Destructive Affection

The End

2008-05-20T16:01:00.002-06:00

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

2008-04-23T22:44:00.002-06:00

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

2008-03-27T00:19:00.004-06:00

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

2008-03-24T18:03:00.002-06:00

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

2008-03-20T06:45:00.002-06:00

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

2008-03-17T19:16:00.002-06:00

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!

2008-03-16T13:59:00.003-06:00

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

2008-03-14T02:03:00.003-06:00

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.

2008-03-04T22:12:00.003-07:00

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.

2008-02-29T03:54:00.006-07:00

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

2008-02-02T00:47:00.001-07:00

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

2008-01-09T02:32:00.000-07:00

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

2008-01-01T04:56:00.000-07:00

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.

A Grim Flavour

2007-12-19T04:27:00.000-07:00

I haven't roleplayed in several months. In large part it was due to my health. But to a lesser extent boredom caused it.

You see I've been a storyteller my entire life, and the hardest part of being a good storyteller is to tell the stories that your audiance wants to hear. Too many storytellers don't do that. I have to limit myself to what my players can both handle (in terms of skill) and enjoy. My setting has a distinct flavour which I am very proud of. A dose of high fantasy, a touch of sci-fi, a few sprinkles of drama and intrigue. It reflects it's creators broad range of ideas as well as being a deeply fascinating mesh.

It would be unfair to say that I am bored of my world, or the ideas it represents, or the stories and characters therein. Closer to the truth would be to say I am bored with using the same tools, inspirations and general Mileu. I've added to my arsenal of storytelling almost non-stop for the last ten years. I've played in almost the same exact way for even longer then that. Its become a mold that stifles my creativity and bores me. I've been playing with an idea for a few months now. I've decided the time is right to gather some players and do it. I call it dreadspire.

It started with a simple image in my head. A row of battered bleary eyed heroes standing on a barren blasted landscape. Each looks with a combination of dread and awe upwards. It is wrong to call the dreadspire a tower, for towers are made of brick and morter. The dreadspire appears to be a giant ebon screw twisting itself into an empty sky. It's a marval of magical engineering; the spire itself breaches the ancient dimension of horrors, it appears to be made of whirling unspeakable darkness, but in truth it is the very fabric of reality twisted to new purpose.

It was an interesting idea, I had always intended to add more gothic elements to my setting but never had the time or inclination to follow them through. I took that inital interesting idea and melded it into my settings existing history. The tower was constructed by the 3rd apprentice of Zom who attempted to enslave the horrors of the otherworld. Being undead he was resistant to the effects of the horrors at first. But slowly it started to erode what remained of his sanity. With what remained of his wit he attempted to seal the breach between the two dimensions. Although partially successful the taint from that dimension has leaked into the countryside... a remote valley kingdom along the eastern border of Brenntor and Kokuran.

The tiny kingdom's armies are soom engulfed by lesser horrors and the crazed necromancers now escaped minions. It escapes the notice of the major powers completely. Mordathal has been sacked and the children of Taia greatly depleted. The knights of Brenntor and the Elves cannot leave the Worldseed unguarded and therefore cannot be of aid. Most of the other powers suffered heavy losses in the war of the sundered soul, the only two major players to remain unscathed were the demons of Kilrah and the Celestials of Sethror. Both had refused to venture troops to the mortal plane and it appears that trend would continue.

The temples to the gods are destroyed in this tiny country, the monasteries for monks, the wizards towers. The survivors are pushed back farther and farther. Heroes, adventurers, knights, sellswords and even the occasional supernatural rise up to fight the spreading corruption. Most are cut down or driven insane. Some become undead and others are twisted by the otherworld into soulless monsters.
Finally from the west comes a hope. The crusader Pell brings his army of undead hunters, with him are an order of Chronomancers who intend to seal the rift of the Dreadspire.

The genre of Gothic horror is famous for some elements of this situation. The powerlessness of the local government, the fall of heroes, corruption of even the most noble or powerful. The themes are plentiful. But what makes them interesting in the context of my setting is what I bring to bear against the unspeakable horrors. Often in Gothic horror the heroes are portrayed as being powerless against the old ones except for a bit of rare lore or a powerful artifact. In my setting magic is plentiful and replaces technology in many regards. The old ones are powerful but they are they are not indestructible. Mortals have the power to combat them. The breach can be repaired by the Eternal Order who watches over the health of time and space. The undead are not so fearsome to Pell's crusaders who have fought them for two decades.

Also one thing makes my Gothic horror sub-setting better then most others. No werewolves fighting vampires. Seriously. We get it. Cut it out with the vamps v wolves thing.

PvP, All night long

2007-12-16T06:32:00.000-07:00

This morning/last night was the first time in years that I have spent the entire night in WoW pvping.

It's funny because Adul isn't even geared or specc'ed for PvP. I built him for long fights and mana efficiency: slow and steady DPS. Despite my spec and gear being all wrong for it I dominated several games and rarely got under 3rd place.

The mage requires a very high degree of skill in WoW, He dies easily which means he has to constantly be moving around. However if your moving you can't cast your most powerful spells.
On top of that the recent hunter buff has taken away the one slim advantage we had over them. If an enemy ducks behind something and breaks your line of sight your spell fails.
Because of these and a million other factors a mage is easily one of the hardest and most reflex intense classes in the game. (I give rogues credit in this area as well.)

4 months ago I wouldn't have had the reflexes to do this, and my reflexes are still no where compared to what they once were. But tonight felt really good. WoW is a hobby, games are my hobby. But it feels incredible to start to reclaim this aspect of my life, because even (or especially) a hobby is worth doing the very best you can.

It's funny really, even though I was there for honor I didn't really care about getting more honor/wins. I just really enjoyed what I was doing. A lot of times people PvP to get better gear... for PvP but they don't enjoy it. It boggles my mind sometimes.

On a slightly related manner I'm getting everything gathered again to start work on my sorting. I got sick before I finished last time and I lost a lot of my progress. Most of my free time lately has been spent getting my WoW characters back to a playable level. It's really not the most productive use of my time but lately I haven't really cared. Maybe blowing everything off to kill horde isn't such a bad thing, it does relieve a lot of stress.

The 100th Post

2007-12-11T03:58:00.000-07:00

Last post I talked about life being an open book. But I have to expand on that once more.

When I became ill I suffered what could be described as a psychotic break. It's a colorful word but not entirely accurate. Most of the time a psychotic break is used to describe Schizophrenia or other forms of psychosis. The part of the word that is accurate is a psychotic break is the event or first occurrence of psychosis. It literally means the psyche is broken.

A had years of study in the field of psychology not to mention a great deal of emotional and mental fortitude. but all that didn't matter. I saw it coming and could do nothing. It hovered at the fringe of my mind, at the moment I was most vulnerable and emotionally weak it struck.

It was a disease of the body but it most severely affected my mind. At the time I began to manifest symptoms of Schizophrenia (Delusions, hallucinations etc) which honestly scared me more then anything. I will not detail the events of that night, even now it's too personal... and painful for me to talk about. My entire life has been about fighting whatever enemy or challenge was before me. I spent that night in a struggle I had no idea how to fight until I became tired, then depressed and finally I gave up.

My personality changed, on the outside everything appeared normal. 95% of people didn't notice the difference. But I was very different. I was ruthless, uncaring and vicious to many people. I didn't feel warm or open towards anyone, I became extremely paranoid and aggressive. At work I became even more successful, my ruthlessness increased the money I made by almost three times as much. But the dark and ruthless did not get a free ride.

I felt as though my personality had been fragmented or shattered between a good and evil half.
In hindsight I came to believe that the split had to do with my deep held belief in duality. Surely the evil that existed within me had always existed there. But when the whole became two parts the evil side overpowered the good. It doesn't matter if it's true or not. What I believed made it so.

When the infection was removed and I recovered... I felt different. I had literally lost everything and everyone I cared about in this time. Only one person stayed with me the entire time, no matter what she was there and never gave up on me. Had she not stopped me I would not be alive today, or worse I would've completely lost myself in the confusion of my mind. The kind of loyalty and love she showed me cannot be expressed with words and for it she is greater to me then any hero past or present.

Even after my recovery three things have lingered, One thing that I have struggled with and mentioned to few. In addition to my migraines I have lingering flashbacks. Certain things, certain people trigger me to relive that terrifying and painful day. Although I am perfectly fine now the memory of it still strikes terror into me, I get a cold sweat and lock up. If it's a memory of pain my chest begins to ache and I feel as if I am about to burst into tears.

The second is the physical symptoms. The migraines I mentioned before. But shortly before the infection was removed I suffered temporary paralysis. I was unable to move my hands very much and at one point my left hand essentially became a vice-like claw. My reflexes have never fully required until just recently. Although I am not anywhere near my peak my reflexes have improved enough for micro heavy classes in WoW and I'm able to use my sword without possibility of further injury. This makes me happy to no end... if only I could get rid of the migraines now.

The last is one I spoken about in veiled comments. The loss of my spiritual self.
If there was one thing that brought me the most pain, it was the feeling of losing my soul.
When I was disposed towards evil I was filled with malice towards everyone, contempt and paranoia. I have to admit at times I even enjoyed the freedom of those emotions without guilt. (Although the guilt that followed pretty much ruined even that.) But all they did was mask the fact that the core of what I was simply ceased to exist. I know the moment, the action that caused me to walk away from my beliefs. Had I not done that I would've had another shield, another layer of defense against the corrosion of those times. But I was desperate to make myself whole, I reached out to people and they rejected me. One person made me feel better and I was willing to throw away everything I believed in to win her affection. But it didn't work. She was terrified of me and rejected me out of hand.

I did something then that I had never done before. I changed a deep part of myself for someone else. When I was younger I watched as women manipulated my father and used him for their own designs. I saw the power they had and vowed never to let it control me. Afterwards the things I had believed in didn't mean anything to me, they became just words: Honor, Balance, Self and Honesty. In the confusion I felt then I believed that another person could make me whole. But I had forgotten my own beliefs. That a person is a whole unto himself. No person can cure me or make me whole other then me.

The person I was then was destroyed because I made mistakes, because I was arrogant and shortsighted. I realized that I am a whole, filled with divisions and factions. That something that appears as one piece can in truth be many pieces working as one. My inability to recognize that nuance lead me to attack things that were not the problem. Although I will never again suffer that particular series of events the odds are good I will never completely heal from it either.

I have to say these things because if I do not drag them into the harsh light of day I can never be rid of them. I have too many immediate goals and problems to remain forever anchored in a past I cannot change. This will be the last I speak of the situation for awhile, I feel the writing has helped me me a lot... but the time has come to shift to the story of a reborn person and not a dying one.

An open book

2007-12-06T03:49:00.000-07:00

One of the things I love about writing fiction is how impersonal I can be. It's essentially making things up and getting paid for it. I often find however that writing about myself, ideas or experiences I am filled with a sense of dread or loathing. Part of me has always been paranoid about opening up to people, a paranoia that has been enforced by a lifetime of verbal abuse and neglect.

At one point in my life I decided that I didn't like keeping everything inside, internalizing my pain didn't make it feel any better and it was hardly protection from someone who actually did want to hurt me. So I decided I would be an open book. I wouldn't hide or lie about myself or my beliefs. For a long time I felt better about myself for being honest and open. Although I do admit on occasion to violate my own policy, but mostly my life is/was an open book.

The troubles it has gotten me into are sometimes funny, and other times very very depressing.
I have missed so many opportunities in my life because I was unwilling to lie or compromise my personal ethics. It's particularly funny in regards to relationships. One time I fell in love with two girls. At the time I didn't know which I liked more and when they asked me that's what I told them. It hurt both of them and it blew up in my face.

Being an open book and having a code of ethics does not make me a fool however. In battle, competition and any other contest of wills a lie is a tactical move. It costs you honor and respect but if you have extra to spare then go for it. My rivals and enemies are more then willing to lie, I should be prepared to do the same.

After some of the things that have happened to me it's difficult to remain an open book. If I told some people how I felt it would destroy them, and they may even deserve it. But I don't want to be that kind of person. It is an uneasy balance between being open and not unleashing a flood of anger and assorted negative feelings. I have to accept that a lot of people abandoned me when things didn't look good, But I learned from it who I can really trust in the long run.
It's difficult to get closure with people when you cannot speak to them anymore. A catch-22 that the most dangerous hurtful elements in life must be faced head on. If you do not face them head on they fester inside you forever like a disease.

I say these things because there were moments I was weak.

I forgot about my honor, I forgot about the condition of my soul and sank into an emo-filled pit of apathy. A lack of honesty about my condition and feelings drove me into it too. If I had told people something was wrong I may have been able to avert it, or at least prepare them for it when it came. I was ashamed and I concealed it. It wasn't until I stood on the brink between life and death that I was able to admit to anyone... especially myself that I did not have control.

Someday I will be able to talk about the things that happened, and the things that I felt... and still feel. But for the moment it's too dangerous, a special exemption to the open-book policy in my life. There are some people I can talk to, very special trusted people in the meantime. And someday I will be able to write about it here.

I have to air these things. To show my shame and weakness because I don't want them to be my shame and weakness forever. I'm starting to awaken, not just to who I was but to who I should be.

Great Simplicity

2007-11-26T04:40:00.000-07:00

I've had time recently to reflect on my writing.

When I write on this blog I'm often doing it to work out something. My thoughts or my feelings are confused and I need to try to make sense of them. It really does help... but doesn't make for really good writing. That's a moot point however since my talents are found within fiction.

It's easy to look at my blog and think "god he's just an emo little bastard isn't he?". It might even be true. This is a modest attempt at correcting that; I make no promises for the future however.

It's funny. When I was young I thought I was such a great writer. I was actually pretty good. But not for the reasons I thought. I had a natural talent, words and concepts came easily to me. I was far better then my peers (Some would argue that's hardly worth merit.) and devoted huge amounts of time to reading and practice.

Around 12 or so I started to get into heavy lit. Shakespeare, Voltaire, Hemingway, Poe etc. That was when I first started to realize that my gift was less then I had imagined. The first serious brick wall I hit as a reader was Kant's Critique of pure reason. I was intellectually unprepared for the power of his ideas. A child can understand Shakespeare or Voltaire. But it takes a mature intellect to grasp the complexities of Kant's work.

During this time of my life I would 6 or more books a week; sometimes as many as 12. I learned very quickly how to duplicate another writers style, I was able to find patterns that acted as a "tell" into the authors mind. With all this study I became good at understanding writers, but I didn't really feel like a writer anymore. You see I never had my own "style".

I could duplicate another writers style, but I never felt comfortable with my own words. The style was awkward and seemed to reach. My natural gift had taken me as far as it could. My personal life was often chaotic and my interests started to wander more as I got older... I never really became comfortable with any one style and instead used a nearly schizophrenic smattering.

The way I write now is completely different and it's thanks to one thing. Religion.
Taoism is itself a simple religion and yet it applies to virtually everything in life. Many writers fill page after page without saying anything of worth. Some writers pack their writing in too tight making it feel rushed. I want to say exactly what I mean with just the right words and at just the right pace. Kant spoke about topics of such complexity that it would seem to be at odds with my personal beliefs. But when I read the book again I understood what Kant was saying. I will tell you a simple truth. Kant wrote about a topic of great complexity in the simplest way possible.

Great simplicity hides complexity. Things that are subtle delight the mind and invite the imagination. I struggle with style sometimes, I wrestle with the fickle muse for the perfect word, I listen in the dark of the night for the perfect thought and the elusive feeling. It is this simple, chaotic, terrifying and beautiful act of creation that I have devoted my life to and I would have it no other way.

My natural talent and inclination was a gift from my mother. It's entirely my challenge where it takes me from here.

Till my last breath

2007-11-14T05:24:00.000-07:00

Somes in trauma a memory becomes burned into the psyche; a smell, sound or taste brings back memories of betryal, heartbreak, deep sadness and guilt. We seek escape and release in new memories, in fantasy, in denial or by shutting ourselves off completely from the world.

I have my entire life been master of fantasy. I have dwelled in the richness of my imagination from the unfairness and cruelty of my early life. I learned as I grew older to shape it and use it for performance and writing. Even some of my hobbies dwell within the realms of fantasy: books, games and anime. But never have been slave to it.

It is for this same reason I refuse to drink to excess, I fear the loss of control.
I have seen what the loss of control does to a person, what addiction does to the mind. How the soul dies in stagnation when it is not fed. I could've ran into the world of fantasy and been a slave. This path is different but perhaps the reward greater.

It is an eerie feeling as I realize that I am trapped. The contridictions themselves appear almost absurd. I want to undo damage from a time I was behaving irrationally from illness, but I am afraid to speak to those people: moreover they won't speak to me.
I want to be forgiven for actions I have been assured I did not commit, yet I remember them as if they occured yesterday and the guilt is not less because of the circumstances.

Worst of all is the realization that the trap is complete; I am unwilling to escape. Perhaps in that regard it is better to refer to it as a cage. Although the cage has no freedom and is generally unplesant it's not all that dangerous. I fear the ruthlessness and cruelty I was capable of... it isn't something I can understand or comprehend. I guess all I can call it is primal... like it belongs to a darker animal part of my psyche.

I think honestly I would choose death before letting that happen again. Many would call that a cowards way out... but I don't think I have it in me for another round of that.
But my fear is not just for others, but also my own mortal soul. At times it felt as if I stood on the line between eternal damnation and an escape to forgiveness. I felt if I held on alittle while longer I would be redeemed somehow.

The fire in my soul burns to embers but has not died. I overcame death, depression and sickness and I refuse to be trapped by my own fear and hesitance now. Someday my children will face their own trials; they will ask me "what should I do?" and I don't want to be a hypocrite when I tell them that fear should not stop them. I'll say to them "don't let anything stop you, not while you still draw breath." and I won't be a hypocrite when I say it.

So thats my new motto. I'm going to keep saying it till It sticks. I need to remember that while I live I can change and the future changes with me: So until I stop breathing nothing will stop me.

World of Insight Pt two.

2007-11-09T02:36:00.000-07:00

I said I would elaborate on the previous post and true to my word here I am.

Playing Dawn and Adul gave me an insight into how I used to play. It's one small facet of a very rich life and doesn't give me everything I needed. I had some time to delve deeper into my memories to a time before World of Warcraft.

I don't know what kind of Taoist listens to Bon Jovi, Creed and Vertical Horizon before classes but I did. I would close my eyes and free my mind. As time went on I was put under more and more stress and I started to meditate less and less. There were times when I meditated 3 times a day without fail and kept my mind and reflexes sharp. Other times I was lazy and did maybe two or three times a month.

I had a kind of indestructable spirit that always kept me from falling into the deeper aspects of my personality. It was uplifting and attracted into my life a variety of friends, lovers and comrades.

I now see with clarity the layer upon layer of fear and pain that has dragged me down. I was detoured from my path because of this and I will not tolerate the delay any longer. I have no future while I remain like this... and if the answer requires struggle and sacrifice then I say good. My first stop is long over due, I need to see someone special before I can do this. Once thats done I need to hunt down each and every problem and solve it.

Goodnight and godspeed

World of Insight?

2007-11-08T04:25:00.000-07:00

This post has been stewing in my head for some weeks trying to take a fitting form... but really I think it's because I'm afraid to write it then any writers block.

It's really a poorly kept secret that my health isn't good, bad enough that in fact that I was forced to leave my job and live a lean simple life off savings and scavenging. I've had little to no luck in fighting the migraines and perpetual pain that I've been feeling for the past half year. If my weight loss follows the trend it has I will be within double digits in the next week or so.
So needless to say I've been pretty miserable aside from a new moments I can gleam with Holley, Warren or Ashlyn.

Writing, the outdoors, most video games, books and most activities that require alot of thought have been nixxed. That leaves TV and World of Warcraft.

WoW rarely requires me to think, the fact of the matter is I can play it completely off instinct and be completely fine. Adul only requires 4-5 keys to play and rarely has a situation that isn't handled by copious amounts of Fireball. WoW gives me alot of time to think... and it gives a tiny window into my past.

You see it's simple. When I played Dawnstalker I was in good health, emotionally, spiritually and psychologically in top shape. I was ruthless and cunning to my enemies and kind and loving to my friends. I had an eye for detail, patience and insight. Aside from a few debacles here and there I was well known on the server and generally well liked. Dawn was the very ideal of the perfection I seek in my life.

However when my real life turned sour so did my persona. The guild I poured myself into building turned on me and fell into ruin. Which mattered little to me because of the chaos and desperation I faced in reality. I could have easily turned back to the fictional world of Azaroth and buried myself so deeply in it that reality disappeared. But I didn't and it was a very long time before I did return.

After all that happened I couldn't bear the idea of playing Dawn anymore, the memories she brought back literally physically hurt me. So I used my first high level character Adul (Transfered from my old server of Kel-thuzad). Adul was another era entirely for me, It was with Adul that I learned I had skills in leadership, organazing and group tactics. Adul was training for Dawn and I didn't fully understand that until I dusted him off and played him again.

