Resurrected?

Well we will see.

This year has been one of the most challenging experiences in my university life. In the third year of my IT degree external clients hire Monash to build them an IT system that they then incorporate into their business operations.

The clients do not pay anything, but in the same respect they are not promised they will receive something of industry standard. It is a "you get what you pay for" situation as the people who are producing the system have no actual technical experience.

All throughout uni i have worried about what would happen when i finally have to participate in one of these industrial experience projects. I am doing a double degree and as such the people that i started uni with had graduated last year. This makes it difficult because by doing units with others you tend to get an indication of their skill level and work ethic, and based on that you are able to select the most appropriate team members to work with.

So as the start of this year began i became very concerned about who the rest of my team members would be. This is a year long project and a rather large burden if you have to carry the majority of the workload yourself.

As i stared out across the lecture theater on my first day, all my eyes fall upon were unfamiliar faces. That was until Evan (someone who i have actually had units with) said hello sat down next to me. This was quite a relief. Evan is an extremely talented person whose technical ability is at the same level (if not better) than my own.

The lecturer went on to give a little introduction about what will be happening over the course of the year and what we could to expect of the experience. When the lecture ended we all headed over to the computer labs for our first studio where we would be selecting who would be on our team.

My heart sank when Evan said he was in a different studio but knowing my luck i wasn't really surprised. I was determined to have Evan in my group so i proceed to ask (rather loudly) to a countless number of strangers whether they would be willing to swap studios with Evan. We eventually convinced someone and my team of one because a definite two. I would have been happy with that, it didn't matter who else was in our group because Evan and myself would have been able to produce what was required.

And then something else happened, Ryan (someone who i had only done one unit with) came up to Evan and asked to join our group. Evan then told me that Ryan was as technically capable as us. I was agog. I honestly couldn't believe my luck. Before the studio had even started i had some how managed to collect arguably (and which became rather apparent throughout the year) THE top people three people in our degree.

So that is how the story of this year began. I'm mentioning this because over the past year i have been writing a chronicle of my experiences working within this group in an attempt to produce a system.

All this writing has lead me back here. Whether this leads to a resurrection, i haven't decided yet. But we will see soon enough.

Till next we meet,
Paul

All good things

Its an odd feeling writing this. This blog was started without any intention on my part to post a single piece. And yet it survived 2 and a half years (with much neglect). But as a wise man once said 'nothing gold can stay', so like oh so many other things, it is time to give it up.

This chapter in my life is closed, leaving me with mixed feelings. I now know its silly to hold on. I no longer see it as it once was, something that would from time to time place a smile on my face. So here it remains, a testimonial of who i once was, imperfections and all.

Thank you for listening.

Till next we... perhaps not,
Paul

Friend is a four letter word

My body is shaking; my lips quiver as I stare into his eyes. I search his face but it yields no register of the words I had just spoken. I stand there, waiting for him to say something, anything.

I’ve been dreading this moment. For weeks it’s been building. And now that its here I can barley catch my breath. My heart beats so heavily that I fear it will betray me. I put on my mask and try to stay composed, inside I die a little.

We both knew it was coming. Things change I guess, people grow apart. I just didn’t think it would happen to us.

So now it’s said and done. Do I regret it? I guess it’s too early to tell. One day ill be able to talk to you again. But not now.

Till next we meet,
Paul

The Gospels According To Paul

Things will never be the same

Snatched away by force,
Left to rot out in the rain.
The innocence of a child,
Now shivering in self blame.

Hidden in the corner,
Locked away from prying sight.
Lies that child, praying, wishing,
Someday that he might.

Wash away the scares,
And forget about the pain.
All the while knowing,
Things will never be the same.

The child keeps on living,
Maybe out of spite.
He wakes up drenched and screaming,
He can never sleep at night.

The darkness of events,
Keep replaying in his dreams.
A never ending story,
Where nothings what it seems.

The child, now a man,
Lives away from where he came.
Although the dreams have stopped,
Things will never be the same.

He lies in bed all alone,
And waits till morning come.
He dreads the sound of footsteps,
Though he knows there will be none.

The man receives a letter,
Informing of his father wake.
The father has died suddenly,
And to the grave he take.

The secrets of his life,
And the answers there within.
The reasoning of madness,
And the multitude of sin.

