We walk without a sound across a barren landscape
Your eyes are twisted down to a dew entrailed ground
We watch the stars as they slowly fade away, and in the clearing sky I see
The cold stone face of morning setting in on me

It’s a strange world
It’s a very strange world that leaves me holding on to nothing when there’s nothing left to lose

Your touch is cold and damp, the devil’s in your eyes
I wonder why I always let you lead me on this way
You see only what you want to see, feel only as you want to
I am on the outside of your strange world

It’s a strange world
It’s a very strange world that leaves me holding on to nothing when there’s nothing left to lose

We’re walking hand in hand, we’ll walk this way forever
Our eyes have risen to the water’s edge watching with the tides
The stars have fallen to another day and the sun warms our path to
Find the reasons leave us far behind in our strange world

It’s a strange world
It’s a very strange world that leaves me holding on to nothing when there’s nothing left to lose

Fuck it. Fuck it all. Let everything and everyone that has screwed me over be screwed in return, let me do as I damn well please, and fuck the consequences. How do you define a friend? You define it as somebody who gets along with you, who looks out for you, who likes to spend a good time with you, and who can help you when you need it, right? Well, here’s an alternate definition according to yours truly: someone who’s just going to take everything you give, twist it, exploit it, and then return the favour in the form of an insult, a let-down, an outright betrayal, or some other very sharp sliver of steel in your back. I have never been so fucking mad in my entire adult life as I am tonight. There is one line I promised myself I would never cross – deliberately getting drunk, for any reason. But right now, I am so fucking furious with everybody who has dared to call themselves “friend” in the last couple of years that I think I’m going to cross that line.

Jon (from work): Becomes more and more of an asshole every day. Looks at somebody, sizes them up, tries to determine if they think the way he does and see everything the way he does. If they don’t, they’re stupid people and he’s just brimming over with insults unless they agree with him 100%.

Kristen: God forbid I should be able to have a little fun without her acting like I’m the excretion of the earth. So I don’t take any shit from anybody. That’s no reason to brush me aside with some kind of snooty feminist remark.

Keith: Does he care about ANYBODY but himself? If he does, let him prove it, for crying out loud.

Cassie: Shorter and snippier with each passing day and she can’t be bothered to explain why. She was the only one I could think of as a real, true, caring friend, but all of a sudden she’s taken to brushing me off every time I open my mouth. Look, I know what I did to deserve it, but I said I was sorry, for the love of God. Why the fuck doesn’t anybody understand the word “sorry” these days?

Faith, Anna, Jen, Kady, Emma, etc…The lot of you have said barely a word in the past month, and every time I try to start a friendly conversation, you’re all fucking impossible to talk to. I got enough of the silent treatment in elementary school, for God’s sake. I know when my nose is being rubbed in the dirt, and I know I’m being purposely spited over on Val. Whenever you feel like coming forth and explaining what the hell is going on, my ear will be open.

Jenny: Ah yes. You again. The Perfect Little Princess herself. Somehow all of my branches of fury are rooted here. I hate you, Jenny. I hate you so fucking much I can’t even stand to be in the same room with you, in case you hadn’t noticed. You’ve perpetrated just about everything stated above, just because it never occurred to you to give me another chance. What kind of friend uses her roommate to distract somebody just because she doesn’t want to talk to him? What kind of friend just goes prancing off with her own idea of what’s going on, not wanting to hear the right idea because God forbid it should disrupt her holier-than-thou perception of the way things ought to be? What kind of friend takes everything that someone gives in friendship and love, including his heart and soul, and the only thing she gives back is unbearable grief? Well, you’ll find out. Maybe not today, maybe not next year, but you’ll learn firsthand the extent of the damage you did. And when you do, don’t come crying to me.

It’s too fucking late.

So there you are, my “friends.” That’s everything that needs to be said, and I reiterate, fuck the consequences. Right now there are approximately two beings with less than eight legs on this entire Godforsaken rock whom I would call true, straight-up friends, so I’m going to go pass my regrets on to one of them now. But I don’t regret any of this. So stop trying to drown me in bullshit, because I don’t need any more of it and I don’t need any of you, either. This ol’ ranger is now off to hack, beat, and choke the living shit out of the demons that plague him.

I don’t understand people who don’t know how to have a little fun here and there.

Actually, I don’t understand people in general, but that’s beside the point. People who don’t know how to have a little fun…well, all we gotta do is chip away at them bit by bit, initiate them, make ‘em understand that it’s all in good fun until they finally realise that we’re not just being a bunch of immature nutcakes. I don’t care what sort of libel and slander gets spouted by the squeechy girls I work with, an awful lot of them need to get a sense of humour. Bwaha – tomorrow night should be fun…I’ll be on standby with Cassie dispatching…WAR!!!

