The End

When I started this blog I was on the cusp of a major life crisis; things had spun out of control and I needed an outlet for my thoughts and feelings.

The blog itself has always frustrated me; I never felt any license to write about the positive aspects of life. The design was dark and filled with self-important drama. After I long hiatus from personal writing... not to mention plenty of time analyzing my life and correcting mistakes; I decided that it would be best to close this dark chapter of my life completely.

A new blog will free me to write about every aspect of life objectively. I don't need to be chained to this or anything else. My new blog can be found here.

Not Fade Away

This week I moved from my Dad's house to my uncles house; I was having problems being around my father and his frequent temper tantrums. The anger and tension in the air drove me into isolation which further compounded how alone and helpless I had been feeling.

Part of me is a ruthless warrior, it doesn't understand mercy or fear.
The other is afraid of everything, a helpless child.

For awhile it's felt like the writer, the warrior, the poet... the very core of me has been fading away. And when that core fades all that is left is an empty and very much alone shell of a man.
The torment in my heart is not between good and evil, law or chaos: but between courage and fear; between someone who is in love with life and unafraid of it's challenges... and someone who is afraid of life and filled with apathy.

I win and lose this battle in increments. Some days I will gain ground and some days I will lose it. To an outside it appears as if little changes... to me it feels although I have been swimming in sand for weeks to keep myself from going under. But each day I remain in this gridlock I do not grow; I do not strive or achieve... Each day I miss more and more opportunity to truly be alive. A tiny piece of me fades forever unacknowledged or fulfilled.

Incremental battles are Pyrrhic and fighting them does me no good. In the end I may find victory but I will have no prize. I will have spent my best years embroiled in needless turmoil. Therefore I have assumed a heroic stance; the ruthless warrior and the coward must of necessity be the ones to fade way. The battle must turn outwards into the world and the inside must be united.

This week has been one of the best in a long time. I've made amazing progress both inward and outward in a relatively short period of time. I've gotten rid of a lot of my misplaced anger and gotten a degree of confidence back. I am by no means well again; but for the first time in what seems like ages I feel like I'm not sinking hopelessly into the sand.

I calmly approach the future knowing at any moment something wonderful or terrible could happen upon me; But something in me feels certain that once I recovery fully I can seize life by the balls. I will not stay silent or linger in the corners filled with darkness. I will not as the poem reads "go quietly into the night" and I will not fade away until I have left my battles, my legacy, my words and my dreams engraved into the very soul & psyche of humanity.

Bad bad list

I'm having a slow slow nervous breakdown.

I can't find a job in this god forsaken city.

I've spent all my money getting my car to work; if only I could afford to register and put gas in it.

My internet is getting turned off tomorrow (later today)

There is an amazing pill I can take to completely remove the agonizing pain in my head. A shame I can't AFFORD the stupid thing.

Clinton is ruining any chance Obama might have in the general election by running him out of money and polarizing the party.

I really like this girl, but I turn into a sputtering retard whenever I get the rare chance to speak to her.

I miss my cat.

I am at the moment getting completely worked, which is why I'm changing gears. Hopefully in the next week or so I'll be able to move back to bountiful where I know people. Plus the added bonus of not being around people that make me crazy.

It's not a foolish dream, to want a smart loving girlfriend; a nice apartment with a kitty. A cold mountain dew after a hard days work. I don't know why it has to be so hard for me to get things moving again. Anyway since it's going to be a few weeks until I get my internet back I thought I should say something.

Victimless Identity

I hate being sick. I hate it with a passion that transcends reason.

I hate that I get dizzy from a few minutes of writing, or playing a game. I hate that there are times am incapacitated, times when my body weakens and fails me and times when my mind and concentration fall apart. But most of all I hate that is what my life is about now.

My life used to be about accomplishment and adventure. I used to travel the world, I used to compete with other highly skilled individuals. I used to debate on subjects of great complexity with equally great intellects... I loved when my life was about that.

When did my life become about something else? When did it became all about trying to stay alive and traverse emotional land mines? When did becoming a victim become my identity? When people look at me they don't see a brilliant mind or a kind soul; they see a victim who can't hold himself upright anymore.

I deserve it, I really do. It's all people see because I haven't been anything else in a long time.

Not anymore; anyone who treats me less then what I truly am can shove off. People will soon discover that making assumptions about me will result in an embarrassing amount of fallacy.

