About Libel

Libel is written.  We've got that much.  It is published.  Boom.  It is also defaming an individual(s) aka talking bad about someone.


For one, to speak negatively about someone such as a Congressman is perfectly legal.  Our US Constitution supports the criticism of our politicians.


For two, the author did not even do that.  He spoke about his son.  And he said " Everyone from my next door neighbor to the Congressman's son has been bah-ing about how I need to be set onto the right path."  And he ranted on about how he didn't care.


For three, there were no names mentioned, no name signed.  You can trace IP addresses, but it is a work of literature and you cannot trace how that originated.


For libel to be in requirement of legal action, damage must be brought forth to motivate any action by a court.  No damage has been done.  If this results in an "investigation" then the source of that is previous to the possible publishing and not brought on by the publishing of the article itself.  


So... see you in court?  

Pardon my vanity, but...

Cup my breasts, and they will leave you half empty. Watch them lay lazily on my chest and sway gracefully beneath my dress. Without shame, they dance. 

Follow my spine to the curve of my back, the arc of my bone. Meet my thighs, and their beauty in between. Can you sense your humility? Your inferiority? Futility?   How unfortunate that in contrast to their bearing, you are without purpose. And in contrast to their beauty, you are without virtue.

Be humbled by the terrain of my stomach, the curve of my trunk, the valleys of my ribs, the path of my neck, the crescent of my smile, the vastness of my eyes, the flow of my hair, the bridge of my nose.


Pardon my vanity, you malicious bitches, but

My body is perfect. 

-VH

Dear Father

I'm really mad.  I'm sick of people.

They want to get to get in my face about stuff that they don't even know about.  They want to judge me, break me, and knock me down for everything I stand for, everything I have stood for, and for all my hopes and dreams.  They want to crush them.  They feel as though I am the reason for everything that has gone wrong in the past two hundred and eighty-five days.  They say I don't have the slightest amout of virile within the blood pumping through my veins.  

If I'm the reason why my family fell apart, then something went terribly wrong along the way long before all the trash started hitting the fan.  I'm not washing my hands of everything that took place, but I'm also not going to accept people throwing so many retarded accusations at me.  

I did what I thought was right.  You might think I was wrong, but I never asked you.  I never asked any of you.  

I won't give you a recount of everything that happened.  I didn't want to do this.  I figured publishing such a thing as a rant about everything would be a bad idea.  But you know what I realized?  The entire world knows.  Everyone from my next door neighbor to the Congressman's son has been bah-ing about how I need to be set onto the right path.

As though I'm on the Dark Side of the Force or something.  Who knows, maybe I am.

My brother is nineteen years old and wants to be a US Marine.  And they're blaming me for his actions, for his problems, and for his decisions.  Am I the one that has to finish raising him?  If so, then I'd like to see why the person who issupposed to never did it in the first place.

You've got one kid left out of an original five.  Hmmmm.  Maybe there's something wrong here.  And you might say, "Congrats!  Your kids are probably on the road to success!"  You can blame the children for so long until one is in a mental hospital (or was), a daughter who has two children, one with an ex-Latin King and drug dealer, and a son who lives with her.  And the youngest son who almost despises everything abut his father.

When you get a phone call from your brother who is desperate, scared, absolutely terrified, and begging you to help him, are you going to hang up?  I'd hope not.

I did what I could.  I offered my they didn't.  I provided him a place to live, clothing and the proper things to get by, tutors for the classes he struggled in, and I talked to him.  Instead of... what he did.  

Tell me, my dear father, why did you change our room into your biking sanctuary?  Tell me, dad, if you love us so much, why would you remove us from your health insurance and force your son to repay you for having to go to the hospital?  My Deacon of the church that I so love, why do you ban me from attending TEC because I didn't say hi to your properly?  

If I'm so wrong, then why am I told to fix your reputation and why do you attempt to force me to keep my mouth shut about everything?  I can, as I am not going to talk about the actual events that took place themselves, but I beg you to answer this one question?  If I'm so wrong, and if everything I say is a aggregation of lies, then why are you afraid of what I'm saying?  You have the reputation and prestige to get the truth to shine forth.  

