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Segment I: Blog
So I have realized that taking a sabbatical from writing isn't really accomplishing what I want it to. Part of my goal of this blog is to explain things that are locked away inside myself. Ordinarily I try to avoid talking about myself in the first Segment, save to giving examples, but this time i am going to break that rule.
See I've never really been sure what a blog is. To me it is a place for ideas and beliefs and discussion, not so much a journal of events in my life. Clearly I also use a blog to share the stories that flow through my mind. Politics, ideologies, beliefs, obsessions. These are all topics, which i consider necessary to speak on in order to form what I consider a blog. However, Reading the blogs of people who have left footprints, I have learned that a blog can be almost anything to those who can communicate what is going on in their mind. A blog, by the way i thought of it, was relevant. It gave pertinent ideas to the reader, provoking thought. However, at least on xanga, this is not always the case. Many people use their blogs as a place to release information, some helpful and impressive, but others just run of the mill, or even just a recitation of daily activities.
The point I learned most was that, if a person is really able to communicate, even the most bland of blog topics becomes interesting. This is a paradox for me. See, all my "adult" life (by that I mean the time in which I have learned and understood the necessity for higher thought and reasoning, on a mature level) I have felt a limitation of my ability to communicate.
Many teenagers claim that “people just don’t understand”. Perhaps this is the same issue I struggle with, only I have the sense to know the core of its reality. It’s not that people just don’t understand me, its that I have never been able to communicate clearly the thoughts or feelings in my mind. I can, at times, with those who are close to me, relay a basic image of my thoughts, but even that often leaves me frustrated. I feel trapped inside my own mind, as though I speak one language and the rest of the world speaks another. No perhaps there is a better explanation: I am a Mac, the rest of the world is PC, or I am AM radio, the rest of the world is FM. We speak the same language and do the same things, but information that is given is different and is interpreted differently.
One of the few times I can truly express myself is through writing, primarily in fictional stories, secondarily here, in Blog form. But even that has a limitation; because I think of a blog as a reader-based fulcrum of a certain kind of information, I could only produce writings when I felt I had something that was of enough substance, then would spend a day agonizing over the actual writing process.
I can’t make my common thoughts, or day to day happenings interesting, unless I dress them up in my imagination which is easier for me to explain. This was the birth of my continuing blog story “Carry You Home”.
Alas, I know my break was short. Actually it was hardly a week, and therefore just an example of my low maturity level and self-knowledge. But by this post, I declare my pointless sabbatical over.

Segment II: Franklin
Not a man I Admire as much as others, but in continuation of Seg 1, Ben Franklin is a man who I wish to someday emulate. His ability to express good thoughts in few words is something I lack.
God heals, and the doctor takes the fees.

All human situations have their inconveniences. We feel those of the present but neither see nor feel those of the future; and hence we often make troublesome changes without amendment, and frequently for the worse.

At 20 years of age the will reigns, at 30 the wit, at 40 the judgment.

Educate your children to self-control, to the habit of holding passion and prejudice and evil tendencies subject to an upright and reasoning will, and you have done much to abolish misery from their future and crimes from society.

Calling me an Englishman is like calling an ox a bull: he's grateful for the honor, but he'd rather have restored what's rightfully his.

Segment III: Film
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0060665/
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0068156

Segment IV: Subway
Three months into my fourth paying job: Subway. People I don’t mind, at least not in the small doses I have to deal with them. If I were to interact with them for any longer than what it takes to make a sub and ring them up, I would probably lose all customer service composure. But as simple and repetitive as the task of sub-making is, I don’t find it taxing at all.
In complete honesty my job is boring, and I’m not very good at it. Haven’t been able to figure out why I’m slow, disorganized and dysfunctional, I just am. Now my Co-workers do bring a certain amount of humor into the workplace, there are aspects about each of them tha ti have to work around, and being the worst worker (save one) makes it harder to function next to others at times.
Obviously the part of this job that give the most benefits and is the most annoying is the customer interaction, limited and simple as it may be. Interaction means tips at some times. While I working with people give me a very clear picture of how stupid people can be, it also provides a laugh.
I simply cannot stand people who delude themselves into thinking they can talk on the phone and order at the same time. Please get off the phone when talking ot the person making your food. Your nasty comments about my service quality isn’t half as bad as what I could do to your digestive system, and even though I am working in an apron, show some respect, if you would, please?
Then there are the people who do not understand the most obvious parts of a sandwich. Yes we have more than one kind of bread, and I need to know what that is, before you tell me what sauce you want on your laundry list of veggies.
A major annoyance is when one person come in and orders three or more subs. And this always happens when there is a line. Come on, I understand that you have a lot of people to feed, but we do take phone orders in advance. Conversely, we do not need prior notice for you to get one sub at three oclock. Just come in and we will make it for you. One or two subs are fine on the spot. Thank you.
While people can be very annoying, there are always the oddities and few nice people and unique circumstances that make it worth while.. for the most part.
I remember within my first week during lunch hour, with a line to the door on a cold day. I said something to the customer I was ringing up about Hawaii . Somehow that got translated to the person in the back of the line that I was FROM Hawaii, originally. The thought spread through the crowd and for a while I receive comments from people I rang up about how I could stand the snow after the perpetual summer of the islands. I have never been to Hawaii.
Not long ago, ding the final MSU games, we had a lot of business, and I started working primarily pre-closing shifts. During one of the games, two college girls came in emblazoned with MSU all over. The first one told us to turn the radio to the game so customers could listen, and said she would call with a good station. Her friend, as I rang her up, handed me a piece of folded paper with her cash. Thanks to Laura’s prompting, I was wearing my two rings, which this girl apparently saw. She took the note back, saying “Oh, You are married, never mind.” She was giving me her phone number! To a subway employee she had known for two minutes! Sigh
All of the confusions, and frustrations of working at Subway can mount up on me sometimes, and weigh me down. But tonight it was all made worth it.
About half an hour before I was set to go home, a man in his mid twenties came in. As I prepared to make his sub, but he didn’t order, instead looking at me and saying: “The girl I’m here with is autistic. She is still in the car and will be in in a second. I just wanted to let you know and tell you to be careful when helping her.” The girl, of about the same age, then came in and clung close to him. The ordered together, and she was unable to look up at the menu or myself very much or for very long. It was hard for her to choose a bread, and every time she said a word she looked at him as she finished. The process wasn’t as hard as you might think, and I was gentle. I enjoyed helping her, in all honesty.
They ate in-store for about 25 minutes. I was getting my things together, and had already clocked out for the night; Dean and I were talking in the back, when the girl came to the counter. And got our attention. She looked me in the eye, smiled, and said, “You were very nice to me. Thank you for your help.”
If you know anything about autism, then n you know how hard it was for her to do that. Those words made my week