Limit Break

I haven't slept well in the past three days; in fact I've barely slept at all.

The reasons for this wouldn't make sense to someone who doesn't know me; but I'm quite a terrible insomniac. In order to sleep at all I need to take sleeping pills. The problem with said sleeping pills is once I take them I zonk out and nobody can wake me for 8-9 hours.

How does this relate to not sleeping for 3 days? It's simple. Nobody else in my house can legally drive right now... which means I have to run my dad to work at 5:30 AM. This is a problem since I can't fall asleep before 1:00 AM even on the best nights. (Even with the aid of sleeping pills) That means the only way for me to fulfill my promise and responsibility was to go without sleeping.

Needless to say this had a double meaning for me. I wanted to push myself to my limits again. I wanted to challenge myself in ways I haven't been able to in years. This is especially true after the last blog post I put up. A couple of days without sleep is no big deal right?

The problem however was this morning a major storm rode in. It wasn't that bad on the way into Salt Lake... but the conditions on the way back were scary to say the least. I couldn't see the lines on the freeway and I could only barely see the concrete dividers on the sides of the freeway. To make matters worse I came close to hydroplaning at least once; maybe twice. Conditions made worse by intense morning traffic.

So that my friends is my limit for the moment. My nerves are completely shot. I want to sleep but it's unlikely that I will be able to for a few more hours. By then everyone will be awake and it will be too loud to fall asleep... I don't really know what happens at that point... but damn I am tired.

Tabula Rasa

The body is predictable; in times of long pain and stress the arteries clog and harden. Sleep becomes disturbed, the muscles feel heavy and the body becomes lethargic. Concentration becomes difficult to maintain and generally everything goes to hell in a hand basket.

It has been long argued that human beings are blank slates. That we are programmed by our surroundings as opposed to an innate sense of identity. The complexity of the situation is both are true. But I think it would be meaningless to try and live if humans did not have control over their own destiny.

For much of my life I was able to dispel the notion of pain or tiredness; my will sufficed in overcoming any challenge I was faced with. It became easier to pass responsibility for my destiny off to fate, circumstances or individuals. Facing the greatest challenge of my life I did not rise to the occasion as some have... but instead I gave up everything I believed in and let my life collapse on itself.

The emotional pain has long been secondary to the physical. Even mild sunlight causes me unbearable agony... sometimes. I find my body so tired I cannot move... but only sometimes. The patterns change with seeming randomness... at times I am perfectly normal... and days like today the pain is almost unbearable.

I keenly feel the sense of loss... that I once had the will to overcome anything and I piddled it away for someone who did not deserve it. My only consolation is it did expose the weakness... a fatal flaw that I could not overcome. both time and effort have not dispelled it... nor do I expect them to ever. It is woven into the earliest part of my life history that I would feel this emptiness in my heart... that I need someone to love me.

It is a twisted irony that of all the people I have loved... each and every one of them had trouble loving me in return. The more I would open and invite... the farther away they would go. Perhaps I sensed in them the same emptiness that yearned to be filled... or maybe I read every intention wrong; I may never understand for sure.

Somehow I have held onto the hope that I will find someone who understands me or at very least is willing to put everything on the table and try. It is because love is a great healer... it mends wounds so deep that it seems almost miraculous. Not merely my wounds... but the wounds of those I care about... A long time ago I had the heart to love and heal many people...

These words are spoken by not merely a broken heart, but a soul fractured with pain. The man inside who feels robbed of his destiny is screaming for release; Screaming to be free of the prison he has fallen into. I sway between the strong and kind man I once was... and the tormented victim I have become... neither holds sway because my will has not been sufficient.

I repeat my words over and over; a meaningless cycle of rising up and falling back down when my will falters or the actions of another tear open a psychological wound.

It is funny... with my level of tactical skill and psychological knowledge I have the most trouble acknowledging that the two are separate problems: A partially healed tear in my psyche and debilitating migraines. One is within my control... the other isn't... yet. That I am incomplete as a person weakens me to the migraines... and erodes my ability to function with them; I am certain of that.

I know intellectually that the two are different; yet my mind feels compelled when I am under the effects of a migraine to tear open the still-healing wounds in in heart and psyche. I cannot forget the feelings of being betrayed... the white hot hatred and jealousy burning inside me.... the crushing despair of being abandoned at the moment I was most vulnerable.