Oh wait.

Maybe I'm telling the truth.  

I'm sorry, but telling your kids to do the right thing is easy.  But did you ever teach him why?  Did you ever take us out to pass a football?  Did you ever take us anywhere?!  You chose to go on a week long biking trip as opposed to our familyvacation.  You chose to ride your bike for two and a half hours each day instead of spending time with any of your kids.  You take us to Catholic Cathedrals to flaunt what rank you have in the Church, and you use your title as a way to prevent me from pursuing my own faith.  The day after your son leaves, you take all his things and place them in garbage bags to be given away.  You never called me once.  Ever.  I tried to fix things.  Remember?  I came with my girlfriend.  I sat in our living room on Christmas.  And you pretended like you ever gave two cents.  

I emailed you.  I told you the great news: I got accepted into Augustana.  You never even replied.  

You want to cal me a terrible person?  You want to accuse me of ruining everything I am?  

Tell me, then... How is it that without you that I can graduate from high school as at least number sixteen in my class with a GPA no less than 3.7, in the National Honors Society, with more than you had ever given me?  

Don't use that threat, no.  I'm sick of you yelling.  I'm sick of you telling me that I outta respect you because youadopted me.  That's such a bullshit excuse for me to respect you.  

Why is it that when I confronted you about everything on that night, you screamed at me and made me leave?  

I'm going to say this, and I want you to hear me loud and clear.  

I won't say I don't care what you think about me or what you say when it comes to matters such as these.  I will tell you to keep your mouth shut because you don't know what you're talking about.  If you truly gave a damn about where I'm going to end up or my family, you wouldn't message me in a chat on Facebook or send me a useless message blaming me for everything.  I don't care if your my neighbor, and I don't care if you're the Congressman of the 17th District or his son, but get your facts straight.

If you're okay with fathers mentally abusing their sons and ever laying a hand on them, well, F.O.D.  Go away.

If I could tell my father one thing, I'd tell him this:

Good riddance.  

Remember Me

                In eight years, I have gone from swinging around lightsabers with my next door neighbors to hanging out at local coffee shops with friends.  It saddens me because my childhood dream was to grow up and become a Jedi Knight.  I now know that such an occupation only exists in the movies.  

                Life has a way of doing that.  Who you are now is not who you will be in ten or even eight years, as I am no longer my ten year-old self.  I could very well end up as a nihilistic, flip-flopping politician, or teaching a math class at the junior high.  Who knows? 

Eight years ago, I had no idea where I would be today.  This is the enigma of our futures; it is so extravagant and amazing that nearly anything realistic is possible yet so frightening to know that the absolute worst is also just as probable, if not more likely.  And that’s the funny thing.  I can’t really figure any of this out.  I feel as though some of my time has been wasted in trying to comprehend how everything works.  You’ll begin to question whether your matter or what your purpose is.  Simply don’t.

                You can spend the rest of your existence trying your hardest to understand life.  Maybe you’ll be the first one to figure everything out if you divert all of your energy into doing so, besides Buddha.  I say that such an endeavor would be a waste of your time because chances are you’ll only figure life out after wasting it all away.  I doubt that you can ever know what the meaning of your life is.  The greater concern would be living it, rather than attempting to discover the science and reasons behind everything that you are.  Besides, what would the point be?

                Be curious.  Become so fascinated with the universe and the world around you.  Explore and set off on that adventure.  Enjoy this freedom you have.  Yes, be spontaneous and unravel the mystery you encounter once you set out from the refuge of your cozy bed.  But be aware that once every bit of wonder is purged from life by your intention to intellectually assess every bit of it, then you will find that there isn’t much left.   

                The tragedy is that we lose ourselves to taking control of every aspect within our lives rather than living.  The horror is that we end life before it begins.  The downfall of us all lies in the idea that we have greater concern in finding the answers and reasons than enjoying and having gratitude in our lives. 

                You can’t know your meaning.  Your meaning will be perceived by the people you leave behind long after those last seconds of life.

