Since people have asked where all the thoughful articulate writing as gone I feel I owe an explanation.
IT'S NOT GONE.
I do alot of writing. The more serious writing I do in other areas the less I want/can write seriously in the blog. My capacity for work doesn't expand quite that far yet. If I can't write serious words about serious topics I will instead give you fluff. Fluff that pertains to my emtional and psychological state of mind. (Usually between crazy and idealistic.)
It also serves a double use of helping me deal with issues going on in my life. I'll see what I can do about getting something more interesting up this weekend.
Also. My birthday party is Saturday. If you know me personally and haven't been invited consider this your invitation. It's at 5:30 and lasts until we collapse. (Sometime around 3:00 or 4:00 AM the next day methinks.)
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Phantom Dreams
I dream often. Especially in times of emotional stress. Usually I remember my dreams with clarity and can apply lucid dreaming to them. Last night I had a nightmare that I can only barely remember and it was far beyond my control. Like a bright flash it stunned me out of technique or memory. I have read deeply into both the theory and science of dreams, I have also read a variety of supernatural, mystical and new age writings on the topic of dreams. Never have I read anything about a perfect recall technique. (Some proof exists that hypnosis is effective in this regard.) Because of the nature of this dream it nags me what it means. I want to delve deeper into it's nature and try and understand my own feelings. I thought perhaps to try to meditate and try to release the dreams but after consideration I felt the possibility of "false memories" was too strong. The bits I remember are quite clear and I'll relate them with the names omitted.
I stood outside a clean and well kept morman church. It's fairly dark and their are various people milling around outside. Several of them I know personally.
Out of the corner of my eye I see two friends of mine who have recently started dating wander into the church. (People who have read my previous dream entries will know them better as the icy maiden and the conflicted assasin. Both of which have been a source of anxiety for me recently.)
I follow them into the church which is about as dark as it was outside. It's clean inside and the red carpet seems somehow darker and more threatening then it should otherwise.
The hallways twist and turn and over time it starts to become rougher and rougher until the walls turn into hewn rock. The ceiling and walls become dungeonlike and the carpet remains an ominous red. I come across an ordinary wooden door. I turn the handle but it's locked.
I feel something clawing at my leg. I look down but there is nothing there. Looking down the carpet appears almost liquid, I kneel down and put my hand into it. It's thick like latex paint but when I pull my hand back out it's clean. Slowly my feet are slidding into it. Then my legs. Behind the door I hear screaming. The voice is male but twisted somehow, tortured almost.
After this point I no longer have a clear idea of what happened in the dream. I do remember being chased by a taut skinned ghostly man with glowing green eyes. I remember desperately beating against the sides of a church door trying to get out, The doors are all shut against me keeping me trap inside. Everyone I come across is twisted. Their bodies are elongated and twisted in strange ways. They don't speak but instead stagger aimlessly.
I remember flashes of faces in anguish and pain. The faces taunt me with their familarity but it is no person I know. When I awoke I was terrified, It took some time for me to understand I wasn't being persued by monsters.
Lucid dreaming is best accomplished when you challenge reality. When your awake you should challenge reality, when your asleep you should do the same. If your dreaming you will realize it and your willpower shall awaken. In this dream I didn't challenge reality. I accepted the nightmare without question and was lead deeper and deeper into it. Mundane as it appears I take it very seriously: One should always know reality from fantasy (or dream.). What enables such effortless lucid dreaming is that I constantly and consciously attack reality... that is the first thing that bothers me about this dream.
The second thing is more symbolic. I was lead into that wreteched place. I followed without first thinking about it. If you choose to read deeper into it the church could represent organized religion as a whole (Which I detest on moral grounds); furthermore it could reflect my fears of unwilling or guilted conversion. On an emotional level it could be repressed feelings towards my two friends. The background of a tormented and haunted church would be fitting to such a dream. Being lead into a place of torment by people you consider your friends is appropriate symbolism, but I have to wonder if that is it. It seems too simple. A great spiritualist once told me "In a meaningful life nothing is accidental, in a meaningful life everything is an opportunity."
Well. I'm looking for the opportunity but it seems pretty much open and shut to me.
She hurt me, he enabled it and I already distrust their shared beliefs... things I already knew. The impetus to act doesn't and will not exist; No dream will change that. If the dream possesses a larger meaning then it is lost on me. Tonight I will dream of frolicing nymphs, meadows of green and azure rivers. They will be dreams of my choosing and to my liking.
I do not need false lights to distract me from my path. I do not need the heartless to trample my feelings. Nor do I need the callous and cold to tell me that I am wrong in my path.
Goodnight all.
I stood outside a clean and well kept morman church. It's fairly dark and their are various people milling around outside. Several of them I know personally.
Out of the corner of my eye I see two friends of mine who have recently started dating wander into the church. (People who have read my previous dream entries will know them better as the icy maiden and the conflicted assasin. Both of which have been a source of anxiety for me recently.)
I follow them into the church which is about as dark as it was outside. It's clean inside and the red carpet seems somehow darker and more threatening then it should otherwise.
The hallways twist and turn and over time it starts to become rougher and rougher until the walls turn into hewn rock. The ceiling and walls become dungeonlike and the carpet remains an ominous red. I come across an ordinary wooden door. I turn the handle but it's locked.
I feel something clawing at my leg. I look down but there is nothing there. Looking down the carpet appears almost liquid, I kneel down and put my hand into it. It's thick like latex paint but when I pull my hand back out it's clean. Slowly my feet are slidding into it. Then my legs. Behind the door I hear screaming. The voice is male but twisted somehow, tortured almost.
After this point I no longer have a clear idea of what happened in the dream. I do remember being chased by a taut skinned ghostly man with glowing green eyes. I remember desperately beating against the sides of a church door trying to get out, The doors are all shut against me keeping me trap inside. Everyone I come across is twisted. Their bodies are elongated and twisted in strange ways. They don't speak but instead stagger aimlessly.
I remember flashes of faces in anguish and pain. The faces taunt me with their familarity but it is no person I know. When I awoke I was terrified, It took some time for me to understand I wasn't being persued by monsters.
Lucid dreaming is best accomplished when you challenge reality. When your awake you should challenge reality, when your asleep you should do the same. If your dreaming you will realize it and your willpower shall awaken. In this dream I didn't challenge reality. I accepted the nightmare without question and was lead deeper and deeper into it. Mundane as it appears I take it very seriously: One should always know reality from fantasy (or dream.). What enables such effortless lucid dreaming is that I constantly and consciously attack reality... that is the first thing that bothers me about this dream.
