This is basically a rich guy arguing for and against living for the sake of making and spending money.

……………………………….

’Money can’t buy happiness’ the saying goes. I beg to differ. Money can indeed make you happy, although momentarily. However is there any other kind of happiness? The joy of a lover’s gentle touch disappears slowly along with the lover. The joy of helping somebody, the joy of being saved, it all fades with time. Well at least in my experience.

I find it funny when people act like their way of pursuing happiness is somehow superior to mine. I like money. I like things. Calling me shallow and materialistic… dude, what the hell? In the end we’re pursuing the exact same thing. Happiness. Just because you help out some people along the way somehow makes your way better? No. The main goal is still your own contentment, your own happiness, your own wellbeing. Although, admittedly on more of a mental than a physical level.

In your own jolly way, you’re as selfish as me. Why do you help people? Because it makes you feel all giddy inside right? I mean come on. Is there anyone that can honestly say that they thought about their life situation logically and then went to work as a doctor in Africa? Like it or not by donating a tiny fraction of my fortune I can help more than you can in a lifetime down there working for your life.

And because donating to charities has become more or less a necessity for more successful entrepreneurs I have probably already helped more unfortunate Africans out than you will ever be able to. Anyway what I’m trying to say is, whatever you do to pursue happiness, you’re still pursuing your own happiness no? Then why am I so different? And don’t give me that copy and paste speech about morals and ethics, think something up for yourself.
…………….

Not trying to offend successful entrepreneurs with this. Hell I’d like to become one. Also I’ve been kind of busy so I wrote this in a spare 20 minutes, so don’t hate me if you find a few grammatical errors or flaws in the “fictional essay” itself or if it’s just plain bad. Anyway, what do you do in your quest for happiness? And also why is/isn’t money the way to go if you’re after happiness? Let me know what you think in a comment.

Take care and stay creative.

So I was trying half assedly to write a story of publishable quality, I think I wrote for 2 hours, and then suddenly I developed a new interest. An interest that continued to consume the struggling remains of my social life, and devoured any desire I had to write the short story and get it published. I “rediscovered” youtube. The whole “youtube community” thing. With the comedians and the directors etc. And suddenly I felt like I had to make videos of my own, mainly because I suffer from delusions such as believing I’m charming and charismatic and of course hilarious. I will continue writing, but perhaps I will start writing short movie manuscripts instead? At least I want to try that out. Let’s see  how it goes. I always have ideas so that’s not really a problem, maybe it’s because I have a big head.

To this day I’m never really sure whether people are laughing at me or with me. Probably with me, most of the time anyway. And when they actually do laugh at me, I probably messed up so I will be laughing at myself, and then they’re laughing with me so I win?

What a weird post. I feel like deleting it but I won’t.

Take care, and keep on doing whatever you do as a creative outlet. If you can draw then I hate you. And don’t give me that “anyone can learn” bs, I couldn’t draw a proper line with my life on the line. Even though if my life was on the line my hands would probably shake out of nervousness, yeah… let’s just pretend that made sense somehow. I’ve seen other people say stuff like that as if it makes sense! Anyway I don’t really hate you if you can draw, just jealous.

Sincerely(hoping this blog post isn’t the worst post ever),

Ragnar

………………………………………………….
The sun was hidden behind a few white clouds, and the wind barely managed to stir the leaves of the oak trees on the sidewalk. It was going to rain soon, at least according to the weather forecast shown on one of the few digital billboards in the city. As always, the streets were bustling with activity. Deluded men, walking around in suits talking into their fancy cellphones, lost in an illusion of their own creation. Regular men and women, in town simply to shop or perhaps running errands for their employers.

Goths, environmentalists, addicts, almost every group from every level of society was represented. Most of them paid no notice to the chaos around them, but instincts had them avoiding one man like the plague. A remarkably tall youth grimaced as he walked slowly on the sidewalk. Wherever he went, the crowd separated to let him through. Not one sign of surprise displayed at the people so clearly avoiding him. Apparently, he was used to it.

It’s too goddamn noisy! the man thought. The overpowering mix of sounds that reached him, sounded as if the result of a free for all battle between the sounds themselves. Each trying to overpower the other and disrupt their flow, the reward being to be allowed the joy of tormenting him. He shook his head angrily, I should be able to ignore such a small nuisance as this.. But instead, he failed miserably. Quiet down damn you! The unnerving mass of sounds ignored his request, but then, silence. His eyes bulged, his heart started pounding. It was quiet, like a still pond on a windless morning. Yet, the chaotic mass of people around him should not be silent. He could even see them talking and shouting, but he heard nothing.

Startled, the man stared wildly at everyone around him. An old man, a young man, a drunkard, a newspaper boy. No, none of these. Where are you!? the thought lingered in his mind as he searched his surroundings. There was only one thing that could cause instantaneous deafness without the pain of your eardrums shattering. He felt it, the presence was growing stronger. To think that there’s another one in this town, besides me. The man was a psychic. No, not the fabled kind that can talk to the dead, a real one.