                Gandhi said, “Whatever you will do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it.”  He is right.  Nearly every single thing we do will somehow fade when we die.  Almost all we build will someday crumble to pieces and our bodies will eventually decay into dust.  The things that will last forever are those fingerprints we leave on other people’s lives. 

                Each of us has meaning.  Sure, there are times along the way when we feel so useless and like a complete waste of oxygen.  Regardless, every life leaves its mark, and every death will cause the formation of empty spaces throughout this universe.

                Your words will speak volumes and the world you will leave behind will be different than it was when you first entered it.  Every relationship you create will bridge energy from one life into another whether it is for a few thousand seconds or an entire lifetime.  Your actions will mold yourself and others into whom they will be and who they are.  In your hands is the power to change. 

                It will be insignificant when you do it.  The action itself will not matter.  But the effects it will have are what will hold the greatest amount of influence on others and the rest of the world.  From your significance your power is originated.

                Maybe you can’t eliminate poverty and establish peace throughout the world, but you can richen the lives around you and end conflicts with people you know.  When we die, what is it that truly stays behind? 

                What remains are the memories and our echoes.  The records of our history and recordings of our words will only exist when we choose to live.  The meaning will only be visible or perceived long after the event takes place.  You cannot know the sum of everything until everything has been included. 

                Keep an open mind, enjoy life, and never take anything for granted.  Our future will be formed by what we do now, so just live. 

                When you die, the number of degrees you earn via a higher education will be insignificant.  But with those skills you acquired by doing so you can change lives.  Imagine a politician changing his district or the entire nation with his decisions.  Imagine a junior high teacher inspiring his students to learn and exceed in all they do.  When his term ends or summer break comes along, dozens of lives, hundreds of people, and an entire nation can be influenced beyond their comprehension.  

                What you do in life will be insignificant, yes.  But we all must continue to do what we do, whatever it is.  We have no idea what our actions will mean for others or the future.  No one will know until we become a part of the history.  Whether we are named in a text book in some paragraph about changes of this century, or we remain in photographs of a dusty old family album, what always remains are our memories, our imprints, and our legacies.  We might all have the same type of DNA or the same kind of physical appearances as our fellow man, but the difference lies within.  Inside each of us is the ability to do absolutely anything realistic and to do. 

                Don’t take life too seriously, but do your best not to take anything for granted.  People are watching and what you do will matter. 

                Hear me now.  You are part of something.  You’re taking up space in someone’s life that no one else can fill.  Whether it’s a friend, a loved one, or a family member, you matter.  You may be one out of billions.  Your voice might not be heard above all the others screaming out loud.  Your pain might be the same as hundreds and your successes might be similar to thousands more, but you yourself are significant, should you choose to live.   

You are significant.  Make it so.

One fish, two fish...

Somehow my fish are still alive.  That's kind of cool.  They poop too much.  

You know, it's funny.  There's just so much proof that no matter what, life works out for you.  I was disappointed that my plan to start a coffee shop was not going to work out.  Then, out of no where, someone offers to basically fund the project, with zero risk, at a place set up to do the things I wanted to do.  Along with that, my girlfriend and I get signed on to write a book.  

Sweet.  Glory, glory, alleleuia.  

It's even funnier how lame high school guys can be.  There's a new girl at school who's said to be good-looking and you've got twenty plus guys drooling over her and trying to get her to go to prom with them.  Chances are, by the time prom rolls around, she'll be on the other side of the world.  

As much as we hate to admit it, we judge everything by its cover.  I can't say, "don't judge," because we're human and that's what we do best.  Little do we know...

Is it just me, or have gas prices gone up again?  Maybe it's just me.

I figure in a few months, some of my friends are going to complain about how we never hung out, we never talked enough, and that it's my fault when he/she is on the other side of the state/country.  My rebuttle is going to simply be, "You never answered your phone. You were always too busy.  I tried."  

Bleh.  Shame. 

I used to always tell myself I'm going to run, I'm going to run, I'm going to run.  Truth is, I really need to.  Truth is, I'm too lazy.  It's cool now, because I can't as well anymore.  The asthma failed to warn me with an "I'll be back," when it left about six years ago.  Thanks, buddy.