The second thing is more symbolic. I was lead into that wreteched place. I followed without first thinking about it. If you choose to read deeper into it the church could represent organized religion as a whole (Which I detest on moral grounds); furthermore it could reflect my fears of unwilling or guilted conversion. On an emotional level it could be repressed feelings towards my two friends. The background of a tormented and haunted church would be fitting to such a dream. Being lead into a place of torment by people you consider your friends is appropriate symbolism, but I have to wonder if that is it. It seems too simple. A great spiritualist once told me "In a meaningful life nothing is accidental, in a meaningful life everything is an opportunity."
Well. I'm looking for the opportunity but it seems pretty much open and shut to me.
She hurt me, he enabled it and I already distrust their shared beliefs... things I already knew. The impetus to act doesn't and will not exist; No dream will change that. If the dream possesses a larger meaning then it is lost on me. Tonight I will dream of frolicing nymphs, meadows of green and azure rivers. They will be dreams of my choosing and to my liking.
I do not need false lights to distract me from my path. I do not need the heartless to trample my feelings. Nor do I need the callous and cold to tell me that I am wrong in my path.
Goodnight all.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Two Dreams and a thoughtful wtf
In the course of a life you experience moments of spiritual and religious awakening. Moments of precisence that allow you to awaken for a moment to the possibilities of the universe beyond what you are at that second. Each should be prized, cherished, reflected upon and measured. One should also share in that wisdom and insight, So here are 3 events that taken apart don't mean much. When you take them together it reveals a different insight into both my mind and what I am beginning to see as the truth of the world.
Event One:
I had a dream last night. This is the first lucid dream I've had in two weeks.
I was walking along a beach with several shallow sandbars in the water beside me. I sat in the sand and watched the water flow in and out of the narrow passages such.
It takes me some time to realize I am asleep because I am sick and not feeling well. Also my emotional energy has been taxed as of late. I watch the water and feel calm and peaceful.
Farther down the beach I see someone walking toward me, it occurs to me that he is Serros the grey elf Knight in my novel. (Keep in mind if it wasn't Serros before he became Serros when I thought that. I'm not sure what kind of Kantian stunt I pulled there.) Since nobody alive has read my novel I'll tell you what Serros looks like. His skin, eyes and clothes are a smooty almost rocklike grey. His hair is a lighter shade of grey and he wears a suit of loose fitting chainmail over his generic brown tunic and trousers. He carries a runed longsword and Runed Armlets on each arm. The hair on his left is drawn into a ponytail that falls over his left shoulder and the hair on his right is shorter and unkempt.
Serros walks byside me and sits. Together we both stare out into the sea. Creator and creation.
I never had a voice for Serros in my head. But I do now. His voice is forceful, measured and somehow soothing... like he speaks of things as certain. He is a man who knows his destiny and isn't afraid of it. He tells me about the properties of the water and the geography of this land. (Sea of Mud on the western side of the ithamus of Solthus. South of the starting point of my second adventure series... for those curious.) I ask him about the battles he fought and the people he knew. I knew the answers of course. I wrote them. After awhile I stopped and just looked out at the sea again. After some time he pulled out his sword and laid it on the sand.
I never named the sword. I don't think I will now actually. But in my mind it has always been etched with spidery elven runes. It felt cold in my hands when I touched it. Cold and wet.
"It's a beautiful dream to see this firsthand" I told him.
"Are you certain it's a dream?" he asked me.
"I am. When I awake it will disappear." I replied to him sadly.
"And when you die will that disappear too?"
I was stunned by his arguement for a moment. It was true that when I died there would be no proof reality would exist for me anymore. I may believe in an afterlife and extended reality but my perception has no proof.
"Then the dream is real?" I switched positions on him. Something in me sought to look deeper.
"It's real right now, and when you write it becomes real to those who read it. You create reality when you change perception of reality." Serros replied it with ease.
"Then why wake up? Why not stay in this dream forever?" I taunted him now. He was after all my creation and dwelling within my mind.
"Why not indeed. Your not awake in either reality. Your mind and spirit are elsewhere. You live a life of distraction." A creation of my imagination told me in a dream that I was asleeep. Whats more he told me that I was distracted when I was awake. This ranks on odd things that have happened to me.
I shifted uncomfortably in the wet sand.
"I'm distracted?" I finally replied with a dash of uncertainty.
"When you wander off the path so much it is bound to happen." he challenged me again.
I fidgeted around the sand alittle. I knew what he was saying. It's words were not the words of Serros the knight but my words in his mouth. I started to draw in the sand now. I drew little rivers and lakes with my finger and watched the water fill them first... then overfill and splash against my feet.
"When I battle myself there are no winners, only the constant weakening of my very soul."
I do not know which of us said it. But I remember it from my journal when I was in Detroit I wrote it.
"You made us and in turn we make you. Creation as an act is perfect in it's symmentry."
I watched the water more closely now.
"There are no fish in this sea." It wasn't a question but a statement.
"No. You didn't make any." My creation replied.
"It makes me appreciate the attention to detail god possesses." I countered him.
I had hoped for a response but he had none. I suppose I didn't have a response either.
There was one more thing I had to know.
"When I come to my dreams I fight a dark man. I have fought him my entire life. Who is he?"
Serros did not answer right away. Red began to pour onto the beach and over us. The sun began it's slow descent behind the mountains of the far away barrierlands.
"He is what you say. A dark man."
"Listen..." I began to lecture; but when I turned to point his eyes were filled with resolve.
"You faced your waking nightmare and won. He only has power in your dreams now."
I think at this point I started to cry alittle. I'm not certain.
I realized then that my dreams were nothing more then a memory given form. Serros did not exist and neither did the Dark Man. Both existed within my mind, this is what he wanted to show me. (Which in some twisted way I was trying to show myself.)
"Distracted?" I asked once more. Certain that our time was running short.
"The children of Genna are called Shadowlanders. They exist only to destroy and return the universe to the void." He sounded more like Serros now. The Knight who swore vengence against them...
"I made them... like that." I didn't understand the endgame. At this point I was lost.
"They are men of shadow. Creatures of your nightmares. They mimic life to destroy it."
I still didn't understand his point.
"Fight them, you have fought them before."
At this point I start to wake slightly. I can hear my birds in the other room calling. I'm so tired and fevered that I huddle in my blankets and return to my crazed half-dream.
Event Two:
The walls of Brenntor exist perfectly in my minds eye. The elaborate sluice at the top of mount Brial and the twisting magestic white marble walls guarding the city. It is here that Serros lays down his life to avenge his race. At the walls he cries in elven: "This day I come for you. Men of Shadow. Children of Genna. Twisted Souls who seek the peace of death." He raises his sword in the air and opens all the gates of the city. The shadowlanders pour into the first two lines. The walls stand firmly as black creatures of all shapes and sizes skitter, crawl, ooze and climb them. With a signal Serros lets loose the water flushing out the first wave of attackers. The water burning their bodies like acid. The first row of knights opens and riders pour out like the sluices water... the shadowlanders are forced back. and the battle for the city begins.