At birth, everyone is granted the ability to affect other human beings’ minds and their consciousnesses. In most cases this ability develops into the ability to talk, write and use body language. But in some, it develops beyond that, beyond what science proclaims is real. People with the ability to change emotions, thoughts, even sensory input to the brain, with nothing but their own minds as the tool. When the young man had first discovered he was not unique, the real reason for the witch hunt 900 years ago became apparent. Psychics experimenting with their recently discovered ability.

He would never have guessed that someone this experienced was present in the city. As the uninvited visitor in his mind drew closer, he started noticing some characteristics. Robbing me of my hearing and still this unaffected… and a woman too eh? What’s the meaning of this? He started looking around frantically, briefly staring at all the women relatively close to him.

A nondescript woman of perhaps 30, no. An old woman, no. A young girl, definitely not, a presence of that caliber could not possibly… wait, his eyes widened. It is the girl! The shock faded quickly, she was staring at him, wearing a smile that looked somewhat odd on a girl of around ten. He tried to move, but his body refused to listen. Terror replaced the initial shock. He tried to speak but was unaware if he succeeded or not.

Such an intricate illusion on top of induced deafness and immobility… You’ve got to be kidding me! The crowd was oblivious to the danger in their midst, he wanted to warn them but couldn’t. She probably won’t harm them anyway. “What makes you think that?” it sounded odd coming from the little girl, who now stood directly in front of him. “Come here.” She reached up with her tiny hand, found his and dragged him along. This must look really weird he thought, trying to distract himself from the fear.

And indeed it did. The young woman dragging a remarkably tall man raised many an eyebrow. It was not an everyday occurrence in the city after all.
“Walk on your own. This is attracting too much attention.” She said, the young man blinked at the sudden stop. You trying to say something? Can’t hear you. He felt her hand tightening around his as if she was annoyed. The young man’s mind went blank as the sound rushed back in. “Walk on your own. You’re attracting too much attention.” She turned around and continued walking toward the harbor.

Obediently he trailed after her. This is ridiculous, am I really this pathetic? Yeah as if thinking about that helps. What’s wrong with me.. The inner discussion left the young man none the wiser. He noticed the girl stopping, and to his great dissatisfaction she was laughing. That’s it. He let himself fall into the chaos, let himself become the very definition of random. A crazed expression overtook his face, eyes rolling uncontrollably around in their sockets together with a scarily wide smile with his tongue moving around randomly. He started making unrecognizable sounds and moving around like he was having a seizure. He stopped, his tongue went back into his mouth and a confident smirk settled on his lips. “Did you know? Concentration is worthless before the endless imagination.” He said, and started laughing a maddening a laughter just as he finished the sentence.

The woman laughed heartily as she thought How pointless… Even as she was laughing her eyes started stinging, since when was it this bright? Instinct forced her to close her eyes. “Is this all you can manage? How pitiful.” She said, however, she could no longer recognize his mental presence anywhere, with the constantly changing mood and thoughts. He really is crazy, just like they told me, the information was accurate after.. Abruptly she yelled out in pain. Her skin felt like she was in boiling water, and she could feel it peeling off slowly to reveal the flesh underneath.

Regaining composure, he stared down at the woman in front of him as she lay unconscious on the ground. As I thought, maybe she assumed I would leave a little girl alone. HAH! The thought caused him to chuckle, he was already ignoring the fact that he had been terrified a moment ago. There was no need to kill her, if she passed out from just that she offered no real threat to him.

………………………….

Tell me what you think. Thanks.

Take care, and keep on writing.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fantasy_fiction_magazine

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horror_fiction_magazine

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Science_fiction_magazine

http://dir.yahoo.com/Arts/Humanities/Literature/Genres/Science_Fiction_and_Fantasy/Magazines/

http://dir.yahoo.com/Arts/Humanities/Literature/Genres/Mystery/Magazines/

Although these lists probably are far from complete, the magazines in here should at least be a start. Whether or not your story gets published depends on how interesting it is, at least I hope that’s true. Well this became a very short post but I have to work on the short story I intend to submit.

Take care, and keep on writing.

“I try to leave out the parts that people skip.”  – Elmore Leonard

Actually I’m going to find an awesome notebook and buy it. I have to start thinking practically instead of the road of least effort. And if you have also been somewhat of an” idea-book” skeptic, I will let you know how it goes. Anyway what I really wanted to talk about was the importance of a great idea, something intriguing that even with crap writing shines through and makes it bearable. It is no doubt the combination of such an idea with decent or better writing that makes a good book. And instead of focusing on the originality of the idea, (even if it has been done before you can still do it better right? ) focus on the quality of the idea and how interesting you can make it.

And even if someone tells you it’s bad, if you like it someone else probably will to, and if nobody likes it… well you can credit yourself with being unique in your tastes. Even so try to make sure the idea is something within the boundaries of acceptability for at least part of an audience.  And of course, do not underestimate how much professional feedback can help you on the way to perfecting not only your idea, but your entire story. Therefore it is imperative that you find a way to communicate with writers within your genre.

