Indefinite Hiatus

I have merged the posts on this site into my main site at http://musesings.wordpress.com because I barely update here often enough to justify a separate blog for it.  Look for future posts by Gida there.

thanks for reading!

Stand in the Rain

So, I got following a lot of links around the internet and wordpress in particular and somehow ended up on a lot of topics from and for abused women and children…yeah.  One led to a youtube video that was nicely done, but this “related” song linked at the side caught my attention.  I have to post this unexpected extra, it definitely made me think of Gida.  She often gives in to her anger and apathy or pretends not to care in order to avoid the tears, but either way, she stands her ground.  Heck, who am I kidding, this song touches me too.  Thanks Superchic[k].

Stand in the Rain

by Superchic[k]

She never slows down
She doesn’t know why but
she knows that when
She’s all alone feels
Like it’s all coming down
She won’t turn around
The shadows are long
And she fears if she cries
That first tear
The tears will not stop
Raining down

So stand in the rain
Stand your ground
Stand up when it’s all crashing down
You stand through the pain
You won’t drown
And one day what’s lost can be found
You stand in the rain

She won’t make a sound
Alone in this fight with herself
And the fears whispering
If she stands, she’ll fall down
She wants to be found
The only way out is through
everything she’s running from
Wants to give up and lie down

So stand in the rain
Stand your ground
Stand up when it’s all crashing down
You stand through the pain
You won’t drown
And one day what’s lost can be found
You stand in the rain

So stand in the rain
Stand your ground
Stand up when it’s all crashing down
Stand through the pain
You won’t drown
And one day what’s lost can be found

So stand in the rain
Stand your ground
Stand up when it’s all crashing down
You stand through the pain
You won’t drown
And one day what’s lost can be found
You stand in the rain

Silent Moments

I could pretend no one else exists out here.  No damned people.  Just the stars…and the moon.  Always the moon.  Out here, she fills the sky, my thoughts.  In there…it’s a different problem entirely.  I sound so damned pathetic.  This is why I don’t write.  I look at what I write and it looks so…I hate thinking about this.  All of it.  Damned mage.  At least she doesn’t want to read this crap.  She’d be disappointed anyway, no way in fel, there’s a reason I burn half the entries.

For so long, the only stable thing, the only one who has ever cared is the moon.  Just a, what am I?  Something that doesn’t deserve that, not anymore.  I was dragged away, down here, and here I’ll stay, beating back the shadows.  I can’t believe I’m about to do this.  Give me a good mark and I’m game.  Send a flaky mage on me and she has me writing poetry.  What’s her deal anyway?  Damned job.  Not happy enough I’m writing this crap.

Silences presses my ears

As the moonglow beckons

But I cannot answer

Violence presses my dreams

At moonglow’s dimming

At first cry’s answer

No fence presses my fate

While moonglow persists

I will not answer

Soul rent, presses my mind

Scream in the darkness

No one answers

I’m no good at this shit.  Can’t wait ’til this job’s over.

Cloudy Nights

Can you miss the sun when you’re not even sure it was real?  It felt real I use to see it in the moon.  Maybe that’s why I am feeling so lonely today, missing the moon, afraid to shadow that gentle light with my night-darkened clouds ever again.  The moon deserves better.  Can’t help feeling that powerlessness childhood brought.  Frustrating.  Things were supposed to be happy, you’re a kid.  All the stories end up lies.

Can’t help but wonder, is everyone just really good at disguising the same pains, the same betrayals, or did I somehow cosmically deserve what the stories say should never happen to a kid. It’s what the better off try to believe, it seems.  Those who are inherently good may experience troubles, but their life is no sadder than average.  The rest of us, those without parents, or those dragged down by repeated, unusual tragedy.  We deserved it, we must deserve it, otherwise they are not safe, their children are not safe from our kind of tragedies.

Did I somehow deserve having the sun ripped out of my life?  Damn them and their lies about justice, innocence, and happy endings.  It’s not the way the story should go.  But this isn’t a story, is it?  Stories are a tease, mocking some of us for what we will never have and what was taken away, giving us false hope that kicks us with lies after we’ve fallen.  And I question myself, schooled to believe their lies.  I deserve this.

I fight.  That child is angry still.  I survive to mar their perfect lie.   I persist because both eyes need to be open.  I see some of them squirm and wonder.  I hope it makes them question their perfect hopes and beliefs.  Likely, it only turns me into another awful person who deserves awful things.  That storm cloud who questions the sunlight and ruins fun outings.  They are oblivious that their willful blindness is at fault.  I hate people.

I miss the moon, but she’s happy.  I want that more.