A have played out this battle a hundred different ways. With different commanders, different armies defending it, different types of shadowlanders attacking and vastly different tactics. It is my own personal mind game. It's useful because you have to remember a shadowlander is much stronger then a human, if he kills you then there is a chance you become a shadowlander too.
They are resistant to magic and weapons not of high quality. The more powerful shadowlanders can fly, control the weather, shapeshift, burrow, consume the souls of the departed, cloak themselves in darkness and rain down putrid death. For every defense there is a counter. For every counter there is a new defense. It starts a cycle that never ends.
In my dream I watched the walls with an almost idle curosity. The sluice was deployed too early and Knights of Brenntor don't use calvery. Furthermore a calvery attack is suicide because most shadowlanders are too fast to be caught in it. They are wall fighters and they misused their advantage at the start. The shadowlanders countered hard; the horsebound knights were thrown and trampled under the blackened horde.
"Serros! That was a vanity attack. Pull your men into a defensive formation." I called to the knights leader.
He signaled roughly to his men who pulled themselves in a more effective triangle formation just as the wave of black formless bodies struck. They poured to each side of the triangle and were divided.
"Serros! Tell them to charge. You can split them.!"
Serros did not hear or heed my call. He stood in the enter of his men watching the enemy struggle with his front ranks.
"Serros!" I called him over and over.
The knights unity began to breakdown. They fell into small units and engaged skirmish tactics. The towers began to rain arrows down onto the battlefield. Serros and his core of knights advanced on the horde. I watched from the wall as he waded into a hopeless battle.
For a brief second I saw him on the beach with the sunset spilling down on him.
"Why!" I called out to him.
He drew his sword and charged strait into the writhing mass of darkness. He didn't flinch or waiver as the shadows overcame him.
I felt an anguish fill me. I drew my sword smoothly. Perfectly. Like water rolling across a beach. It was not raging river (Which would've been more appropriate. but whatever. I can't ask for perfection from a dream) but Gaki Yuki; my katana that I actually own.
The small units held by the wall, the arrows slowed the dark hordes awful advance.
"Rally!" I called to the men-at-arms.
The knights milled about confused. A few stragglers fell before the incoming horde.
I raised my sword high above my head. A technique that is both amazingly stupid and symbolic.
"RALLY!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
The knights close to me ran to my side, more and more saw this and ran to me.
"Hold this door." I pointed to the portculis behind me.
The horde grew closer. My instinct was to do as Serros had and charge them.
I felt bloodlust in my arms, I yearned to battle them.
"FIGHT!" I screamed at the top of my lungs once more. My sword slid down into a standard fighting style. The horde charged into us but faltered. I slashed at them with unnatural ferocity. After a minute I realized we were being pushed backwards.
I didn't issue any orders, nor did I speak. But the door behind us opened and we fell back into it.
(Also of note Holley tried to wake me and almost got punched. Right about here.)
The dream followed this line of thought for awhile. Until I awoke confused, wracked with fever and ill.
Event 3: "aka the thoughtful WTF"
Following the rather disturbing events of the night I decide to delve into the truth of the matter.
I sat and thought deeply and thoughtful about the events of the night previous.
For starters. Serros charged because of his emotions not because of his sense of logic or leadership. It was a stupid move that felt right. It satisfied his need for revenge but didn't accomplish anything. That is something I myself am more then guilty of especially in recent weeks.
The shadowlanders are extensions of the dark man. The dark man is my nightmare. He is the reality that I fear when I am awake or asleep. I fight him over and over in my dreams but he returns. He returns because I need him to return. I need to fight him. Just like I need to fight the battle of Brenntor over and over again. It is my expression of a nightmare that lingers just behind the fringe of my conscious mind.
My nightmare began a reality when I became sick. Almost magically I managed to defeat both the dark man and the infection/pain. The link between the two existed (Either because I imagined it or because it was so.) and when one was defeated the other fell as well. Now a memory it haunts me as only a memory can.
Serros is one of my overlooked characters, I have never used him in roleplaying. He doesn't have an extensive backstory or history. Aside from his plot value in setting up the first and second novel of my series I don't have a reason for him to exist. Yet when my dreams try to tell me something they send Serros. Why I am not entirely certain.
He is right. I have been sleeping awake. Distracted like when one goes to the dentist. You think about everything except the the dentist to take your mind away from the pain and discomfort.
Life is full of pain and discomfort but it isn't a trip to the dentist. I feel like there is a fog that has hung over me. It isn't gone but I am aware of it now. It cannot last long.
Some people have perceived that who I am is defined that shadow man. They define me by the nightmare I fought and the measures I took when I stood against it. Perhaps it was a despertate fatalistic push that put me in this mindset. But I am not a monster, I have looked into the void and into the darkness. I felt the tug on my soul and the desire to give in. To become what everyone thought I was already. A liar. Cruel, manupliative, hollow and vain. I did not walk away unscathed and I did not walk away with a happy disposition. But I did walk away.
Most of the people I hurt and the relationships I destroyed have been repaired. There are holdouts that I can do nothing about. There are situations that plagued me because I was uncertain of my course and path. My emotional and spiritual health is improving by leaps and bounds. It is a mixed bag and an exciting and difficult challenge for me: The last of this dark chapter of my life. When I finish writing it I wonder... will the next chapter be one of despair? Will it be filled with even greater suffering? Will it be filled with the challenge of love? The challenge of new enemies? New rivals? Will I finally uncover the deeper meaning that my life hints at? Perhaps like all good stories it will have many elements: A dark tale of love and heroism ending in tragic loss of the hero.
I'm actually kind of tired of that story. I'm sort of itching for a happily ever after. I want the hero to live and thrive. I want him to charge to the aid of another instead of fending off his own crushing problems. I guess one of the measures of a true storyteller is if he can tell different kinds of stories. I hope I can.
Event One:
I had a dream last night. This is the first lucid dream I've had in two weeks.
I was walking along a beach with several shallow sandbars in the water beside me. I sat in the sand and watched the water flow in and out of the narrow passages such.
It takes me some time to realize I am asleep because I am sick and not feeling well. Also my emotional energy has been taxed as of late. I watch the water and feel calm and peaceful.
Farther down the beach I see someone walking toward me, it occurs to me that he is Serros the grey elf Knight in my novel. (Keep in mind if it wasn't Serros before he became Serros when I thought that. I'm not sure what kind of Kantian stunt I pulled there.) Since nobody alive has read my novel I'll tell you what Serros looks like. His skin, eyes and clothes are a smooty almost rocklike grey. His hair is a lighter shade of grey and he wears a suit of loose fitting chainmail over his generic brown tunic and trousers. He carries a runed longsword and Runed Armlets on each arm. The hair on his left is drawn into a ponytail that falls over his left shoulder and the hair on his right is shorter and unkempt.