Very interesting news from the front: I’m in line to be the assistant trainer.  Yes, all things considered, this is not only great news, but this is a freaking SHOCK. Who’da thunk that they’d ever tap the guy who used to be such a hard-nosed, gung-ho, foul-tempered jerk to be the assistant trainer?? Quite a switch – but I certainly ain’t complaining. Considering that the bosses are so inclined to hire complete idiots, I’ll be quite happy to take on any idiot who gets assigned and train him to within an inch of his sanity. We have too damn many people right now who don’t pay any attention to what they’re doing or what they’re being told. Let it end, me hearties!

So here I am, very happily blogging away and very unhappily staring at my IM window, seeing how many friends are online who have been online the last several nights. And yet, they haven’t said a word. You know, folks, I just can’t shake this feeling that I’m getting shafted again. If any of you folk (you know who you are) could possibly bother to do so, do you think maybe you could explain to me why you’re all being so silent and distant, why you’re all bloody impossible to talk to whenever I initiate the conversation? This is really disturbing. But if you can’t or won’t answer, that’s quite all right. I don’t expect an answer in the first place.

Bah. Weather. A few flakes hither and yon…then a few more flakes…like we don’t have enough flakes out on the road, we suddenly got dumped on with the ickiest blizzard we’ve gotten yet this year. Didn’t waste any time going from light snow to heavy snow to impenetrable snow to slush and then RAIN. Bleah. And guess who had to drive an hour and fifteen minutes home in it? *waves*

Ah, friends. What precious few they are; standing rooted in front of their close ones, ready to take a 16-inch shell in their chest if that’s what it takes to look out for them. What precious, precious few who understand, appreciate, and care.

There have been so many “friends” about whom I can’t say anything of the sort. All I can say is this.

Crouching down inside a deep ravine
Those angry cries pass quickly by, he can’t be seen
So many ways spent hiding in so many undone plans
Forgetting what it’s like to fight when no one understands

Close call there in the shadows
There’s a fear in the dark
There’s no one out there

All those memories, pain and anger, flood back one by one
They must be just around the bend, they always come
At night as I lay sleeping they come to me in herds
Their lies remain, the dreams the same, it’s only fleeting words

No one calls there in the shadows
There’s no end to the dark
But there’s no one out there, no one but me

The hours pass so slowly, the life’s slipping out of me
No way’s the right way; is there a way out for me?
My life’s slipping out

Rising up, the night is done, and now the bright lights come
Held back in my pitied world where everything’s undone
A cold wind blows right through me, I’m made a hollow shell
There’s nothing left, just ash remains, enrich the soil, no soul, no soul

Close call there in the shadows
There’s an end to the dark
‘Cause there’s someone out there
Someone like me

The hours pass so slowly, the life’s slipping out of me
No way’s the right way, is there a way out for me
The hours pass so slowly
The life’s slipping out of me
Is there a way out for me?
The hours pass so slowly
The life’s slipping out of me
Is there a way out for me?
There must be a way out for me

Whooboy, the Pats have done it again!!!

Not that I particularly care, this is just New England pride talking.

But, geez…deja vu, anyone? I seem to remember another Super Bowl ending the exact same way two years ago. Well, maybe not the *exact* same way. Tonight, UNH is surprisingly quiet, according to the news – apparently everyone has taken seriously the warnings to stay off the streets and give the rioting a rest. Of course it probably helps that the state police are parked bumper to bumper on both sides of Main Street…

Well, it’s been an interesting weekend. Up at quarter o’ five on Saturday morning for the ski trip to Attitash (after four hours of shuteye and one cup of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, which as usual did the trick… ) Got stuck for an hour behind this pussy-footing school-bus driver who wouldn’t go faster than 45, even in the 55 zones. Saw one of my favourite old buses, now retired and sold to a truck center, sitting in the front of said truck center’s parking lot, apparently up for sale again. Hmmmm….wonder how much it’s asking for? I could sure use a recreational vehicle in the form of a reliable old T-liner. 

As I suspected, though, no dice with D59. Cold as it’s been lately, that thing’s fuel is probably completely solid. Ah, well. At least that means a refreshing lack of electrical problems that are guaranteed to piss off high-maintenance passengers, such as NCAA coaches and tenure professors…

I dread this weekend.

Here I am blogging, while half of my friends are up in Orono, ME watching UNH play against U Maine. We are so whupped, I can see it right now. Last UNH-UM game that I can remember, they shipwrecked us 7-2 as usual. Not expecting anything different. I’m also expecting the biggest riot since the Frozen Four – that’s right, the one where 500 people got arrested – despite the administration’s severe warnings. Said warnings will be explicitly ignored because everybody thinks it’s “cool” to riot these days.  It always happens, and what I really don’t fancy is Sunday night. Yes, that’s right – the Super Bowl. In which the Patriots are playing once again. Every eye, save for a very select few, in New England will be glued to the TV sets in homes and bars and college campuses. I dare not speculate on the odds that the entire downtown area of UNH will be burned to the ground if the Patriots win, and if the Patriots lose, that the entire CAMPUS will be burned to the ground.

