Fate, or just a roll of the dice?

So, I've gotten to wondering lately...
Pondering the questions that mankind dares to ask..
Of Death,
Of Life,
Of Happiness,
And then I got to fate...

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern make a series of arguements as to whether there is fate, or just simple probability. To the mind's eye, fate adds purpose. It adds a basic meaning that every human seeks to value themselves with. One could look upon life as being pointless, with no meaning, but to no avail. They have to derive some meaning to it...

So I wondered...
Does my bad luck represent something karma, cosmic, something bigger than reality yet smaller than infinity, something pushing, shoving, tearing at the very fabric of space time, to mold it like its own little bauble, or is it just a few unlucky coin tosses too many?
I mean, I know I'm screwy, but... To consistently get screwed over by even tiny situations within this realm, but, honestly...
No Prom Date. As it seems to be, she just started dating someone, who would be rather enraged should she go with someone else, so, as it seems, once more, I am luckless. To Roam or not to Roam then, becomes the question. I mean, It isn't the most important thing, but, what it represents is just...Annoying.

When will this streak end? and on what note? Is it supposed to?
Maybe i'm just fated to be Karma's little chew toy for the time being...

Whatever, with any luck, I can shake it.
Hope you guys get more Fate or Luck than I.
~C

Drunk is Relative.

No, I'm not Drunk.

Nor shall I be anytime soon. But hey, let's face it; everyone gets a little hammered now and then. You see, life is choice. Choice is life. There's little fate to go aroudn but the choices that you make around it. You may look back retrospecticely and say "Hey, wasn't that a hokey coincidence?"
It was chance.

But the point being herein though:
You are driven to choice, whether the decision is by yourself, or by someone else. One can be outwardly driven (I.E. influenceable), or Inwardly driven (I.E. Influencing), and each of these types determine how one may acted when faced with a decision.
I've taken a long, damned hard look at myself (for reasons of which I shant divulge. Only a few people may know one, and one of them is damnably me.), and have determined, that I am both. I can be so stubborn and so passionate about something that, forces, be they bullets or torrential rainstorms, I'm invulnerable to the world about me. And yet, someone's words can so influence my decisions that I could crumple right there, 2 feet from my goal and cry out.

Is it the poeple themselves who do that? Are they just a modified howitzer version of the regular influencers? Or is it an immortal weakpoint within? To feel? To appreciate? To give oneself for?

We have no weaknesses. We only make them ourselves....
For some reason, I choose to have that one. A weakness of heart.

Chance, Fate...What is it all but ways of delving into forever? It's something we rarely understand...the vastness of everything...

But I guess, if you hold on to someone...if you find those who so move your stubborn ox-hided asses into gear, make you want to change, want to improve....
Well, you better fuckin' hold on tight. They're worth it.

~L
Coming from a different time. (For a friend.)

Life is cruel and unforgiving.

Oh boy. Where to begin...
I guess I'll start with the beginning:
I want to a party last night.
I was told almost immediately upon entering by "MrsClaus" (my friend, and a hostess) that her friend thought I was "really cute."
Shortly thereafter I am informed that TheFriend is not there. My feelings are hurt.
I quickly realize that there a large number of gay dudes.
I think I got felt up by a gay dude.
I got asked if I was gay. Queue drinking.
I am asked if I am gay again. Queue unhealthy binge-drink..
I tell one of the hosts of the party (a female) that she is a bitch, and as she becomes offended, I try (unsuccessfully) to convince her that it was a compliment
I leave the room pursued by the sounds of her shrieking.
I am asked if i am gay for the 5th or 6th time in the night. Queue attempted suicide by alcohol-poisoning.

The next thing I remember, TheRoommate is telling me I need to wake up, it is four, and that it smells like puke in our room.

If maybe I could just have one peaceful, successful night with a GODDAMNED WOMAN, I wouldn't do these things to myself.