R.J.

Thanks, AJ! I'm not sure if the story would give you the whole scope of the culture. I mean, I'm not even that acquainted with it. :D Rad

I know it wouldn't be of much comfort. But I've felt like this too, can't count how many times. Just pack up and disappear, run away from it all. The only question stopping me is "where will I go?" And I don't have much money too.

Thanks guys.If it's easy to write poetry in English, I would. Tagalog is just much easier for me when it comes to poetry. :)

I'm a closeted poet. LOL. I write horrible poems in my journal, but I wrote something last night that you might find worthwhile. It's just something that's been on my mind for a while now. Anyway, enough rambling. Here it is. Moving Out My shackles are made of blood, Staining my body with utter despair, And my voice is gone, Roaming the earth with a call for help. Surrender would have been easy, But my spirit has wings that long for flight. The sky calls for me, But I am bound with shackles of blood. My eyes are dry For the tears have long since claimed their freedom. Now I am just a shell Of dreams of rainbows and a bright blue sky. A night will come when eyes would be unseeing, And I will escape and fly where the light is. I will bathe myself with newfound tears of joy, And wash all the blood that shackles me.

Thanks, Blue. Unfortunately, not everyone went through it fine. A boy lost his parents to a landslide somewhere up north.

I'm reminded of the dildo in the movie Not Another Teen Movie.

It's a good thing only you can smell your fart. :)I disagree with you having only three readers. Was I already one of those three? I recently read a thread at Dabeagle's message board about your new story not being there. (Driver was looking for it) Dabeagle said he hasn't heard from you.

Hey Guys (and Ladies, if there are some reading this)! I've been exchanging emails with a reader recently, and I'll share a part of one of them here. I know you might've heard this before, but I just want to let you know (again!) that you're doing your job. Have a great weekend! (There's a typhoon/storm and I don't think mine would be great.)

Nothing nasty just wondering.

Actually, at first I was with Joel. But that changed because of his self-pity scene. Believe me, I hear those kind of words all the time. Maybe I just became immune to them that's why I have less sympathy for Joel. It's true people can speak hurtful words but most of those are because of ignorance. They just need a chance. That's my take on it, anyway. Joel seemed to think that to be popular everyone has to love him. Nobody is that loved.

I just read the story (obviously) and I think that (although I may be alone in this opinion) Nick is the better character here. Who hadn't heard any of the things Joel had heard? Did he expect a red carpet to prove his popularity? I don't like self-pity that much, but I'm glad that Nick is a good best friend. Anyway, nice job. :)

The questionnaire made me wonder if we have female members. Or authors. Hmmm... As for labels, when asked, I tend to go with what the dictionary defines the word to be. It's much easier.

Poor me! The pictures don't give me any ideas. Oh well... waiting, waiting, and waiting for October first. As for the boy, I think that's Wibby years and years ago. :D

I did say that 'I guess it's ok because... he's into theatre.' Oh well... It's not my real complaint. I just thought that if I suddenly found myself in the 19th century... Then again, Jason's not me. Keep going though. Please. :D

Hey! Great story. Thing is, I think Jason's too okay with being in the past. Thinking back, Michael J. Fox (can't remember the character's name) didn't act that worried when he time-traveled in Back to the Future, but he had the benefit of knowing he'd be there. I expected Jason to be more worried. ( I can't think of a more fitting word) BTW, light years measure distance not time. I read somewhere that Jason said he's light years away from where he came from. But I guess it's ok because he's not into science but into theatre. Looking forward to chapter 5. Rad

That was a funny thing about the cat.As for any advice, I'll live that to the rest of these dudes here. I know nothing compared to them. I do think having someone to sleep with is good, especially in a single bed. But I guess, to each his own.Des, you really should start your how-to book. Maybe make it an online one. That way it would be free for poor guys like me.

The Emu (assuming he's not Camy) got fed for free at Walmart! Maybe Camy's a Global Emu.

I agree with Wibby.You have to post soon, Jason! It's so wicked the way you just left us like that.

A woman and her son were taking a cab in New York City. It was raining and hookers were under the awnings. "Mom," said the little boy, "What are all those women doing?" "They're waiting for their husbands to get off work," she replied. The cabbie turned around and said, "Geez, lady, why don't you just tell him the truth? They're hookers, boy! They have sex with men for money." The little boy's eyes got wide and he said, "Is that true, Mom?" His mother, glaring at the cabbie answered in the affirmative. After a few minutes, the kid asked, "Mom, what happens to the babies those women have?" "Most of them become cab drivers," she said.

Hehe.. it's always that problem, Trab.

Oooh. I'm flattered, Wibby. I'm included in the SOME then. :DHehe... Trab... I don't wanna get you in trouble. You should've read that when you're supposed to be resting. I'm still a struggling writer so I don't have my own page there yet. LOL.

Now that's not funny Colin. Mistaking me for Wibby.

There's no saying enough. You weren't direct! :) I could give you the link, but I know the blogs aren't open to guests yet. But I'm not really sure. (that's a lot of buts)http://hub-community.org/forums/blog/radstevenMethinks the wibster enjoys reading blogs more than fiction. :)

Fresh from her shower, a woman stood in front of the mirror, complaining to her husband that her breasts were too small. Instead of characteristically replying to her it was not so, her husband uncharacteristically came up with a suggestion. "If you want your breasts to grow, then, everyday, take a piece of toilet paper and rub it between your breasts for a few seconds." Willing to try anything, the wife fetched a piece of toilet paper and stood in front of the mirror, rubbing it between her breasts. "How long will this take?" she asked. "They will grow larger over the a period of years," he replied. The wife stopped. "Do you really think rubbing a piece of toilet paper between my breasts everyday will make my breasts larger over the years?" Without missing a beat, the husband said, "Worked for your butt, didn't it?" He lives, and with a great deal of therapy, may even walk again.

Oh... hehe. The one at The Hub. I've created anther blog there.