When I finished leveling Adul I quickly got to work on his raiding gear. For those of you who don't know much about games of this genre... it requires a fair amount of time commitment to gather all the things needed for truly great gear. In Adul's case it's Spellfire.... now like the name suggests it's built for characters who use magical fire and the materials for it mainly drop off guys that are completely immune to fire. That means Adul would require an obscene amount of time to craft his gear. (My frost damage being quite sad.) Dawn however can kill these troublesome mobs effortlessly; painful as it was if I wanted to advance I had to play Dawn.

If playing Adul is easy then playing Dawn is a hundred times more so. When I stopped playing her she had the best gear in the game and a signficant stockpile of resources. The memories she invoked lead me to a line of thinking I had pondered and discarded long ago. You see I can see how different I am compared to before. I have a weak sense of self and I constantly seek approval and attention. Before I was happy sitting in the shadows watching (I had an ego then too and wasn't afraid to show it off... but this is just pathetic now) and enjoying the satisfaction of my work.

My self esteem isn't the primary cause for concern. Dawn invoked powerful memories of betryal in me. I realized for the first time that my failure to resolve them was still causing me pain. I'm not even talking about WoW mostly. When my world collapsed I was hurt and angry... in turn I hurt others and became hated. There are hundreds of studies that document the link between emotional health and physical health. There are even afew books I own that cover it in great deal. I think perhaps I buried my pain so deeply that it transformed itself.

I get angry now for no reason, I get depressed over nothing. I have pain that I have never in my entire life felt. For most of my life I never got angry; I was even-tempered and calm. Depression was occasional but never lasted long.

Playing Dawn helped me remember that when I had problems I would attack them face on, when something was wrong I fixed it right away. There are many many people that have hurt me and that I am have hurt... many of whom no longer speak to me. Could it really be the answer? Will my body heal when my heart and soul no longer feel this burden?
I'm going to revisit this. But for now I must rest.

Clutter

2007-09-15T00:48:00.001-06:00

Today I was bored.

I’ve had this problem my whole life; I have unwatched DVDs on my shelf, unfinished games for every console I own, stacks of books to read and dozens of projects that require urgent attention.

So I spent the first half of my only day off this week doing completely nothing. After some delicious café rio I went on a shopping trip and got the next book in “the age of discovery” series. After that I tried to play some La Pucelle on my PS2.

The problem I have with La Pucelle is I’ve thrust deeply into the game without much leveling or taking time to build my team. It’s gotten to the point where I am vastly under leveled and the irony therein is the crafty tactics and skillful use of purification tiles I’ve been using doesn’t grant any XP. So the game is actually punishing me for playing well. If I played the game like a generic hack ‘n slash romp I would be level 18 instead of 12 and not frustrated with the sudden maddening increase in game difficulty. It’s gotten so bad that unless I level I cannot progress any further in the game.So rather then the much hating task of leveling I turned my attention to more then two years worth of paper backlog.

Every time I design something I write it down, every time I hear something or feel something I try to write it down, every interesting thought, dream and experience gets written down. Throw that on top of everything I write professionally, scholastically or for practice and it adds up. Then add on medical paperwork, bills, magazines, work requests and correspondence that accumulated while I was sick and during my move. To make matters worse the vast majority of it is unsorted or roughly sorted.

My mind is surprisingly orderly, with thoughts that run in logically sorted paths or trees. Often I’m able to handle large abstract concepts by building them out of smaller concepts. I might have a hard time remembering a specific fact or concept but I can “backtrack” and find it with a few moments of thought. The way I organize my files mirrors those thoughts; and although it makes perfect sense to me almost nobody else can understand it. My files are sorted first by what category of my life they go into. Personal, professional or social; then they are sorted by genre, then by Genre again.

For example I have files on role-playing: I have file for 1st. 2nd and 3rd edition D&D, Shadowrun, Whitewolf, Paranoia, various homebrew’s, JRAS, GURPS, Palladium and BESM. Then I take it a step further and isolate the game folders by setting; in my Drakkor setting alone I have 8 folders. I also have folders for extra character sheets (Shadowrun, D&D 2nd and 3rd edition and Whitewolf specifically.) and future character concepts.

The idea of organizing them alphabetically, chronologically or randomly doesn’t make sense to me. Instead everything is ordered according to use. 3rd Edition Drakkor stuff is in the front, Palladium and JRAS is in the back.

Thankfully my formal writing, research, design and role-playing is formatted and sorted pretty well. The big problem is what I call scraps.Scraps are anything I start to write and give up; scraps are half or fully formed ideas that I write down and stuff into my pocket. Scraps are interesting designs that I scribble on the back of a receipt while I’m working or driving. I have unsorted scraps from as far back as high school. Many of them were the genesis of ideas that later became thesis papers, stories, character/class designs or philosophical musings. Each layer reveals a very orderly progression of my natural thinking. To see those little seedlings of ideas on paper touches me in a strange way: I can really see my mind at work in microcosm.

It has however added up to the point where I have dozens of pages of rewritten scraps and only a fraction of my way into that epic pile of ideas. Add to that old dance pictures, playing cards, recipes, awards, phone numbers from long forgotten girls, manuals for video games and other odds and ends that have ended up in my oversized box of scraps.

This is both a task that is both complex and inane. When it is done I will have a database of my thought processes stretching back into the formative era of my career; both as a game designer and a writer.

Cha-cha changes

2007-08-26T13:37:00.000-06:00

It’s been awhile since I’ve updated my blogs; for this I am deeply sorry.
Recent shifts in priorities have put writing on a back burner; and to be honest more then just my priorities have shifted.

My health has made a good comeback. I have at excellent control over the migraines now. Everything is getting better in some measure. I came to realize that the path my life was on simply wasn’t moving the way it should. The progress was too slow and I felt isolated from the world while trying to perfect my technique as a writer. My true strength as a writer is in my ability to observe what others overlook; in isolation I see far less and consequently become enamored with trivialities and abstractions, so I took a local retail job. Normally it would be way beneath my pay scale, but since I also get commissions I can put both my knowledge of human psychology and technology to work (and the possibility of make a killing in sales: which thus far I have.)

So no more freelance writing, all the writing I do from now on is game design, novel writing and blogging. I still have some projects that are moving along nicely and when the time is right I’ll reveal them on one of my blogs. In the meantime I’ve been working on catching up with several smaller projects….

For example: I’m updating all my old blog posts! Yes that means spell check will be employed this time. I’m also removing some stuff that might be considered offensive and stuff that is too personal for other people. In all honestly I never actually thought I’d write in the blog and consequently didn’t put any effort into it. I still “really” don’t pour my effort into it. But at least I’m more… considerate now. In the future I think I'll write more consistantly as I have more creative energy to expend.

For those who have asked: The novel and module are on hiatus until I finish the first project on my list: The re-write of my setting sourcebook. To me nothing is more important to effective storytelling then milleu and back-story. I felt that without a more complete sense of the world my characters lived in I couldn’t write the kind of story I had planned for.

The last piece of news is we adopted a new kitten named Warren; although his breed is Russian Blue he has kind of a light gray color. He’s playful but still learning that mountain dew is for people and toes shouldn’t be bitten. I have to admit I find his playful and loving personality quite refreshing. Once you have earned an animal’s trust it gives its love completely and without hesitation. It’s also truly great bonus that he is named after Warren Moons of Ogre Battle fame; and it really suits him with the gray wizened look and all.

More tomorrow; ciao.

Hormones and Chi

2007-07-13T04:58:00.000-06:00

There is a forgotten art to the control of the mind and body.
I started like many did in my youth; I read a book about Harry Houdini that documented his ability to control his breathing and tolerance. A little known fact is that Houdini was terrified of water and considered it a personal challenge to publicly conquer his fear.
I had modest talent in that area, no. My expertise was pain and metabolic control.
I can think of a dozen examples when I have performed under extreme pain, oftentimes to my medical detriment, mostly as an oldschool dumb-as-rocks way of trying to prove myself.

Migraines are not pain in the sense I have dealt with in the past. Willpower does not make a migraine go away, meditation and diet change have very minimal results. I can see them coming but I can do nothing to stop them or cure them why then arrive.
So I commited myself to research until I could find some kind of answer.

I searched a variety of medical papers, a few mainstream articles and generally made a nerd of myself in the area. One of the things I noticed was a pronounced connection in many papers to hormones. It appears that migraines are indeed linked to hormonal imbalances (like many neurological problems.).
This reminded me of a paper I read several years back about the connection between the Taoist concept of “chi” and the daily hormonal cycle.

It was interesting but inconclusive, the Taoist “hotpoints” in the day coincided with peaks in hormone levels. Diet, meditation and tai chi also had very visible impacts on hormone levels. The theory of the paper was that the entire concept of “chi” or energy was merely the subtle control of hormones.
I rejected the thesis of the paper, one because it had no proof and two because science cannot proof faith. I have seen and felt energy in ways that it is beyond science to explain. But I admit the meat of the paper was compelling enough to remember all these years later.

Lets say your energy affects your body. Hormone levels would be one affected area. It might be possible with experimentation to control the hormones enough to prevent or even cure the migraines. It even explains the depression and mood swings that follow and precede each migraine attack.

Like many Taoists who practice consistently I have some degree of control over my bodies energy. I can’t snuff out candles with my fingertips or choke snide officers from another galaxy but I can profoundly change my body. I can metabolize faster, I can exceed my physical limits, and I can transcend pain and fatigue. Maybe I can control my hormone levels too.

I cannot with words describe how tired I am of being sick. I am literally completely disgusted by it. I want to sleep 8 hours without horrible mindbreaking nightmares. I want to close my eyes and not have those nightmares haunt my waking sight. I want to go to work and drive my car and go out and have fun like everyone else. Instead I am trapped inside avoiding the sunlight like a bug under a rock. I have changed so much in the last few years. But the core of who I am has stayed the same, my beliefs have been scorched by doubt and insecurity and neglect but they survived. My friendships have endured incredible stress and I have lost many of the things and people I loved.

It is for those last remaining; precious things that I have to commit myself to this.

One Hit KO

2007-06-28T01:18:00.000-06:00

Several people have commented on the lack of activity. I feel I should explain the situation and remedy it as quickly as possible.

Two weeks ago I started getting headaches. Not minor headaches. Full-blown migraines.
My entire life I’ve rarely ever gotten headaches, and never migraines. I took some painkillers and went back to my day. Later that night I attended a LAN party and nearly passed out. Since then I have been in a cycle of slowly rising headaches followed by crippling migraines. As I have no health insurance and significant debt from my previous health problems I cannot see a doctor.

For me the migraine is perhaps the ultimate and most potent enemy. Years back when I was stronger I could simply will away a minor headache or shut down pain completely in an injured limb. It was one of a variety of interesting abilities I picked up in my life. Another was the ability to control my heart rate, body temp, breathing and metabolism.
Such gifts are wonderful and incredibly useful in many situations. They are however just that: Gifts.

They are gifts that require a certain outlook on life, they require a strong spirit and a soul free of artificial evils (I.E. Greed, lust, sloth. Etc). I became unworthy of them when I slipped into a selfish and ultimately self-damaging path. It requires an unconventional combination of perfectionist and zen guru to avoid excesses and focus on goals and self improvement.

At the LAN party I was playing Warcraft 3 when my migraine struck so fiercely that I nearly passed out. Warcraft 3 isn’t a regular game to me; I’m a champion at it. Literally.
I was playing my best race, with my beat hero on a map I knew very well.
The harder I would focus the more intense the migraine became. I was ambushed, pincer-ed and destroyed. It was by the barest of margins that I slipped my workers away and rebuilt.

My teammate was dead, my base was destroyed and my two heroes were level 4 and 3. My enemies (people I taught to play, so hardly weak) had 7 heroes over level 6 between the 4 of them. Each skirmish, each calculation turned the screws again until my body began to convulse. This would be where most people give up. But I kept building, kept scouting and kept planning.

Finally my chance arrived, In a spectacular battle I killed 5 enemy heroes, 2 full armies and the bases they were guarding. If I had been at full health it would’ve been an impossible feat. But with my arms violently shaking and my eyes filled with searing pain it surpassed anything within human capacity. I won that incredible but meaningless victory. Shortly afterwards the pain forced me to collapse.

The reason migraines are so awful is they get worse when you concentrate. The intense mental focus required for RTS games is one example of something not wise to do under a migraine attack. The harder I pushed myself the worse the migraine became. It might seem silly that I endured so much pain because of a game. But I feel that if anything is worth doing it is worth doing well. You should never quit something you love and you should never give up.

The gift to surpass your human limits, even for a short time is one that I lost from my own folly. It seems a tad unusual but I was able, for that one battle to surpass my limits in every way. I have freed myself from that terrible and haunting pain by the strength of my own spirit.

Up to this point I haven’t been able to write very well, but I am slowly learning to understand and control the headaches enough that I can resume a normal work and play.If I am right, willpower and soul are enough to overcome anything. Anything.

Forgiveness

2007-06-15T03:44:00.000-06:00

I’ve come down off the roller coaster of the last few weeks very successfully.
Since I am only now getting back to the work I love (and hate) I have had a lot of time to think and meditate on what path I walk now.

Some people have misunderstood my earlier blogpost relating to death. I did not in fact try to kill myself; rather I didn’t particularly want to stay alive. My body had maxed out on pain and I simply wanted to move on. It was a peaceful almost serene feeling. I didn’t feel bad about the things left undone, or the people I would leave behind. I felt completely detached from everything in the world.

Reality has such gravity to me after that. Everything seems more real then it was before. Colors are more vibrant and sharp; food has more taste and aroma. The unworldliness I brushed upon changed me in ways I didn’t notice immediately.

The second thing I noticed was an argument I had online just recently. I asserted that anyone who neglected spirituality was broken as a human being. I debated with great fervor the existence of god and of deeper spiritual meaning. While I’ve long believed in god and of deeper spiritual meaning, I never forcefully asserted it to a non-believer. I felt oddly compelled to do so in this case.

It feels like the experience has allowed me to grow spiritually in ways I hadn’t realized or expected. While emotionally I feel disconnected still, spiritually I feel calm and fulfilled.
If I am becoming something else I am doing so at without my perception. My thoughts and feelings appear the same, yet I am most certainly not the same person I was months ago. The rush of thoughts on the matter overwhelmed me and it is only now I can speak of them with clarity.

I started to work out again, I’ve started to meditate and practice my Qigong again. My body is slowly forgetting the terrible pain it has endured. I feel oddly alive to stretch my legs and run again. I appreciate the beauty of the trees and stars once more. It took death to fully understand that I was taking life for granted. I don’t think I will ever hate the sensation of a good midnight run.

I cannot be free of all burdens however. Some weigh upon me so heavily that I feel compelled to struggle and free myself. One is forgiveness.

It can be said that I have great emotional endurance, that I can withstand incredible amounts of punishment before I finally yield. That endurance was pushed to it’s limited and broken over a year ago when I first became ill. Since then I have had limited emotional strength in my life. It was not one cut, but a hundred biting stinging wounds that bled me of my strength.

When you hold in hurt and anger it consumes you like a fire. Repressed feelings become deviant and unhealthy… sometimes they lead to obsession, apathy or deeper more unsettling deviance. In the past I sought forgiveness and to mend the small wounds. When you do not keep attending to them the wounds reopen and bleed anew. They are not given a full chance to heal. Many of those wounds now close, I have dozens and dozens left to fix. The hardest ones however are impossible.

Trust and forgiveness are precious and powerful things. I feel that before I move on I must attempt to do as much as possible. In my spirit I feel that I it is somehow vital that I repair all my relationships, from the smallest to the most deepest. Mostly I have been successful, but a few holdouts refuse to talk to me, or are outright hostile. Some of been tricked into believing I am more sinister then I am in truth. Miscommunication and false information have made an unflattering mockery of my true self.

More spiritual? Yes. But my heart still bleeds when it is cut. It is an emptiness to overcome with friendship and love. I am most tired. Perhaps I’ll clear this up tomorrow. Goodnight.

Veiled Threats

2007-06-06T16:34:00.000-06:00

I received some criticism after my last blogpost, much of it personal in nature.
It seems some people thought of my honest words as manipulative and my motivations selfish.
For quite a long time I’ve ignored when people attack me, I’ve ignored scathing attacks on both my character and quality of my work. (I can accept the latter but not the former.)
I have even ignored obvious attacks on my personal life, many of which came at the benefit of my rivals. I have come to people with frank honesty and myself been deceived into trust and then betrayed.

This e-mail however was little more then a veiled threat.
The apathy surrounding me in recent months has done nothing to help. Apathy caused by the heartbreak surrounding both my social and spiritual life. I had no real desire to lash out at detractors before. That changed. Whoever this is… and I have my ideas; is going to regret everything he has said.

I do not take well to threats. Even subtle ones.

Still Alive

2007-06-03T21:34:00.000-06:00

I apologize for the lack of updates over the past few weeks. It has been a poorly concealed fact that my health has been poor the last few months. Those closest to me have known the truth: That an infection was eating my brain and nervous system. It's been removed and I'll make a full recovery.Earlier I wrote a lengthy description of what happened. Ultimately I decided that a detailed account of my suffering would further no ends. There is only one event that I feel should be told. I had to wait 10 days for my operation.

Around the seventh day the pain, hallucinations, isolation and emotional pain finally took it’s toll on me. My body grew cold and my heart slowed. The life slowly drained from my body. My breathing grew shallow. I knew instinctively that my body was dying. Part of me wanted to let go; I wanted to leave that body filled with pain. But I couldn’t go. People who loved me called me back.
I teetered on the edge for a while. Several times I lapsed into unconsciousness only to be shaken awake again.

I could not in my heart find a reason to live. Over the past two years most of them had disappeared. I ignored the slow destruction of my soul until precious few things matter to me anymore.
But still I could not ignore the pleading of a few who would not let me go.
It is a strange thing to say, but I was not afraid of death. When I was young I feared the certainty of death with such fervor; when I became a Taoist I looked at death as merely the start of a new adventure.

All of these things swirled around in my mind, until I remembered a quote from the Tao Te Ching. “The sage is filled with life so death cannot enter him.”
I had abandoned the fullness of my life. The realization that I had given up before I had finished struck me hard. And so I took the deepest breaths that I could, and I filled my soul with life.

Two days later (and 1 day before I was scheduled) I had my operation.

Given time the scars will heal, the debts will be repaid, the soul will become whole again. I didn’t have a startling epiphany about the true purpose of my life. I received no insight into the universe. Nothing-profound happening to me except one thing: I’m still alive.

I guess I lied when I said I gained nothing profound from my experiences. Everything that I was before, all that I had lost in pain and torment over the past years came pouring back to me. I gained nothing new. Just things I should’ve remembered all along.
For those interested I’m starting two more blogs soon. One will be about my local political work and the other will be an analyzed view of the gaming industry (and other related fields). On top of that I have a professional grade comic and some other stuff coming down the pipes, plus a redesign (and subsequent editing/reformatting) of this blog. I’m not making it a secret. I need to pay off my medical bills.

Mothers Day

2007-05-14T01:10:00.000-06:00

When I was young I enjoyed bird watching. I would watch the progress the local bird’s had over time. One evening I noticed the mother of a nest hadn’t returned for a few days. The lone chick made a very shrill lonely sound, as its hunger grew worse. By the end of the next day the baby chick had died. Without it’s mother it never had a chance.

That little bird had quite an effect on me. I too didn’t have a mother bird to nurture me. Of course I had various surrogates that kept me alive… but a surrogate is not a true mother. I felt a strong, tragic connection with that tiny bird. It wasn’t until that point that I understood the power a mother had. She was responsible for the very life of her child and nothing could ever fully replace her.

It’s easy to become a parent. An act of lustful indiscretion can easily result in a child. It’s another thing entirely to be a mother or father. A true mother shapes the life of her children more then anything else. People with selfish hearts do not make good parents; neither do the vain, the star-struck ideologues, the reckless, the violent or the careless.
Children inherent these traits, or rebel against them. They are shaped by the nature of their parents in ways I can only barely fathom or describe. Even the unfit have children; those children have more unfit children. Drug users sire drug users just like intellectuals sire intellectuals. One could theorize that the world will remain in status quo because of this. But more and more… those fit to be parents are unwilling. The brightest of our society choose to have no children because of the time involved. The poorest and least educated have multiple children early in their lives.

Of the best kinds of mothers there is one I hold in highest esteem. I struggled for a better part of a week looking for the exact word to use. But I couldn’t find one. I searched Internet databases and dusty books looking for the exact and perfect word. There wasn’t one. So I will tell you what the ideal parent is. I will tell you what I hope I can be someday, and I will tell you part of who my mother was.

From a strictly medical standpoint I shouldn’t be alive. My mother had a serious heart condition and having a child would, and almost did kill her. Her doctors urged her to abort me to save her life. She discounted them immediately. Even if it meant her life I would be born. I often wonder what thoughts went through her mind before I was born. She knew the risk it posed to her; she knew the risk it posed to me.

My mother herself never knew her real parents. My grandfather a former navy pilot adopted her and brought her to Utah when she was still very young. I now know from various accounts that she had trouble finding adoptive parents because of the nature of her heart problems. Back in those days it was believed she wouldn’t live past her teenage years.