Serros walks byside me and sits. Together we both stare out into the sea. Creator and creation.
I never had a voice for Serros in my head. But I do now. His voice is forceful, measured and somehow soothing... like he speaks of things as certain. He is a man who knows his destiny and isn't afraid of it. He tells me about the properties of the water and the geography of this land. (Sea of Mud on the western side of the ithamus of Solthus. South of the starting point of my second adventure series... for those curious.) I ask him about the battles he fought and the people he knew. I knew the answers of course. I wrote them. After awhile I stopped and just looked out at the sea again. After some time he pulled out his sword and laid it on the sand.
I never named the sword. I don't think I will now actually. But in my mind it has always been etched with spidery elven runes. It felt cold in my hands when I touched it. Cold and wet.
"It's a beautiful dream to see this firsthand" I told him.
"Are you certain it's a dream?" he asked me.
"I am. When I awake it will disappear." I replied to him sadly.
"And when you die will that disappear too?"
I was stunned by his arguement for a moment. It was true that when I died there would be no proof reality would exist for me anymore. I may believe in an afterlife and extended reality but my perception has no proof.
"Then the dream is real?" I switched positions on him. Something in me sought to look deeper.
"It's real right now, and when you write it becomes real to those who read it. You create reality when you change perception of reality." Serros replied it with ease.
"Then why wake up? Why not stay in this dream forever?" I taunted him now. He was after all my creation and dwelling within my mind.
"Why not indeed. Your not awake in either reality. Your mind and spirit are elsewhere. You live a life of distraction." A creation of my imagination told me in a dream that I was asleeep. Whats more he told me that I was distracted when I was awake. This ranks on odd things that have happened to me.
I shifted uncomfortably in the wet sand.
"I'm distracted?" I finally replied with a dash of uncertainty.
"When you wander off the path so much it is bound to happen." he challenged me again.
I fidgeted around the sand alittle. I knew what he was saying. It's words were not the words of Serros the knight but my words in his mouth. I started to draw in the sand now. I drew little rivers and lakes with my finger and watched the water fill them first... then overfill and splash against my feet.
"When I battle myself there are no winners, only the constant weakening of my very soul."
I do not know which of us said it. But I remember it from my journal when I was in Detroit I wrote it.
"You made us and in turn we make you. Creation as an act is perfect in it's symmentry."
I watched the water more closely now.
"There are no fish in this sea." It wasn't a question but a statement.
"No. You didn't make any." My creation replied.
"It makes me appreciate the attention to detail god possesses." I countered him.
I had hoped for a response but he had none. I suppose I didn't have a response either.
There was one more thing I had to know.
"When I come to my dreams I fight a dark man. I have fought him my entire life. Who is he?"
Serros did not answer right away. Red began to pour onto the beach and over us. The sun began it's slow descent behind the mountains of the far away barrierlands.
"He is what you say. A dark man."
"Listen..." I began to lecture; but when I turned to point his eyes were filled with resolve.
"You faced your waking nightmare and won. He only has power in your dreams now."
I think at this point I started to cry alittle. I'm not certain.
I realized then that my dreams were nothing more then a memory given form. Serros did not exist and neither did the Dark Man. Both existed within my mind, this is what he wanted to show me. (Which in some twisted way I was trying to show myself.)
"Distracted?" I asked once more. Certain that our time was running short.
"The children of Genna are called Shadowlanders. They exist only to destroy and return the universe to the void." He sounded more like Serros now. The Knight who swore vengence against them...
"I made them... like that." I didn't understand the endgame. At this point I was lost.
"They are men of shadow. Creatures of your nightmares. They mimic life to destroy it."
I still didn't understand his point.
"Fight them, you have fought them before."
At this point I start to wake slightly. I can hear my birds in the other room calling. I'm so tired and fevered that I huddle in my blankets and return to my crazed half-dream.
Event Two:
The walls of Brenntor exist perfectly in my minds eye. The elaborate sluice at the top of mount Brial and the twisting magestic white marble walls guarding the city. It is here that Serros lays down his life to avenge his race. At the walls he cries in elven: "This day I come for you. Men of Shadow. Children of Genna. Twisted Souls who seek the peace of death." He raises his sword in the air and opens all the gates of the city. The shadowlanders pour into the first two lines. The walls stand firmly as black creatures of all shapes and sizes skitter, crawl, ooze and climb them. With a signal Serros lets loose the water flushing out the first wave of attackers. The water burning their bodies like acid. The first row of knights opens and riders pour out like the sluices water... the shadowlanders are forced back. and the battle for the city begins.
A have played out this battle a hundred different ways. With different commanders, different armies defending it, different types of shadowlanders attacking and vastly different tactics. It is my own personal mind game. It's useful because you have to remember a shadowlander is much stronger then a human, if he kills you then there is a chance you become a shadowlander too.
They are resistant to magic and weapons not of high quality. The more powerful shadowlanders can fly, control the weather, shapeshift, burrow, consume the souls of the departed, cloak themselves in darkness and rain down putrid death. For every defense there is a counter. For every counter there is a new defense. It starts a cycle that never ends.
In my dream I watched the walls with an almost idle curosity. The sluice was deployed too early and Knights of Brenntor don't use calvery. Furthermore a calvery attack is suicide because most shadowlanders are too fast to be caught in it. They are wall fighters and they misused their advantage at the start. The shadowlanders countered hard; the horsebound knights were thrown and trampled under the blackened horde.
"Serros! That was a vanity attack. Pull your men into a defensive formation." I called to the knights leader.
He signaled roughly to his men who pulled themselves in a more effective triangle formation just as the wave of black formless bodies struck. They poured to each side of the triangle and were divided.
"Serros! Tell them to charge. You can split them.!"
Serros did not hear or heed my call. He stood in the enter of his men watching the enemy struggle with his front ranks.
"Serros!" I called him over and over.
The knights unity began to breakdown. They fell into small units and engaged skirmish tactics. The towers began to rain arrows down onto the battlefield. Serros and his core of knights advanced on the horde. I watched from the wall as he waded into a hopeless battle.
For a brief second I saw him on the beach with the sunset spilling down on him.
"Why!" I called out to him.
He drew his sword and charged strait into the writhing mass of darkness. He didn't flinch or waiver as the shadows overcame him.
I felt an anguish fill me. I drew my sword smoothly. Perfectly. Like water rolling across a beach. It was not raging river (Which would've been more appropriate. but whatever. I can't ask for perfection from a dream) but Gaki Yuki; my katana that I actually own.
