The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Well after opening for two weeks straight I drive into work (45 minutes), only to find out that I close, which means that I don't have to be there for another 3 1/2 hours.



I hate rotating shifts. I can never get used to it, especially when my body wants to be up at night as it is.

I was reading a profile today and I saw something there that reminded me of a quote from a show:



"But there is something worse than being all alone in the night. Being all alone in a crowd."



How often I've felt this way. There has always been a world of difference between myself and those around me, with very few exceptions. When I was in school I was nothing like the other kids. When I got out I was different from those around me. I know part of the reason is that I was raised by my grandfather and was taught the older ways. Ways that seem, sadly, lost in this day and age. But that wasn't the only thing. My interests were different, my style was different, my musical choices, my preferred programs. And books, hell most of them I was growing up with couldn't be bothered.



My musical tastes vary, though many mentioned here, even though I would listen to them, aren't my first and sometimes not my second or even third choice. Books, movies, many things are different from my own. Yet, here I am. Why? Because I actually feel accepted here. People here don't seem to care what you like, only what you are. They actually look beyond what is similar in thier tastes. This is something I that I strive to do, yet so many turn away because I don't always like what they like or it's not foremost on my list of what I like.



I have read in a number of profiles where people didn't feel they fit in, they weren't accepted. They didn't have self esteem. For the first time I see people that feel as I have. Yet, even though there are differences, I feel that I'm welcomed, not because I'm the same, but because I'm different.



This is an experience that is so powerful that it has actually moved me to tears. I'm neither afraid nor ashamed to admit that, I'm happy for it.....



And I thank you all.

Okay, for any who might have seen my brief profile descriptor, I apologize. I'm tired and cranky. I was trying to figure out what to put. So to make you aware of the problem here's my last entry for tonight (I hope). I was looking for some material on vampires on line. This site came up. For reasons I won't say here I quickly created an account. I used Lauralin as the name even though I'm male.



Why?



I have a rather bad memory for logins, as about a dozen ICQ and other chat accounts now floating in limbo will atest to and so I use the same thing now. Lauralin. She's a D&D character of mine and one of my two favorite characters, Turquine, her father, being the other one. She's the most recent of the two and the one I play now. Therefore, it's easy for me to remember the login. I found that I liked it here and have decided to stay, the powers that be, here, permitting, of course.



Now, however, I have the problem of a male with a female name. I could solve that by changing my status from free and creating another account, sure. Except that having half my pay taken for child support doesn't leave alot left for anything other than rent, insurance, gas, utilities and food.



So ... I figured I would post this here for now. Later I'll edit the profile and then just refer to this entry for any questions.



I do apologize for any confusion.

'Methinks I heard a voice cry out, 'sleep no more, Macbeth doth murder sleep.'



And why? A victim of his own conscience. A penance for murdering the king.



'Thou shalt not kill' gods law.



Men are imprisoned for killing, guilty of a crime in the eyes of the law. Mens law.



Yet the government pays people to kill. They call them soldiers. The title makes the difference. But the conscience is still that of a man. The government says it's okay, but the mind reminds you of what you've done. For four years. Some time ago now, but still fresh in my memories and hovering there in that living imitation of death we call sleep. They come to me. The faces, because I never knew the names. I had gone places we never went, did things we never did. I can't say where or what, that's locked in my mind and in a folder somewhere. But the government said it was okay. So why does my mind murder my sleep before it has a chance to bloom or wrest it from me once it's laid it's cloak down upon me?



Did I do wrong? In the definition of a soldier, no. In the definition of god? In the definition of men's laws to civilians?



Who are we to decide who is right and who is wrong? Who was I to carry out sentence? I'm so tired.



It's not a soldiers job to question. Only to do as he is told and hope that it's for the right reason. I so feircly defend our noble soldiers against any who would gainsay them. I always have, I always will. But I will always wonder if what I have done is wrong. If not legally, then moraly. And I guess because of that they come to murder my sleep. Because I let them? Because I can't stop them? Because thier right?



The hour of the wolf has passed and still thier at the door.

One bright day, in the middle of the night,

two dead boys got up to fight.



Back to back they faced each other,

drew thier swords and shot each other.



A deaf policeman heard the noise,

and came and saved those two dead boys.



If you don't believe this lie is true,

ask the blind man ... he saw it too.



****



Don't ask me why I put that here, just things that pop up at 4am when the past comes to haunt me and I'm afraid to close my eyes. It was something from my time in school. A literature class I think.