That’s it for now, well take care and keep on writing.

“Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.”  – E.L. Doctorow

Carl stared at me. “You’ve been watching too much ‘Criminal Minds’ dude. Moreover why are you so interested in these fires? You should really find yourself a better hobby, a girlfriend even.” he said, adding a wink for the last part. Why I’m interested? I thought, bringing forth a faint grin. It should be obvious you idiot, I’ve always had an interest in these things. Ever since I was a kid I had been interested in crime, but also in fire itself and the calming effect it had on me. “Girlfriend eh? Those kinds of relationships always go down the drain though, so in the end a waste of time huh? Just like this…” I said, staring at the rising smoke.
“Geez. You sound like an old man already, stop thinking and live some, man.”
“No thanks. Thinking is something I like to do after all… man. Anyway I’ll head home, time to make dinner, I’m starved.” I said as I walked over the grass and out the gate. I barely heard him say “See ya.” just as I left.

But I was not hungry. Nor did I have any noticeable desire to eat anything. At that moment; the smoke had my complete attention. Not only did I need to see the fires, but also find the person behind them. The sidewalk rang with every step I took, announcing my arrival to the people nearby. However I took no notice, I did not have the time to soften my step, I didn’t have the time to be considerate. After all, if the fires were out by the time I got there, the trip would be for naught. All I could do was hope the firemen failed to extinguish the fires, that, and hurry.

Without noticing it I had started running, after all catching a bus in the middle of the afternoon would be nothing less than a miracle, and hardly faster than walking anyway. Racing past people and ignoring their indignant stares. I could feel my lounges protesting and inevitably I started coughing. The fires were close, and I noticed that the firemen were keeping their distance, most likely caused by a lack of interest I concluded. Why should they risk their lives for a few abandoned buildings? I thought, quick to accept their  choice.

When I finally observed the flames, time stopped. Unpredictable dancing shining brilliantly, chaos itself embodied in the hungry flames. I felt full, and calm. Then I realized… the perpetrator did not do this for a rush, nor to rebel.

This was his art.

Well it might be that or the fact that I received the legendary Three Wolf Moon t-shirt (that’s what it’s called) from Amazon today. I doubt it’s that but it actually looks pretty good in real life too. Also it serves as sort of a test. If people know about the t-shirt then they’re probably somewhat interested in the internet, like me. Then we should have enough in common to be able to have a conversation that’s at least slightly interesting. Although it may be less common knowledge than I thought, even among internet addicts.

Either way motivation is a good thing right? Going for As(grades) for the first time in my life. Rather than not being able to I’ve just been slacking. Hmm. Well I guess that’s it for now.

“For disappearing acts, it’s hard to beat what happens to the eight hours supposedly left after eight of sleep and eight of work.” – Doug Larson

……………………………….

“To think that you can smell it from the other side of town, it must be a huge one this time…” I said, commenting on the faint scent of scorched wood. I was standing on my friend’s porch staring at the 7th case of arson that month. “The fires so far have been contained, none spreading beyond a single house. Does this mean that it’s a different perpetrator, or just that he’s escalated due to some sort of perverted need?” He still lived with his parents and lived with them in a luxurious house on the western hillside.

Carl stared at me. “You’ve been watching too much ‘Criminal Minds’ dude. Moreover why are you so interested in these fires? You should really find yourself a better hobby, a girlfriend even.” he said, adding a wink for the last part. Why I’m interested? I thought, bringing forth a faint grin. It should be obvious you idiot, I’ve always had an interest in these things. “Girlfriend eh? Those kinds of relationships always go down the drain though, so in the end a waste of time huh? Just like this…” I said, staring at the rising smoke.
“Geez. You sound like an old man already, stop thinking and live some man.”
“No thanks. Thinking is something I like to do after all… man. Anyway I’ll head home, time to make dinner I guess.” I said as I walked over the grass and out the gate. I heard him say “See ya.” just as I left but barely noticed.

…………………………………….

The problem with this though is that I can’t get any work done and even though I like procrastinating to a certain degree it’s just that I spend an overwhelming amount of time doing something that literally amounts to absolutely nothing. No useful knowledge gained, nothing created, nothing destroyed (except maybe my intellect).

So starting today whenever I feel like procrastinating, well. Every second or third time I feel like it anyway. I will either do something useful, like make me some food or write something… or I will study. Yes I am aware that after making myself food studying is probably the most important thing but even so, it’s just not that interesting. Well either that or it’s just that I have too much of an ego as a lazyyy boy to actually touch the books.

Well at first my goal is to spend at least 5-6 hours doing something useful each day. We’ll see how it goes.

Firstly this blog is an experiment to see if I can do something sensible and keep the boredom at bay at the same time.

Secondly I started studying at the university last year and my major is Japanese. But I don’t really find my life that interesting myself so I rarely post about it. Oh and as you can probably see my first name is Ragnar.

Well I’ll get to the point. I’m going to be posting some poems, short stories and also just random posts about random stuff.