I did a lot of research on my mother’s early life trying to understand her… and myself a little better. She conflicted with my pious grandparents over their church. I have heard many different accounts of her early life. But her own personal accounts speak of constant fighting with my grandfather, anger towards god and a wild almost reckless disregard for her own safety. Although there are no specifics (thankfully, nobody wants to know everything about their parents.) she talked of things she later regretted and coming to grips with her own mortality and beliefs. She emerged from that dark period a strong compassionate woman. People have told me that my mother was the kindest person they ever knew. People I didn’t know would walk up to me and tell me about my mother. It was no surprise she lived her life with intensity and joy. She outlived her doctor’s estimates by years and years. For the time period she lived it would be considered almost a miracle to survive as long as she did.

It was a bitter irony that it was her heart that failed her. I never knew her yet I could feel her kindness when people spoke about her. She was creative and intelligent, and bubbled with the kind of warmth you rarely see anymore.

I often wonder what went through her mind before I was born. I have been told that her love was so fierce it held off death itself. I have come to believe in recent years that my mother had in mind for me to do what she could not. I know She did not want me to replace her; she never had in mind an heir to her life. Yet I often feel that I have become exactly what my mother wanted. I am a writer, I am not held down by oppressive religions or dogmas. I have a clear strong heart and freedom to be whomever I choose.

She survived my birth barely, but it took a lot out of her. Two years and two months later she died. To live as long as she did was nothing short of a miracle. I know now and will forever know that it was her love that kept her alive those years. And each year on mother’s day I leave her flowers to show her that I haven’t forgotten her love or her sacrifice. There is no word appropriate to call a person of that caliber. The only word I know is mom.

Sundering the Light and Dark

2007-04-27T09:07:00.000-06:00

Sorry for the lack of activity late, I’ve been pulled in a hundred directions recently and my mood hasn’t been conducive to new writing.

Given a brief glance a person seems so full of contradictions and inconsistencies that it is a wonder we function at all. A caring priest harbors pedophilia, a loving husband and father is an adulterer, a policemen steals or a teacher lies. On the outside we polish out and minimize the inconsistencies. We put forward a solid message about our identity. I am a Taoist; I present that to the world when in truth I frequently doubt if I am what I say I am. I fail to practice my beliefs often and find myself in situations I know I could’ve avoided. We lie to the entire world about what he are, he hide disabilities, weaknesses, feelings, secrets and our true beliefs. The conflict between who we really are and whom we present ourselves as is perhaps one of the greatest and least told.

The illusion and façade is vital, without it we wouldn’t survive. We wrap ourselves in a deep crust of apathy, normalcy, arrogance, religion, pride and status. Even when we speak of things that are true we spin them with an air of drama or feign effortlessness. It is rare now that a person’s heart matches the persona they put forth.

Last week at Virginia Tech a student killed 30 of his classmates. He honed an identity of an outsider and a rebel. He portrayed the world as a cold enemy. Nobody challenged it; nobody confronted him about it. I cannot speak for what was truly in his heart. But when I saw this on TV everyone around me condemned him as a monster, it’s not an unfairly earned label. But the first thing I felt for him was sympathy. A long time ago I felt the same way he did. He became a monster and I didn’t.

We embrace labels and titles. We seek to define ourselves to one another: To craft and hone an image. I know an overwhelming number of people who call themselves “catholic” or “mormon” or “atheist” or “vegan” who do not follow their beliefs and only speak of them when trying to portray themselves as religious or spiritual. The second you make a crack about the pope you awake the indigent catholic in an otherwise un-catholic person.

The labels that we seek to define us are truly nothing more then anchors to mediocrity and sameness. They restrict us to being a specific person and bind us from becoming another different. In essence we impede our own spiritual, social, emotional and physical growth. A martial artist neglects to strengthen his mind, a priest neglects his body, a socialite starves her soul of spiritual nourishment. A single mother once asked me what she should do, she was depressed and lost with her life. I thought about it and told her to go hiking. “Single mothers don’t go hiking.” She told me. It boggles my mind that she wouldn’t go hiking because she didn’t think that’s what single mothers did. She took a negative label (Don’t write hate mail. It’s still a negative label no matter how much I hate it that way.) like single mother and used it to restrict her life. Months later I talked her into hiking with me and she loved it.

I have over time sought to wrap myself in different labels: boyfriend, writer, taoist, gamer, guild-officer, democrat, martial artist, dungeon-master, big brother and warrior.
Each defined me in a different way, before I became a democrat I never thought about social reform in a broader sense. I never felt strongly about freedom and choice. The positive aspect of that label helped me understand new things about myself. But at the same time I turned against beliefs I had held my entire life (Gun Control most obviously).
You make the label and the label makes you. Or worse someone else makes the label and it makes you.

Before you decide to reject labels. Remember you still need them. When I started to become sick my images and self-concept unraveled quickly. I was a helpless warrior, a dungeon-master with no players, and a martial artist with no technique, a Taoist with no soul, a gamer with no skills, a guild-officer without a guild and a writer with no passion.

My karmic punishment was the loss of my self-image, the loss of my abilities and labels.
When I lost the use of my hands I could not play games, I could not grasp my sword or make a fist. The labels that defined me also defined my worth. Without them I felt increasingly useless and distant from my true self.

That is after all what I have been talking about: The true self. We show it to a few special people before we lock it away once more. We harbor doubts in the darkest parts of our soul. It is a dark mirror that reflects light. We seek to eliminate the inconsistencies and contradictions for our outer persona; yet when we examine with honesty we realize that we are filled with both light and darkness. Without both we are incomplete and imbalanced.

Rest Complete

2007-04-10T02:14:00.000-06:00

Well I am back. I had a good rest and now I'm ready to roll up the sleeves and get to work.

I know I've said this before; but life has an ebb and flow. It's unescapable really. Sometimes we are drawn into the quiet and reflective, other times we are intensely active. It is in the quiet that I was able to find myself again and refocus on the things I want to accomplish in life. Now for a period of rising intensity culminating in the completion of my first novel.

Sometimes life does read like a good novel; to reach your goal(s) you have to suffer, persevere, struggle, face disappointment and heartbreak; all strains of adversity. In your typical novel the hero overcomes these challenges and arises from the ashes stronger and wiser. All too often in life we are knocked down never to stand again. We put ourselves in a routine and refuse deviance from it. We eat at the same places, talk to the same people, say the same prayers and watch the same shows. Life is far from the mundane that people paint it as!
Watch an old western instead of the daily show, eat mexican instead of chinese food, pray for your cat instead of your mom and talk to the single mom at the laundromat.

Life is too short to waste. Now if you will excuse me I have some writing to do. :)
For those asking I'll put up the rest of the Lifesource project when it's done. lol

Lifesource Project Part 1

2007-04-04T04:45:00.000-06:00

Of all the projects a writer can embark on: one of the most profound and far reaching is the exploration of both himself and the human condition. It is by understanding themselves that many of the greatest minds of humanity have reached their conclusions. I frequently explore here my dreams: both the lucid and the raw. I have spoke about the connection I feel towards the source of all. I even spoke of my depression and sadness in the wake of intense illness. It is rare however that I speak about my hopes and ideals. Even more rare that I speak of the principals that guide my life.

Originally this project was to be secret. It would be guidelines for my own personal use. Not strict rules but rather guidelines and advice seasoned with both my own wisdom and the wisdom I have gleaned from others. The secrecy was so no rival could exploit it to undo me.
As I change these thoughts to words I was struck with the realization that no rival could exploit this against me. There is no weakness to acting honestly and with a full heart. So here is the first half of the first draft. All the words are my own. Similarities to the work of others is entirely possible but not intentional.

The soul is meant to be full of the light of joy and darkness of sorrow. We should never deny either; nor should we avoid joy and seek sorrow.

Act according to whom you are. Do not pretend. Do not lie. Do not strive beyond your means. Do not allow things that are evil to enter your heart; do not let others change you.

If you can say something better with three words then two: you should do so.

There is no justice in revenge and little satisfaction in justice.

Do not force your will on others.

Love as much as you can. Love your friends. Love your family. Love your wife/girlfriend and love yourself.

An action that preserves harmony and balance is better then an action that is futile or vain.

Lie only to your enemies: and only if you have no recourse.

Lie to your friends to deceive your enemies. But do so only with the utmost regret and gravity. Let there be no other recourse; also give apology for your deception.

Experience and memory define us. The content of our thoughts is less important then how we choose to act on them. That is akin to saying oxygen is more important then trees.

To an enemy, rival or opponent ruthlessness is not only condoned but also necessary.

When a battle is worth winning you should use all tools within your disposal to accomplish that.

Defeat does not diminish your honor: when you strive to your utmost and uphold your principals you not only retain honor but also strengthen it.

Do not fall prey to sympathy ploys or charity. True charity is not given out of guilt or the machinations of the weak.

Guilt is a tool of the weak. A warrior uses the passion of his beliefs and the persuasiveness of their words.

Fight for what you believe in.

Do not silence your critics.

When a man is both your friend and enemy: treat him as both.
Give him no mercy. But instead respect him by using your abilities at their utmost.

Never deny your feelings. Never hide your feelings. Do not allow others to use your feelings as a weapon.

Honor, dignity and respect are ideals worthy of practice and reverence.

Live life to it’s fullest: from the minute to the profound.

Always grant forgiveness when you are asked for it. But be wary of giving away your trust.

If you act with uncertainty you will falter. If you act without flexibility you will snap. If you lie and use cunning your words will become a heavy burden.

Take all things in moderation; even moderation itself.

Do not become blinded by love or hate. If you must act do so with open eyes.

Persistence is the key to success. Success is one path to explore the self.

Never relinquish hope. Never dilute yourself into overreaching mistakes.

Sometimes you walk your path alone. Sometimes you walk it with a friend. But when your friend’s path breaks with yours it is foolish to follow.

Like smoldering flames the tension of hate, distrust, pain and fear will become worse if unattended.

There is nothing more precious to give then yourself. There is nothing more precious to lose. Nothing more precious to have attacked.

A fool is a man who ignores his own heart.

If an enemy is beyond redemption his only mercy is complete defeat. Take away his will to cause harm. Take away his ability to fight. Seize the dark from his heart and leave only fear.

Forgive an insult once. Correct it a second time. The third insult does not go unanswered.

I would like to thank everyone who has served to inspire me and test my mettle. Even the spite and fire of my enemies has not been wasted; I do however feel that thanking my enemies and rivals is too much. Thanks to those who allowed me to use them as target dummies for the past week. I have had many masters, many teachers and many rivals. Each has taught me something I could not learn on my own. Someday the wisdom I have accumulated will be passed down to my students and children. With luck they can avoid some of the mistakes I made (While making brand new mistakes of their own lol.)

When one strives and struggles he sometimes forgets to give his soul respite. I will finish the second half of this when I have finished resting my spirit and soul.
How does one rest the spirit and the soul?
That children is easy: You must feed it. Like the body it requires nourishment.
How do you feed the soul? With meditation and thoughtful reflection. With the warmth of friendship and the beauty of nature.

Where has all the writing gone...

2007-03-28T20:01:00.000-06:00

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.)

Phantom Dreams

2007-03-28T04:08:00.000-06:00

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.

Two Dreams and a thoughtful wtf

2007-03-21T05:35:00.000-06:00

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.

"Whats next"

2007-03-17T03:47:00.000-06:00

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?"

Allegory or hallucination?

2007-03-13T04:20:00.000-06:00

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.

Edge of Passion

2007-03-05T03:39:00.000-07:00

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.

Where is my mind?

2007-03-01T02:12:00.000-07:00

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.

There is no place like...

2007-02-26T19:09:00.000-07:00

Todays title taken from "The Wizard of Oz" has become part of an iconic era of american film; it's a testament to writing and storytelling of that era. As a storyteller I appreciate the simple yet elequent wording: There is no place like home. Dorothoy didn't choose to undertake her adventure... it was thrust upon her; her only wish was to return to her family and her little house in kansas.

I too now have a home, far away from own "Kansas", With an apartment and career I am faced with all kinds of new problems. I chose this of my own free will and even pushed for it. With this new freedom I can tackle life with a new and more open outlook. I would love to talk about this more but I am very sick right now. Hopefully tomorrow I can give this the kind of attention it needs.

Become Stronger

2007-02-02T04:37:00.000-07:00

The Art of War has long been a part of the Taoist cannon. The ideal of self-discipline and flexibility is seamless with those beliefs. To overcome a problem of immense size and quality it requires incredible power and wisdom. As time passes my emotional, mental and spiritual energy start to decrease, I literally lose the means to fight my illness as time goes on; It becomes a vicious cycle that leads to my eventual destruction.

An successful long term cure requires more energy then I have. It's really that simple.
Before I was caught off guard, isolated and depraved of the things that made me strong.

However now is completely different. During my lengthy battle I had ample time to understand my problem. One thing that is unique is how the strength of my beliefs influenced it. It's most notable side effect is a sharply polarized and contrasting personality shift. My belief in the nature of balance has acted as a sort of bungee cord. Instead of a spiral downwards followed by a crash; it's a yo-yo that swings up and down seeking a balancing point. When I push it pushes back. When I retreat it follows. Such an occurance within a person isn't unusual. But the depths and heights are not only unusual but dangerous. Too far down and I become a monster; too far up and I become an arrogant do-gooder.

The middle has be to strong, the discipline of mind, spirit and energy. I need to be guided less by the damaged psychology of my mind and more by the calm tranquility of my spirit. It is then that I can finish the repairs needed. I actually discovered several insights (and borrowed some) that will be key to this. This is my loose plan.

1. Order: When everything around you is clean and orderly your mind begins to reflect that. When you are calm in your mind your heart follows it. When you are calm in your heart your mind follows it.

2. Emotional Control: Momentium is power; stop things when they are small and they cannot grow large enough to do harm. It is easier to prevent emotional hardship then to overcome.

3. Improve: The purity of the body lends itself to the purity of the mind and spirit. Fostering the body and spirit will improve the mind. The mind itself can be improved with knowledge and wisdom. First remove the impure from the self, then replace it with what is desired.

4: Tactics: A force that is alone is easy to overcome. Love, affection, friendship, loyalty and respect are all words that describe the relationship between friends. Actually telling someone you care about them makes them stronger. Showing loyalty and friendship fosters more loyalty and friendship. There is nothing to lose from improving your relationships with others. When you have the strength of friendship it's difficult to be caught alone and eliminated.

It's so simple a child could understand it. Pull towards the middle and foster mind, body and spirit. Then take your time to repair and rebuild. Relationships serve as a two-way source of strength and a safety net. This is a plan without flaw and without error. It is however difficult and asks of me things I couldnt do before.

Goodnight

The Lonely Battlefield

2007-01-26T05:07:00.000-07:00

This is a blogpost I have long dreaded. Had I known the circumstances that I am involved in now I would've done this a long time ago. I have long believed in keeping my life an open book, I keep no secrets; my openness is the perfect defense. People have no interest in uncovering things left in the open; as a consquence only a handful of people (outside those who do not know) have asked about the events of over a year ago that lead to my brief state of mental illness.

To make this complicated I'm not going to use any names, or cite specific events. Also the order could be slightly off as my memory of some things is second hand or extremely hazy.

The sequence of events is coming to me slowly. But the first event I remember clearly is one I have told no one about. I was at work at the hospital and occasionally I would be moved from parking services to actual security work. Generally this involved me being stern to sick and elderly people... something not entirely in my nature. But I remember very clearly a moment of glee during this work that otherwise disturbed me to do. It was the the first sign of a growing problem.

You see I've been branded something of an anti-hero by people who know me. I am willing to do good but more then willing to play dirty or bend rules to accomplish it. When I worked I put on a facade of happiness, but in my personal life I was anything but happy. A handful of things made me happy and as time went on I started getting darker and darker. Some of my beliefs degraded into superstition and others were cut down more then that. It happened so slowly that I didn't notice it. My facade was there but inside me something was eating away at my soul.
My first true awareness came during my trip to Vegas. I spent alot of time thinking on the trip (Not much else to do) and an even greater amount talking. I gained an awareness that something inside me was in dissent.

During that trip I slept very little except for one night, it was in fact the first night I had ever drank heavy in my life. We hit several clubs and bars that night. Up until this point I had only had sake on my 21st birthday; I feared becoming like my father and shunned alot of things for it. Needless to say whatever was inside me broke free for a short time; many hours later I could barely be dragged back to the hotel. I poured alot of reflection inwards and tried to understand everything that was going on. My conclusion at that time was that if I were careful about it drinking could be a useful way to relax and promote creativity. The darker problems however just hovered outside of my attention.

Between this and my new york trip not much happened on this topic. I slowly became more and more aware of it. But to me it was a small problem and I had something more important on my mind. I also started getting some mild headaches and toothaches. I started taking painkillers of different sorts for it.

Almost immediately after my New York trip things went downhill. I started to hallucinate things that were clearly not real; most of which were deeply disturbing. I would have moments of startling clarity followed by bouts of incredible pain. I started to have memory blackouts and had problems controlling my anger. At first I didn't know how to respond. I tried to hide it and distance myself from people. A few saw something was wrong right away. Most however didn't notice anything was wrong until much later. It didn't take long before my anger and violent behavior was plain to see for most everyone to see. It had a serious and adverse effect on my job performance which was clearly noted by my coworkers and bosses. I was sent off away from people to do unplesant jobs in isolation. It was there that I realized I was starting to hurt people around me. This caused me to make the first mistake: isolate myself.

I did isolate myself emotionally and I put my efforts into fixing this problem inside me. It didn't however work out. Instead of being me I felt like more and more I was being pushed into the passenger seat. I would lose control for a few moments and then be myself again. It was depressing and terrifying at the same time. It was bad for awhile, but with time I was able to manage the pain and pushed myself to a point where I felt safe in society. I tried to contact my girlfriend only to discover that my isolation and painful lashing out had caused her to move on. In my eyes this was cheated and it hurt me deeply. Reeling from the pain of this event I made an even more stupid move. There was another girl whom I had deep feelings for. We were friends and I was in a position of trust. It was in the pain of those two cratered relationships that I truly descended into madness.

Days later I had a complete meltdown, In my despair I was ready to give up on world. The evil that hid in the corners of my reality started to assert control. It was in that final terrifying moment that I realized I was becoming this monster. It was with these last few minutes of clarity and control that I attempted to kill myself; I knew the terrible things I would do to those I loved and I couldn't bear to let it happen. One person hadn't given up on me, in those final moments before I lost it she talked me out of killing myself. For it she paid a terrible price as my first victim.

I have been asked what it felt like. Most of the time it was like being alseep and only vaguely aware that you even exist. Sometimes I would kick and scream for air because the darkness was so complete that it felt like it was choking me. Sometimes I aware of the goings on, but it was surreal. Such moments were fleeting and could've easily been a dream. Sometimes I would be called forth violently by a tearful friend only to be choked down again. It was like being sleepy and having no desire to fight. Over time the fracture in my mind started to grow. Varient personalities started to emerge. A bard, a spiritualist, a warrior. Even the evil that beat me down grew fractured and disjointed. The chaos of all those voices only fueled the madness I felt.
The headaches and the pain grew greater and greater over time until no one personality could remain in control for long.

It was the death of my grandfather that caused things to reach a head.
The warrior personality pulled everything together, along with some help from an unexpected source. Aside from some dissent and immense physical pain I was fine. One night on a date I bite into some Chow Mein and a tooth which had rotted on the inside caved in. The pain was staggering and I could barely stand. The next day I had an emergency dentist appointment. 4 of the teeth on my left side had rotted on the inside while the outside was perfectly intact. X-rays showed black infection had filled my sinus canals and was putting immense pressure on my brain. This was the cause of all that suffering. To fix it they would have to pull all the teeth and drain the infection. Despite being on painkillers I tell you that relief from pressure I received that day was the greatest feeling in the world. It beats sex, it beats personal accomplishment, booze, emotional intimacy and even the satisfaction of victory as the best feeling in the world. But like all those things it didn't last long.

The emotional and mental problems didn't disappear over night: but the source did. I quit my job and forced myself into working full time on a cure. To which I was met with modest succcess: I mended the majority of the friendships I lost during that time (and some from before.) and rediscovered my religion. It was however not easy and several times I nearly slipped back down into that yawning pit of despair. Particularly in times of extreme stress or emotional duress. Because of that I have had to restrain myself: my relationships are not deep because I fear another deep emotional wound will cripple me. I no longer train myself with the fervor I once did for fear I could lose control of my body and hurt someone. I have become untrusting of myself and I have become untrusting of others.

Mostly I have fought this alone. Occasionally a friend or two would intervene but most found themselves hopelessly outmatched. As time has gone on I have asserted more and more control and received a clearer view of who I am now. I'm ready to overcome it completely but I find that some parts will not heal. Some wounds are still deep and ooze with emotional puss. I ran away from this evil and didn't face it until it nearly consumed me. This entire time I have chosen the easiest of battles. I have fought against that which I know is evil and wrong while refusing to face my own emotional pains. The very pains that put me here in the first place.

Yes. It has been lonely. But this last and final battle is not mine alone. I did not cut the scars into my soul and my hand alone cannot heal them nor put to rest the conflict in my mind. Even as I take steps to rise above what I was before I know that as long as this festering scar exists I will always be in danger of letting that evil seep into me. Right now this is my only problem. I hold no ambitions as a writer, a gamer, a political junkie or anything else. Nothing else exists.
Everyone that is extra has been deleted from my various contacts lists. Everyone else is unblocked now; anyone who thinks they can help me has one week to say so. At the end of that week I'm going to the one place I can know I can heal properly. People who give me overt religious conversion themed answers will also be ignored. The urgency that keeps me awake at night is that if I don't finish the job it will come back eventually.