Today was a good day.  It's amazing what you can do to make a girl on her twelfth birthday happy.  Seeing her happy makes me ecstatic, but it reminds me of how lame life gets as you progress.  Now it's nearly impossible to satisfy a fellow cohort.  She got markers that write in ink that's glow in the dark.  It made her day.  To us, that'd be the lamest gift in the world.  Those were the days.

Appreciate what you have, take advantage of having the ability when you have it, and look for a deeper meaning.  

You know what's annoying?  When there's a girl that will stand there and tell the most useless story in the entire world and you're just about to jump off the I-74 bridge.  

"So... Yeah, he came inside and was like 'we've been waiting for you to answer the door for a while' and I was like, 'who's we' and he was like 'me and matt' and I was like 'omg, I so have to come and say hi' so I came outside.  I'm just like so gone.  Omg.  And now I'm here.  Wow."

Yeah.  Wow.  And I have two pet fish.  

Boom, boom, boom.  

Here's a picture of the I-74 bridge.  Have a nice day. 

Save Yo' Heart

"Hey. Look up. Open your eyes. Poke yourself a few times. You're real. Poke yourself in your eye or something. It'll probably hurt. Yeah, you feel pain just like everyone else. Think of your favorite memory. Smile. Yes. You feel peace and a sense of happiness just like everyone else. It's crazy because really, we aren't all that different. Lay claim to the evidence, cuz it's there. Our DNA might be significantly different, but generally, everything is more or less the same. Physically, yeah. Generally speaking.

"From the way we breathe to the way we bleed, we're all the same. We all blink and we all get scared. Everyone falls down at one point and we all have that one thing we want more than anything. Each one of us has more than likely felt pain beyond all measure and chances are we have all laughed at least one time until we cried. From the way we are born to the way we die, we are the same.

"Our looks are different. Some people are just beautiful. Some just... aren't. Some people are tall, and I'm just... not. Some people have great eyes and some are dull. Our noses are longer or shorter than the person's next to us and we all have crazy hair every now and then... Yeah.

"Still, though the physical aspects are generally identical, we are each individually significant. And the significance and greatest amount of difference lies in each person's heart and mind.

"We all think differently. What one kid might think is probably completely opposite to what you think. We are all entitled to our own opinions and theory has it that humanity will never all agree on one thing at one hundred percent. Remember, there's someone, somewhere that disagrees with you. Guaranteed.

"Deep within, beyond the walls of our mind, lies our memories and thoughts. Our pasts have shaped us into who we are today, and each individual thought moves us further into the moment we're currently in. Whether it be simple memories or stupid mistakes, we're built by our histories into the people we stand up to be today.

"Because no one lives the same exact life as the person next to them, or any one else in the entire world for that matter, and because all of our pasts have different factors and moments, the people we are now are different as well. It's basic algebra; if the numbers are different, the sum will also be different.

"Next are our hearts. We love the same. We all hurt in love, all the same. We all feel alive in love, all the same. Enough said...

"Maybe not enough, but I'm lazy. Really, our hearts are as capable as anyone else alive. It's all there; all the tools to live, drive on and love are within them to push us through. Use them. Live. Love. Carry on. Do carry on.

"Save your heart.

"Because what the guy says about your beauty or what the girl thinks about your wimpy abs may be important now, but what matters is if they see you for you. If they see your heart. If they open up your heart and help you unleash the powerful emotions and great spirit inside, and if they look into your mind and try to grasp everything you are.

"Save your heart for someone that will stay up all night with you. Someone who will buy you flowers, fight with you over who pays for the night, and argue who loves each other more. Save your heart for the person that loves you for who you are, not for what you do. Save your heart for someone worth dying for and someone worth living for.

"And I guess I don't just mean someone to be in love with. I mean friends, as well. Your closest friends will be the ones that accept you for you above all else. And they will love you because you are you and you are different than Earth's other six billion inhabitants.

"Just realize you mean the world to a lot of people. I sure hope I do.

