,my flair,my zeal
my senses , and they make me feel
i need not open my eyes to see
to feel you somewhere close to me
and you are there ,i belive i do
god knows and it is true
for single smile your face discloses
i can secern you in thousand roses
and i will wait ,and stand composed
i will stand there to winds exposed

for every single,my heart that beat
i feel you walk and barefeet
how so ever incomplete
and wait shall make it more than sweet
and you will break,like  kiss of dawn
on this god’s beautiful lawn
still i stand in trust and hope
for you to come ,to touch me to cope

i close my eyes ,and its time i guess
you are here , my hallow bless
in front of me,not so far
is it you,ofcorse you are
you are there ,to end despair
i feel your presence in this air
come and sing me,in my ear
“i am yours and i am  here”

near near,and very near
i feel you close ,closer than here
is it ok to touch you dear
and you hold my hand ,and in my ear
sang that song,i wanted to hear
with your voice of velvet dreams
and  flashes of the brightest gleams
you tell me its already sunrise
its time,,,now open your eyes

and as i did what you told me to
every thing just got so blue
as it as seems,as one assumes
everything burns to fade in fumes
and i woke up from slumber again
it fell apart like skies and rain
no where you were
and no where you were to be seen
the dreams,the truth and in between
but i know i do,may be unclear as mist
but in some part of world you do exist

taken from http://www.gmanews.tv/story/172558/defense-turns-table-on-witness-in-ruby-rose-slay

09/18/2009 | 12:11 AM

The man who led authorities to the location of Ruby Rose Barrameda’s body should also be investigated for his involvement in the murder, a witness for the defense said Thursday.

Eduardo Abiog, the driver of the suspects in the case, said Manuel Montero had a motive in killing Ruby Rose as the two allegedly had an illicit relationship and were drug users.

In a press briefing, Abiog said Montero had asked him on a number of times to buy drugs from Ruby Rose at the JR Carwash in BF Homes, Parañaque City. He said the two were Ecstacy users.

“Sinabi rin sa akin ni Montero na tuwing sila ay nagkikita ni Ruby, maliban sa ginagawa nitong pagdadala ng droga ay sabay pa silang gumagamit ng droga hanggang maramdaman nila ang luwalhati,” said Abiog.

(Montero told me he and Ruby Rose would use drugs together to get high.)

The body of Ruby Rose, sister of former actress and beauty queen Rochelle Barrameda, was fished out of Navotas waters encased in cemented steel case based from a tip from Montero. She had been missing since March 2007.

Ruby Rose’s family, meanwhile, called Abiog’s testimony a “desperate move” by the suspects, particularly Ruby Rose’s father-in-law, Manuel Jimenez Jr., and his brother, businessman Lope Jimenez.

“Matindi po ang paniniwala na desperate moves na po ‘yung ginagawa nila sa pagsira po sa katauhan ng kapatid ko. Patay na po ang kapatid ko, hindi na po niya mapagtatanggol ang sarili niya,” Rochelle said.

(This is a desperate move to destroy the character of my sister, who can’t defend herself anymore.)

The Department of Justice (DOJ) had already filed murder charges against the two Jimenezes, Montero, and three others namely Eric Fernandez, Lennard Descalso, and Robert Ponce.

The complaint against the victim’s estranged husband, Manuel Jimenez III, was however dismissed due to lack of evidence. - GMANews.TV

Have you ever wondered,
Why I always keep on coming back for more?
What have you done to me,
I’ll never be the same I’ll tell you for sure
You really are my ecstasy,
My real life fantasy

- ATB (Ecstacy)

I’m dope and a dealer, I push myself. By the way, hit the jump for why I am so jealous that Roland got to see this song live over the Summer here in NYC.

After more than a few days without internet, or proper sanitary conditions… House has been completely revamped… and its looking great!

Classes begin tomorrow, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. P finally made her way to the 44 to move in, finally. Tonight’s mission: tape and edge kitchen. I am quite nervous for tomorrow. For this semester; it’s more of an anxious ecstasy.

The word cosmic comes to mind.