Goodnight. Sleep well.

Drilling the Ice.

2007-01-22T05:17:00.000-07:00

When researchers are measuring the effects of C02 in the artic they use Ice Cores. Essentially they use a big straw to pull out a section of ice which is then examined. You can see back thousands and thousands of years into the history of our planet by doing this.

This might come as a mild surprise to some but I haven't used my email much in several months. Quite intentionally I let the emails pile up without response. Occasionally I would skim for the people I felt I needed to talk to or an email I expect for various reasons. Since I started playing on Dark Iron my message box has filled with private messages on various forums. All un-read. It was exceptionally rude of me to do this. I felt I had a reason in isolating myself from the world; perhaps it was the right thing to do, perhaps not.

Going back to these emails many of which have never been opened exposes old wounds. My relationships in the past have been painful and my responses to them out of line. If I had taken the time to read each email I imagine things still would've been the same... but my responses could've been more civil. When you remove the pain from your heart you can see far more clearly the pain and discomfort you have caused others. It's a shame I learned this now and not a year ago.

The other striking thing is how pronounced the differences are over time. You can clear see the points that I am emotionally distressed and the points in which I am cold and uncaring. Farther on down the line I can see attempts at looking for answers and reconnecting to old friends. Then alittle further more roadblocks and emotional pitfalls. If I were an observer to my life I image it would be very insightful. It paints a very clear and flowing picture of a changing and unique person. The bumps become smaller and the successes become more pronounced as I read down the line. I'm not done and I imagine responding to every email over the last 3/4 of a year will take some time. Maybe some of them deserve silence. Who knows?

Raging River: Part Two

2007-01-21T05:33:00.000-07:00

I can vary my attention between the outward and inward. Looking inside for challenges to overcome and then looking to the world for the same. I've spoken in the past about my the problems internal and external that I have conquered or attempted. I promised an expanation of my dream, vision and it's place in this crossroads.

I have long held a specific ideal of what I wanted to accomplish with my life. When I was young my only hobby was to design games. Games of such complexity that adults had a difficult time grasping the rules and concepts of it. Having no prior knowledge of the subject: I designed my own roleplaying games, board games, card games, sports and even word games. I was incredibly adept at it. But... I didn't have the social skills to get anyone to play the games. My response to this was to make the games more interesting. So I make backstory for my games. Lots and lots of backstory... well people took an interest in the stories but not the games.

That event has long sat in the back of my mind, it's certainly one of the most important in my life. I became a writer because people liked it. Yet I love games. I love designing them. I love playing them. I love reading about them and taking them apart and learning about them. Part of me always wants to be a game designer. Writer, Game designer, poltical activist and martial artist. Alot for one person to do with his life. Which is where the next part of this discussion comes in.

The Tao!
It's been described as dark and mysterious but in truth I don't know anything that is more clear. The Tao is the source of all life. Period.
Does the tao want us to worship it? Nope. Does it demand sacrifices of young woman and craven images? Nope. Does it want me to convert all the non-believers into my way of thinking? No it doesn't. It only wanted to create and nourish us. After that it is our will and determination that guides our path. To follow the Tao you follow your own heart and observe the laws of nature. You curb excesses and treat others with respect. You confound expecations by acting with spontanaity. In essence: you live.

You could call me a follower of the tao. But that would incorrect. The tao does not lead. My whole life it has been within my heart and when I listen it guides me. Early in my life certain things drove me. Certain pieces of literature or lines of thought. But the piece that made it all click together arrived in the form a book. It was called "Scholar Warrior" and it took all the feelings of my heart and gave them words. It created understanding where before there was confusion. I had read the bible and never found the kind of comfort I found in this book. The bible is harsh and filled with dark absolutes. It's very essence is to frighten people into belief. The vast majority of people who believe in god do so for fear of punishment. I'm not kidding.
Second place is family pressure. Third is a desire for community. Closely behind 3rd is actual belief. The bible isn't very comforting and it's not meant to be. It's purpose is to scare people in belief. When you remember the parts of the bible that are designed to scare people there isn't alot left. Lots of sex and war actually: if it were written better it might be a good read.

I didn't become a taoist out of fear of a terrible afterlife. I didn't become one out of pressure from my family and I've never even met another taoist face to face so I know it's not for the community. I did it because I felt it. The Scholar-Warrior book had one re-occuring theme in: and that is a well planned and experienced life. The scholar-warrior eptimoizes that.

"A Scholar thinks, but does not act. A Warrior acts, but does not think. A Scholar Warrior thinks, then acts"

I'm not sure where that quote came from. It's been sitting around my head and my files for a long time. Such versatility is vital for success in the world. We are becoming lazy and over specialized: But that is a topic for another time. Long story short I need a great variety of skills.
I can be a game designer and a writer. I can study theatre, psychology and martial arts and use those in my writing and game design. I should endever to embrace variety and complexity and not be afraid of it.

Lots of things have held me back from these ideals. Fear, ignorance, physical contraints, emotional issues and even a lack of desire. An overwhelming apathy if you will. The desire to improve yourself and the world is useless without the will to execute it. I can study and study but without the genuine desire to improve the study is wasted.

So here it is. The proclamation. Water covers all things, it consumes the high places and the low. It's speed and strength are unmatched. It doesn't plan or plot: it just does what it should.
And so shall I. The times are moving too fast for me to complete my voyage of self discovery. If opportunity passes thats it. I won't get another. Time to think... and to act.

What my dream was telling me is I should not hold back: I should not hold back my heart even if I fear pain. I should not hold back my mind even if I fear failure. I have people I can rely on; and they can rely on me. There is a shadow... but there is also light. I am besieged by death and yet filled with life. I feel pain and I feel love. Nothing should linger in my heart for too long. Be it love, pain, anger, regret, remorse, happiness or apathy. Holding onto one denies the others. Each is important and healthy.

It takes some time to change. Thats my way of saying I'll be disappearing till this is done. a few days I think.

Vision of a Raging River

2007-01-17T01:47:00.000-07:00

When you awaken from a nightmare there is a moment between the dreaming and the wakeing that you are still part of each world; in this moment you have the unlimited potential of the dreamer and the sensation of reality of the wake mind. It that second of unlimited insight we can find our hearts innermost desire or confront our worst nightmare.

I have struggled with my own place in this world, I have struggled against my own demons and those at the gates of my corner of the world. Some of that I have written here and some I have kept to myself. As each problem falls I come closer and closer to the largest problem I have ever faced. I could say that this problem holds me back, but in truth the problem is I hold back.

There are few times in my life I have ever truly given my all. In those rare moments I create volumes of writing, defeat skilled enemies or push myself beyond any human capacity. Mostly however I wallow in my own medicore performance. As I have said before: "If you don't try and you can't lose." Well I have been torn between that statement and a statment of hope. I recall desperate battles that I won only because I held on alittle longer and marvel at how easily I could've folded. Indeed more often then not I did. It is not to say I have no desire to accomplish but rather my desire to accomplish is matched by a fear of failure and self-destruction.

I've had a variety of dreams over the last year. Nightmares of such ferocity that it strained my mind for weeks. An endless cycle of painful memories and forgotten emotions.
Inside me I have been building for a transformation, to shed those burdens and accept myself for what I really am. In many regards I've been more successful then anyone realizes. But always that last burden remains. I saved myself from the brink of insanity, endured the pain of betryal and heartbreak and gave myself a clear purpose and understanding.

The other half of my dreaming world is a vision for the future I have just now come to understand.
This is last nights dream. Fairly short and I'll explain the conclusion once I have finished.

I sat on the bank of the hudson watching the water float by. Behind me is a wooded campground and hundreds of people have gathered. It appears to be some kind of a family reunion but I don't recognize anyone there. It's noisy so I wander away into a much denser forest. It's really dark and bushes claw my arms and legs as I pass by. I reach the other side and come to an empty basin, It's sandy with some scattered and thawing snow. For some reason this reminds me of the castle in my earlier dream. (At this point I realize I am dreaming.)

I walk away from the forest and slide into the basin. The sand is cold to the touch and is rough on my body. Walking for awhile I come to the other side of the basin. The slope leads up and into a different forest. This forest isn't dark but instead is illuminated with moonlight. I walk into it and feel an amazing sense of peace. The path here is tidy and the forest is filled with the sounds of animals. Off in the distance I hear several birds playing in a river. I walk off the path and find them. It's my birds, including my birds that have died playing in the water. The yellow parakeet is under a small waterfall taking a shower. I giggle at this and watch them play for what seems like an eternity.

After awhile I hear something loud behind me, the birds all fly (or jump) off. I rush to catch them but then realize it's hopeless. Turning about face I run into the woods.
I come across a clearing, beams of moonlight flood it brightly.
In this clearing are all my friends, people I trust or have trusted. Most are in the personas that occur in my dreams. The Ghoul, The Dark Maiden, The Gambler, The Conflicted Assassin, The Frigid Maiden and the Bear Druidess. Plus a few new faces: Nick who appears as a giant, Sarah who is clothed like an amazon and a new person I don't recognize. Shes clothed in a mismatched checkering of white and black... it appears to be some kind of asian style robe with flowing almost frayed ribbons all over it. She carries a staff which has clearly seen better days.

They are all sitting around the moonlight talking, when I enter they fall silent.
I remember the shadowman in my previous dreams and the terrible battles I fought against him. I kneel in the center of this gathering and start to pray. I'm not certain who I was praying to or what. But I felt compelled to kneel in this place of energy and give my thanks. When I stood everyone else had already stood up as well. The Assassin and the Giant pull aside two crossed branches at the end of the clearing, unlike the clearing this path is dark and filled with shadows.

This part is hazy, but I remember running along this path. It twisted up and around a mountain and back down into the forest. Occassional beams of light would break into the darkness... but it only served to highlight it. The Amazon ran faster then me, she never bothered to stop for air. The darkness didn't phase her but as I ran it filled my heart with dread. Several times I stopped and could not run any farther. Finally she disappeared in the darkness ahead of me. I couldn't bring myself to go forward and stopped. Whatever evil dwelled within this forest it was getting closer and closer to me. Far behind me I hear my comrades mowing down the forest behind me; with a burst of courage I push aside the foliage and step forward.

This must be the heart of the wooded valley, on either side I see massive sheer cliffs. About a mile ahead I see the forest picks back up. Between the two breaks in the forest the ground is barren and dark. At the opposite end of the woods I see the shadow; behind him other shadows emerge from the ground. A few faceless undead shamble out of the woods.
I see the amazon standing off to the side, the darkness surrounds her but she doesn't seem fazed by it. The shadow here is almost physical. Like fog it twists and twirls around as if a phantom and unholy wind stirred it. My comrades spread out behind me... some drew weapons but most stood as they too fought off the shadows.

Shadows began to appear faster and faster and I felt an urgency to take action. I flicked my arms outward to summon my sword. Then again with my other hand. I was conscious of myself and remember I had possessed a second sword. The Ninja-to "sundering shadow".
I charge forward with both swords outstretched. Shadows appeared all around me... clawing at my face and chest. I cut them in half with ease. Larger shadows came at me from both sides. I rolled towards the left and cut hit with both swords at once. To the right the gambler was struggling with the larger shadow. I tossed him sundering shadow and he cut it from head to crotch cleanly.

Around me the companions engaged the shadows. A dozen shadows clung to the giant but he tossed them aside in an almost cartoon fashion. The undead advanced on us with the shadows. Everything became a blood filled mass of confusion. I hear the cries of pain from my comrades but I couldn't see them to render aid. Shadows clung to my legs and arms holding me back.
I saw the conflicted Assassin defending the Frigid Maiden who had fallen. The gambler was backed into a corner fighting off dozens of faceless undead.
The ghoul had suffered a blow to the head and was laying on the ground. A second wound on her stomach was bleeding out over the darkness. The Dark Maiden was in this battlefield almost impossible to see. Occasionally I would see a flash of darkness and the walking dead would fall.

The moonlight grows darker, in the skies it begins to eclipse.
I tear my left hand free in a cry of maddening sorrow. For a moment I touch on the maddness I sought to contain. I scream and rage against the shadowy chains that bind me down.
Inch by inch the battlefield darker and darker. As the shadow starts to fall over me I scream even louder. Kicking and fighting I struggle until I cannot feel my legs anymore. The shadow numbs me to my heart and soul. I hear the battle raging around me and as the shadow grows it becomes more and more distant. In my field of vision the conflicted assassin cleaves down a handful of smaller shadows before walking on to a different enemy.

After a moment the darkness and dispair blocks my vision. I flail uselessly against it more.
I can only barely feel the sword in my right hand, as it starts to numb I hear a voice. I can't identify the source but it's female. "If you want to succeed forget your fear."
She kept talking... urging me on but the words fade to nothingness. I scream over and over against the darkness until I begin to cry. Everyone I care about is dying and I can't save them.
I hear behind me chanting, a steady latin warchant. I move my left hand around slightly but my right hand is still held fast. Hot tears still falling down my face I scream and kick again. My right hand loosens slightly and I start to slash with the tiny amount of room I have. I scream again and again until I fall to the darkened ground, I can feel warm blood where I lay and the air smells like wood and smoke.

The blood crawls underneath me, it's thick and warm. I want to get up but I'm so tired I cannot.
Around me the battle still rages, I pull myself up and look around. It's so dark now I cannot see who is who but the ferocity of the battle implies that many still live. Still standing in his same spot is the shadowman. I feel regret hit me like a train, he succeeded because I was unwilling to fight him before. I know that I am dreaming but the dispair of this nightmare strikes terror into me. I lock my sword into a left sweeping position and charge his vanguard. The shadows fall under the speed of my assualt. Race between the groups of shadows with unnatural speed. I free the shadows clinging to the frigid maiden, she says something to me weakly and her head falls to the ground. I see blood on the sides of her lips. Not saying another word I kill the shadows all around me. The pressence of the darkness maddens me. Screaming as I charge I mow them down over and over. It's as if maddness and sorrow power my bloodthirsty blitzkrieg.

As I kill the shadowman starts to laugh, a shrill manical life filled with hate and contempt. I put my sword in it's scabbard and prepare myself for a quickdraw technique.
The shadowman responded in kind, his sword a thin almost translucent shadow. My hands felt wet with blood... and salt water. The Shadowman charged me but something inside me broke. I did not want to fall to his traps again. Madness took hold of my mind and I rushed him with the ferocity of a raging river. I opened with a downwards iiajitsu which he just barely dodged, without a second of hesitiation my sword swept to the right after hit striking him deeply. His own sword parried me backwards a few steps. The maddeness lessened and I blocked his flurry of strikes. Whatever held me back before I didn't feel it. Instead I felt alive.

He prepared himself for my counterattacks and I pratically leapt in the air after him. I didn't attempt to byass his sword but rather attacked it directly. His sword of shadow was cut neatly in two and my own steel cut his midsection open. He stumbled to the ground and melted.

I slept 10 hours the night I had this dream. It was very draining to me.
I'm ready for this last barrier, this last challenge. After that I have only the world to face.
The last thing I remember from this dream is standing in a pool of cool water with my blade. Because it's late I'll share my results later. I'm not sleeping tonight but I wish everyone who is a goodnight.

A different kind of Crusade.

2007-01-16T05:58:00.000-07:00

Today the burning crusade expansion came out for World of Warcraft. Like many others I arrived at the pre-order line just before midnight.

In all truth I haven't had the same affection for video games lately as I have in the past.
It's not that I don't find them fun, but when my hands were recovering I played very badly at the games I did play. I played less and less until an incident with my guild forced me out completely. All of these events are my fault and I'm not trying to force blame on others.

I don't think I've reached the levels I once had, years back before my accident. But I feel more confidant now in my reflexes and more importantly in the speed of my tactical reasoning. Anyone can learn to react quickly, but a true measure of skill is to reason quickly.
So here I am learning to play all over again in the outlands with a new crew and new computer.
I found in certain moments my skill had improved drastically from before, I aligned my shots for better effect and kept track of my allies movements to give them cover. But then the basic stupid mistakes crop up over and over again. But my hands still can't keep up with the speed of my mind.

In my view there are only three reasons to play a game. The first and most important is to have fun, the second reason is to teach or learn and the third is to prove something to yourself or others. In an ideal setting I try for all three at once; but far more often I only catch two at a time. World of Warcraft for example doesn't teach me anything, but it is fun and has a strong social element.

The slowness of my reflexes shouldn't bother me... but it does. I have a desire to do my best at everything. I know I'm sloppy with my spelling and grammer in this blog. But I take the rest of my writing very seriously. Being able to respond against an orc hunter has no practical value in the real world whatsoever and yet so many people play every day honing their skills to pit against others. It's really no different then days long past. Humans have a desire to compete with each other and to assert control. I have been profiled different times in this regard and have had different results each time.

Almost everytime I test or gauge my psyche in this region it comes back skewed. This particular thing is interesting enough to mention here. Essentially the test comes back one of two ways. I am a quintessential alpha male or I am a "diplomat" or a dealmaker.
In social situations the alpha male is outgoing, charismatic, aggressive (most use the word forceful) and self-concerned (I use that word instead of self-centered... which appears negative.). If a social group has any unattached females the Alpha Male tends to snatch up whichever he prefers before the others. I know it sounds like I am talking about wolves. But in truth humans are still slaves to their base instinicts. Alpha Males have a specific trait they focus on and lord over others. Sometimes its physical strength or mental. Sometimes it's money or class or connections. Rarely is an alpha male tyrannical and often they are seen with a false or exaggerated sense of modesty.

The other I test for often is the dealmaker or the diplomat. The Diplomat makes few enemies (Often selecting enemies intentionally as pretense for an alliance with someone.) and tries to win people over with his or her words. The smart diplomat is rarely all words and no action however; a skillfull show of force adds weight to later negotiations. The Diplomat brokers peace between all of his friends and shows the utmost respect to his enemies. Attacking him makes you appear to be overly aggresive and generally a bad person; this causes allies to flock to the diplomat. He accomplishes with goodwill and skilled communication what others cannot.

Here I am: An aggressive Diplomat. Certainly we have seen many in this world. Bismarck, Tallyrand, Kissinger and others I can't recall offhand. Some have been too aggresive and gotten themselves into trouble. Others have controlled the urge to... well control to the point they can do good. It's interested to note that a desire to control itself isn't evil. I want to do good but my methods for bringing good are more ruthless then some people can handle.

Now for the two topics to make sense together.

I play games because I have something to prove to myself, I get a sense of accomplishment for every enemy I kill and every item I pick up. It's an arena and outlet for my skills that is acceptable by society. For a child that was starved of positive attention it's an outpouring of self esteem. I was always one of the best card players, video game players, chess players and roleplayers. I did it to fill in myself a hole that in truth could never really be filled.
Now however I've plugged that hole, I no longer have the burning desire I once had. I feel the urge on occasion but my exile from video games seems to have weened me off it.

Yes. My psychological makeup is still the same as it was before. I still have a desire to control others and a desire to make people whole. A desire to make people happy and to motivate them to new heights. Control sounds harsh but good leadership is a form of control. It doesn't apply only to the control of a persons entire will... but to the control and subjegation of specific and undesirable aspects. In other words a leader suppresses things that hurt a group and brings out the beneficial and effective. A true leader does anyway.

I am a good leader when I want to be, but honestly I find myself better as a Lt or advisor. I don't want the responsbility of the entire organization on my head. But I do want as much power as possible to ensure that it succeeds. The head of an organization receives too much attention for his full potential to come out anyway. A good leader however doesn't hesitate or second guess himself... which I tend to do. Also a truly effective leader doesn't have a bias or hold grudges which I also tend to do. For those reasons and more I am happy to be a leader on the small scale. I am happy looking for accomplishment in the world and within a world that is fantasy. For all the misgivings I have about it: I can still do more in a world of fantasy then in a real one. My reflexes are slowly returning and someday I hope that my hands match the speed of my mind. In the meantime I'm off to finish some writing before bed. Torrow I will BC until my eyes bleed or I get bored and read.

Raging River, Torrent of Memories.

2007-01-12T04:12:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the double post last night. I've hardly slept in days and it's wearing me down.

As I have said before: periods of intense focus have side effects. My dreams of late have been unusual. Perhaps not as unusual as past dreams... but disturbing enough I want to find the source.

One thing appears in so many dreams and that is my sword.
I know in the past I have mentioned my azure katana. It's less a weapon then a piece of art.
Far as I know it doesn't exist in reality; only fittingly enough in my dreams.
It's balanced for my height and weight, so perfectly that it feels more comfortable then my own hands. But the most striking feature of all is blade itself.

Most people think of a sword as a weapon, a tool of death and chaos. The raging river has a pattern of water running from the hilt to the tip. The hilts side of the blade is calm and serene while the tip is a raging torrent. The farther away from me the blade strays the more chaotic it becomes, the more that calm is broken down and losses it's power. Like water it is a sword that is beyond the mastery of a human being, it's existance is a paradox to me: A weapon not meant to kill. I saw a scattering of images in my dream.