Personality Test Band Wagon

I debated not taking this test since Gida is never one to jump on a band wagon of any sort.  But, since it is OOC and was a fun way to get to know Gida better, I decided to do it anyway.  Her results:

Introverted (I) 87.5% Extroverted (E) 12.5%
Sensing (S) 52.78% Intuitive (N) 47.22%
Thinking (T) 82.14% Feeling (F) 17.86%
Judging (J) 55.17% Perceiving (P) 44.83%

Your type is: ISTJ

ISTJ – “Trustee”. Decisiveness in practical affairs. Guardian of time- honored institutions. Dependable. 11.6% of total population.

Turns out, I feel the description fitted to Gida must be a joke.  Not many people would see the cold, occasionally smirking Gida as a “Trustee” to anything, including Gida.  However, she is extremely dependable, protective, and loyal to those she cares for, it is all low-key to the point that the targets of her guardianship may be completely unaware of it, or at least unaware of just how far her efforts in this area truly go.  The middle of the statement seems particularly funny in relation to Gida.  She seems a bit anti-establishment to me but I suppose it depends on what “time-honored institutions” you are speaking of, then there are others that she would just as soon be torn apart than guarded.  She is extremely pessimistic and critical of many time-honored institutions.  Since Gida trusts no one, not even the people she cares about (though she may never tell them that she doesn’t), it strikes me as particularly funny that she should be labeled a “trustee.”  Then again, I suppose, in some cases, the best person to trust is the person that trusts no one.  With Gida, however, she makes an extremely poor person to trust if you are not one of the few who has earned her loyalty.  She’s one of the last people you should trust if she doesn’t actually care about you.

I turned to the Wikipedia explanation to see if it offers more accurate insights, as well as the inspector type, but decided not to post it because it is wrong in most places and only applicable to Gida in a few.  It seems to me that, at a basic level, the test is accurate, but when they begin to describe the underlying motives and activities an ISTJ gets into, that’s where the description departs from Gida.  As an example, when the test asks if she is more comfortable than the known, than the unknown, it may take discomfort with the unknown as a signal that someone is more traditional, rather than an obsessive need to know what is unknown.  After conversing with Lucy’s player, I think this might be because Gida is more of a grey personality and (as she says) the tests probably assume that the person in question is a “good” person.  Maybe describing a dysfunctional ISTJ would be more accurate for her.  Gida isn’t bad, but she isn’t good either.  If you were to ask her and she was having a rare moment of open honesty she would tell you she is not evil, but she is definitely not good either, which is a function of her low sense of self-worth, a part of her that she hides and guards most heavily, almost to the point of denial most of the time (but she doesn’t over-compensate by being an insufferable superior personality).  She hides it with neutrality and a closed-off approach to feelings.

Had Enough

Yeah, another “cheating” entry in which I am posting a song I feel captures a bit of Gida. The thing with this song is…even I’m not sure if this was something aimed at Karai when he was still alive, something she is singing at herself, or a confused mix of both. The song is “Had Enough” by Breaking Benjamin.

Had Enough

Milk it for all it’s worth.
Make sure you get there first.
The apple of your eye.
The rotten core inside.
We are all prisoners.
Things couldn’t get much worse.
I’ve had it up to here, you know your end is near.

You had to have it all,
Well have you had enough?
You greedy little bastard,
You will get what you deserve.
When all is said and done,
I will be the one to leave you in the misery and hate what you’ve become.

Intoxicated eyes, no longer live that life.
You should have learned by now, I’ll burn this whole world down.
I need some peace of mind, no fear of what’s behind.
You think you’ve won this fight, you’ve only lost your mind.

You had to have it all,
Well have you had enough?
You greedy little bastard,
You will get what you deserve.
When all is said and done,
I will be the one to leave you in the misery and hate what you’ve become.

Hold me down (I will live again)
Pull me out (I will break it in)
Hold me down (better in the end)
Hold me down.

You had to have it all,
Well have you had enough?
You greedy little bastard,
You will get what you deserve.
When all is said and done,
I will be the one to leave you in the misery and hate what you’ve become.

(screaming) Heaven help you.

Stars

Her life is so happy now, full. I know she misses me. Tonight, as I sat by the edge of the Tanaris sea, on a crop of boulders she once stood on, I could almost hear the ocean breeze carrying her song to me. I looked up at the stars and thought, it’s the same sky. The same one she sees. We aren’t so far apart after all. Once, I allowed my life to darken hers and it eventually led to, well, I almost lost her. Now, more than anything I want her to have what she does now. It’s the least she deserves. And though I know she misses me, it’s best this way. Maybe some day…for now, I cannot risk her. I know she is strong, I just do not think it is…I am not strong enough to lose her again. To watch my life bring hers down. I can hear her taunting, as when we were kids. “You can’t catch me!” and now I’ve watched her run until I can no longer see her, unaware that I’m not hiding in the next set of bushes to catch her. I’ve snuck off in the opposite direction. I’m sorry, love. At least we can still share the stars.