The small units held by the wall, the arrows slowed the dark hordes awful advance.
"Rally!" I called to the men-at-arms.
The knights milled about confused. A few stragglers fell before the incoming horde.
I raised my sword high above my head. A technique that is both amazingly stupid and symbolic.
"RALLY!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.
The knights close to me ran to my side, more and more saw this and ran to me.
"Hold this door." I pointed to the portculis behind me.
The horde grew closer. My instinct was to do as Serros had and charge them.
I felt bloodlust in my arms, I yearned to battle them.
"FIGHT!" I screamed at the top of my lungs once more. My sword slid down into a standard fighting style. The horde charged into us but faltered. I slashed at them with unnatural ferocity. After a minute I realized we were being pushed backwards.
I didn't issue any orders, nor did I speak. But the door behind us opened and we fell back into it.
(Also of note Holley tried to wake me and almost got punched. Right about here.)
The dream followed this line of thought for awhile. Until I awoke confused, wracked with fever and ill.
Event 3: "aka the thoughtful WTF"
Following the rather disturbing events of the night I decide to delve into the truth of the matter.
I sat and thought deeply and thoughtful about the events of the night previous.
For starters. Serros charged because of his emotions not because of his sense of logic or leadership. It was a stupid move that felt right. It satisfied his need for revenge but didn't accomplish anything. That is something I myself am more then guilty of especially in recent weeks.
The shadowlanders are extensions of the dark man. The dark man is my nightmare. He is the reality that I fear when I am awake or asleep. I fight him over and over in my dreams but he returns. He returns because I need him to return. I need to fight him. Just like I need to fight the battle of Brenntor over and over again. It is my expression of a nightmare that lingers just behind the fringe of my conscious mind.
My nightmare began a reality when I became sick. Almost magically I managed to defeat both the dark man and the infection/pain. The link between the two existed (Either because I imagined it or because it was so.) and when one was defeated the other fell as well. Now a memory it haunts me as only a memory can.
Serros is one of my overlooked characters, I have never used him in roleplaying. He doesn't have an extensive backstory or history. Aside from his plot value in setting up the first and second novel of my series I don't have a reason for him to exist. Yet when my dreams try to tell me something they send Serros. Why I am not entirely certain.
He is right. I have been sleeping awake. Distracted like when one goes to the dentist. You think about everything except the the dentist to take your mind away from the pain and discomfort.
Life is full of pain and discomfort but it isn't a trip to the dentist. I feel like there is a fog that has hung over me. It isn't gone but I am aware of it now. It cannot last long.
Some people have perceived that who I am is defined that shadow man. They define me by the nightmare I fought and the measures I took when I stood against it. Perhaps it was a despertate fatalistic push that put me in this mindset. But I am not a monster, I have looked into the void and into the darkness. I felt the tug on my soul and the desire to give in. To become what everyone thought I was already. A liar. Cruel, manupliative, hollow and vain. I did not walk away unscathed and I did not walk away with a happy disposition. But I did walk away.
Most of the people I hurt and the relationships I destroyed have been repaired. There are holdouts that I can do nothing about. There are situations that plagued me because I was uncertain of my course and path. My emotional and spiritual health is improving by leaps and bounds. It is a mixed bag and an exciting and difficult challenge for me: The last of this dark chapter of my life. When I finish writing it I wonder... will the next chapter be one of despair? Will it be filled with even greater suffering? Will it be filled with the challenge of love? The challenge of new enemies? New rivals? Will I finally uncover the deeper meaning that my life hints at? Perhaps like all good stories it will have many elements: A dark tale of love and heroism ending in tragic loss of the hero.
I'm actually kind of tired of that story. I'm sort of itching for a happily ever after. I want the hero to live and thrive. I want him to charge to the aid of another instead of fending off his own crushing problems. I guess one of the measures of a true storyteller is if he can tell different kinds of stories. I hope I can.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
"Whats next"
If you complete a task that was twice your ability: Do you because twice a person?
Are we measured by our works and our accomplishments alone? Or perhaps our intentions and methods are weighed alongside them. There is no clear judge of a persons actions. A pious man may be that way out of fear and ignorance and not because of his experiences and knowledge.
I've thought alot about this today. I wonder if we are even being judged at all. God really can't keep score (Unless your a calvinist. In which case I'm sorry...) can he? Hundreds of years ago the debate of faith vs works became a hotly debated issue. To me it's an issue of what kind of god do you believe in. Do you believe god is an ass or an all powerful father?
Some people have asked what has bothered me the last few days. Because I did promise to leave the details of my life out of the blog I'll word this as carefully as I can.
I got my ass handed to me.
Yeah I got beat. Wasted, hosed, pwned, made into a bitch, screwed and stomped.
I had good intentions but quickly learned that nobody cares what your intentions are. Nobody cares if you act in their interest. If you act for the benefit of others it must be a ploy or a ruse. Mistrust was my undoing and I know for the future to guard my good intentions more closely.
I am no stranger to pain and failure; this is one more notch on the belt of life. My life is on the cusp of a new chapter, new challenges await me and laying flat on my back isn't getting me ready. So I take this pain and this failure and I use it. To make me stronger and more prepared.
The way I feel right this second has a perfect line to describe it. It comes from the west wing and I feel it appropriate to end this post with.
"Whats next?"
Are we measured by our works and our accomplishments alone? Or perhaps our intentions and methods are weighed alongside them. There is no clear judge of a persons actions. A pious man may be that way out of fear and ignorance and not because of his experiences and knowledge.
I've thought alot about this today. I wonder if we are even being judged at all. God really can't keep score (Unless your a calvinist. In which case I'm sorry...) can he? Hundreds of years ago the debate of faith vs works became a hotly debated issue. To me it's an issue of what kind of god do you believe in. Do you believe god is an ass or an all powerful father?
Some people have asked what has bothered me the last few days. Because I did promise to leave the details of my life out of the blog I'll word this as carefully as I can.
I got my ass handed to me.
Yeah I got beat. Wasted, hosed, pwned, made into a bitch, screwed and stomped.
I had good intentions but quickly learned that nobody cares what your intentions are. Nobody cares if you act in their interest. If you act for the benefit of others it must be a ploy or a ruse. Mistrust was my undoing and I know for the future to guard my good intentions more closely.
I am no stranger to pain and failure; this is one more notch on the belt of life. My life is on the cusp of a new chapter, new challenges await me and laying flat on my back isn't getting me ready. So I take this pain and this failure and I use it. To make me stronger and more prepared.
The way I feel right this second has a perfect line to describe it. It comes from the west wing and I feel it appropriate to end this post with.
"Whats next?"