The sword sits on my lap while I meditate, I look calm and peaceful. Around me I know there is chaos and evil but I don't see it, nor does it enter me.

Off in the distance I see a dark shadow, the light from the streetlamps paints him in a most frighteneing light. I know my own strength and brace myself for the shadow. But it keeps walking. I watch as eventually it passes me completely disappearing into the night.

I'm sitting in a room filled with snakes, Someone I remember from my past is sitting on a couch with a look of complete calm. All around him the snakes coil and crawl. I jump backwards to the closest corner and kick the snakes back. A few large ones circle towards me anxiously.

Perhaps the worst was last however. I was in my old highscool walking down the hallways.
Instead of live people the halls were filled with the walking dead, crawling shambling zombies of every color, shape and size. I walked past them to the cafeteria and near it my old history class.
On one desk I see my sword, I walk over to pick it up but my hand goes right through it.
Sitting down I study the details of the sword, but its hazy and I can't see it clearly enough.

I hear a voice and look up. A strange man in a blue terry bath robe is writing on the whiteboard.
I look around and see the dead have filled the seats of my class. The walks back and forth as he tells his story... It's captivating and I sit and listen to him. After a second I raise my hand, he points to be reluctantly. "Why am I here?" I ask the man.
He smiled and said nothing, instead he pointed to the board again. I recognized it as the kind of outlines used in psychological profiling, only it had annotations I didn't understand. The writing was garbled up, but I understood the purpose of the graph.
I walk over to it and run my hand across the length of it.
I'm unsure why, but I somehow felt that this was my linechart, that somehow my life had been imposed onto this board. Like a psychological sine chart I read the rising and falling of my being.

The class is empty again, This time the teacher is sitting in my seat with his hands stroking the side. I'm vaguely aware that I am dreaming, but I am so tired that I cannot do anything more then let the dream carry me farther and farther away from reality.
"Why doesn't the sword work all of the time?" I ask the teacher.
"You tell me, it's your sword." he replies.
It is my sword, an unruly extension of my own will. A will I am myself afraid to manifest.
"Are you saying it's because I'm afraid of myself?" I ask him impatiently.
He doesn't answer right away. The runs his hands along the sword as if he was stroking a cat.
"I'm saying what your saying." he finally replied.

I'm not entirely sure why, but I forget what happens next. I just remember running to the back gym and out the door to the track field. The dead are walking around the track in circuits.
In the enter of the track there is a large ball of zombies, it seems to be rolling towards me.
I flick my arms in enter into a swordstance but my sword doesn't appear. In perfect discipline I attack with no blade, despite having no physical weapon the ball slows it's approach to me.
I blink and the zombies are all gone, the light is shining brightly and the air is fresh.
On the bleachs I see a young woman tieing her running shoes, this is not a dream but a memory.
I am watching from afar as I talk to his girl many years past. She is my best friends girlfriend and I conceal for the sake of that friend my own feelings toward her.

She runs at a modest speed and my past memory persona runs quickly but wears out after a few friends laps. I saw her feelings clear as day but took no actions.

I blink again, I'm even farther in the past now. Sitting across from me is a skilled card player. This is a pre-release tournament and I'm in the final 4. The game is very close. My enemy taps his creatures indicating an attack. I check their power and the power of my own creatures. Unsure of his motives I block the largest creatures and leave 2 smaller ones to hit me. He point to the creature and tells me that he sacrifices all his land to give the creature +12. With a sigh I pull my cards together. A few moments later a friend walks up behind me with a copy of the same card. Only 1 land may be sacrificed to make it stronger. That battle should've been mine had I bothered to read the card entirely. My friends urged me to appeal to the judge but I instead I simply left.

The images get blurry, I sit alone staring at a filled notebook. It's deep inside a church. Elsewhere in the church my family is putting together a wedding. I pour flip page after page writing a story. Then I tear the story apart. (This did happen, but it didn't happen at the church." I walk around the church. It's completely spotless and I marvel at it. It was one of the few times I have felt peace in a church. Turning a corner I walk into a gym. On the stage I am putting on a show, without warning I turn to my cousin and push him off the stage hurting him severely. (This did happen, but the real events were different.)

All these things are bothering me, I keep turning the halls of the church looking for somewhere quiet. Around the walls I hear whispers from my past. A cruel joke, harsh whispers from the other children. They whisper that my father is a drunk and my mother had to die to escape him.
I pass a room filled with a faded flickering white light. Poking my head in I see myself playing on my first computer and playing my first computer game: Champions of Krynn.
Beside me is my goldfish in a large pyramid shape, I talk to him but all he does is swim around.
The whispers fade until I can't make out the words. I look down the hall again and see a heavy metal doorway with a small ancient softy glass window. I'm in my elementary school now.
Walking down the north past near the mobiles I see myself on the ground bleeding, I stood up to a larger boy and got beaten up. Each time I stood he pushed me back down. Around me I saw dozens of silent children. Farther down the path I circle around to the playground. The slide which held so many memories is gone, my hands burn with the memory of it. I yearn to run up the slide and to be pulled down by the other children. I remember it is a game. But the game and it's memories are gone. Now it's completely abandoned.
I see a girl standing over me, again the cruelty of the other children. One girl tries to help me up. I am shocked to see her face, it's animated and peppy in contrast to the serious half-frown I held. I had a crush on her then, and then again later in highschool. Nothing came of it but I still remember her offered hand to me.

All these memories occured within this dream. Short as it was it made me think quite a bit.
Is my minding trying to tell me something? I'm not really sure actually; but maybe I should find out. Goodnight.

Brain = Dead

2007-01-11T08:55:00.001-07:00

Anyone who knows me also knows I have terrible insomnia.
Generally I find this to be a blessing as opposed to a curse. Right now especially.
I've written 20 pages of sourcebook material tonight alone and I have enough information for 20 more tomorrow. Properly proofed at least half of this material will be fit to publish.

But most importantly it's getting down onto paper and out of my head. Maybe when it's all out I'll finally get to sleep.

I do however now know that 10+ hours of strait writing is extremely uncomfortable. Even allowing myself time to watch the quail eat.

Goodnight all. I'm going to lay for a few hours before I start writing again.

Brain = Dead

2007-01-11T08:55:00.000-07:00

Meltdown and importance of cool.

2007-01-10T03:24:00.000-07:00

I'm been thinking, writing, thinking about writing or thinking about thinking all day.
I could write about thinking but it might cause the universe to collapse.

I suffer from the typical writers dilemma. When I want to write the ideas don't come easily. I fight for every one. When I'm eating, playing a game or taking a shower those ideas pour like niagra and excite more then viagra. (I'm going to hell for that, but I couldn't resist.)
I settle in to finish the real heavy work of my sourcebook project and chat with people via AIM and MSN. What happened however is a meltdown.

Someone got mad at me for reasons I don't yet understand. I was myself upset over her behavior but said nothing inflammatory. Then I got yelled at and blocked.
I log onto my unused and almost forgotten AIM and try to find out what happened. Then suddenly my computer resets itself. I check the inside and it's burning hot all over. Thankfully the CPU fan still works. But all the other fans did not.
After a few hasty rewirings and replacements of older fans. (am I the only person who keeps extra fans in a box?) I'm back in bussiness. Only blocked on both accounts now.

Here I sit with a looming personal deadline and no desire to write. Instead I have guilt, remorse and a touch of loneliness to keep me occupied. So instead of productive writing I'm sitting her taping away at my blog which has a very mininal impact on both my career and society.
So since I'm here I should articulate something I was thinking and talking about earlier today.

When I was studying psychology I came across a sub-catagory called Kinesics.
Alot of people have heard about the ability to read body language. Yet what isn't understood is that everybody has the ability to read body language. It's mostly sub-conscious but most of us have it. Studying it was very interesting and gave me new insights into human behavior.
It was taken a step further when I learned martial arts. In a fight or match sheer reaction to your enemies movements isn't enough, great fighters have the ability to predict.
I'm less skilled with this specific aspect of Kinesics but I do have some ability. This is where feints and mind reading techniques become even more important. Those are sadly above my level of unarmed fighting.

The final layer isn't a science at all, reading the body and the mind are easy. What took the most work and has proven to be the most valuable is the ability to read a spirit or a soul.
I've been told by people who practice wicca that I have an old soul and a strong spiritual power, I have been warned by christian mystics (oddly enough they exist) that evil forces covet my soul and I've had people who consider themselves "free mystics" or "spiritually attuned" tell me that I have an awesome gift. Now I don't subscribe to every belief under the sun. I don't pretend to have a unique insight into the divine... but I have in my life had things happen that have validated all the above statements.

Once when I was in highschool I was working out in track (Hurdles I think) and like many young men I watched the girls running with the cross country team. One girl stood out to me. I didn't know her and we had no mutual friends. She wasn't the most attractive, or athletic or smartest girl there but I felt a strange attraction to her. Later during the fundraiser I got the nerve to talk to her and we started to date. The attraction I had to her couldn't be explained with words. It was as though the beauty of her soul shined past the body and pulled me in. Nobody else noticed or acknowledged this. Some of my friends teased me for dating such a comely young woman.

Needless to say it's not a precise skill, I'm not sure if it can be taught or learned. It's a sense that I possess of things that are spiritual. I can sense a haunted house when I walk past it. or the pressence of an evil spirit. I've pushed my efforts into learning to read the content of a persons soul as I said earlier; It's not a detailed report but a feeling. I've used my head or heart and been wrong a thousand times, but this sense has never been wrong or lead me astray. (What a shame it's practical value is limited eh?) I once told a friend of mine who is catholic that god gave every person the ability to see evil, most of us unlearn it so we don't have to see the evil within us.
That may or may not be true, but I thought it insightful at the time. We choose not to see evil because it absolves us of the responsibility of facing it. That I can sense evil and good could simply be a byproduct of my intense internal nature. I admit to my evil and to my imperfection; sometimes I am able to change it sometimes I am not. But I am honest about it.

Some people will doubt me, challenge me or believe me completely. I don't actually care what others think of my "gift" or ability. It is not unique to me and it's not something I can prove to a disbeliever. In the past it's even gotten me hurt or into situations that could be considered unsafe emotionally. But it's potential for good is like my own: limited only by my will.

I've cooled off enough from my earlier situation to go back to work. The universe keeps moving despite my problems and my toil, and honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way.

Design Theory, Plus some meaningless background.

2007-01-09T06:02:00.000-07:00

One of the reasons I haven't been able to complete the novel based of my setting is a lack of complete design. The original ideas for my world and it's inhabitants were first put to paper when I was around 12 or 13. Most of my ideas were born from an active imagination and no experience in design or effective storytelling. The most fundamental aspects of which still exist even as I redesign it today. Over the years by storytelling, roleplaying and creative thought I have put flesh to my world. It's gone from the raw insight of a child to the whiteboard of an angst filled teenager and then into something unexpected. With every insight I have gleamed in my life it has grown. Every culture I explore, every book I read, every person I talk to. Each of them adds to my collective knowledge and bit by bit the world created within my imagination reflects that.

When I was young I wrote my first short story. Elfrea the Dark Elf. Being poor and isolated culturally I had few early influences on my storytelling. To that point I had read Lloyd Alexanders "The book of three" and Ursula LeGuins "The Wizard of Earthsea". I had a nintendo but no fantasy games, no roleplaying games. If memory serves I had Tetris, Mario and Mega Man 3. Elves do no appear in any of those games or books. I had a single Magic: The Gathering Card. It was some kind of a crappy dwarf that made a creature with power 2 or less unblockable. I keep searching my mind for where I gleamed the insight for that first story but it isn't there. My only conclusion is that my uncle told me about it. In the later formative years he inspired me play roleplaying games and read fantasy novels.

Elfrea was a dark elf as the name says. He was an elite ranger who was training to be a griffon rider when he was framed for murdering his teacher. Elfrea suspected his rival Kain had planted his sword at the scene and killed the teacher himself. The story starts with Elfrea meeting a goblin trader in the forest. The trader possess a bauble that will enhance elfreas magic enough to sneak back into Theldar and murder Kain. However the Goblin is not satisfied with Elfreas payment and attacks him. Elfrea kills him with his magic and takes the stone.
As he prepares to make his escape Elfrea hears a sound nearby and decides to check it out. It's a troll named Gesstol who is wounded and fleeing into the woods from humans. Elfrea and Gesstol fight to stalemate until the humans arrive. Realizing their mutual survival was at stake they work together and drive the humans out of the woods.

Now. I remember this story word for word. It's imprinted deeply into my soul for reasons I cannot describe. It's the feeling of a first love, a first kiss, the first time you "really" see a sunset. But looking back on it there are alot of minor issues. For example. Goblin Merchant? Exotic to an 11-12 year old but not so much to me. Kain the elven ranger? Not very elven sounding to me.
Why would an elite ranger need a stone to sneak back into a forest city? It's a dear story to me but I'm afraid it's not good enough to be in my setting the way it was. Ever since that day I have had my own internal view of what a "troll" or an "elf" was. In my story Gesstol and Elfrea used their isolation and exile to form a powerful friendship. Trolls were green and large with various tusks. Gesstol had no tusks (They were cut off when he was a slave) and was thinner then the average troll. Elves were innate magic users and experts with bow and sword prefering to conceal themselves in the trees then fight any potential enemies directly.

Both of those themes are common in fantasy but to me then they were exotic and new. I was caught up in the idea of a world of fantasy and didn't realize that internally I was already becoming a writer. I knew the background of my characters as if by instinct. I did not need to draft or plot or outline. My characters were who they were and they were that way for a reason. Even something as small as Gesstols missing tusks made it into my story. The pacing could use some work and I doubt an elite elf ranger should take more half a page of fighting to kill a goblin. (Which it did. If I rewrote the story I would change it to" "Elfrea cleanly sliced off the goblins head, averting his gaze as the derranged creature fell to the forest floor.")

Theldar the home of the elves made it into my setting and so did the idea of "dark elves".
My logically view was a society that was "good" would never kill if they had the choice, instead they punished severe crimes with banishment. Hence the elf became "dark" or exiled.
Later however I read the dragonlance chronicles which pretty much use the same idea. Even later after that one of my friends desired playing a Drow Elf made popular by forgotten realms.
After some issues (this was 2nd Ed still) I allowed him to play. One thing that became apparent to me right away was that drow did not fit my setting and over time I removed them. (By plague and lynching to keep the storyline consistant.) Eventually I demoted drow to a lower station of myth and rumor. In my new (and cleaner) setting there are no drow. I have returned to the earlier idea of "Dark Elves" with a new twist...

In the redesign it was apparent I wanted to add new cultures to my setting. Among them a nordic-themed people. One of the things the nordic mythologies have going for them is elves. Elves that are colorful in history but also divided into Light and Dark. Bumping into this recently brought back the memory of Elfrea the Dark Elf. I realized then the potential for an even more interesting culture. Take the "Dark Elves" of nordic myth and exile them to the world of Drakkor away from their Light cousins. Those survivors hide themselves underground and in forests humans dare not travel through. As time passes these wood elves and their cousins the grey elves exile their criminal populations. The Dark elves of legend and the exiled wood and grey elves have much in common and form an alliance and then finally a society. Intermingling and creating a meritocracy of assassins, magical killers and master spies. Blended by generations of interbreeding the Dark Elves are a unique hybrid with a vastly different society then their cousins the wood elves.

Not only did I get a nordic themed race but it blended seamlessly into my existing ideas and work. The bombastic arrogant light elves need not change from the nordic legends I plucked them from; and it is one less thing I need to worry about. Not all of my setting is based on mythology, the significant bulk of it is in fact completely original. Yes it is still filled with Tolkien-esque dwarves and elves. But the dwarves of my setting aren't greedy and aloof. My dwarves are showoffs and devoted allies. They launch massive projects to better themselves and their friends... and they smirk and showoff the entire time. My elves defy the typical norms for fantasy elves... the mordathal elves use crossbows and swords... they tatoo their bodies and thirst for war over any kind of peace. My trolls don't have an island accent or throw axes with pinpoint accuracy. Nor are they massive killing machines with no brains. Drakkori Trolls speak their own language, have a modest society and frown upon outsiders pre-judging them. The Avian (birdmen) races of my setting are varied and have unique personalities, yes I borrowed the idea from the japanese "Tengu" but I gave it a flavor and style all my own. The goverments and cultures of my world vary immensely. For example in one corner there is a country ruled by evil dragons who war constantly with a cadre of demons. (who have a nearby portal to their homeworld Kilrah.)

The ideas of my youth were not stupid or bad. Some in fact are so original I feel very compelled to use them. What I lacked then was the skill to use those ideas to design something new. Dark elves had been done (By Dragonlance to my knowledge... maybe others.) in that style before. But I am certain nobody has Nordic Dark elves in a society with exiled Wood and Grey Elves.
I'm really enjoying putting together a sourcebook. For years this entire world has been in my head and in my heart. The only way others could glimpse at it was when I let them. It would be a thousand kinds of relief if I could get all of it onto paper where others can read it without me.
More important they can read the words and add to them. Right now it's my world. But someday I want that world to belong to everyone... be it through books, comics, movies or games. Anyway I need some sleep. I have alot of work to do tomorrow.

Head Trama

2007-01-08T04:13:00.000-07:00

Falling on your head really hurts. No really.

Temporary memory loss is extremely awkward. No really.

When someone asks you what your name is and you can't remember AND your stone-cold sober something is wrong.

Yes. I have the worst headache ever. So people don't ask me a million times it was a towel someone left on the stairs. I slipped when I was running upstairs for more office space.

While recovering I had some time to think about various things. Being injured creates a desire to be pampered and loved. It's a keen vulnerability in me already; compounded I'm not entirely sure what to say. But when it boils down to it; my most basic desire to be cared for and to be safe. This flies against my desires to be free and passionate. In essence my heart wants to be bound down and to be cared for while being free to express myself. Like all internal conflicts it rages back and forth one taking hold for a time before another takes it's place. Only now I feel the desire to be loved and protected more strongly. It could easily be age that causes this; or my recent trama to the head. Whichever the cause it dampens my desire to take risk and take chances. Call it a nesting desire or a desire to "settle down". Maybe it will pass and my usually flair for freedom and isolation will gain ascendance.

I honesty think there is no more important choice in this world then a choice of mate. You are who you marry (or date). The personality, skills and tastes of your mate rub off on you over time. Like some kind of derranged stockholm syndrome your sympathy for your mate grows over time. In a relationship where one member suffers from mental disorders the other is more then twice as likely to suffer from a mental disorder then he/she would be otherwise. One of the more interesting traits within inter relationships studies is that often one partner is "stronger" or more dominant then the other more "passive". Generally the alpha members values, beliefs and ideals are accepted as "truths" and the passives beliefs (compatible or otherwise) are devalued or supressed. There is no harm in this, and the advantages to a uniform belief system are too numerous to count here. But it gives me a moment of pause.

If I were to marry someone of a different religion then me would I convert her? Could I condone such a thing? Would it perhaps be better to find someone who also shared strong beliefs and a strong willpower. Then instead of one being dominate it would be closer to my ideal love. A partnership.

You see a partner is different then you. As strong or stronger. Enough shared values to be close but different enough to keep a spark of conflict. Conflict is more productive and useful then it appears. It keeps the lines of communication open (if your smart about it), promotes more flexible and diverse thinking, spices up romance and allows the couple to reach conclusions a single person (No matter how wise) could reach on his own. A lover is your best friend and worst enemy. A wall to bounce ideas off, The scabbard to your naked blade... to hold you back when your about to go too far. Or to protect you when you've fallen or failed. An ideal lover does not worry about what divides you but rather the threads of love and fate that bring you together. In all people and for all eternity there will be differences: Religion, idealology, political affiliation, class and race. People will forever seek reasons to fight and not to love and cherish each other.

An ideal lover puts you before her. She would gladly sacrifice her life for you. And she knows you feel the same about her. A heart that is filled with fear cannot be filled with love. The love is displaced until the fear dispelled. There is no breach of trust between ideal lovers. The rules are unspoken and clearly established. There is no flirting with the line, to flaunt it is to break the most sacred of unspoken laws. That is truly what an ideal relationship is about. The unspoken.

To those who can feel others the breach of trust is double-edged. You feel your own pain at the betryal and you feel the pain of your betrayer. Of the one you loved. Be that covanent spoken or unspoken. When you love someone it creates a bond that words cannot explain or express. To break it is to lose a tranquility and a peace that can never be restored. When you are betrayed and your lover crosses that unspoken line there is no recourse in logic, no words that make sense. It is what it is and it cannot be undone. The scars it causes are consigned forever to live just under the surface.

To say then that trust is essential is an understatement. Trust is everything. If you cannot put your back to your lovers without doubt then she is not for you. It can be said that true love is eternal, it transcends the mortal shell of a body and it reaches to a world beyond the sight of men. In such a place there isn't just love, but there is only love.