The man stares at the letter,
For what seems to be an age.
He walks around the room,
Yet his eyes don’t leave the page.

He knows he should feel safe,
The threat has gone and passed.
But he cannot help but think,
Of the questions gone unasked.

The man has never told a soul,
And decided never will.
The past is best left where it lies,
Under a dirt mound hill.

In front a stone, made of clay,
With words imprinted had.
Here lies a man remarked to be,
The world’s greatest dad.

A Chance to Dream:

I lie in bed holding my breath, waiting for that sound I deeply dread. Outside the room a bottle falls and rolls across the floor. I am safe, he will not wake tonight. I breathe again, slowly allowing for my muscles to relax. I permit myself to falter, and dream. Dreams are a risky escape, a reality without the limitations and boundaries of the current. They are the great equalisers among men. Where a person can become anything just by simply wishing it. I like dreams; I like to pretend I’m somewhere else. It doesn’t matter where, as long as its not here. I close my eyes and the room disappears, melting away the worries of the day. When I open them again I find I am enclosed by a clear plastic box. I like this dream, I have had it many time before. From my box I watch the world pass by. It does not notice me, and I do not care. I watch the chaos of uncertainty that plagues this world and feel glad I am in my box. I am safe. I wish this dream would last for ever, but it never does.

In a dream there is always a certain amount of control one has; the ability to stop an event they do not like by simply waking up. Sometimes I wonder why life can’t be like this. Why can’t I just wake up? My life in essence is a reoccurring nightmare, a reality more fitting of a fictitious creation. So that is how I treat it. I block it out hoping that it will someday pass, but it never does. I am a prisoner, bound by my circumstances, relinquished of my will. A condemned victim, persecuted for simply being. As time passed on I have noticed a yearning within myself. A craving for a release from the pains of this world into the reality of the dream.

A dream creates a safe environment that cannot be matched by anything in this world. Where a consequence is but a word, thrown around defying its very definition. You cannot be hurt in a dream, there is no sorrow, there is no pain.

I feel myself slipping away from the dream. I can’t go back, I mustn’t go back. My surroundings start to blend together. I desperately try to cling to the dream, but my futile attempts fail. I am awake.

Morning breaks as the downing of a new day slowly brings me back to reality. Movement outside the room tells me he has woken too. A loud crack of a leather belt on wood is a prologue to the up coming events of the day. I sit up slowly and listen to the sound of rain falling on nearby rooftops. The calming echo of splashing water prepares me for what I must do next. Outside the room he yells my name, I do not listen. I pick up a sheet, rap it around my neck and start to pull. It digs into my throat and I pull harder, I cannot stop now. I can not breathe and I am starting to get dizzy, but it is worth it. To dream, one last time, to die.

Statement of intention: This story was written as a first person narrative by a thirteen year old with knowledge beyond his years. The perspicacity of the child is a representation of the ultimate loss of possible potential when someone commits suicide.

Religion or Cult?

Apparently im not allowed to use these words interchangeably. For some reason people get offended if i reference their religion as a cult. I personally see no difference. To differentiate is to claim that one person’s beliefs are more valid than another's. Considering no one can definitively prove one way or the other they shall all be cults to me.

Its so hard to legally define what is a religion, simply cause its so loosely established. So because of this reason we shall stick with the basic concept. The main difference between a religion and a cult is there size. Apparently if enough people believe in something, no matter how absurd, it gives it validity, and even more importantly a tax status. (Even christianity was once considered a cult).

The word cult has negative connotations, the image it congers is of an elitist totalitarian society headed by a self appointed charismatic preacher who intends to keep its members separated from the 'polluted' ideals of established society. Im here to tell you not all cults are like this, and not all religions are that far from this concept. The religious wars that caused so much blood shed over countless years were the original way to limit the strength of opposing religious concepts. By physically decreasing the amount of individuals believing conflicting views, they were able gain strength through fear and brute force. Add this to smear campaigns listing other religions as cults and you can almost understand why pagan symbols such as pentagrams were adopted by satanic extremists.

Religions/Cults aren't bad. That said they are not always good either. They give people hope, strength, courage and faith. They also give limited responsibility, irrational reasoning and prejudice logic. As long as they are not taken too seriously in a fanatic nature, and a person remains open minded i don't too much care what you believe. Just don't expect me to share your views.

A cult by any other name...

Till next we meet,
Paul