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Allegory or hallucination?
There is a spiritual place where a mind goes after a terrible storm.
I went there today, After the storm battered my spirit and wore my emotions raw.
I thought that honesty and tenacity could overcome anything. But I should've known the storm would wear away at my resolve. At moments I clung hopeless as I was battered. Sometimes I lashed out with anger at terrible and uncontrollable events that lead me here. Anger, resolve, love, honesty even faith did not matter. The storm was impossible to fathom and it was impossible to survive. Those who think they can control a storm are beyond naive. You have no power outside your own.
The storm tore away my resolve until I clung with little more then a feeble dream. It dashed me against the rocks again and again. Thunder. Lightning. Waves. Unbearable cold.
It ate away at me until I finally released and slid into quiet but not complete defeat.
My spirit was damp but not destroyed. It did not burn away my soul like it did my desire. But uncovered a new strength. The passion left my body but did not leave my soul.
There are some situations in which you cannot win, no matter how well you fight or play. No matter how honest or pure your intentions. There are times that you will fail through no fault of your own. It is quite honestly the worst feeling in the world. Worse then debilitating mental illness, worse then spiritual emptiness, worse then the agony of a dying body and certainly worse then the loss of unrequitted love. It is doing your best and still failing and of all the things I mentioned it is the one that burdens me most.
In that spiritual place I fell into a deep contemplation. Where was god in this? Did he watch me from afar? Did he cheer me on? Did he await with sadness the eventual sadness I would face in defeat? No god was with me; he stood beside me in a way only he could. Only he could know the power and purity of my thoughts and intentions yet I didn't want him there before. I didn't want the tao. The infinite source of good wasn't with me. But they were with me now, when my spirit was all the remained of me; When my emotions were so drained and raw that I only felt the numbness of a frail and hurting body pushed beyond it's breaking point.
God was here with me. The Tao. Whatever you call it. I did not feel the sting of the failure. or the burning of my overworked body. I felt the peace of one who has given his all and can go on no longer. I have faced enemies in martial arts, I have faced enemies in competitive gaming and I have faced enemies on fields not seen or known to the average mind and eye. Never have I fight to the point where I could fight no longer, always I turn back before the final blow, I spare myself the coup de tat so that I can fight another day and preserve my dignity and honor.
I did not these past few days. Now in the pain of failure I feel the arms of something greater trying to push me back up. Lifting me because I no longer have the strength to carry myself.
There has to be a word for something this wonderful. Yes. It is love. It is faith.
It is not in my nature to give up until defeat is certain. It is something that I know and feel is right and I will persue it until my defeat is complete or I reach a measure of success and put to rest my own feelings. Tonight something beyond me watches out for me, I am in the womb, the cradle, the arms of eternity. I can think of no more comforting thing to someone who risked everything and lost. I will be renewed, I will get back up and I will finish what I started.
I am however in no condition to do anything. Now I rest.
May whatever god you follow cast his blessings on you.
I went there today, After the storm battered my spirit and wore my emotions raw.
I thought that honesty and tenacity could overcome anything. But I should've known the storm would wear away at my resolve. At moments I clung hopeless as I was battered. Sometimes I lashed out with anger at terrible and uncontrollable events that lead me here. Anger, resolve, love, honesty even faith did not matter. The storm was impossible to fathom and it was impossible to survive. Those who think they can control a storm are beyond naive. You have no power outside your own.
The storm tore away my resolve until I clung with little more then a feeble dream. It dashed me against the rocks again and again. Thunder. Lightning. Waves. Unbearable cold.
It ate away at me until I finally released and slid into quiet but not complete defeat.
My spirit was damp but not destroyed. It did not burn away my soul like it did my desire. But uncovered a new strength. The passion left my body but did not leave my soul.
There are some situations in which you cannot win, no matter how well you fight or play. No matter how honest or pure your intentions. There are times that you will fail through no fault of your own. It is quite honestly the worst feeling in the world. Worse then debilitating mental illness, worse then spiritual emptiness, worse then the agony of a dying body and certainly worse then the loss of unrequitted love. It is doing your best and still failing and of all the things I mentioned it is the one that burdens me most.
In that spiritual place I fell into a deep contemplation. Where was god in this? Did he watch me from afar? Did he cheer me on? Did he await with sadness the eventual sadness I would face in defeat? No god was with me; he stood beside me in a way only he could. Only he could know the power and purity of my thoughts and intentions yet I didn't want him there before. I didn't want the tao. The infinite source of good wasn't with me. But they were with me now, when my spirit was all the remained of me; When my emotions were so drained and raw that I only felt the numbness of a frail and hurting body pushed beyond it's breaking point.
God was here with me. The Tao. Whatever you call it. I did not feel the sting of the failure. or the burning of my overworked body. I felt the peace of one who has given his all and can go on no longer. I have faced enemies in martial arts, I have faced enemies in competitive gaming and I have faced enemies on fields not seen or known to the average mind and eye. Never have I fight to the point where I could fight no longer, always I turn back before the final blow, I spare myself the coup de tat so that I can fight another day and preserve my dignity and honor.
I did not these past few days. Now in the pain of failure I feel the arms of something greater trying to push me back up. Lifting me because I no longer have the strength to carry myself.
There has to be a word for something this wonderful. Yes. It is love. It is faith.
It is not in my nature to give up until defeat is certain. It is something that I know and feel is right and I will persue it until my defeat is complete or I reach a measure of success and put to rest my own feelings. Tonight something beyond me watches out for me, I am in the womb, the cradle, the arms of eternity. I can think of no more comforting thing to someone who risked everything and lost. I will be renewed, I will get back up and I will finish what I started.
I am however in no condition to do anything. Now I rest.
May whatever god you follow cast his blessings on you.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Edge of Passion
One's strength is in the mind, One's mind is a battle with one's self.
-Master Long, Gundam Wing
Unless a man has trained himself for his chance, the chance will only make him ridiculous.
-William Matthew
When the fight begins within himself, a man's worth having.
-Robert Browning
Some people live life without any degree of planning, they drift like floatsam letting fate throw them with whimsy. Others plan for almost everything but become rigid and are destroyed when life throws something unexpected. That tide; that precious water that is life consumes us regardless of our lifestyle. The only thing we can do is live with passion, passion may or may not extend your life, it might lead you to an early grave or terrible sorrow. Passion is the volume switch of life, the more passion you have the more you get out of life. It is clean endless fuel for the soul and for the creative. If you play a video game: play it with passion. Play it with zest and enjoy it fully. If you love then do it with the depth of your heart regardless of the pain that may await you.