Some people love the idea of love. To idea of being cared for. Some people are enarmored of the concept of eternal and undying lust. After all lust is not a bad thing. Lust is a fire that consumes the soul and burns away pain and sadness. Lust can break apathy or thaw a frigid and chilled heart. Yet for all that lust is not love. The two can exist at once but one does not equate to the other. You can love someone to the depths of your being and have no sexual or romantic desire whatsoever. And yet when you have both at once, when your bodies, souls and minds are locked together not just as lovers of the body... but lovers of the soul... that is an ideal lover. To love on every level that a person is capable of... a body... a soul and a mind. Do I still yearn to be free? Yes I would be lying if I said I didn't. But far greater then that I wish to commit myself in my entirety to one soul, one body and one mind.

But hell I fell down a flight of stairs two days ago. Who am I to know?

Two Drink Min.

2007-01-05T04:17:00.000-07:00

When I was younger I remember the "thinking critically" subsections at the end of every chapter. I never understood exactly what it was to think "critically". I understand thinking rationally or conservatively. I've spent more time being social the last week or so then I have in recent memory. Yet today I get home around 2:00; sit down and pour myself a glass of Rum and Coke with the intention of relaxing. I have to decide once and for all what I am doing with this year and to "think critically". Yet as soon as I sit down I am assualted by an eerie sense of loneliness. I yearn for a good conversation or the quiet unassuming gaze of a friend over a chess board. I want to watch DVDs and giggle at cheesy one liners. Yet I am getting myself ready to move across the country to support a cause that may or may not succeed with people I don't know. It's a scary thought to realize I would be alone and without a safety net.

So here I sit with a mixed drink that could use alittle more pepsi and no idea what I am going to do with my life. I tried talking to my grandparents about it and it made me feel even more hopeless. They don't believe the world can change and doubt I'll be able to accomplish any different. When I lay at night I think of how hopeless my cause really is. I'm thousands of miles away and my income as a writer isn't enough to live on yet; not to mention actually getting back east to do something. The few connections I have aren't much help and some of them are might even be pitfalls I hadn't imagined.

The glass is half empty now. All those critical thinking exercises plus a glass of bad rum and I have nothing. Everyone I know is going back to school and I am sitting out waiting for something I fear cannot happen. The logistics are painfully difficult and even now all I can see are dozens of possible failures. In each my personal shortcomings are manifest directly and I cannot fathom an escape if things went bad so far from home. I pride myself on a mind that thinks tactically, that can find every possible victory. Yet I am finding that the real world does not always offer you a possibility of victory. In it's cruelty sometimes even our best is a wasted and futile effort.

Glass is 2/3rds gone. Spiced Rum carries a bitterness when it's not mixed properly. Having only in the last few years started to drink I have trouble getting accustumed to this. I drink things that are sweet like mountain dew. I drink on occasion because it is one of the few things that will slow down my mind. My mind slogs the same information over and over again, possible methods of making money, various low end contacts in the poltical world, my inexperience in the world of politics, Electoral math and most important of all the effort it would have on my life.
The information does not change. I sift it over and over again. I divert my mind to games or matters of study and it returns again at an unguarded moment.

Glass is empty now. It may not be a fevered pace but my mind is still working. I still feel a tinge of loneliness in my heart. I am a creature of the night... but whatever path I take this will have to change. I cannot isolate myself to encourage productivity and cut off potential hurt anymore.
One of the more interesting side effects of light drinking is my mind because more disorderly. Already chaotic and filled with conflicting, loud and diverse thoughts it descends to an even lower level of order. I sit here trying to organize my thoughts and they float away alittle faster then normal. They escape my reach just barely. Just by the tips of my mental fingers.
Relaxed... yes. But no closer to an answer.

New Drink. Watermelon Vodka and Mountain Dew. Very very strong.
Sobriety hasn't helped me grapple with these very difficult issues. Maybe the reverse eh?
I kid of course. Drinking doesn't have a strong effect over my intellect. I would have to drink far more then I am willing to for that to happen. My father let drink dictate his life and it's something I will be think about every time a drink touches my lips. It's me in control, not it.
It's harsh but not bitter. I think the ratio is too strong but I wanted to finish off what was left in the bottle.

Barely into this drink. Cognative functions are still slowing. The numbers of my problem have become more abstract but no less pressing. The problem is as it always is: Money. With a modest amount of money I could blog the entire thing. Ohio would be my playground. I could cover every aspect of the upcoming poltical battle royale. Hell instead of ohio I could blog Florida or Connecticut. (if I spelled that wrong I am deeply sorry). There is demand for competent writing in the poltical arena, it's almost insatiable really. My dream of working for a good intelligent man may have to die here and now. Obama is a great man that much is certain. But there is no certainty of a job (even a low paying one), nor is it certain that I would be able to support myself if I did land a modest job as a staffer.

Glass inches down. This vodka is much stronger then I thought. Once thing as a writer I can do and I know it's not unique to me is understand the mind of another writer. Obama writes from a place in his heart and because of that what he says doesn't sound cheap or poltical. Yet his mind is sharp and thinking ahead by leaps and bounds. He has worked out every problem he thinks he will face and he intends to do that facing with honesty. What would be long buried dirt to another is something for him to lift up. He admits to second guessing himself or feeling guilty about his job. He illuminates himself as human and when I read his words I see past the poltical meaning to his heart. It is a rare talent to write from that insubstancial place and still convey all the meaning you intend. I want more then anything to help him accomplish his dream of a better world. I understand the poltics and in some areas I don't even fully agree with the senator. But I do believe in his heart he wants the world to be a better place and I agree with his vision of a better world even if policy by policy we disagree sometimes.

Half Empty. Mind is blank except for what I summon into it. A state I can accomplish with either intense focus and meditation or by moving from light drinking to moderate drinking.
When I finish this drink I am certain I will be unable to write further without ranting or degrading to something you would find on Mypsace.
I know with certainty what I want to do. The problem is accomplishing what I want. Making it possible without destroying myself.
I slaved hard to put myself back together, part of that was a desire to change the world.
I think of the Taoists of old who isolated themselves from society to perfect themselves. Or of Zhuangzi who turned down the position of advisor because he feared entanglement into court poltics. They were still pools in the river of time. When a Taoist did act it was overwhelming, they did not over extend themselves or tax the people into poverty. It was not personal ambition that caused them to act. But a desire to help others. A strange dichotomy for persons interested mostly in perfecting themselves.

Time to finish this drink, then perhaps a good book or a simple game.
Goodnight to all.

Bring on the New Year

2007-01-03T03:12:00.000-07:00

The last week has been quite tiring. I expected to hit the ground running this year and find myself at a soft almost ragged trot. The ideal first step to this year is to appraise myself and my situation. So here it is.

Spiritually I have made significant improvements but I am not yet to the levels I have been before. Emotionally I am alot more hardy and ready to accept the punishment my new ambitions have to offer me. Physically I'm not doing so well, (mostly) poor diet and exercise have plagued me for some time and perhaps worst of all I don't feel I am performing mentally to the levels I should be. It's time to retrain and revist some of the old basics.

However the time I have for that is limited. Budget constraints and timetables prevent me from having unlimited resources to retrain and relearn. For the first time in a long time I face the problem of having to prioritize my time. Time with friends and being social is important. But so is self cultivation and enlightenment. I have to keep track of advances in my areas of study (of which there are many) and persue new ones to keep my perspective fresh. How I face problems of this size is important, small problems and adversities can bring down someone faster then one large problem. I find most often that it is not 1 problem that destroys an agenda or a person or an organization. It is the constant nibble of a dozen minor problems that bleeds the attention and the resources. Being able to deal effectively with small problems is an important skill.

One of the projects I want to finish before I move on to my larger projects is the dreaded reordering. Everything I have is in disarry. My saved games are not organized. My Digital media files are not organized. Pictures, Books, Writing, Research and even things as trivial as clothes. I've been disorganized and it irks me every day. My personal desire is for things to be clean and organized. Yet my family is dirty, messy and disorganized to the extreme. It would be easy to keep things organized if I put them away when I was done with them. If I filed them instead of put them on my desk to be buried. If I lived on my own I honestly feel I would overcome this problem alot easier. Seeing the disorder in the house somehow justifies it to me and brings it out. Now I think about it that irks me too.

Over time I have been shaping and reordering who I am. To some the change is apparent and even startling. To others it has been so gradual that they haven't noticed. It comes in a sudden epiphany. To others still I am the same or close to the same. I talk a good talk. I play a good game and I respect and honor my rivals even as I pwn and trashtalk them. The outside hasn't changed alot because people are comfortable with it. Yes I can be obnoxious sometimes, yes I can be egomanical, and yes I can even be confrontational. Yet for these traits I have been told that I am more positive, more fun, less cynical (Shocking side effect of being positive), more tolerant and all around better. People like me more now then they did a few months ago. And more then a few months before that. Personality can improve like anything else. I hope with age I can cut away that excess of obnoxiousness and that thick film of ego that prevades my social life. But then again I need alot of that ego. A comfortable sense of self and ego are vital if you are to work in a field as crowded and bloodthirsty as publishing. (people who refute this are naive.)
The ego is important if it is not excessive. Much as I hate to keep using that word over and over again.

Other small problems surface and each is sharp enough to scuttle my entire agenda. But most pressing perhaps is the current nature of who I am. From one perspective I am more complete as a person then I was in the past. I know who I am and what I want to do. But the nuts and bolts aren't all together yet. I have advanced more in the past month then the past 3 months before that. I am capable of loving once again. Something I thought I had lost forever or at least had been diminished. The strength of my spirit is strong and ready to fight and struggle. The failures, betryals and losses of my past have hurt me immensely and at the same time given fire to the core of my being. In a way I am tempered from that and many other kinds of hurt. I have the strength of my convictions to bring to bear and the passion in my heart is not abated by fear of failure or isolation. Yet... I do miss one thing. The infastructure for my new life isn't there yet. And my persona is trapped in the past. I still present myself as who I was. I still use the same systems, arguements and logic I did before. A large part of me has shifted forward and the rest is still stuck in the past. A large part of how I think, reason and decide. It creates a vague unease and uncomfortable feeling. One of the symptoms of this I will talk about now.

I've begun to have extremely strange dreams and nightmares recently. On a nap earlier I was convinced my truck had been stolen. The dream was so compelling that when I awoke it took me almost 10 minutes to realize I owned a car and it was sitting in my driveway. The images and situations within my dreams are so compelling that I believe them even after I awaken. Sometimes I forget who I am and believe myself to be my sleeping persona. I awaken to find myself alive or uninjured. I have even awoken to find that I did not have a beautiful fey lover beside me. As much as I love these brief escapes into unreality I know that this surge of intense dream activity is my mind sorting itself out. The images in my dreams are sharp and intense after a period of emotional and mental examination. I change who I am. And like the re-boot and defrag of a computer my mind has to make sense of it's new surroundings. The dreams are not all violent. Or all sexual, or all peaceful. Like the different and scattered aspects of a person they are all important in some regard or fashion. The fey lover is not an ideal mate. It's a fling for pleasure. The pleasure of an all out passionate love without consquences, the allure of their primal nature overwhelming to a human. Humans that are drawn taut by conflicting emotions and feelings. A deep relationship carries a different kind of feeling then a fling. How we choose to resolve these conflicts within ourselves is what truly defines who we are. My dreams are brutal and violent because in my past it was important for me to brutal and violent to survive. They are filled with images taken from my past, future, present and a world that is not seen: imagination. The eerie prophetic nature of my dreams is because my sub-conscious does not filter the content of my mind. I know what is coming, what is around by my mind filters it because it is inconvienant or even harmful. Of course sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

I am ready for this new year, ready to embrace a new persona and a new style to life. I am eager to prove myself to my peers, to my rivals and to everyone in the various facets of my expanding life. I'm finding new friends to replace old ones, new rivals to test myself against, new ideas to replace the misguided and perhaps most importantly I am ready to embrace myself. If you have read my blog beginning to end you must realize the self-loathing that came with my isolation and pain. The issues of trust I still struggle with aren't so easily defeated by they are starting to crumble. Perhaps many years from now I will be successful and famous enough to rewrite and publish this blog as a memoir. Someone who knows the pain of abuse, betryal, guilt, isolation, heartbreak and self-doubt will read this and realize that with effort and courage there is nothing you cannot change. First within yourself and then within the world.

Disturbing Dream, Reset everything.

2006-12-31T03:37:00.000-07:00

As promised here is my last post of the year. I'm glad to have it behind me too. It took alot of work but I've nearly undone all the mistakes and damage I brought upon myself. This next year is bright and filled with promise. Where as this year has been filled with suffering and misery, the next shall be filled with love and happiness. I am certain of it. It is my future to hold and I look forward to unraveling it and facing it's challenges head on. Tomorrow as a symbol of that I have invited a great number of people I've fought, wronged or disagreed with in the past to a big and hopefully fun party. It could be that I am a glutton for punishment.... lol.

I'm going to touch on a few things before I head to bed. One of them is religion. (Yes I see you all groaning.) A friend of mine asked me recently why I did not attend church on sunday. He seemed prepared to wrestle me down and convert me. So I did what I always do and told him the truth. I am in always in church.
A higher power created this earth. It is filled with his creation, creativity and his life. When I walk in darkness or in shadow I can feel the Tao around me. I feel it in the cold and in the warm. In the gentle touch of a companion of in the rough brush of an enemy. Energy and life surround us and the beauty of it is staggering.

I told him this. That the world was my church and to lock myself in a wooden box one day of the week would not further my appreciation of his work. I am certain that god wants his children to live full lives. Would you want your children to waste all of their time trying to appease you? Seriously? I would get bent out of shape and tell them to use their lives productively and in search of their own happiness, creativity and ambitions.

He sat for a second thinking of the right thing to say. The scripture... he began.
I cut him off rudely. I love words and the power that they can bring. But you will not find god in that book or any other. You can memorize as many lines as you want but it will not bring you a step closer. You can push your dogma on any helpless soul who wanders across your path. But you are not doing his work. He was taken back my sudden Tirade and tried to collect himself.

He is a smart man, and a devoted one but he could not find a response to my words. He asked me if I had read the scripture. I replied that I had. And that I had read the Tao Te Ching, The hebrew bible, The teachings of Buddha and Zhuangzi, Sikh and Hindu texts, two different translations of the bible and the Apocrypha. (I was slightly upset and wanted to one-up him. I'm human get over it; Although I have read all of them.)
"Why" he asked me? (He regained his composure at this point.)
"I wanted to find the truth." was my response.
"Did you"?
"I did"
"What is the truth then?"
"I can't tell you."
"Because you don't know?"
"Because I don't know how."
"How do you know it's the truth?"
"Because I feel it."
"What if thats how I feel."
"Then I respect that. Just don't try and convert me anymore."

After that the conversation turned to NWN2 mods and new rules for prestiege classes in 3.5.
No matter how hard people try and explain to me with words I cannot listen. Every person says the exact same empty words. When I close my eyes and feel the wind I can feel god or tao in it. I feel that hand of creation in the dirt and the air. I see it in the mountains and bright eyes of children. Every time I hear those words they come across as hollow to me. As if they live half a life because they are tied to a structure of belief that precludes god as a real father. I have been told that we cannot know god directly.. that is the reason for jesus and his church. But I refute that. I believe that not only can we know god directly we should know god directly.
A father wants nothing more then for his children to be happy.

Second topic. A strange dream.
Many of my dreams have come true. This kind of thing has bothered me for a long time. I've often that it was merely me making my dreams into reality. or me finding ways to make them come true. Moreoften my dreams are so vivid and the feeling so strong that I cannot help but commit them to paper. It's been some months since I have had a nightmare of any sort. I attribute alot of this to improved mental health and meditation. But last night I had one of those dreams that I fear is a omen for the future. It had energy within it that I cannot place and it defied my attempts at lucid dreaming. I was aware that my nightmare was real but I cannot awaken from it. My attempts to control it were also very limited.

I stood atop a high mountain filled with bright yellow flowers. Something here had made me very happy. I turned around I saw a well cut and maintained pine tree. Beneath it were people from my life. Some were their dream archtypes I remember before. The conflicted Assassin (Dwight), The Dark Maiden (Holley), The Frigid Maiden (Blackham), Nick (normal but looking pre-occupied), The gambler (Todd), The Druidess (Sollah), The Ghoul (Jenni) and many others whos faces I remember but names I cannot. Todd appeared to be himself mainly and Jenni was less undead then the last dream I had. They were all sitting, laughing and apparently having alot of fun. (Except Nick and Jenni who looked... lethargic.) I ran over to see them but the closer I ran towards them the farther they moved away from me. I chased and chased but I came no closer to them. I then realized that it was getting dark. I looked around for the sun but I couldn't see it. Yet their was still light around. This really unsettled me.

I couldn't find my friends and looked around for awhile. As it got darker and colder the flowers began to freeze, crack and bleed. Crimson blossomed on the petals and ran down the stems to the ground making it sticky and staining the ground red. I reached down and plucked one. IT was brittle as ice and shattered thusly. Blood soaked my hands as I held it.
I quickly threw the flower down and looked around more. It was now clearly nighttime. I could see a faded yellow moon directly above me. The light of the moon lit up the blood soaked fields with an eerie glow. I ran in what I think was north until I reached a jagged rocky ridge. I climbed it and looked around for my friends. I saw off in the distance a forest. Although it was not dark but lit with moonlight with dancing flitting shadows.

I wandererd into it almost on instinct. Off in the distance I could hear the baying of wolves. I saw some men in the forest and ducked to avoid them. Mountain Climbers by the looks of them. Each had a pick and robe in hand. Carefully moving through the forest I came across a seared circle in the woods. Something had burned a perfect and rather large clearing. In the middle I could see some of my companions. The Frigid maiden was walking towards someone I did not recognize right away. When I stepped closer I realized it was a demon. I could sense the evil radiate off of him the closer I came. But she did not slow her pace and walked right into his arms. I can feel cold wet snow starting to fall. Behind me I see my footsteps are marked with blood from the flowers. The blood glows slightly in the moonlight just as it had in the fields.

The others do not seem concerned about the demon. They sit contently speaking to each other and looking about the eerie (but beautiful) forest. The Assassin and his swords are near me. I point to the demon and ask if we should attack it. He shoulders and goes back to his conversation. The demon looks directly at me, his wings unfurl slightly and point toward me.
If he said something I could not understand it. I tried to draw my sword from my back but it wasn't there.

The Dark Maiden walks over to me and whispers into my ear. I don't understand the words.
Demon! Beast! Take your hands off of her I scream.
Instead she clings tightly to him, I feel at once jealousy and pain which erode my spirit slightly.
A few scattered memories come back to me, I realize now that the others have gathered around me or him. All speak in whispers and hushed tones. Nick asks me a question I can't remember now. I think I told him yes.

Time hung for a moment, like we lived inside a picture for a hundred years waiting for the ink to fade and our movement become free. The snow burns as it hits my skin.
In the distance I hear a river unthawing and remember my blades.

Ragining River is the name of my sword, in my mind it is an azure Katana. Balanced for my weight and height it fits into my hands perfectly becoming like another arm to me.
I flick my arms (as I trained myself) and draw the katana with a single smooth flowing motion. Beside me the conflicted assassin draws both his swords. However instead of a sword of dark and a sword of light he has two swords of light. The demon and I circle for a moment. The Icy maiden thrown aside and crying.

The Assassin moves around the demon trying to flank it. I step backwards trying to lure him into a tactical trap. The demon reads my eyes and soul. Instead he steps backwards and slashes on of the people huddled to him apart. I hear a cry of anguish but I dare not look down to see whom he cut. He starts to pan right towards more idle victims. Thinking of protecting them I charge forward and slash wildly. Without so much as blinking the demon parries with his arm and throws me backwards. I narrowly avoid stabbing myself as I land.

The assassin took advantage of this lapse and charged forward slashing over and over into the demons back. If it hurt the demon showed no sign. It merely turned and with a sudden sweep of his arm broke both swords. Stunned the assassin stepped backwards and tried regain his momentum. I felt terror from this being and started to run away. I ran past the trees soaked in moonlight. Past the clinging hands of my comrades and strait into that blood soaked field. The flowers were huge now and bleeding freely like foundations. The grass was slick with blood and I struggled to stand at first. Behind me the demon and assassin were fighting. I heard the shrill cry of pain as he was wounded over and over again. Staggering towards me I saw twisted black scars across his face and body. He fell without ceremoney face first into the slick of blood. Behind him the demon was walking towards me at a modest clip.

I ran farther and farther into the fields occasionally slipping on the blood and covering myself further. After a few moments I felt something reach around my legs and hold me fast. The trees roots had ensnared me. I hacked at it and blood began to spray out of it. Soon another and another grasped at me. I cut them all down and pushed myself up. The dark maiden was in front of me fighting the demon evenly. She held a jagged shard of nothing. It cut the demons skin like a hot knife cuts butter. The demon was apparently taken back and fought more aggresively throwing itself at her shadowy form over and over again.

I felt a fear that crippled me in my heart. The blood now covered me and I sought to stand despite it. I could barely hold onto Raging River and the Dark Maiden started to falter in her defense. Finally I found a foothold and launched myself toward the demon. With all my might I put my sword before me and flew strait into him. I missed somehow and ended up sprawled on the slope of the field. The dark maiden disappeared somehow and the demon turned back towards me. Leaving behind the heavy and slippery sword I run back into the forest.
I see everyone there wounded or crying. Jenni appears sick (however the undead look sick) and Nick seems out of it.