Segment V: Recap I
What am I? Where am I? A list of such questions that could go on for some time, mostly derived to answer the question; Do I even exist? Am I just a bundle of fragmented Memories? No. I feel warm. I have a body, so I do exist.
These thoughts and memories; what order to the go in? I remember that I have a name. Or am I just giving myself a name to prove that I exist? Mehaghen. Yes, that is my name.
The warmth I feel is clearer. It’s not merely warmth; its pain. I am in deep, relentless pain. This is good. It is all I can feel, but I can feel it, and it give me proof that I am real and substantial. Pain is good. It proves that I am alive. I like pain.
I remember the beautiful winged man. Antien. He is wonderful. He hurt me. This is his world. No, this is the world that he came from. It could be his world, it should be, but He doesn’t remember.
This isn’t my world. Why am I here? I come from another world. An Alther-world, where things are very different than they are here. People are able to do things there that aren’t possible here. Impirical magicians who create and pattern unnatural energy forms, and Natural magicians who can control the elements. Telekinetics, who could feel and move objects with their thoughts; and mind-taps, with their insight and control over the thoughts and feelings of others.
I don’t belong in this world. So why am I here? Antien came to my world a long time ago and became powerful. The made him more powerful than anything that has physical form. They made him their Angel of death, and they made us after him, to serve as his generals. I was more than that. I was his playmate, his lover. So long ago now that it almost seems not to have happened, but I cannot forget him, nor can I let him go.
After having been in our world so long, something sent him back to the world he had come from. I don’t remember what caused him to go back, but I do remember that I followed. Because he had traveled between worlds, the barrier separating the dimensions was changing, allowing better access. Antien had been the first to go between, but after him things began to change in his world.
When he returned to this world, his memory of everything that had happened, everything that he was, somehow was erased. While the abilities he had in our world should not have been possible in his, they manifested anyway; though because he couldn’t remember, he was unable to use them to their fullest.
With the world shift barrier changing, the worlds were not merging, and for the most part would remain two separate universes; the dissimilarities between them were diminishing. Magic, alchemy, and mental powers were beginning to manifest in a word that had not before allowed such things. Antien and I had both witnessed the first signs of the change; groups of human mages performing alchemic reactions and calling meteors down form the skies.
I was the first to Follow Antien from or world, but I knew I was not the last. Other would follow me, others who would not be as friendly towards this world as I. The council that had given Antien his powers was growing in strength again, and they would not be long in waiting before they made conquest of this world. Others would follow me, but none as dangerous as I.
Now I remember it all. The taste of my Antien’s blood, and the power he unleashed. Now I lay on the bottom of the ocean, the weight of the water crushing down on me. I will Have my way with him. I will not again be the lesser of the two of us. He will taste what power I can unleash. I am not dead.
I am Fully alive.

Segment VI: Fingernails
Never reaching what I want to reach
Never being who I want to be
Blaming me when I fall and fail
All my dreams splintering
Under my fingernails

I’m empty, lonely, and accused
Accused without a word
My fingernails are chipping down
From clawing in the dirt
I’m so lost, lost and confused
I threw it all away
How can I be beautiful
When I am so afraid

All my dreams out of reach
Under my fingernails

I watched it all slip through my hands
My brokenness revealed
I’m so proud, I’m so proud
I’m crying to be filled
I’m killing, destroying the plague
That’s killing me away
I’ve got to live, I’ve got to love
Like I am unafraid

I’m wasting, wasting every moment
I want to be tasting
Tasting every moment with you
I’m suffering, I’m bleeding, on my knees
Who’s gonna save me?
Suffering, bleeding
Save me from this pit of frailty
All my dreams out of reach
Under my fingernails

Never reaching me