When I speak of the emptiness I feel sometimes it is the loss of that passion. When I battle myself I am bound to lose. The nicks and cuts to my soul did not deny me the passion of my heart. Heartbreak and sorrow did their part but it is not loss of love that took away my passion and ambition: It is gone because I fear. I can stand my ground against any enemy of bone or flesh. I can with force of will push aside the strongest minds, I can read the hearts of the broken and give them comfort. But I am afraid of myself. I am afraid to love completely and honestly. I hold back and slink into the medicore. I do not use the fullness of my talent because of fear.
Without this passion for life and this desire to improve and overcome men are nothing. We would not stand on the moon nor would we amass the knowledge and culture we have now.
Problems past have been destroyed, absorbed, overcome and even compromised. But how do you deal with fear of life? I could say that it is apathy, but in truth it nothing so simple.
I am aware that most of this has been said before, and furthermore this is pretty bad writing. But I needed to get it out. I am afraid of not just the future but the present. I fear what is outside my very doorstep for reasons I cannot fathom. Inside me I burn with that desire, that passion and ambition. I want to accomplish and to fight without holding back. It is harrowing to know that kind of power is locked away where I cannot reach it. I literally stand at the edge of it trying desperately to free it so that I too can live with a full heart.
-Master Long, Gundam Wing
Unless a man has trained himself for his chance, the chance will only make him ridiculous.
-William Matthew
When the fight begins within himself, a man's worth having.
-Robert Browning
Some people live life without any degree of planning, they drift like floatsam letting fate throw them with whimsy. Others plan for almost everything but become rigid and are destroyed when life throws something unexpected. That tide; that precious water that is life consumes us regardless of our lifestyle. The only thing we can do is live with passion, passion may or may not extend your life, it might lead you to an early grave or terrible sorrow. Passion is the volume switch of life, the more passion you have the more you get out of life. It is clean endless fuel for the soul and for the creative. If you play a video game: play it with passion. Play it with zest and enjoy it fully. If you love then do it with the depth of your heart regardless of the pain that may await you.
When I speak of the emptiness I feel sometimes it is the loss of that passion. When I battle myself I am bound to lose. The nicks and cuts to my soul did not deny me the passion of my heart. Heartbreak and sorrow did their part but it is not loss of love that took away my passion and ambition: It is gone because I fear. I can stand my ground against any enemy of bone or flesh. I can with force of will push aside the strongest minds, I can read the hearts of the broken and give them comfort. But I am afraid of myself. I am afraid to love completely and honestly. I hold back and slink into the medicore. I do not use the fullness of my talent because of fear.
Without this passion for life and this desire to improve and overcome men are nothing. We would not stand on the moon nor would we amass the knowledge and culture we have now.
Problems past have been destroyed, absorbed, overcome and even compromised. But how do you deal with fear of life? I could say that it is apathy, but in truth it nothing so simple.
I am aware that most of this has been said before, and furthermore this is pretty bad writing. But I needed to get it out. I am afraid of not just the future but the present. I fear what is outside my very doorstep for reasons I cannot fathom. Inside me I burn with that desire, that passion and ambition. I want to accomplish and to fight without holding back. It is harrowing to know that kind of power is locked away where I cannot reach it. I literally stand at the edge of it trying desperately to free it so that I too can live with a full heart.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Where is my mind?
A classic Pixies song now demoted to a title of a self-effacing blog. Truly a sad state of affairs.
My 24 hour flu has been vanquished like the helpless bug it was; the apartment is nearly finished and I finally have company with me. As promised I will update the events in my life so I can get back to musing about pointless topics.
I will not be going back east to work for the DNC. I will however be giving my time to the local efforts as well as starting a poltical blog that closely watching national trends.
I am looking for part time work.
I am looking for a literary agent. (One that reads this blog must think I'm a hack.)
I am finishing both a sourcebook and novel for my setting. The sourcebook history really really needs work but the novel is proceeding smoothly.
From an emotional standpoint the new place has been immensely helpful. I really think I can make exceptional things happpen here and now. Is there still work to be done? Of course.
My car works. Except the low air in the front passenger-side tire and a transmission fluid leak...
My diet and exercise routine has been completely and utterly destroyed. I am now literally powered by mountain dew and pork chops exclusively. Thankfully I am skilled in the combination of the two. My primary concern about exercise is its hard to workout by yourself.
I've had fewer and less graphic dreams. Not sure if that is good or bad.
That catches everyone up on the events of my life. A state of the union for the mundane and uninteresting if you will.
I touched briefly on the emotional implications of my new apartment. I feel it's only fair in the interests of both self discovery and total disclosure to elaborate on that.
You see in the past I've talked alot about my fear of failure, insatiable need for love and attention, tendacy towards isolation when I need people most, emotional instability and spiritual emptiness. Right now I have to face all of that at once. Like each struggle before was a trial run for now. I keep saying this and it's still true; but I feel like I'm not being myself. Like the real me is locked away inside and can't get out. Sometimes when I talk to certain people or about certain things or go to specific places I can feel it come to the surface.
It wouldn't be fair to proclaim I am the only person in my generation to face a feeling of emptiness and loneliness. Most (myself sometimes) try to fill that feeling with possessions or unreality. They absorb books, movies and shows with an almost obssessive compulsion. They collect trivia on useless subjects, they drink and party to excess, some use drugs or have sex with multiple partners (sometimes at once. lucky bastards). All to fill a hole in the soul.
What is suppose to fill that hold? I think it depends largely on the person. All the things I listed above work for some people. Some are very happy collecting M.A.S.H episodes or obsessively watching anime and dressing up for cons. (for the record I like Anime; Don't murder me you nutty Otaku!) Those however (pardon me again Otaku) are too shallow for me. I believe for me this yearning open hole can be filled with love (That sounded really wrong.) and accomplishments big and small. Right now however it's just a big cold empty hole. Anime doesn't fill it, TV doesn't fill it, Books and games don't fill it, love is too fleeting to fill it for more then a second and my accomplishments now are simply too small to fill it for long.
Now we have discussed the hole in the soul. Why is love fleeting? People love me, I love people. No problem right? Well thats an overly simplistic way of looking at it. There are in my view 5 kinds of love. (or more).
Family and Casual Friendships. (which we disregard for this discussion.) and then 3 flavors of "more". Some people are more then friends but because of past history/religion/fear/practical concerns remain in that awkward stage between friendship and romance. Typically people stuck in this stage stop being friends or move one way or the other. In this regard it's a transitive state and not a lasting one. The exception to this is "friends with benefits" or certain variations thereof. With enough maturity you can freely move between the various states with the same person but only with clearly defined limitations and rules. Generally this doesn't happen and it turns into a trainwreck for all to see. When done properly it can act as a needly emotional and physical release or a catalyst for a relationship or friendship.