The demon is gone and the Icy Maiden is alive but injured. In defending her I put myself at risk and did nothing to actually aid her. Somewhere in the forest I could sense it was still awake, alive and searching.

Odd dream? yes I think so too. It's very rare that anything demonic appears in my dreams. Generally I am producted from their visit and feel only powers I allow in. This had the feel of a real and dangerous being somewhere close to my spiritual center. When I awake I checked myself over but found no obvious signs of taint or manifestation. I felt far off that something dark was watching me and waiting for me to move. Needless to say it's bothered me all day.

Despite the disturbing contents of this dream (I like the happy ones more) I am still prepared to make this year count for something. To find my strength and push my limits farther then I ever have before. Goodnight and happy new years.

Fear, Hope and a year bygone..

2006-12-30T02:15:00.000-07:00

2006 was a fantastically shitty year for me. No really. That bad. Maybe the worst in my life.
All pretense stripped away I can look at it from a new perspective. It can't get worse.
People have told me that with the state of the world the way it is they aren't sure they can ever be happy. They resist having children or making plans. Fear of the future motivates them.
Everyone I know has suffered in this last year, some have even died. And they speak more and more of the pain and uncertainty of the future. They live each year exactly as they did the last and repeat each of the mistakes. That is the very ideal of crazy to do the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. They lock themselves into a cycle of work and broken relationships.

I do not fear the uncertainty of the future anymore. I know that simple statement sounds full of bluster and unrealistic, and perhaps it is unrealistic but hear me out.
We are afraid because we cannot control the future, the future does not exist yet. I can still change it, the past is the past forever and there is nothing I can do about it. But the future I can master... I can conquer it still.
The world is filled with chaos, death and pain. I will not lie. I have faced insanity and death and they have taught me to have a new and more full understand of sanity and life. Too many good people have resigned themselves to "stay the course" with their lives. Fear once more has won.
Without ever trying to change the world so many have given up completely on it. They lament about the status of their lives and yet do nothing to change. The cycle repeats until by chance or design it is broken. I do not live by fear or guilt or pity. I reject those phantoms without substance. I accept instead hope, determination and respect. Either side can effect change and move the world... but which would you rather have?

I speak of a single life and the status of the world as if they are one thing. Really I think that is true. From a distance mankind is a human entity and the health of that entity would be much greater if everyone cared about those around them. Technology has brought us closer together then ever before; yet it can be used as a weapon, a tool of deception or means to a darker end.
A single life has an incredible effect on the entire world, if raised with love a child can move on to do anything. The world lives or dies by each new generation... and a generation raised in fear will balk at the tasks before us.

I'm leaving this year behind. All the baggage, fear, unhappiness, anger, pain and everything else.
I want to feel hope and I just don't think that I can feel both fear and hope at once. Whatever it takes to change this world I am ready to do it whatever the personal cost; even my life is a cheap price to change the world. I imagine however that I am not the first to think that, I should instead live for my ideal. Live for that hope in our future and in the future of our children.

When this year ends I will raise a class of Sake to my closest friends and toast this year goodbye. I will remember the lessons I have learned, lick the wounds I have suffered and move on. Like the Tao I hold so dearly I must be prepared to change and move on. I have alot of friendships still left to fix and that will be at the top of my agenda before (if) I go to Ohio.
Goodnight everyone. I'll post once more before new years eve a list of reflections and other misc things that didn't fit the tone of this post.

Vikings, Archtypes and Influences.

2006-12-27T03:58:00.000-07:00

Been awhile since I've put anything up. I'd like to say I've been busy with my varying projects but thats just not true. Most of my time lately has been directed toward my family or recovering from one of the nasty bugs floating around. Car is still broken but I now know what's wrong with it(Finally). The compiling of my sourcebook has barely moved, my second blog is barren, I have taken opportunities to practice my writing but none of those experiments merit any space here and lastly I've played a fair amount of Stronghold 2/Tactics Ogre.

Norse mythology has long been used as a basis for fantasy. Long standing rumor is Tolkien borrowed heavily from it; even the one ring is said to be borrowed from the legendary Andvarinaut. Ever since playing Valkyrie Profile I've paid more attention to nordic trends in fantasy and I saw plenty in both games I've been playing recently. I've been thinking about how mythology (Most notable being Norse) should fit into it, I'm not a big fan of using names directly from mythology... I prefer making my characters from scratch using an archtype or perhaps even inverting an archtype that exists in history. Creating new archtypes is ideal but requires a tremendous amount of work and creative insight... not to mention a deep understand of the cultural framework you are working inside. I could make a new thor but that doesn't mean that he would fit the culture of thor perfectly. In fact it might seem clumsy and amateur if I were to create a new Thor.

A few months ago during the rewrite of the gods I came up with Sorrent the Ice Lord.
Not particularly nordic sounding but I had some good concepts to play with. In also covered some needed holes in the origins of certain races in my setting. (Dwarves mostly...) It also gave me a cultural framework for northern barbarians; who until this point had been severely lacking in culture. Sorrent himself was a pretty basic Ice Giant warlord god. Everything about his personality can be found in that sentence. A good lesser deity perhaps but not something worthy of what I need. No I need a rival to Thor and Odin. I need a deity that has ballads sung in his honor... something that invokes the heroic norse ideal.

Playing off established archtypes is good move for alot of reasons. A. It's easier to visualize for both reader and writer. B. It requires less backstory/explanining when you take an ancient culture and reuse it. I already have to describe and explain new cultures and races and taking some off the reader/players plate is alot of help. D. The Nordic mythology fits perfectly into a setting based on the conflict between creation and destruction. So perfectly in fact that when I toyed with the idea of making a new culture for the northern tribes it ended up like a bastard child of the eskimos and the norse. It's hard to improve on something that fits so well.

Originally when I started this setting (14 years ago give or take) I had a very limited scope of both imagination and knowledge. I was creative but because the intake of ideas was so limited (Mostly by poverty and social isolation) that the output of ideas was equally narrow. The result was a basic D&D knockoff setting (Which is ironic because I hadn't yet played D&D). I was however a prolific reader of poorly written TSR/Wizards fantasy series (Mostly famously dragonlance which actually got better.) and much better fiction (Terry Brooks novels). By reading them I devloped a strong sense of the fantasy "archtypes". The Noble Warrior (Sturm Brightblade/Caramon), The Token Dwarf (Flint... poor Flint), The mascot/comic relief (Tas), The tormented soul (Raistlin/Tanis/Wil Ohmsford) and even the Naive female royalty (Laurana, Amberle). I didn't however identify with them much. I understood them but found them to be extremely patronizing and overly simplified. (Except Raistlin... but thats a different bag all together)
I vowed to avoid using such simple and uninteresting archtypes in my own writing/design.

Instead my archtypes are rooted in psychology and history. Occasionally I play off a traditional fantasy archtype. For example: Springer the Kobold isn't a great fighter. He's small and aside from being a genius with mechanical devices (Mainly traps) he's not very smart or charismatic. He is however funny, honest, loyal and serious often. In some ways you can compare him to Tasslehoff Burrfoot. But Springer doesn't have the (Obnoxious) kender immunity to fear. Springer goes to fight alongside his friends because he loves them and wants to protect them. Tas feels no fear it's not hard for him to risk his life. The archtypes are not copies but rather guidelines (Which I frequently break anyway), all writers use them rather they do so intentionally or not. It plays off our natural instinct to judge and to catagorize things.
This itself could be a lengthy topic of discussion but I need to return back to the problem of Nordic archtypes.

In creating a Norse sub-setting without using the pre-existing gods I am taking a number of risks and doing something that quite honestly could be out of my reach as a writer/designer right now. Yet it is what the setting calls for. I could leave this entire corner of my world alone and nobody would notice (Thats what I've doing for 14 years anyway); But that would be denying an important (and interesting) new viewpoint and set of ideals to my world.
My conclusion?

Cheap knockoff gods (Like a ripoff Thor/Odin) are no good, Cheap original gods (Like Sorrent) are ok for lesser deities (Who nobody cares about)... I can use an existing archtype or one of my own (Crafted from my knowledge of psychology, a secret weapon in the world of stale-generic fantasy) but it has to fit into both the original nordic culture and my settings unusual history and power structure. Ultimately I think that it is the last and perhaps best option I will take: To merge the nordic culture with something else. A fusion of idealology.
The Vikings invaded England and their culture changed drastically. If the vikings invade another Drakkorian society what would happen? If they invade a society that relies on machines you could have technology wielding barbarians(Or technology fearing). Or if they invade an oriental society. The concept of honor and discipline from the subjegated would change the direction of their culture dramatically. What about a viking culture that is exagerated in some area? More tribal and more pagen then before... a viking society that rejects gods and focuses on spirits or totems.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't a diehard perfectionist.
Goodnight everyone.

Lies, damn lies and statistics

2006-12-21T03:44:00.000-07:00

Before I get on to my musing I'm going to say a few words.

Anyone who knows me also knows that I take my beliefs seriously. I examine them constantly and fight for them even more fiercely. I've come to believe that the war being waged against freedom of personal expression, privacy and civil liberties is more dire then I thought before.
When the announcement is made this next year I'm going to move back east and work for Barack Obama for president. I've thought and considered it for a long time and I feel that in a state as red as Utah I can't change a single mind. But in a place like Ohio or Florida I could change the entire election (in theory)by changing a few minds. I'll be alone and chances are I won't know many people but I feel it's the right thing to do. If Barack doesn't win the nomination I don't know if I'll go help anyone else or not. Obama is the man to fix the direction in our country and if pounding in a few lawn signs or answering a few phones will help put him there it's a small price to pay. Details are forthcoming as plans and information is confirmed.

Todays musing is brought to you by the band VAST and Mark Twain. The product of his unholy union is... well read and find out.

Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest.
-Mark Twain

Conventional wisdom is honesty is the best policy, but I'm finding in modern society the truth is more elusive then ever before. Oftentimes even the speaker does not know the truth. The listener does not know the truth and each who speak after them are just as confused as to the truth.
"spin" has been around for thousands of years. Kings and warlords weren't squishmish about putting the right spin on a story to bring themselves glory or capital. The famous Jedi Obi Wan said that the truth is a matter of point of view. He spun the death of Anakin Skywalker as murder by Darth Vadar and this tempered Luke's resolve to defeat Vadar and restore the Jedi.

Is that use of spin justified? Is a subtle manipulation of the facts justified if it leads to good? The truth is rarely well received. I've told people how I felt and had them attack and revile me. Yet a simple lie turns them into a staunch ally. If you tell people what they want to hear they will accept it rather it is the truth or not. If the truth is feared or unwelcome you will be met with anger and found suspect. Of all moral problems this one is most severe to me. To deceive for personal gain is wrong... but what about to deceive for the gain or benefit of others?

I lie in battle or contest often, it's called misdirection or feinting. I have no qualms with it because it's part of how things are done. It's a tactical manuver and not a moral dilemma. Treating life as a game and making tactical choices would make me vastly more successful in every area... but is that the kind of person I want to be? Could I handle how people would come to treat and feel about me? and more importantly could I feel good about myself treating and thinking of people in such a way? I don't think that I could and moreover I think my actions would change who I am until I did not care any longer.

I've come to believe that in order to effect real change you have to be honest with yourself. If you lie to yourself then you should be prepared to the consquences of that. You will grow twisted and your growth different from intended. In love I would prefer the brutal honesty to the spin and lies. In dealing with my rivals or enemies I don't see a problem with spin. Perhaps a boundry between my social and professional life is what I need. For my friends the honest truth and for my enemies a maze of lies and illusions. Then again I've long maintained that an open book with no secrets is harder to attack then one that is hidden from sight.

Spin and white lies will not slide my soul into a path of evil... but it doesn't seem like the right choice still. I think like all others I am forced to battle with question eternally and case by case. If my answers were uniform then I would be predictable and inhuman. I am not special or evolved beyond other humans. Occasionally I will deceive for my own personal gain or for the gain of others. That omission alone is an action of honesty to be met with scruitiny. Why would I tell the truth about my willingness to lie unless I wanted people to know I was capable of it?

However the end all of this arguement is simple to anyone who knows me. I am a terrible liar.
If the world counted on my ability to deceive I would advise hasty goodbyes to your loved ones.

Goodnight, truth be with you.

Syndrome and Isolation

2006-12-17T02:29:00.000-07:00

Aspergers Syndrome occupies a spot among the most undiagnosed and socially pervasive disorders in psychology. The news it's received recently had me thinking about it today. But before I share any commentary on it I should shed some light on the basics. If my details are a bit off I am sorry as this is coming from my rather poor memory.

Aspergers is a highly functional form of autism that effects the patients abilities to interact socially. It's most commonly found in males but recent studies show it may be more common in females then first thought; females who are naturally shy tend to be harder to diagnose. Aside from the social awkwardness it has few other side effects. The patients are more often then not fully functional in terms of logic and problem solving and other areas that autistic people suffer from. Aspergers patients have trouble reading the body and voice signals of others, they are socially and emotionally detached from others and have a difficult time forming lasting relationships. It's also commonly noted that Aspergers patients have a lack of "spiritual" feeling as well. Social problems are not always apparent and often mis-diagnosed leading to a host of other problems such as depression (even to the point of cutting or self-mutilation), extreme isolation (which leads to making the situation worse), or anti-social (perhaps even criminal) behavior.

I was thinking about it today and my own isolation lately. I've never had problems reading the emotional or physical cues of others... In fact it's something I've become very skilled in. As common as it's projected (in new theoretical research... Take it with a grain of salt) I could know someone with this disease and not even realize it. I can't imagine being born without the ability to read others feelings. So much of our life is interconnected and it would be like making the web of life one way; taking away that connectivity doesn't make a person any less human. But I have to wonder what kind of effect it would have on the psyche. Humans are social creatures and removing or mitigating that social aspect is like losing a vital emotional limb.

My own anti-social tendencies are defensive in nature. When I'm hurt or confused I isolate myself... In a way I am giving away the advantages of a social networtk. Not all defensive reactions are good and I think in this case it could be extremely bad for me. It's a common enough defense mechanism but how effective is isolation compared to community? It helps in avoiding hurt but would the healing effect of friends and family outweigh that? I have to wonder if those Aspergers patients would hold me in contempt for intentionally/reflexively isolating myself when I am (in theory) fully capable of being a social person.

All these things put my own problems in a different light. It reminds me of a saying: Ships in a harbor are safe... But that's not what ships are made for.
My goals sit unaccomplished because the social aspect of my life is in extreme atrophy. I am sick because of my own choices. The isolation was helpful (and one could argue essential) to my repairing myself but now the need has passed it's holding me down.
This reminds me of another quote. I think to do this one justice I will have to copy and paste it.

Man never reasons so much and becomes so introspective as when he suffers, since he is anxious to get at the cause of his sufferings.
-Luigi Pirandello

There you have it. Wise words from a truly gifted Italian writer. (Albeit quite an emo one)
Consider everything, reject the impossible and embrace the choices that lead you to happiness. (not a quote from anyone, just a random thought of mine) Even if those considerations require me to open up to new (and old) people. This is a theme I need to consider more in the future.

Upgrade

2006-12-16T04:34:00.000-07:00

Following the tragic death of my computer I found myself upgrading for the first time in years. The process of shifting and sorting my varied files into order is bringing up alot of buried feelings. I honestly thought alot of this stuff was lost. Old Dos games, pictures I thought destroyed/lost, music I haven't listened to since highschool, AIM logs, half-written stories, old Dungeons and Dragons adventures and absolutely ancient diary entries.

I wish I could upgrade as easily as my computer, pop in some ram and Shaaazam! Faster.
It isn't like that however, humans upgrade emotionally, physically and even spiritually over time and in increments. Trying to force it all at once is a foolish hope. I know I'm contridicting myself right now but I was wrong earlier. Sudden change is less sudden then it appears. (Which I have covered before) I could certainly use an emotional firewall or memory upgrade but even if such things were possible they would come with time and effort. My mantra used to be investment in self is the only thing you can count on. I was alot tougher and smarter back then. But knowing that I had that shows me that I can have it again, it can be recovered, re-examined and reinstalled.

The hardest part of unearthing 5 years of memories is the temptation to delve into them. To live in the fantasy of the past. Well; thats just what the past is: Fantasy. It doesn't exist anymore and whats more human memory is extremely mutable. It changes over time (Well documented by the psychologist Piaget and others) and adjusts itself to emotional conditions. A distant & failed love seems brighter when your lonely or unhappy for example. Without some kind of external memory such as a diary or log your likely to have incorrect memories of the past. Then again I peddle in fiction so I shouldn't be concerned with keeping perfect logs of my life, if the details are fudged it only proves I'm still human.

My memories of highschool are universally happy while my memories of Jr High are universally unhappy. I was a happier person in highschool but I don't think the actual difference was as pronounced as I feel it now. The best part of all is false and modified memories are eternal until disproven. I think people with happy dispositions tend to paint their memories alittle brighter whereas "McEmopants" might paint everything as darker and more depressing then it really should be. I tend to review things that have happened to me and that I've done frequently. I think this gives me a more logical view of myself; but by no means more accurate.

"The unexamined life is not worth much" -Socrates

So very cold inside.

2006-12-11T07:24:00.000-07:00

I look back at the last two years and I'm just struck with amazement over how different I've become. I feel like this trial has increased my potential while at the same time dragging me down into the sewers and beating the shit out of me.
I'm tired. It's not the cold thats been passing around (Which doesn't help). It's that I am tired of fighting inside myself. I'm tired of being all torn up inside.
I went from being the person who helped others to the person who needed help most of all; I have come to appreciate the shift in perspective... but what I really want is to be me again. I want to reach out and fullfill my potential again and look to the future instead of wallowing in my past.

I've been running and running afraid to face anything.
That changes now. Right as I type these words to you.
Change that I have fostered in myself is too slow. I do in increments what I should do with a force of will.

I have felt trapped in this last year. Trapped in a life not of my creation. In a world that I stumbled along, that instead of embracing me kept me around for pity and memory. I wanted to get angry, it's been built up inside me for so long and now it's finally come to forefront. Burning anger. Boiling emotion.
If your sick of my exposition let me switch gears for you.

Cold does not foster the change I am looking for. Emotions obey the same universal laws as everything else. Anger, passion and fire. It goes beyond simple metaphor and becomes something primal about creation itself. Love is capable of changing someone, passion is capable of changing someone and so is cold.
But cold doesn't make you into a passionate person, it doesn't burn away the impure and leave the pure and the most desired. Cold locks things in place and keeps them from being natural. It kills the lively and preserves that which is already dead. In people the cold makes for isolation, ignorance, bigotry and close mindedness. It's no wonder that such people are called "frigid" or "cold hearted".

Yes I hurt people with my words and my thoughts earlier, but I hurt myself saying them. I hurt after I wrote them and as I write this I hurt with the memory of it. Yet I do not regret it. I had to torch the ice around my heart and if the only fuel I had was anger then so be it. It does not burn as clean or long as a heart filled with the passion of love, or the warmth of friendship. But it does burn brightly and intensely. No more running and certainly no more wasting time when I should moving ahead with all speed.

I burn away the shackles to my past, the grudges so ill-conceived and the pain of memory. I may writhe in fire but I will finally be free.
Enough metaphors. I'm going to bed.

Nobody likes tortured artists

2006-12-06T06:08:00.000-07:00

Many writers were highly productive in times of great pain or strife. The japanese writer Dazai Osamu or his american peer Hemmingway come to mind. Of course both of them gave up and killed themselves which makes them poor role models overall. The tortured, exiled, outcasted and forsaken are known for creating a large body of work; most of that work is hollow. It lacks the vitality of life that so many other authors can capture. For every pain in my heart I feel as those lonely dejected men did: That life is cruel and unfair, that I am destined never to improve or be acknowledged. All this does is disconnect me from the flow of life.

It's easy to remove yourself from society. To rail against it from afar. This is a gross misuse of words. We should not be sheep, nor should we be fools. Railing from afar rarely if ever brings about change. Nor does it improve our situation. It may or may not produce a work of genius... but more then likely it will be as pitiful as the author is. The writer feels better, perhaps he changes a few minds and attracts other tortured souls; but in the long run nobody remembers a generation for it's tortured souls.

I hurt for more reasons then I can count. The temptation to fall into this pattern of writing and feeling is immense. It's benefits immediate and appealing. It's another struggle in a soul that is torn in many directions already.
Already I have slid into it partly and I can see myself in the future falling deeper and deeper into it. Every new cut opens my older wounds which bleed anew.
When I was faced with death I felt nothing but regret. Regret for love... regret for my writing, regret for those I would leave behind. Fear was secondary to that feeling that I failed at life. Here I am now with a bleeding heart that won't be staunched and a tormented soul. I try to connect to that flow of life and I can't. An empty and tortured being is counter to that great tao or energy.