"Save your heart, for someone who will pick you up when you fall to the very bottom. Save it for someone worth the risk and pain. And when you can barely move, just slowly brush yourself up and open up. Because who knows, maybe it's right.

"Don't just give it to the first bum that asks for it. You'll know when it's right, you will. I can't tell you how or when. You just will know. I guarantee it. Don't search. Just wait. It will come if and when it needs to.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting to my point.

"We'll all lose someone we thought was supposed to be in our lives forever. We'll struggle to find ourselves. We'll feel the sorrow and pressure to find the person for us. But you can't change a thing; words aren't enough for me to tell you..

"There is no one like you on this planet. I don't know your name. I don't know who you are, but you are significant. No one can be you. No one can replace who you are because though you are one in six billion on this world, you still have an entire world within your head that's someone else's for the taking. Another person like you is impossible to find.

"So don't forget that. I mean it. I don't have to know you to say so. Just always remember that. Thank ya."

-GV

PS, I apologize for the sloppiness, grammatical errors if they are any, and the jumpiness/disorganization of this one. I tried... But I'm tired. Night.

To be, or not to be.

Even the best fall down sometimes. But falling is such a great feeling.  For instance... How does a baby possibly learn to walk?  By falling down continuously.  And then getting back up.  I'm pretty sure you hold its hand all the time it will never be able to stand alone, and that, I think, is a tragedy farworse than skinning your knee on the pavement every once in a while.  Yeah, we all fall down. Every single one of us.

Basically, no one is perfect.  The most beautiful girls are generally heartless (just kidding?  maybe... who knows...) and a lot of the guys with the perfect bodies, faces, whatever are usually the biggest jerks (and/or assholes).  There is always a flaw.  Always something that will make you hesitate from accepting that person for who they are.  If you meet someone who seems to be everything right, then look twice or as many times as it takes because there is something wrong.  And there's nothing wrong with that. It just means you're breathing, alive and human.  And Nothing is perfect. We can't solve poverty even though socialists are trying their best.  You can't fix death or make life any easier than how it is.  Your phone, your car, the internet, and whatever the hell else; all of it will break or let you down at some point.  

There is not a single country in this world (technically) that has won every single war or conflict (not even the US). Go ahead and name the NFL team that has won every single game in its history.  Cuz you can't.  If there's an undefeated MMA fighter out there (like I'd know...) I'd like to see him stay undefeated for the rest of his life.  Because he's gonna get old.  And weaker. And he'll eventually lose.  Or just die or something.  

Imperfection.  It's the one thing that's so beautiful about this world. It's funny that I use that word: beautiful.  

You see, the one thing that will turn anyone into a monster is the undying desire to be the best, and the urge to reach perfection.  Becaus as long as you're still breathing it will be impossible.  The tragedy is not that we are not perfect, but the belief that we can be.

Let me put it this way.  I suck terribly at the video game Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2.  My kill/death ratio is like an average of 8-15.  Not really that great.  But every time I get a kill, or even an assist, I leap for joy because I really do suck and me killing someone else is somewhat of a miracle.  One of my buddies's ratio is an average of 27-3.  He gets a kill, it's like breathing in.  He dies, it's a tragedy.  (And for me it's just part of the cycle... ha).  It's almost as though he's numb to what I claim as instances just short of miracles. Ha. 

Basically, one man's trash is another's treasure.  It's true.  

Pretty much, if you have everything then what more can you get?  What's the point?  If your life is perfect, what use is anything else?  What's the purpose of going on further?  If you win every time, what's the point of trying anymore? Ya catch my drift?

And going off on a rant, here, I wanna reiterate something from one of the older ones.  

When things go badly, and they will, trust me, you don't need to be Superman.  You don't have to know every answer.  You don't have to know the perfect-est thing to do in that certain situation.  You just need to be there.  Because in five years, that person will probably forget what you said or promised.  But they'll remember your presence.  

That kinda goes with the idea that actions speak louder than words.  And that they do.

Enough for now.  I don't even know what the point of this was.  But whatever.  Thanks ya'll.  Nighty night.

-GV