Courses:

Frenchy French

English Senior Sem: Sense and Sexuality

English Senior Sem: 20th cent Literature (comic novels)

Global Crisis (in conjunction with independent study)

It’s time to go back to school!  And if we are to believe a recent CASA study, some kids are returning to school with a hangover.

A recent “back to school” survey finds that two thirds of teens who drink once a month get drunk when they do drink and are 18 times more likely to use marijuana and to associate with teens who abuse other illegal drugs.

The main factor in whether or not children drink is whether or not they have witnessed their parent getting drunk. The study was published as part of an ongoing project at the Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse at Columbia University (CASA).

The study was conducted with 1,000 teens, age 12 to 17, and 472 parents of these teens.  This is the 14^th such study undertaken by CASA in order to bring growing awareness to parents and educators about the dangers of drug abuse and the effects that parents can have on their children’s decision to drink and take drugs.

The study also showed that parents who are careful not to drink in front of their children and are proactive in talking to their children can a have a large effect on what their children think about drugs and alcohol.  What parents tell their children does matter.

Parents who are not clear about the dangers of alcohol and drug use or worse encourage their children to drink are doing their children harm.  These children are far more likely to have alcohol problems later in life and are much more likely to do drugs.

Compared to teens who have never tried alcohol teens who abuse alcohol are:

• 18 times likelier to have tried marijuana;
• 4 times likelier to be able to get marijuana in an hour;
• Almost 4 times likelier to know someone their age who abuses prescription drugs;
• More that 3 times likelier to have friends who use marijuana; and
• More than twice as likely to know someone their age who uses meth or ecstasy, or other drugs such as cocaine, heroin or LSD.

Narconon drug treatment 877-413-3073

I am moving into the home tomorrow. The Home. I am so thrilled. And have continued conversations over the course of my IS this fall. I am so excited. I know that there are other words, but this will have to do, for now.

I am also finishing up scarf no.2 of the season. (The first is a present for my dear Nata!) Scarf no.2 is probably my favorite, thus far. (Am also working on a ridiculously rastafarian-colored afghan, and it makes me chuckle as I advance my pointer-finger’s arthritis!

Just pre-ordered Cold World: The aesthetics of dejection and the politics of militant dysphoria and am quite excited about it. One week to go!

Ok, I know that earlier I said that I was delighted about having the exams over and done with but at the time I didn’t know what I was on about.

I was on the train reading the Metro on my way home with my earphones in when Alan gets on. Me, being engrossed in an article about magic wands and muscle clenchers didn’t notice him at first but then when I glanced around after reading I was sure I recognised him.

But anyway, we got chatting about music and about how Aislinn had insulted both of us because we both have flutes and then we got talking about college and phones and internet and whatnot.

I don’t know what it was but talking to him seems to have been the catalyst for the extreme delight that I was feeling about the exams being over, even Broombridge seemed nice…

From there I went to work and I haven’t been so hyper or giddy in work in quite a while! Luckily it was kinda busy or I would have driven myself crazy with nothing to do.

Another thing that was highly amplified was the delight at getting to see Cheryl later on. Every time she entered my head I just couldn’t wait for work to be over so that I could rush out to meet her. Even the fact that it wasn’t all about Cheryl that I was heading out – her parents are now demanding that I be introduced to them before we go to Alton Towers – it didn’t take away from the delight. The meeting of her parents just seemed like a very little and easily manageable situation. I was just in such a great mood that it just couldn’t go wrong!

Well I’m going to be heading in a few minutes so I guess I’ll find out how infectious my good mood is in a little while…

http://sivers.org/drama  - Interesting commentary from Kurt Vonnegut

…

He explained why people have such a need for drama in their life.

He said, “People have been hearing fantastic stories since time began. The problem is, they think life is supposed to be like the stories. Let’s look at a few examples.”

…

Our lives drifts along with normal things happening. Some ups, some downs, but nothing to go down in history about. Nothing so fantastic or terrible that it’ll be told for a thousand years.

“But because we grew up surrounded by big dramatic story arcs in books and movies, we think our lives are supposed to be filled with huge ups and downs! So people pretend there is drama where there is none.”

That’s why people invent fights. That’s why we’re drawn to sports. That’s why we act like everything that happens to us is such a big deal.

We’re trying to make our life into a fairy tale.