Bilbo Baggins: The Hobbit in the Hill and The Burglar of the Arkenstone

I feel Like Bilbo Baggins,

The hobbit in the Hill.

All taken advantage of,

Sure you’ll beg me to help save your own life, but when it comes to world peace, that one selfish dwarf
only thinks about his own gold, his own claim to the Arkenstone.

Hey everyone,

Stop throwing me to the elves when I point out your flaws

I already know my own, as Mr Baggins knew his.

Besides, the elves know the good in our intentions that reside in our implications.

They say a true friend tells you the truth no matter what. Guess I’m a true friend, because I won’t lie for
the benefit of your feelings. If no one gives you that slap in the face, you will only become less than what
you are worth.

Mr Baggins wished for the comfort of home, and it was not the last time he wished so,

I wish for the comfort of home, and it will not be the last time I wish so,

But when I find home I shall wish no more,

As Bilbo need not wish as he sang merry with Gandalf and Balin smoking pipe tobacco in his parlour.

Sometimes I just want to stop holding people up to higher expectations. But I have seen potential. And I
believe in potential. And I stand up for what I believe in, as Mr Baggins does.

Bilbo Baggins may have selfish thoughts, but he is not a selfish hobbit.

I may have selfish thoughts, but I am not a selfish girl.

I just have so much love for the world that I cannot allow myself to rest and let it become a waste.

Bevel Knife

I first learned of this word watching an episode of Bones in which the victim was killed by this instrument being stabbed into his throat breaking through his spine and poking out the back of his neck. This is a knife to clean bowling balls. It has three sides. In my research a picture from The Big Lebowski in which Jesus and his team mate were cleaning their balls in these sacks. Jesus was too pretty for his own good, his shiny purple pinky nail flashing in the light. Grown to the perfect length for scooping up lumps of cocaine. There are three holes in a bowling ball, for your thumb and your first two fingers.  Though it is played at a relaxed rate, it is a sport that causes light sweat. Over time the dirt and moisture from the sweaty fingers that are constantly thrusting through the holes along with the dirt and dust that gets picked up while the ball rolls down the lane, comes in to contact with the pins, drops into the darkness where it is shipped into the bowler’s gloved hand. A bevel can scrape of the edges where the filth is gathered inside the hole; its flat edges graze against the hard plastic marble, eviscerating the gut of the ball.

Sometimes things just get too full. Like when you eat a big lunch and you feel as though you’re going to explode. Sometimes it is as simple as popping a squat, smoking a boge, belching generally works. Other times you get dizzy and puke on the bus, all over your brand new black pea coat. Then all you can do is feel bad for the poor lady sitting next to you. She can’t move out of the way and is forced to inhale the stench you made because the bus is overflowing with customers. When the bus arrives at Shaw’s you don’t pull the cord to get off but make eye contact with the bus driver in the rearview mirror mutually agreeing that you must leave. In the Shaw’s bathroom you shed your coat and wash the sleeve off in the sink.

Relief is when congestion is released and the pipes are flowing fluidly again. This happens after a cold when your nose has been blocked up for a week and your lungs are full of mucus. One day you realize that you can breathe silently, without wheezing. It happens when your bowling ball is gutted with a bevel knife. When a boy who tries to intimidate his boss out of the habit of beating his wife is gutted with a bevel knife. A wife beater goes to jail for murder and the boy suffering from Leukemia and an excessive obsession of saving the day dies painlessly. 

Shackles of the Unknown

Some friends of mine run a paranormal investigation group called the Abraham Lincoln Paranormal Research Society or ALPRS. I had spent this previous weekend camping out with the group's president, Chris, and his brother and while we were recording our conversation around the campfire, like the hooligans that we are, Chris caught something on tape that he describes as an orb. An orb in the paranormal sense is thought to be a soul of someone who is haunting the area. Chris had then showed the video to everyone but myself who refused to investigate in a place that I was going to be sleeping in.

Soon afterward the mood had changed around the campfire. While the others tried to keep the fun going, was no longer feeling boisterous but had become more aware of my surroundings. The trees had began to squeak against each other in the wind and an oppressive force had settled upon me. 

This feeling was much like my first interaction with a Ouija board in which I spoke with the spirit of a friend who had been killed in high school. Before, I had never believed in ghosts. I thought death brought nothing but the end, however when you encounter the paranormal for the first time it is impossible to deny their existence. Awareness settles upon you like a dark cloak. It is more than scaring yourself into believing in silly stories because the paranormal affect all of your senses, not just your eyes and ears.

Links:

 An Orb!

ALPRS Facebook Page