Count Me Out

(( Gida’s thoughts on Valentine’s Day…  If Gida were forced to put on a sexy red dress and sing a lounge piano song…this would be it   The song is by Sheena Easton and the title is a link to the youtube video. ))

Count Me Out

If you’ve got romance on your mind
If you’d like to stroll hand in hand
If you wanna cuddle in the moonlight
And whisper “Ain’t love grand.”
If you want someone to buy that sweet talk
That you guys all love to spout
Baby…count me out

If you want to dance cheek to cheek
Then go home and talk all night long
If you want to send somebody flowers
And share a stupid song
If you want a woman who believes that you’re what her life’s all about
Baby…count me out

I’ve been there, I’ve done that
It’s nowhere, it’s old hat
Forget those thoughts you’re thinking mister
And just regard me as your sister

If you want to send valentines
If you want to write poetry
Here’s a little change, go call somebody who doesn’t look like me
And if you’ve got plans to fall in love, without a shadow of a doubt
Baby…count me out
That’s what I said
I said baby, count me out
Hound Dog

Fight (Language warning)

In my worst moments, I hate them all.  This whole light-forsaken world and everyone in it.  I want to claw down everything around me and smash it to pieces.  I want them to know exactly what it was like and see them break under the strain and then push their head down in the mud with my boot.  Watch them struggle and scramble to get by.  And I want to see them fail.  To prove I’m stronger, I still stand and fight where they could not. Pain, it’s so widespread these days, people are numb from it, shrug it off like the wronged don’t matter.  Just because it’s the way things are doesn’t make it right.  Sick, clueless, idiotic bastards.  Cut out their own hearts already or let them rot so they don’t have to open their fucking eyes, as empty and destructive as the scourge husks that wander around–more so.  Worse.

This hate, it’s how it started before and it only builds with every block I put on it.  This hate and they’re *dark and hard scribbles* I want them to suffer but I don’t want

And the light, that sickening idea.  Don’t talk to me about that mythical, childish pretentious bullshit.  Talk to me when the light leaves you, innocent and stuffed full of your stupid fantasies.  Dark, naked, shivering in fear and pain.  The light is a bastard.  Why should I turn to it now and pretend it never turned its back on me.  Or maybe it tested me.  Some fucking test, warped sense of “guardianship” tests like that are given by heartless bastards full of hate and superior disdain.  I am not a test.  I am not someone who needed what I got to help someone else.  What insanity is that idea?  Here’s a bright idea.  If the light is so powerful to put someone through pain so they can help someone else down the road…why not just stop the pain?  It’s like claiming you should be grateful to the father that regularly beats the shit out of you for no reason.  He helped you grow, you are stronger because you survived, so he did it out of love.  Take your light and shove it.  That deadbeat is a self-excusing prick and you know it!  Why is your precious light any better for me?

I can’t hide forever, refusing to join the world to avoid my hate but the longer I spend with these infuriatingly ignorant, useless husks, preying on those around them.  People they perceive as weak, people they think they can get to.  I want to make them truly sorry again, feel exactly what they did, punish them like they punish others.  Smack others around until they wake up and stop turning numb hearts.  Worse…avoiding that darkening path…is making me little better.  Guess I need another week in solitude.  No.  I can’t turn a blind eye this time.  I may act numb, but I refuse to be them.  My path be damned, got nothin’ left anyway.

Crackling flames grasp at the torn page, browning the edges and rushing to curl the paper in on itself until it’s nothing but ashes.

Paper Sun

I’m not normally one for keeping records but what does it matter anymore?  I’m stuck back in a time when you had to jump at every shadow if you wanted to survive.  The world has moved on without me and I’ve found that I really don’t care to be part of it.  But I am.  I honestly can’t believe I’m doing this.  Writing about myself.  Records.  All they create is proof and leverage in the wrong hands.  An elf back at Eldre’Thalas suggested I do this–writing down my thoughts and memories.  After her insistence, I decided to give it a try, it’s not like I have much left to lose anyway, right?  One of the younger elves today drew a picture.  In her innocence, she made up a sun goddess to be Elune’s sister, so she would not be so lonely.  But the sisters hated each other and always fought.  That’s when she looked up at me from her table and asked why the others hated her so much.  That little paper sun said so much and so little, alone in the sky, not creating any real light.  Like the highborne, it had been pushed away into solitude, unaccepted, apart from the rest of the drawing.  It was all fake, a lie, a made-up story.  Something an innocent mind creates to feel better.  That’s what I thought when I looked at the fake little sun.  It’s not really there…light and hope.  True, we could act more like them to fit in, but then we would be living a lie.  For that matter, what is truth anyway?  Are we placed apart so others don’t have to face our truths?  So they can go on living in their little illusions of being right or that some day…there is something better waiting.  Why should there be something better?  Every time, the sun turns out to be only paper.