Like I said before, this is a slow death for the body. If I do not overcome it eventually it will kill me. But the man I was screams to be released... however the kind person I was will be completely destroyed by the cruel circumstances in my current life. The life I have now is tepid, mediocre and safe... the life that I yearn to return to will pit me against untold challenges... something that is daunting for a man who can barely sit upright during a migraine attack.

We are born mostly blank... our souls unblemished by pain, sorrow and regret; some of that is expected and the resistance helps build us up. But when we choose to live in fear of our own potential, in fear of our own emotions then the accumulations threaten to destroy us... and we rightly deserve it.

Heero! Come kill me!

I started watching Gundam Wing in Japanese for the first time last night. I was feeling nostalgia from spending all of last week in Logan with Craig and couldn't think of anything that defined my high school years better.

Almost immediately I was absorbed by studying Relena; you see I was always a huge fan of Relena in the later part of the show. End-of-show Relena was fearless and kind but the girl I was watching wasn't what I remembered or expected.

I don't know why, but I never noticed the struggles or pain she was experiencing in the first "act" of the show. It may have been the English voice actors didn't portray the emotions well; or perhaps I wasn't receptive to it before. Regardless she fascinated me this time around; in many ways she is exactly like Heero and acted as a window into his otherwise murky emotions. But what really interested me was how she acted. She hid behind an aura of civility and politeness; it would be cruel to call her two-faced but I can't think of a better way to say it.

Watching Relena stand there asking Heero to kill her elicited a question, Does she really want to die? or does she just want Heero to give her attention?

I really pondered that question for awhile. The obvious answer is she wants Heero's attention. But I really think to stand there like that, some part of you must welcome death. The answer then must be both. The fact that Heero saves her only leads credence to my theory that Relena and Heero have mirrored souls.

Heero and Relena are really interesting to study, not just because they are similar (internally, while having completely different external personalities.) but because they complete each other.
I personally think that there is no such thing as perfect "love" or relationships, but my ideal is somewhere close to Heero and Relena's relationship: Internally the same but externally different. A person cannot be complete by himself, he needs someone to counterbalance him... to make his half a whole. If two people share a similar soul... if they can understand each other in a way that transcends words... that is better then wealth, or common interests, personality or intellect. Something like that cannot be "created" with all the doctor Phil's and hack self-help books in the world. You can't find it on E-harmony and if you let it go you will never have another chance at it again... such an event is once in a lifetime.

Heero and Relena carried a lot of baggage into the later episodes... yet concordantly they supported each other. Relena gave Heero a reason to live... and fight; Heero showed Relena that she didn't need to hide herself behind a polite facade... and even more then that he inspired in her heart the ideal of total peace.

I think that whatever the personal pain, whatever the struggle happens to be... it's better to share with someone who can truly understand you. Someone who wants you for you and not an idealized version of you or a facade. Many people fell in love with Relena's facade... but only one man loved her for what she was inside. In that one area Heero and I are completely alike... we care more for the heart and truth of a matter... then a lie or facade.

The Grand Finale

For the past 6-7 years and 35 levels worth of game-time... I've persued a single and very very long story Arc in my roleplaying setting.

I'm saddened that the end of that story approaches; but the time is perfect.

My players are moving away, starting careers , married or what have you. And the novel inspired by this setting is proceeding at a decent rate; with all that and the impending release of 4th edition now is a good time to bring this story to a conclusion.

On top of that, upheaval in my life has brought about a shift in my storytelling style. In many ways it is impossible for me to tell this story any longer. In the early days of the arc I was inspired by the changes in my life to explore new themes... many of which are no longer appropriate to the life I have now. Many of the people who inspired me are long gone, or have hurt me with their actions. Some of the ideals that I wove into my story became disillusioned. Like a million artists before me my life was catalyst for my craft.

It is only right that with a major shift in my life comes an end to this era of roleplaying. I will find new players, write new stories and explore new ideas. In a few weeks my players will gather from all around the state; and for many this will be their last adventure. Suffice to say it's a mixed bag for me. To conclude such a magnificant story leaves me alittle heartbroken, but I now have a free canvas to start again.

Rest in peace Gary.

Earlier today one of my role models, the father of Role playing; Gary Gygax passed away.

Like so many other young writers I was introduced to the world of fantasy by his works. I would sit and watch my uncle play every week when I was young. Eventually I would become a player, DM, and bright-eyed designer. Role playing taught me to overcome my shyness, and how to tell a great story.

