"Way of the revellers; Part One."

In many senses, the world is grouped into several categories. Some call themselves the lonely, the consolers, the ways, the rebels, the tristates, the aerodynamic, the watchmen, the fearsome, and the heroes. But they all have the same side of them--they are all just normal people.

There's only one category I know with the most minimalistic criteria, but the rarest breed I've ever crossed. The revellers. The ordinary, but secretly extraordinary, in other words.

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mint loves maeryl.: oh, ally,
mint loves maeryl.:
mint loves maeryl.: i'm sure he didn't
mint loves maeryl.: God wouldnt do that to him
mint loves maeryl.: i'm sure he's fine
mint loves maeryl.: if he isn't, then it's all in God's plans, i guess
mint loves maeryl.: i sound like a major hypocrite for saying that but yeah
mint loves maeryl.: i'm sure he's okay, ally
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Picture the worst day in the world, yielding the dread of a fever and cold, but it's also Valentines Day, and instead of plundering love and gooey romance, swarms of dread and worry are spawning migranes in thier own minds upon you.

Say also, a special somebody special to you (naturally) attended a jam session with some of your friends a day before yesterday, and you were not able to come. Luckily, you didn't, because you clicked on the news today and found out a rumble at a pre-valentines concert held at the place they were having the jam session commenced and injured policemen, killed a guy, chaos everywhere.

Surely, you were spared from such tyranny and act of brutal combat, but naturally worried, "What if that special somebody was hurt?" I would not even be there to say how much I actually care about him, even if he may not know I'd like him to.

Just picture, imagining the grief of seeing or picturing him hurt is just so painful, both in soul and in physical weakness. He might not know, care, or even guess that you may care about him a bunch, but in the times of where the sand in an annual hourglass contain the bitter sugars of worry and the salty freckles planted in your cheek sting you hard enough to cry, who do you call to get out the Kleenex and wipe them away?

I confide in somebody beautiful in words I can never understand. Someone who even if we had our rough times in the past, will always matter a big part of my life. I wouldn't have changed without this person, and I wouldn't find any other person like her. Not a girl in the world could match to who she is. She gave me once more, the reason why we spend Valentine's Day. Sure to spread love and cheer, but to also make known how much you care for your loved ones. One of the most subtle revellers, but the strongest I know.

BATMINT.

Surely not the real Batman, the dark knight and his crusading Batmobile, but better. A Batman, who is not a man, but a girl. A Batman who understands exactly how you feel. A Batman who also has human feelings, who fights for the good of mankind, saves hearts over bodies, and most importantly needs no cape or mask to do so.

Mint is my Batman, my Batmint. And she's also my favorite superhero.

"Wish you were here."

I've just happened to be lounging and staring blatantly at the tube, and all of a sudden I reach Oprah, of all shows, and they had this odd Valentines Day special (odd, because usually I don't watch Oprah neither do I usually get clicked onto segments about sappy romance and gooey-gooey-goo love stories). But something just grabbed my attention.

There was a story of a young African male, who had to run away from the atrocities of war in his hometown. He was alone, all his friends were killed, eaten, or turned slaves, he had no family with him, and all he had with him was a Bible and his own two feet. On his way to America, which was spared from war at that time, he met a special girl named Veronica whom he loved after first sight. A kind photographer took their photo just before he left and from that time on, the boy, Emmanuel, kept it with him for as long as he and Veronica were apart.

Now, six years later, holding onto the picture with all his heart, Emmanuel takes a plane to Canada and visits a friend who invited him to church.

And just when he steps into the church... there.

He sees her.

The love of his life.

Veronica.

It's just amazing how beautiful that love story is. It hits you everytime, even the first time you read it. To think that guy held onto someone who he has loved for such a long time, and even if she may not have remembered him, even if she did not think of him often, if the odds were even that she'd never see him or he would ever see her again, he still had faith. And his faith got him love.

And... it just makes my heart sink in. Sure, it may never happen for me, but... love and faith, fueling how you live for as long as you stay alive, leads you back to whom you love most, and gives you what you've been waiting for. Gerard Way may never love me, or I may never meet him, sure, but if I have faith and if I believe enough, maybe he may never be far. As long as I believe, I don't think he'll be so far.


Anyway, in miscellaneous news, yesterday my mom and I got new stuff for my room, such as these rad cabinets for me to finally get a place to put my comics and art tools and toys and CDs and letters and cheesy newspaper ads and stuff. I also am now owner of an old tripod my mom got from a Japanese friend of hers, and since no one was using it anymore, I have more equipment for my camera now. Huzzah.