The fourth and Fifth stages are romantic love for which we are all familar with. I put this into two catagories and then two sub-catagories. Emotionally binding relationships and Relationships of Passion, Then two sub catagories Mutual or partial attraction.
Emotionally binding relationships are long term and difficult to seperate. It is possible to have an emotionally binding relationship without sex or any physical intimacy (hella unlikely however). A relationship of passion is short term and has alot of lust. In one of life's greatest ironies lust is required to burn away the initial barriers people have against each other. Lust is the fire that allows a relationship to reach that lofty and exalted position of emotional intimacy.
Relationships then have a final distincion: If they are mutual or one sided.
Now. Distinctions aside. I do care about alot of people. I have a couple of emotional relationsips that I am quite happy with. To me physical needs are less important so lets discard those. It is with that final distinction I have issue. I care about people who don't return that feeling. Some people love me that I can't and don't feel that way about. The relationships are not mutual.
The relationships I am happy with outweigh the unhappy or incomplete relationships; but being the perfectionist prick that I am I have to think about it and work on it.
I will always love and care about some people, no matter what. In them I have seen a kindness or a beauty that is rare in others. Even concealed from me now I feel attracted to it. It does at times of weakness make my heart ache to think about. But worst of all it binds my heart down. Those secret unspeakable pains concealed beneath those ugly jagged scars fester each day with it. If my heart were free to love as much and as often as it could I would reach happiness on a level that I can only barely understand now. But each time I open my heart to someone they get alittle piece of the heartstrings they never let go of. Over time it has bound me firmly to the ground, I fear if I were to escape it would bring pain to those who still have an open heart to me.
Thats enough musing for tonight. Love guide each of your pathes till it's end.
My 24 hour flu has been vanquished like the helpless bug it was; the apartment is nearly finished and I finally have company with me. As promised I will update the events in my life so I can get back to musing about pointless topics.
I will not be going back east to work for the DNC. I will however be giving my time to the local efforts as well as starting a poltical blog that closely watching national trends.
I am looking for part time work.
I am looking for a literary agent. (One that reads this blog must think I'm a hack.)
I am finishing both a sourcebook and novel for my setting. The sourcebook history really really needs work but the novel is proceeding smoothly.
From an emotional standpoint the new place has been immensely helpful. I really think I can make exceptional things happpen here and now. Is there still work to be done? Of course.
My car works. Except the low air in the front passenger-side tire and a transmission fluid leak...
My diet and exercise routine has been completely and utterly destroyed. I am now literally powered by mountain dew and pork chops exclusively. Thankfully I am skilled in the combination of the two. My primary concern about exercise is its hard to workout by yourself.
I've had fewer and less graphic dreams. Not sure if that is good or bad.
That catches everyone up on the events of my life. A state of the union for the mundane and uninteresting if you will.
I touched briefly on the emotional implications of my new apartment. I feel it's only fair in the interests of both self discovery and total disclosure to elaborate on that.
You see in the past I've talked alot about my fear of failure, insatiable need for love and attention, tendacy towards isolation when I need people most, emotional instability and spiritual emptiness. Right now I have to face all of that at once. Like each struggle before was a trial run for now. I keep saying this and it's still true; but I feel like I'm not being myself. Like the real me is locked away inside and can't get out. Sometimes when I talk to certain people or about certain things or go to specific places I can feel it come to the surface.
It wouldn't be fair to proclaim I am the only person in my generation to face a feeling of emptiness and loneliness. Most (myself sometimes) try to fill that feeling with possessions or unreality. They absorb books, movies and shows with an almost obssessive compulsion. They collect trivia on useless subjects, they drink and party to excess, some use drugs or have sex with multiple partners (sometimes at once. lucky bastards). All to fill a hole in the soul.
What is suppose to fill that hold? I think it depends largely on the person. All the things I listed above work for some people. Some are very happy collecting M.A.S.H episodes or obsessively watching anime and dressing up for cons. (for the record I like Anime; Don't murder me you nutty Otaku!) Those however (pardon me again Otaku) are too shallow for me. I believe for me this yearning open hole can be filled with love (That sounded really wrong.) and accomplishments big and small. Right now however it's just a big cold empty hole. Anime doesn't fill it, TV doesn't fill it, Books and games don't fill it, love is too fleeting to fill it for more then a second and my accomplishments now are simply too small to fill it for long.
Now we have discussed the hole in the soul. Why is love fleeting? People love me, I love people. No problem right? Well thats an overly simplistic way of looking at it. There are in my view 5 kinds of love. (or more).
Family and Casual Friendships. (which we disregard for this discussion.) and then 3 flavors of "more". Some people are more then friends but because of past history/religion/fear/practical concerns remain in that awkward stage between friendship and romance. Typically people stuck in this stage stop being friends or move one way or the other. In this regard it's a transitive state and not a lasting one. The exception to this is "friends with benefits" or certain variations thereof. With enough maturity you can freely move between the various states with the same person but only with clearly defined limitations and rules. Generally this doesn't happen and it turns into a trainwreck for all to see. When done properly it can act as a needly emotional and physical release or a catalyst for a relationship or friendship.
The fourth and Fifth stages are romantic love for which we are all familar with. I put this into two catagories and then two sub-catagories. Emotionally binding relationships and Relationships of Passion, Then two sub catagories Mutual or partial attraction.
Emotionally binding relationships are long term and difficult to seperate. It is possible to have an emotionally binding relationship without sex or any physical intimacy (hella unlikely however). A relationship of passion is short term and has alot of lust. In one of life's greatest ironies lust is required to burn away the initial barriers people have against each other. Lust is the fire that allows a relationship to reach that lofty and exalted position of emotional intimacy.
Relationships then have a final distincion: If they are mutual or one sided.
Now. Distinctions aside. I do care about alot of people. I have a couple of emotional relationsips that I am quite happy with. To me physical needs are less important so lets discard those. It is with that final distinction I have issue. I care about people who don't return that feeling. Some people love me that I can't and don't feel that way about. The relationships are not mutual.
The relationships I am happy with outweigh the unhappy or incomplete relationships; but being the perfectionist prick that I am I have to think about it and work on it.
I will always love and care about some people, no matter what. In them I have seen a kindness or a beauty that is rare in others. Even concealed from me now I feel attracted to it. It does at times of weakness make my heart ache to think about. But worst of all it binds my heart down. Those secret unspeakable pains concealed beneath those ugly jagged scars fester each day with it. If my heart were free to love as much and as often as it could I would reach happiness on a level that I can only barely understand now. But each time I open my heart to someone they get alittle piece of the heartstrings they never let go of. Over time it has bound me firmly to the ground, I fear if I were to escape it would bring pain to those who still have an open heart to me.
Thats enough musing for tonight. Love guide each of your pathes till it's end.
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