I owe this man a great debt, his work inspired and will inspire me well into the future. As it inspires my gamer peers at Penny Arcade and Order of the Stick. I know that his work will live on in me, and many many others... somehow it lightens the pain in my heart to realize that.

I hereby dedicate this weeks adventure to his memory. Don't worry Gary I'll make you proud with this one.

A most magic of candles.

I started earlier this week with the intellectual idea of re-visiting the games of my youth; to explore their themes with the eyes of a trained adult. It was to be a diversion and perhaps an interesting point of study for future work. But it turned out to be a lot more.

I wrote before of tapping into older WoW characters to get a read into my earlier mindsets; I then took the idea farther by moving them to Dark Iron and counteracting the ill-will I felt from my previous guild dramas. The concept is enumerated in various psychological works (although the circumstances vary.) and I feel confident in my data regarding the matter.

But this was much more then a simple walk a few years backwards. This was the era I had just begun to realize the power of words, and I was filled with an incredible passion for storytelling. The nostalgic power of the games reminded me of the unbridled potential of youth and equally limitless potential of the storyteller.

My first real exposure to the "fantasy" genre was via two very old computer games: "Champions of Krynn" and "The Magic Candle". To this day "The Magic Candle" remains one of my earliest and most powerful influences on the worlds I have created. This is something I did not even realize until I had played the games again after all these years.

T.M.C was one of the first open-ended (or sandbox concept games) of the RPG (or any) genre. There was no final boss, no linear storyline and very little "required" questing to beat the game.
Instead you have 1000 days to find a way to keep the lord Dreax imprisoned, each day the candle burns a little lower until he finally escapes.

It was a simple concept for a game, but the execution was where it shined. Many tasks required the party to break into groups... potentially dangerous with the agents of Dreax hunting you. It required strict resource management and has quite possibly the best-balanced characters I have ever seen for a game. The "weaker" combat characters have everyday professions and the game is nearly impossible without the extra gold they bring in. The right balance of fighting power, hunting power, money making and magical utility is quite difficult to strike exactly.

The intensity of the game didn't force me into an older mindset as was the case with Adul; instead I encountered something new: at first a raw emotional response. But the nostalgia of the game was a powerful catalyst for a fusion of thinking.

I was calm, felt no deep emotional pain or crushing despair over my current situation. Emotionally I went back to a different era completely. It was relaxing to delve into such a rich story without any distractions. With the clarity I found I could recall specific thoughts, threads of my earlier thinking. I followed it for awhile; linking the old and the new.

The fusion of old and new. Experience and passion. The application of new ideas to old problems stirred in my soul a kind of... yearning. There are new answers, new strategies and problems waiting for me to uncover. These problems before me now are nothing more then speed bumps and the pain and worry I have over them is without merit.

Broken

The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.

-Ernest Hemingway


When a person is part of your life for a long time; you can't help but feel the loss keenly. Like a submarine under deep water it buckles and eventually crushes the heart. I tried for a time to avoid it; but could not. I lost the closest person in the world to me, my best friend and my partner in all things.

I sat in the emptiness that was our home for two weeks. The kittins I loved so dearly gone, no internet, no cable, no phone and my car across town and out of reach. It put my feelings front and center, I had nothing to distract me from those thoughts and I had to face them raw and naked.

It grinded me down into a shallow depression, a listless lethargy. My health moved between fair and bad as it always does. Even a "friend" took opportunity to kick me while I was still down, but a special few rose to the occasion and helped me pull through it.

Hemingway was right: the world breaks us. But we heal, grow stronger and overcome.
I live with my family now far away from my friends, far away from the life I knew. It doesn't bother me that I am far away; a distance of miles is meaningless. It bothers me that the true distance, the unfathomable barrier between people is wider then it has ever been. I could be a million miles away but the distance between me and everyone else is greater still.

An untapped ability

My first real hobby was gaming.

Not games in any organized sense of the word; not roleplaying games and not even video games.
I collected junk, things that other people deemed useless. Bits of machinery, discarded packaging and smatters of my own toys and trinkets. With nothing more then my imagination I created and destroyed worlds, empires and entire races even. Over time I devloped a rudimentary roleplaying system, long before I ever picked up dice for Dungeons and Dragons.