Well, can’t stick around for long – just long enough for one more entry…I gotta go to bed soon ‘cuz tomorrow I gotta get up before the ass-crack of dawn to drive a ski trip to the north country. Of course considering how my sleep patterns have gone this week, I probably won’t get to sleep till about 2:00 AM, which means a grand total of two hours and fifty minutes of shuteye…Aah, the hell with it. As I’ve noted before, a medium cup o’ coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts will keep me going like a steam locomotive till I get home tomorrow night.

Sooo…here I am, waiting for Bryan to call and find out if he was able to get D59 going and into the garage. I tried it about six times today, but not only has the poor old bus been sitting in -4,000 degree weather for almost a month, but the block-heater plug had slipped free of the fence. Even after a few hours plugged in, it STILL wouldn’t start. Guess I’ll try it one more time tomorrow morning before concluding that I’m shit outta luck and will have to make do with D63. Which may not be an entirely bad thing if I’m running on less than three hours of sleep…As long as nobody tries to use the bathroom, I’ll be happy, seeing that it’s a solid block of ice.

So yeah, somebody was asking how I can be considered a true Christian when recent entries have been so inundated with hatred. Well, here’s my reply for what it’s worth: my spirit is willing but the rest of me is flawed. Severely flawed. I’ve often noted that bad things happen to good people. As hard as I’ve tried to be a good person, so many bad things have happened to me (murderous peer pressure, a false arrest, constant let-downs from my friends, and discrimination from my bosses, to name a few) that it has cost me almost all my hope and even a little of my faith. Yet faith is the one thing that I have clung to with a death grip, faith that the Good Lord will light my way to the end of the dark path and grant me the courage of a hundred fighting men. That faith thus far has been solidly based. As deep as the scars of these incidents are, they are just that – scars, not open wounds. They are still there and they always will be. But I am as tough as a steel beam and the wounds have been closed with Jesus Christ stitching them.

Yes, I am a devout Christian, and I have fought every step of the way to be one, to find the places where I can be the best Christian that I can. Some fights are much, much harder than others. But know this. Satan has tried with all his might to drag me kicking and screaming into his domain, and he will doubtless try to do it again. And when he does, I will kick him where the sun don’t shine with steel-toed boots. With God, all things are possible. I am simmering with hatred of one particular person, but here I will vent it. I am percolating with bitterness toward many people and things, but to look to the face and the heart of Jesus Christ makes me forget about it, bit by bit, until it is but a shadow of a threat that will no longer grow in my mind. To fight the good fight for that goal is good enough. There’s no right or wrong answer, it depends ultimately on the kind of person that you are. For me, IT IS ENOUGH.

End Ranger Rant #7470.

Here’s another one, by popular demand…

ARDA ONLINE, PART 2: The Next-to-Last Alliance

DurinsBane2187: hiya

DurinsBane2187: man it’s been a long time

RingKing2000: i know

RingKing2000: but you wanna know what happened?

RingKing2000: elendil is SUCH a sore loser…threw together this “last alliance” and came busting down my door!!!

DurinsBane2187: aw that sucks

RingKing2000: just because i wanted my plastic lightsaber back!!!

DurinsBane2187: wouldn’t be surprised if Elrond was just sitting in his cushy little air-conditioned study the whole time

RingKing2000: actually elrond was on the front line

DurinsBane2187:

RingKing2000: and that’s not the worst of it

RingKing2000: i whacked elendil…then his bratty brainless kid snuck up behind and STOLE MY FREAKING RING

RingKing2000: man i am so pissed

DurinsBane2187: don’t blame you

DurinsBane2187: felt the same way when Fëanor came and stole my class ring for the emerald

DurinsBane2187: Balrog High, Class of F.A. 1000…it was inscripted right on the inside, for cryin’ out loud!!

RingKing2000: hey i’m ranting here!!!

DurinsBane2187: sorry

RingKing2000: yeah so isildur got his grubby human mitts on my ring and then elrond came prancing in and squashed me up into one great big fiery eyeball

RingKing2000: then everybody pointed and laughed and started calling me “squishy”

DurinsBane2187: ugh that movie was so silly…

DurinsBane2187: ‘sawright man…I know what fire feels like

DurinsBane2187: actually it’s pretty cool that I can roast hot dogs on my own back

RingKing2000: yeah lucky you

RingKing2000: can’t sleep, can’t eat…can’t even blink…this sux

DurinsBane2187: I bet

DurinsBane2187: can you see into Arwen’s bedroom though?