A wedding anniversary is coming up for a family friend of ours, and my mom is carrying alot of weight onto her shoulders, helping out with planning the gowns and tuxedos, hiring people to cater and stuff, and even getting chauffers is weighing a ton on her. I'm helping out by drawing out a format on how the wedding should look like, the seating, the ceiling's drop-down elements, and also, I'm hired to take photos. Hm, ever heard of a thirteen-year old taking photos in the celebration of a 25-year long marriage? I better get paid.

American Idol has slightly buzzed me this week. I'm just glad that Adam got in the top 36 with "Believe," by Cher. CHER. Of all people to sing from! Haha, that guy's a genius. And Scott Macintyre... he didn't have exactly much a compelling voice like that of Daughtry, but he made "Home," his own song, and very impressive for a blind guy. His ability to play the piano, even with his handicapped disability, is extraordinary. Very impressive.

We say goodbye to Jamar this week. He's still got Danny to live on their friendship in the American Idol legacy they both carried.

AND I CANNOT BELIEVE TATIANA IS STILL THERE! What are the judges THINKING? They got Katrina Darrell (Bikini Girl, blegh) out, but that overly dramatic temptress is still there? The best day ever will definitely be if she's out of the competition for good.


On the bad side.
Today, the people at our church were going to have a headsmacking jam session today, and expectedly Mr. Special Somebody was there. No, Mr. Special Somebody was not the bad thing... the bad thing was that I was not there. No matter how much I wish I were, or how I wish I could be, I couldn't.

Oh well. I guess that's the bad luck on Friday the thirteenth. Though Valentines day the fourteenth conjures more bad luck in my opinion.

Nonetheless, have an awesome Friday the thirteenth, and get your helmets and rockets on for Valentines Day--the lucky ones'll need it.

I won't.

"Will the light ever stop shining? ...I bet not."

Days have evolved from their darkness, and now I am set free to loiter, do stuff, and goof off for no reason. The days have proven themselves good enough, and good enough for me to be happy about them.

God's been good to me, and to American Idol, who have been spared finally from the wrath of Bikini Girl and Nancy Wilson. After watching the replay today from what I missed last Thursday, Tatania Del Toro, though, is still remaining, and I can't believe she's still here, goodness, she's a psycho. Her nasal laugh and dramatic whining is annoying me to heck. My eardrums throb at the witness of her oh-so anal voice. I felt cracked from such narcissistic nature and idiotic persona. Goodness.

Adam Lambert is just the most beautiful thing to Gerard Way now. He's just so awesome, it's hard for me not to love that man. I was blown away by his group performance, and he just stood out from the rest. Danny Gokey and Jamar Rogers and their group made the whole episode last in my heart for a long time. They are the general idea of brilliance, I'd be helled if the show pulled through without at least one of them.

But Group Day tore down the best of everyone. Emily Hughes is gone, which has been the most tragic and most unwholesome loss of all. Deeana Brown should have stayed at her place, but God must have a better plan for her. May she find it soon. And Rose Flack... oh goodness, why? Bad already she lost her father years ago, now she loses her entitlement as a contestant on A.I. Excruciatingly unfair, and if it weren't for that flirt of a Bikini Girl, she'd be the winner or runner-up by now.

H.U.S.H updates. I've made more characters, like Miranov Hyde, Creed Eagle, and Jenna. Jet Armie, Watson the healing fish, and HUSH are done, and I've got several plot ideas already. I'll tell you what comes up when I'm done with it all. Though, H.U.S.H might need some work, because the idea of HUSH was inspired by a Batman villain named Hush, so if I were to steal the role of Tommy Elliot's evil side, I'd be one of those copycats of Bob Kane who never get the golden goose eggs in the farmland.

And also, Fireflight is the best band for any young Christian and growing disciple. WAY better than Paramore, definitely. I've just had too much of those overrated heck-bots already. As if the Riot CD wasn't bad enough.
Fireflight; Just as good as Flyleaf, more grunged up than Jars of Clay, but with a heavenly essence. They have this underground flavor that just melts your heart when you listen to their beautiful songs and their warming grace. They have such Godly messages crushed into their songs and they just melt your heart. Beautiful, in one word.


But with every great eventful day is the heartbreaking, bothersome side.

Sure, I had a ton of fun with Joy, Carl, Pam, Paolo, and more other friends of mine at church today, but... I must confess.
A special somebody at church was there today, and even if I were at least friends with him, I didn't even get to say anything to him except, "Hi," a hug, then leave, then sometimes occasional conversations, but they all fall short. If I were to even have an existent, close-knit friendship with him, of all days, this would have been the one if I hadn't clucked out a red crown and feathers.

And also on the way home, I lost a sheet of paper towel which said, "I am not a chicken," on it, and I found it torn, wet, and blurred behind our bathroom sink. That immesurably impaled my self-esteem.


But the day was as good as God is. He gave me another chance of weekend freedom again, and the zest of uncounterable reattainment of goodness. But just wait until the beacon of freedom dies.

Just hope it won't be soon.