As I got older my systems became more and more sophisticated, I would roleplay with my friends are recess and share my worlds with them. It was in those years; those humble beginnings that I found both my confidence and skill as a storyteller. I learned how effective patiomine was; and how to use hooks to draw people into a story. I reached a point around 6th grade where I could not improve upon my skills any longer. I didn't have room to grow, I didn't have teachers who understood well enough to instruct me. So I took my focus from a storyteller and shifted to studying the mind.

Psychology was for me... a hallway that lead to infinite possibilities. It was like opening pandora's box and realizing it's too late to cram the lid back on. I followed my curiosity into the darkest reaches of the human psyche, into the unrelenting light of the human soul and farther then the child who built worlds could've ever dreamed.

My gift all along was in people. It was in understanding them, giving them sympathy and knowing when to be tough. I took a very roundabount way to discover my gift. Going from a shy nerd to a charismatic man... I took great pains to cultivate that skill and hone it into a fine point.

In the wake of my illness and the unfortunate events following it I locked myself into isolation. turned my back on humanity and my gift. And we all know if you don't use it you lose it.



This week was the first time in years that I have seriously considered walking away from my life. Taking a few key possessions and beating a path out of town. It isn't that I hate the people that are in my life, or that I hate where I live or the things that surround me. It's that for the first time in as back as I can remember I have no idea what to do. My health is poor at best, I have incurred medical debts, I have no way to afford school because the work that I am good at literally makes me sick.

I'm hopelessly stuck right now.

I can't help but think if I leave, go as far away as I can that I can outrun my problems. It has to be a special brand of desperation that I have never felt before. I know intellectually that a reckless exodus to another state would be a deathwish. Without friends and family support I would do far far worse then I am now.

If I could magically cure myself I would have no problem paying off my debts and going back to school.

Years ago, that may even have been possible. I was a different stronger person. I remember once that I sprained my ankle and then proceeded to walk to work in the snow. Work an 8 hour shift and walk 2 miles back home. All before seeing the doctor. I ignored the biting cold and I poured my life into everything that I did... and somehow it didn't matter when I was sick or down because I knew that I was strong and had confidence in myself... and my abilities.

It seems like my default now is weak, sick. Anemic. I loathe it, perhaps thats what I want to escape.
But I need something to change this; either from within myself or a deus ex machina that shifts the entire balance my life is built on. I look at my abilities and think "how amazing if I could utilize them properly". They are uncut diamonds, imperfect but with the amazing unseen potential. How do I do it? How do I use my talents with people if I cannot be in bright light or near loud noises?

If you think of a job that requires people skills and takes place in a quiet dark enviroment please let me know. And if it's a bookstore don't bother I've already checked two dozen of them.

A New Years Kitty

Reflecting on the year used to be something I enjoyed; Looked forward to even. This year has been terrible, aloft of it is stuff I have no control over... but a significant amount is stuff I can and haven't wanted to deal with. I'm going to keep the inner reflection down a few notches because most of the things I have to reflect on aren't that great.

I'm really very tired of being sick. I look terrible, I feel terrible and I perform terribly at most things that I do now. Not long ago I was successful at what I did, I made more then enough money and I was both happy and healthy. The contrast between to two is stark... which is perhaps why I often mistakenly yearn to return to the past.

A perfect life example is right before me here, Holley's parents came across a stray kitten a few days back and have left it in our care. The poor creature is obviously sick and hungry, but it goes deeper then that. He is starved for love and affection. I look into his eyes and I see the cold hurt creature within. I feel not merely sympathy for him, but a kindred feeling. There was a time in my life I was homeless, times when I had been abandoned and only wanted someone to love me.

I won't ever forget that feeling of being completely alone, as if all the excess had been burned off my soul and only the hardened core remained. I survived and became stronger, like I will survive and grow from this trial.

It is a an important part of creation to first destroy. I have to look at the potential I now have. It's an opportunity for me to honestly reexamine and challenge years of belief and convention. This poor kit tin has the chance for a new and loving life and I will make certain he receives it. As for me I have a different opportunity... the core of who I am is not unhurt; it would be pure deceit to say I was undamaged.

It helps sometimes to visualize, to put a complex subject or concept into a image. Right now I'm thinking of the forging of a good sword. The dross is melted from the slag until it becomes pure... then it's forged by repeated strikes. A sword is a thing of great beauty... it belials a strength that is not seen.

Holley wants to name the cat Deckard or Elrik. I'll proceed to the second line of thought tomorrow. Goodnight.