Limsa Lominsa, Eorzea

Truly a spectacle. What a marvelous, prosperous port we live in. Robust maritime trade routes keep Limsa Lominsa bustling with excitement, being a hub for pirates helps too. I don't stake a claim in either of those occupations but I'm forever grateful that they helped me arrive in such a lovely place. Before I found my way here, I was struggling to make ends meet on islands in the seas south of Limsa Lominsa. We Lalafell are tiny, modest people, that bear a semblance to human toddlers, and lead a lifestyle maintained by agriculture. Sadly, our harvests in the last umbral moon haven't been bountiful. About the time when our crops were yielding all time lows, I had fallen asleep (or passed out from fatigue) in a barrel that found its way onto a cargo ship whose goods were purloined by some unsavory mariners in need of quick coin. They wouldn't have hesitated to cut me from navel to neck had they found me stowed away, but thankfully Serendipity is a kind mistress and I safely found myself awakening behind a more than surprised merchant's wares. Once his nerves settled and he realized I wasn't an adolescent, he was kind enough show me around the city intricate planning. It's buildings and market streets are built atop of pillars of stones that are connect by wooden bridges and consists of three levels, the shore and beach included. I'm typically fishing on the docks by the ocean before the sun has risen then peddling my catch on the second level market place in the mornings when townsfolk begin to stir. Typically. I'm still given to napping in barrels on occasion and sometimes find myself daydreaming of becoming an adventurer. You might argue I've already ventured, having found my way here as pirate loot and all, but I seek a thrill much greater than selling fish. Can you blame me? Have you never felt like you were destined for something greater than your skin? I might not be akin to sages and swordsman but you could never dampen the fire that fuels my ambition for greatness. I know not what deeds would achieve me knighthood, only that I hope my good intentions and righteous actions of the present and future would lead me to a wealth and regal authority that could not be surmounted by the failures of my past.

Riding Through The Galaxy on the Hump of a Camel Whose Name You Forgot

Can't remember why I chose this title. I feel dumb and weird, but that's not uncommon for me lately. I'm riddled with anxiety and panic at the slightest hint of interaction. People say that's what happens with starting college but I don't think I would be struggling the way I am with myself if something hadn't struck me. But I don't know. I'm not sure of much of anything. What an existence. My inconsistency got me here more than likely. I feel oddly inferior and like I fall short of all expectations. I feel worthless and boring, yet manic and overwhelming. That's an odd feeling. Not feeling like enough to open my mouth but then when I do it's too much. I wish I had a single thought the least bit legitimate to open up my mouth and spit accuracy. Close family and friends think I hate them, which is terrible. I hate myself. I never meant to project that hatred onto those closest to me, and did my best to cage those thoughts to my own brain. It backfired though. I ended up isolating myself somehow and my mind became a prison that no one tends to visit. Feeling bad for myself won't help. Feeling bad in general won't help. Beginning to wonder if feelings help at all because they only seem to cloud the objectives and relationships that could otherwise effortlessly be maintained. It's sad that this is where I gravitate towards when idle. I wish I could find some solid ground beneath my feet, or just a stable area to lie for awhile. I've been bouncing from one foot to the other trying to cross a mile of hot coal for the last three years it seems and I would just like some consistency. Continuity. Assurance. Confidence. Any sort of improvement. My insides are copper and I'd kill to make them gold. That was stupid. This is stupid. And since I am the thoughts that make me, I am stupid. My inner monologue is littered with false pretenses, forced vernacular, and archaic notions that create a constant sense of loss. My blog/journals are bad and I should feel bad. Especially for that last line. However, self-deprecation is no longer an option. Hopefully. One day I'll find something that motivates me, something that takes me away from the lethargy and depression. Until then, I'll keep my gaze on the horizon and hope for a brighter day. Or for something else to come and strike me down further. Depending on the day, who's to know? Certainly not me. I don't want to spend all day wondering if a glass is half full, half empty, half and half, or any other poor comparison for a mental attitude. I'd rather pour out the glass of stagnant water and start fresh.

Class Journal of Why I Go To College

"Why are you here?" It's easy to make a blatant remark as to how I came to existence (horrible when a dad loves a mom joke here) but a tad more difficult to answer respectively. I can't do the latter but I suppose the second best way to go about this would be to elaborate on what lead me to attending college here, what my current career path is looking like, and my hopes for the entire experience.
Not-so-shamefully, my reasons for going to school at Rose State aren't super spectacular. In fact, there aren't even multiple reasons. I practically started solely because the road to my career is long and paved with debt so anything to alleviate the stress of that is quite welcome. The Tick(et) to Rose is very helpful since my family isn't what one would call "well off". After that, the only other reason I could muster up is that the school is less than five minutes away from my house. It's great to save time, gas, and a little rest. Though enrolled primarily to save money, that isn't to say I'm reluctant to be here. I'm perfectly content with making things as simple as they can be.
The aforementioned career that plans to wreck my savings is being a radiologist. That is in no way set in stone, despite being weaved into the interweb.  For now I'm starting pre-med and will probably just be a doctor of internal medicine until I decide what I want to specialize in, if anything at all. However, there's still the unlikely event that I'll be young and change my mind altogether. I'm pretty decent at most things, so I'll keep my options open.

Probably the first journal I wrote. Safe to say that when typing this at the end of the semester that I would be happy to get my basics done.

Inherently Incoherent Introduction

Disclaimer: This is a blog intended for the inhabitants of the internet who are proficient in the art of carpetbagging (or my journals for English class). If you are viewing this but are not well-versed in the bagging of carpet, and have come to this page with hopes of learning how to do so accordingly, then you have made a grave mistake. This is no place for you.

As-Salaamu 'Alaykum. I am Alexander Nethercot aka Salamander Necropot aka Namaste Jones aka Martin Burger King Jr. aka Slumball Chinchillionaire aka Flex Luthor aka Pandora's Jock aka Steve Harvey Oswald aka The Boisterous Bottom aka Gawky Spice. The penultimate is less of a pseudonym and more of a typed testament that I have debonair buns that could send one into cardiac arrest; a dapper derriere, one might say.  However, elaboration on that subject no doubt clarifies why I'm also Gawky Spice*. (Though, while touching on the topic, it is imperative to include that by reading this statement you agree that if you find yourself feeling inclined to possess a proper posterior that you are not presently blessed with hardened abdomen or that you will not search for such a stern stomach as you embark on the pious quest of the royal rump. History has shown us time and time again that abs'n'glute power corrupts [ab-so-lutely] so as a magistrate of the moon I am expected to swiftly stave off those who wish to defy the codes set in place by our Initiators.)  On a digressive departure, my chinchilldren currently find contentment in crawling and cramming themselves into any and all of the compact crevices that are accessible. It seems so painful and has become quite uncomfortable to watch. Perhaps this is their penance for plaguing my sleep with the incessant clamor of their wheels.. if such is the case then I must squash any furthering of this odious act. My guilt due to their guilt outweighs their initial culpability, make certain of that. It pains me to type this but I'm afraid this is detrimental to all parties involved and we should disband as a unit. Alright. Now, without that grief weighing heavy on my shoulders, I will be selling*^ my chinchillas for the discount price of $53 (OBO). That's correct. That is a 1000% off markdown steal of a deal; you would be foolish to not take advantage of such an offer. Jesus died for these savings, don't let it be in vain.




*honorary spice girl since '09
*^all transactions made without bitcoin as payment are final, null, finull, fine ole fire knoll, and shall receive neither pets nor refund