Thalatta, Thalatta

      So once there was an Athenian man. His name was Xenophon. He was born in 431BC and eventually moved to Greece. During the year of 401BC, a man named Cyrus the Younger hired on a portion of the Greek army as mercenaries to go wage war against the Persian empire, their ultimate goal being to dethrone Artaxerxes II (Cyrus' brother). Xenophon took it upon himself to march with the Spartans (resulting in exile his exile from Athens) and record the journey, entitling it "Anabasis", meaning something like "going from coast to interior".

      When Cyrus and his mercenaries made it to Cunaxa, a battle broke out, ending in victory for the Spartans, but cost Cyrus his life. With the purpose of their venture being annihilated, the Spartans were stranded in deep Persian territory, days away from a cut of peaceful Greek land. Xenophon and a few other soldiers being elected to command, the men set themselves northward towards sanctuary, warring their way through several cities, just to make it home.

      They eventually make it. With about 6000 men left.

      What a thought though. To end up behind enemy lines, with hardly any supplies, having to fight your way through people and lands that you were never interested in fighting in the first place... almost just the wrong place at the wrong time. I mean, they chose to go in the first place, but the passion of a mercenary is much different than that of a defending soldier.
That would be so frightening. As close to a nightmare as I can imagine. A stranger in a strange land to say the least.

      But I think that is why this story is so intriguing... almost envious-able. I nearly envy being in a situation like that. The thrill, the exhilaration. All odds against you, fighting just to walk another day. When playing soccer, or even running a race... you get glimpses of this, when in the right state of mind. You start to compare it to a battle, to survival... a goal for your team really means you conquered a major weak point in their fortress... and vice versa. Or in a race, the enemy warriors are rushing towards you like a monstrous wave of death, consuming everything. And you are running. There's not even a point in turning and standing your ground at that point. Just run. You have to get away... even when the men around you are falling behind, to be trampled and consumed like wheat in the hands of a combine.

Run on warrior, run on.

To run. Correr. Correndo.
Mentally, running can be quite a tool.
Over the summer I found myself running late at night... talking to myself... out loud (if you have seen Watchmen, I sounded like Rorschach).
Mulling over anything... everything... especially things that intensified my emotions, that made me angry, which wasn't too hard in light of my surroundings at the time.
I think so clearly and so honestly when I run. I know exactly what I need to do and say. And I'm set on it, I will myself into a determined spirit. I think of current conflicts and feelings I am in/have, and I solve them. But then I realize that it's really hard to carry that determination over into post-run. I guess that's the fault. I can't take each of my conflicts on a run with me and tell them how I feel. Eventually, there's a point when one needs to destroy one's fear. Utterly. I think I'm close, in some aspects, and maybe too close.
Too close as in, if I conquer too many fears/worries in one particular area, there won't be enough to caution. Like... if I conquer my fear of being lonely, and things surrounding that, to where I am so overly confident that there's no chance I'll ever be lonely... I'll end up throwing away potential relationships in complete assurance that I'll have just as good of relationships elsewhere... if not better. Because that's how the world works.

I've lost serious interest in this topic. seriously.

In Watchmen, there's a superhero (term used loosely) named The Comedian.

He says:
      "Once you realize what a joke everything is, being the Comedian is the only thing that makes sense"

That's how I feel. A lot. I have gone through so many ideas, thoughts, concepts, actions, motions, motives, glories, horrors that everything just sort of slides into the next... almost graceful, no matter the level of reality, there's no time to rest, I eventually just learned to roll... roll with the punches, one might say.
Ecclesiastes really says it all... 1:9...

      "What has been will be again,
        what has been done will be done again;
        there is nothing new under the sun."

That's how I feel. A lot. Again. Like I already said that. I know. Rarely do I hear something leave a friends mouth that hasn't crossed my mind many times... even when I was a decade younger.
Only recently did I come across I different approach from a friend.
I was telling her about an/a album/song titled "In Our Bedroom After the War".
I always thought of it as... Post war, like a real war, like a battle that had taken place between two warring people. But the conflict had ended, whether in loss or in victory, at this point it doesn't matter... what does matter is that the soldier has reunited with his lover, his other being, his life (in human form)... and really they don't even have to be sexually united, far more important is their physical and mental reuniting... a connection of Presence. Going back home... arriving... walking up the stairs to the one room that is private and completely their own. And simply being.
That's what I thought.
But this girl brought up a whole different aspect. Maybe the war isn't a fight of guns and soldiers. It is a battle between the two lovers. It is their own war, against one another. Which sounds pretty obvious... but I don't think it is. Or maybe that's the difference between my gender and the alternative. So... taking that and combining it to my previous stated idea of the Bedroom, truly the one room in the house that is personal... and it is torn apart by a civil war.
Magnificent.
That's just as powerful, if not More so... since it's much more relatable... it means a lot more to us...

That was a nice breath of fresh air.

This is fact, not fiction... for the first time in years.

      The Title line is from a song that I have always listened to or sang when I was going through a troubled time. The whole song is a complete desperate outcry to the person who has broken the heart of the lyricist. The words sung are so absurd... but so original. Being desperate for someone is one thing... where you simply think of all the great lines you've heard in movies and read in books and repeat those in your mind or to the person. But going beyond desperate... to hopeful hopelessness, or just the latter... that's when you go beyond the standard lines and you begin to think and say ridiculously beautiful lines.

As follows:
      "And when I see you, I really see you upside down.
       But my brain knows better, it picks you up and turns you around...
       turns you around, turns you around..."

What does that even mean? So simple, just a statement of science. But then I make it personal... and I fall in love, and when the final row comes along to decide if I lose most or gain all, I sing this song. And so far, after the final row, I keep on singing this same song. But I think someday I'll be able to sing this:

      "When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride,
        When you need directions then I'll be the guide.
        For all time... for all time."

[This is my one emo entry]