RingKing2000: yeah…hehe…i don’t even need a peephole

DurinsBane2187: so who’s lucky?

RingKing2000: good point, lol

RingKing2000: hey how do you make those two little dots for “feanor”?

DurinsBane2187: ???

DurinsBane2187: ALT+0235…why??

RingKing2000: just curious

RingKing2000: how about hurin?

DurinsBane2187: ALT+0250

DurinsBane2187: guess Morgoth never made *you* take a typing class

RingKing2000: hehe

RingKing2000: he used to have me dictate all his press releases, so i never had to type

DurinsBane2187: ah

DurinsBane2187: so uh, one question…

DurinsBane2187: who the hell is typing for you???

RingKing2000: ‘member that nasty hooded dude from angmar, the one with the cheap plastic scepter?

DurinsBane2187: the witch king? yeah…

RingKing2000: well i got him to trade in the scepter for a morgul blade…so he’s typing for me

RingKing2000: really wish he would use caps though

DurinsBane2187: lol

RingKing2000: i gotta get some orcs out there, see if they can hunt isildur down and get my ring back

DurinsBane2187: I’ll let you know if I hear anything

RingKing2000: thanx

DurinsBane2187: hey someone’s at the door…gotta run, ttyl

RingKing2000: k, bye

DurinsBane2187 signed off at 10:55:52 AM.

Oh boy, what a helluva day. [/sarcasm] I did a trip up to Gunstock – it was a freaking STUDY in BUS ENVY. I’m sitting there minding my own beeswax, scribbling and scratching like a madman in my writing tablet, when this heavy engine catches my ear and I look up and see a late-model MCI coach coming in. It swings around and parks next to me, and I try not to look at it and compare it to the jalopy that I’m driving. And as if THAT weren’t enough…fifteen minutes later, THREE FUCKING PREVOSTS come trundling up the way and line up in a nice neat row right next to me. And here I am, sitting in my blasé Blue Bird CSRE, trying not to look at these huge fancy motor coaches that I won’t ever have a prayer of driving because frickin’ UNH doesn’t want to pay for ‘em. Blargh…if somebody had shown up driving a Setra, I probably would’ve backed into the damn thing on purpose.

The world ain’t fair.

But I don’t care.

I’m a poet and I didn’t know it. You know, it’s utterly satisfying to be able to give Old Man Winter the finger, let him make no mistake that I’m tougher than he is.  And what else is utterly satisfying? This Gunstock trip was a mixed blessing: I didn’t have to attend the dispatcher meeting tonight, which means I didn’t have to be in the same room with the Perfect Little Princess for the better part of an hour trying to restrain myself from decking her when she goes off on a prattlefest. She’d better not be expecting any favours this semester as far as hours go.

Speaking of hours, permanent schedule is out – as usual, almost everybody got shafted…when I say no permanent hours, I MEAN no permanent hours. But what do I get? Closing dispatch on Wednesday and opening routes on Friday. Worst opening route (7:05 Newmarket) that I could possibly get, to top it all off. I drove that run for two years and sorely wished I could just use my bare hands to stop the absolutely ridiculous volumes of traffic you encounter on that Godawful run. Definitely gonna rig Mark’s office door with a bucket of mozzarella now. At least having Keith for my access bitch on Wednesday night should ease the pain some…

Please, God, let employment at Amtrak be fruitful and exhilarating.

Bleck. I need to feel like there’s somebody around here whom I can still call a friend, and who has no immediate plans to kick me in the guts like I’m some worthless vagrant.

I’m the guy next door whenever I can help it, but I’m one of those guys next door from whom everybody borrows a cup of sugar and then never returns it.

Well, we retrieved another few pictures of my nephew, Benjamin, to add to our photo drawer. You’d never believe that kid was six months old – he’s friggin’ HUGE now. Haven’t seen him since Christmas, don’t want to know how much he’s grown since then…

As we were looking at the pictures from his christening party, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, something rather disconcerting came to mind. There are a couple of pictures of me holding him. All of a sudden, I found myself wondering, what could happen before he’s old enough to identify those pictures and who’s in them? It’s a mad creepy thought in the first place, thinking that something might happen to you in a few years that doesn’t bear considering. I’m not afraid of dying, nor am I afraid of the consequences. But what if, by illness or by violent incident, I pass from this life before Benjamin is old enough to recognise anyone? What if he has an uncle that he’ll never know, what if the only way he’ll ever know me is through those pictures? Will he be sad, will he be confused? Or will he just be indifferent?

*shiver* Like I said, doesn’t exactly bear thinking about.

Well, a full day at work plus little to no inspiration make Seb a contemplatively morbid guy. Maybe I’ll go rig Mark’s office door with a bucket of mozzarella.