For a long time I felt I had something to prove to the world. I had to excel where others had declared I would fail. I had to validate my existance because so many around me denied it's worth. I believed them in my heart and tried so hard to do it. Sometimes I would not and broke down and gave up. You cannot impress others intentionally even if it's your sole wish and desire. Moreover in recent time I have tried to prove to myself that my existance is justified, I have forced my own growth when it should be natural... I am not free to love with an open heart because I am not who I am suppose to be. Everything causes something else; as time goes on the messes get larger and larger until I cannot know where to begin to fix them. Everything I am now is a mess and counter-to what I am inside, the true me. I know that so many things in this world are short lived, there are people I love that I cannot tell I love because the pain to me is so great. I cannot release my pain or anger... anger which feels cold and hollow. Because I cannot let go of that pain I can't and shouldn't love anyone or anything.

Yes. I have chosen to change who I am. But really all I am doing is unmasking who I am. Every new nick and cut stings me, for this process is open and peels away the thick skin I have devloped. Some of my plans for the future have to be abandoned. Some of my dreams can never be reality. There are people I care for that I cannot never express my love for, I will never see them again and if that wasn't enough I am certain that the frustration will only grow worse as the obstacles rise behind what I can accomplish myself. Help is not in god or the tao. Help is in the laugher of a friend, in their embrace and companionship. It's in the acceptance of life and all that stands for.
I have always known the answer to my problems, and even now I would rather suffer and struggle then accept and follow it. Maybe when I've run out of walls to scale I'll turn around and face why I am really truly hurting.

Goodnight.

Untitled.

2006-11-26T05:49:00.000-07:00

I've spent quite a bit of time talking about my past and present. Most recently about my inability to muster any real anger. Some of the people I talked about were angry and that anger was justified. They are part of my life and regardless of what they think I have every right to share my feelings. However I am choosing to waive that right and I will not publish names or details of other people I know without permission from now on. (Unless I don't like you, then grease up because I'm coming for you.)

If I've talked about this before I am deeply sorry. But this topic has to be disscussed before I complete my thoughts for this entry. One of my primary fears is of failure and it's no secret. I've long been torn by the part of me that is daring and outgoing and the part that is careful and shy. Failure is one of the worsr feelings in the world... disappointment... shame... etc. You feel them all when you fail and more importantly you are denied those basic human desires for acknowledgement and accomplishment. I have always been afraid of failure and therefore I have been unwilling to try... if I do not try then I cannot fail.

One of the upsides to a period of reflection and personal growth is problems like these get some attention. Slowly I am unearthing that sense of self that I lost. I am digging up that pride and honor that were buried and tarnished. I think of all things a sense of who I am is more important then anything else. The word I have used before is a "sense of my own destiny" which I am certain I stole from somewhere. But alas since I cannot remember I cannot attribute. I know what I want and what I have to do... slowly I am becoming a person of actions and not merely of thoughts. I have changed the very basis of my weaknesses and shortcomings and turn them into strengths. Fear of failure? Determination not to fail.

My destiny is not one of blood or violence. Nor is it a path of peace. But my path is in the hearts of those who read my words. Every person who reads my words will know my feelings and find in themselves their own destiny. My struggle is not unique... all people struggle and changing the situation doesn't change the determination they all feel. I struggle with illness... there are others more ill then I. I struggle with loss? Others have lost more. If the only thing I am remembered for is putting words to that determination... that struggle then I count my life as well spent.

But that won't be all. I have too much to accomplish. Overcoming is not the end. It is the beginning. I will use my words to reach the hearts of people and do good. Every heart I reach out to feels like mine, feels heartbreak, rejection, loss, determination, joy, sadness and hope. They are not alone and neither am I.

Good Night everyone.

In Loving Memory

2006-11-26T05:38:00.000-07:00

Goodbye Jade. I'll miss you. Until I see you on the other side stay out of trouble.

Fire and Ice

2006-11-22T04:12:00.000-07:00

I've been a broken record for quite some time. Going over the myrid side effects of my illness... the pain and problems of my childhood. But I have skirted something else that I have been afraid to talk about. Yes it deals with my being sick... but it's different then you imagine. As one friend put it "Isn't it a good thing kind of?".

I haven't felt angry... really angry in a long time. I act angry but inside I feel cold and empty. Like an ice that burns. Anger should feel hot and fill your belly with fire... not feel cold and hollow. In truth I have felt this way in more then just my anger... I avoid making choices or commitments because I have most my desire, passion and drive. Like A robot I've moved and acted without feeling...

Tonight I put my favorite song on and listened. For those not in the know it's "The Warmth" by Incubus. I thought about how medicore I've become. Not just as a writer but as a human being. I've failed as everything I've wanted to become and I've done nothing of what I wanted to do. I have no edge or skill anymore... I second guess when I should know for certain; I hesitate when I should act. I act when the best course of action is to stay. My internal compass is massively off.

I haven't faced my pain, my hurt and my anger. I advise others to face their problems but I myself do nothing. I'm still frozen up in my pain and hurt. I've dealt with the problems of my mind... and of the ailing spirit. But my emotional health is still dangerously poor. I'm strong now. Strong enough to do this. These are all people who have hurt me and I still carry that hurt.

James Rands. You were a terrible father and the childhood I lost because of you is something I can never get back. Love does not excuse hurting someone. I never hated you but I would've been within bounds if I had. You could not control me or break me, I am what I am and I will not be ashamed of it.

Jenni. I gave you my heart and you smahed it without a second thought. Whatever ill will I have given you is well deserved. When I needed you most you found the arms of another. Your terrible crimes didn't stop with me and sadden and hurt me deeply to think about even now. What you are now is not something I can never love: a selfish creature. You don't merit my hate. Your future is one I should pity.

Holly Blackham. You hurt me out of ignorance, not out of malice or spite. To protect yourself and I can't find qualm with that. Had you known how much a word from a friend would've lit up my life I think you would've talked to me more.

Xerath. Your an ass and a tyrant. I didn't stab you in the back; I came right for your throat. And I told you I was coming you son of a bitch. I only regret that I couldn't have been the one to push you off your throne you pompus bully.

My 5th grade teacher. Most teachers encourage their students hobbies and interests. When you told me my writing sucked and I had no hope of publishing it... I tore all 340 pages of that novel to pieces and didn't pick up a pen for years after that. Had I not been a child I would've understood the envy and frustration you felt and let it slide. But I was a child and your words cut me deeply. Even now I am secretive about anything I have written... paranoid even.

Holley Gulso. Perhaps the person who knows me best. The person who knows my mind and heart, every weakness and certainly every secret. My anger at you has an unfathomable quality: No direction. For years I have felt oppressed by my feelings for you.. both as friend and more. You did nothing wrong yet the endless frustration I feel comes from something. Your evasive about your feelings. Emotionally you are like a proverbial black hole eating away at all the matter in my life. Yet I could never hate you, I could never be angry at you for long, I could never attack you or confront you. It angers me that something like this floats in the air. That you hide everything in your air of normality.

Thats the top of a pretty short list. The people I have been closest to have been the ones to hurt and anger me most.
Even as I type this. And remember this pain. It still doesn't burn hot in my belly. It feels unnatural and wrong. I want to be angry. When I was angry I could say I felt alive and filled with passion... filled with something that isn't cold and lonely. My mind is healing, my body is healing and my spirit is healing.
So why does this one aspect of my life defy healing? Perhaps the isolation and reflection that brought the repair of my mind has damaged my emotional health further... perhaps it is because I haven't told people how I feel. I haven't talked to them honestly and I haven't faced my emotional pain in a serious matter.

The next step is to free myself of all that binds me. I have to be free to find the truth and ultimately so that I can be happy and angry again. Because without that anger I don't ever feel calm or relaxed. It has to be released.

The Will to Power

2006-11-16T05:11:00.000-07:00

Nietzche was a complicated man. He was a christian that deeply hated the large body of christianity. He was in constant emotional and physical pain from illness and isolation. Most of his latter work is incoherent and compares to high school trite and ranting. But one idea that he had always seems to stick out to me. The will to power.

In simple terms it means that the meaning of life is to gain power.
Indeed there is a basic instinct towards power. People flock to it, they idolize it and worship it. They pay everything they have for the smallest piece of it.
Power is something that defies explanation. You can get power with respect, money, love, leadership, unique skills, deception, chance, planning and a host of other ways. Yet the methods to attaining power tell us nothing of the primal nature of power itself. Some people just seem to radiate power. They have charisma, intelligence and something more. An X factor that cannot be defined. A sense of self? Ego? Maybe in part.

They dominate parties, they are the center of social circles, they win elections, gather followers, convert the wayward and a host of other things. Democracy has not changed the nature of power in the slightest. These people who wield "power" are the center of our human experiences. They are our kennedys and our rockfellers and they are the height of our human experience. They experience the greatest joys and the deepest sorrows. For a person who wields power there is inside the burning quest for more power. Power to control an idea or a thought or a belief. Fear and intimidation are power and so are hope and courage. Power is behind all things. All actions and thoughts... every emotion.

Everything is motivated by power. Rather that power be used for good, evil or both. My hat is off to Nietzche. The will to power is the start of a deeper question. Why is that the meaning of life? If we were beings of pure kindness without the desire to compete against each other then we would be little more then animals. No drive or ambition to accomplish anything.
If our world was not harsh but instead peaceful. If we had a perfect harmony with the world and adapted to it... we would not improve either. Without our desire for power we would do nothing and become nothing.

In that regard the only logical answer is that evil and power are needed for the ultimate good. That in order to ascend to the level we have to reach: god is pushing us to learn what is needed. Does god feel it to? Did he attain his power and wisdom as we do: By trial and error? Evil and good are flip sides of the same coin. But that coin is power.

Bleh Cable

2006-11-10T05:09:00.000-07:00

The worst part about getting cable TV is catching a show you like in a marathon. Take for example Angel on TNT.
I've seen just enough scattered Buffy episodes to follow the plot, but I certainly haven't seen enough angel episodes to jump into a marathon. This illuminates my dark burning desire to watch things beginning to end all at once. Kenshin? The West Wing? Ghost in the shell? I always want/have to watch a series all at once or it erodes my sanity. I cannot count how many nights I've spent watching and re-watching a series; watch each twist in the plot and every action with an exacting gaze.

It's a problem certainly. I'm going to have to go buy some DVDs before too long...

Sudden Transformations

2006-11-08T05:23:00.000-07:00

I thought perhaps with the backdrop of massive national change going on; This would be a good time to talk about my own personal changes. I'm sorry for beating a dead horse but I haven't gotten this all out of my system yet... and being mostly a blog about me it's not out of place. Although it may in fact be boring.

Most of what I'm talking about is in context to how I view the world. I came to realize early in my life that I was pretty damn unusual. Here is some observations of my life to prove this point. Sort of a history of me in brief. I was raised to be morman but rejected by the time I was 10 for brain washing me. I'm not sure how many 10 years decide actively that they are being brain washed and walk away from their families religion. But there I was. On the opposite side of the field I had the bad influence that was my father. He consistantly offered me beer, birth control and even ciggarettes. I looked down on this nearly as much as the church. I literally felt like I had to choose between religion or a life of hedonistic bohemia, yet neither felt right for me.

When I was very very young I was tormented by other children. I had no strong parental influences, mentors or friends. My father spent most of my childhood either drunk, on his way to getting drunk, working or in jail. Sometimes when he was drunk he would beat me for something. Then the next memory forget it had ever happened. He would verbally abuse me far more often. Occasionally he would decide to buddy up to me. Instead of doing what I liked we went on fishing trips and monster truck rallies. In the almost 23 years of my life thus far my father has yet to sit down and actually learn about me.
Instead of being like him I became the image of my mother. Perhaps it haunted him in a way; it would explain in large part the rift that exists between us. He never recovered from my mothers death. To tried to fill his life with all kinds of things.. most of which I disapprove of. Looking back at it I understand how he came to his conclusion in life. But that doesn't mean I agree with it.

I never picked a side in the religion vs pleasure debate. The pressures from my friends and family urged me toward the church. The pressure from my father urged me to a darker path. Instead I felt both were wrong and rejected them harder and harder. I was naturally very passive as a child. But as my torment grew and grew I become more overtly controlling, more angry and occasionally more violent. I became more assured of myself and started to collect actual friends. I threw myself into a variety of studies and by the time I finished Jr High I had a college level knowledge of a variety of topics.

It was that summer between 9th and 10th grade that my life shifted. I had a falling out with my friends and the community of misfits and gamers I belonged to. Among them I had been one of the best. A power broker of sorts and known for my ruthless playing style. These friends pressured me into drugs, acts of violence, sexuality and even the occult. I rejected and struggled with it for a long time before I finally fell out with them. I spent the last two months of the summer in my own self-imposed exile. It was during this time that I became even more reflective. I spent days in the library reading about religion, psychology, philosophy. I read Kant, Lao Tzu, Nietzche, Bacon, Mill and a host of great minds and spiritualists. I found for the first that men other then myself that felt as I did. It was very liberating for me. I grew more in those two months then I did the two years before it. I realized fairly quickly that I was a taoist.

It was not a choice that I made. But instead I realized that it was what I truly believed in. I had known it all my life but never had a name for it. I took great pains to cut the evil and the anger from my heart. When I reached highschool I was a new person. I had a job, took AP classes and wrote with great intensity.
I moved from the dirty, crime ridden ghetto back to my grandparents house.
I even made friends, the majority of them were morman but I no longer rejected it as strongly as I did before. I tolerated their beliefs and even came to agree with them in certain areas. It would take a severe and nearly fatal infection to undo all the accomplishments of this era of my life.

That transformation was incredible, it occured almost instantly and had profound long term effects for me. It was there and then that I learned the power of... well power.
I guess Willpower is the more precise term. I did everything I wanted to do. I merely willed myself into doing it. Even if something meant emotional pain or public embarassment I did it anyway. I pushed myself far harder then I had the means to sustain and burned myself out. A lesson well learned.

Now. I am on the horns of another transformation. People have foisted religion in my face again. (Yes... that means you Dwight) and I know in my heart that it isn't right. Churches are prisons for the soul, they do not build you up or treat your soul as something unique.. but rather a generic soul. Everything is right or wrong. It's us or them. But as someone who studies psychology I can tell you that is just a ploy. If you set your organization against everything else... then it strengthens your position. When people come along and attack your church or religion you feel your leaders words and actions were justified. Not every person of faith falls into this pit... but enough do that it frightens me. Cults, Churches, Con-artists and dictators have used this trick forever. Look at North Korea. The people are starving to death but they still support their leader because "he" is leading them against the world which seeks to undermine them. I could list examples both in history and modern all day. But I feel it's a waste of good words. I can distill my beliefs into words. Here is a tip of the iceberg.

I believe in Life, Freedom, Happiness, Hope, Karma, A higher power, Big Foot, Love, Destiny, Passion, Evil likes to disguise itself as good, Ego is more dangerous then WMD's, Pride is a double edged sword, No matter what happens people are going to get hurt, Some people cannot be redeemed or saved, Everything has an opposite.. be it an idea or something else, Moderation in all things... even moderation itself, something is worth as much as someone else is willing to pay for it, there are no stupid ideas, you shouldn't break the law unless the law is wrong.. then you should break it often and loudly, being different isn't a crime... being ashamed of being different is a crime, thou shalt not kill, boredom might not be fatal... but never take the chance, no person has more rights then another... they might be superior/inferior in some fashion but it does not afford them better or worse rights, I will never master basic math, only steal if you have no choice.. then don't get caught, hiding things makes them into a weakness... an open book is far harder to attack, you can grant forgiveness but it will not restore trust, keep your friends close and your enemies closer, don't fight on your enemies terms, don't lie to someone smarter then you, there is no such thing as defeat unless you are dead, he who learns to run away is he runs another day, if your enemy does not reveal a weakness use one of yours, love is not blind but it is deaf, if you read this your a better person then I would be, don't let yourself run out of enemies, conflict is better then comfort, an easy victory is less satisfying then a well fought defeat, trust is more valuable then diamonds or gold, you never really know a person, everyone thinks their religion is right... guess what your all wrong, sex is not evil unless it's with Hitler or an animal, courage is more powerful then charisma, there is no greater struggle in this world then between reality and fantasy, aliens exist but think we are too stupid to merit conversation, the goverment is out to get you but doesn't know how yet, kindness should be practiced with all people even your enemies and being a good person is not a requirement for a good life... but it helps.

I believe in more then just that. But I wanted to make a point. Transformations are not sudden but happen behind the scenes where they cannot be seen. Do you believe that all of the things I've listed could arise at once? A swift transformation is either fake or an supressed and coming forward. Take born-again christians. The idea of being a christian isn't new to them... they are aware of the those ideas and teachings... but something occurs which causes those beliefs to come to the forefront or to reorganize. It's not sudden, it's water backed up behind the dam. For me the water has backed up for quite some time, pain has created a fear of change and healing it in isolation is very hard. Now that I am of sound mind and spirit I wait for the dam to break and wave of change to transform me. Only unlike the hapless who is overwhelmed by the flood. I am prepared because I am the one who filled the lake behind the dam.

Goodnight everyone.

Choices, and the hungry wolf.

2006-11-05T06:14:00.000-07:00

While reflection on ideas of universal truth is interesting; most of my thoughts as of late have been focused on the nature of life itself.
I had a realization many days ago. The world was exactly as I saw it. It was exactly as I felt it. Illusion and deception can be pierced and the truth seen.
I found that thinking in dozens of myrid options was actually hurting me. I would not see something as a few simple choices, but a dozen possible choices with variations on each. In this case less is more.

Instead of a dozen options I need only look at the best. When I pit myself against an enemy of skill every moment is important. I can learn the best options for every situation and use them accordingly. What a difference it makes in life to remove the indescion! To cut the mental waste away like so much fat has been immensely helpful. It allows me to concentrate more effort on the other issue I'll address tonight.

Whoever you are reading this. Have you ever cared about someone secretly? Perhaps a close friend? a married woman? Your lovers best friend? Someone much younger or older then you?
I have once or twice; and they are symptom of a much larger problem for me.
For a number of years I devoted myself to helping others, then helping myself, then hurting or exploiting people. The skills needed apply to all three and in some areas I've honed them to a terrifying degree. Yet for all that I have my own unrepairable emotional wounds. A need to be loved and given attention. A need to give someone else unconditional love. It need not be sexual for it's deeply emotional... a void inside that I cannot control. It hungers for love and attention creating for me terrible situations and pain. Feeding it sates it for a time but like a lone wolf it is never truly fed.

Perhaps it's something everyone feels. But in me it is abnormal. It's a weakness in an otherwise impressive amount of self-control and awareness. It is one reason that I seek those who give love unconditionally and those who hunger for love as I do. I feel drawn to those kindred souls... souls which always manage to hurt me in the end. If it were merely a need to take love I would consider it evil. But how do you define a feeling to give love to many people? Attraction is something to be expected from time to time. But what about a primal force that urges you toward those of similar emotional makeup? It's a terrible destructive force for an existing relationship and eventually I'll need to deal with that. I can master and control it like so many other primal forces I've encountered within myself... but I wonder if that is the right choice. Love need not always be long term or even sexual/romantic. It is within me to love people deeply when I sense part of me within them, that isn't something I can just throw away carelessly.

I reflect that a void does not always drag things away. But sometimes towards.
In this case it could be mutually productive... love without obligations. Love without limits or conditions. Like the cherry blossom it's beauty is enhanced by the knowledge that it is short lived. Perhaps even a deeply rooted friendship, that too is a form of fullfilling love. Eventual escape from this void brings pain, relief and eventually freedom to repeat again. A cycle of pleasure and pain that will remain unbroken until I find a perfect person who can fill that void in my heart forever. Perhaps such a person is already in my life waiting for the chance. More likely it could be any person who had the desire to become that.
My own personal emotional pariah. Perfection is impossible even when your blinded by love; I don't think thats what I want. But then again all I really want right now is to ease that hungry void for awhile longer.

Questions about a universal truth

2006-11-04T05:17:00.000-07:00

The worst part of deciding who you are is counting the ripples each choice has in your life. I didn't go on some grand adventure to find myself. I created who I am with careful thought and spiritual reflection. If it had been handed to me what kind of person could I lay claim to being? I can assure you that I wouldn't think highly of myself had my answers come easily. Many nights of doubt and torture came with every answer. Doubt that never really goes away. Even when you know something is true you still doubt it. I used to run from that doubt and hide from it. As if it were an enemy that dogged my mind. I've come to the conclusion that doubt is not the destroyer but rather doubt is the creator. Without doubt I would not perfect my answers. I would not push myself harder but I would fold or give in to the ideals that are passed to me by others. That terrible sin of accepting something because another subscribes to it. Little more then a mob mentality when another decides for you. When his thoughts carry more weight then your own.

Perhaps everything I believe in is wrong. I admit that I don't know better then anyone else about god or other long held universal truths.
Wiccans believe in a goddess, Christians believe in a god and his son. Taoists believe in many gods with a great universal source of creation beyond them, Buddhists believe that kindness will result in enlightenment and Atheists believe that no power drives their lives but their own raw will and emotion.
I believe that kindess is powerful and right. But I am not a Buddhist. I believe in God but I am not a Christian. I believe in a goddess yet I am not a Wiccan.
I believe that I determine my own destiny by the power of my own will. Yet I am not an atheist. The open honesty of Taoism is the only belief I can ever believe in if I want to be honest with myself. When I lie to myself about who or what I am... that only creates suffering. The suffering of searching is nothing to the suffering of one who is afraid to search... to question and to explore.

The truths of this world are perhaps more then I can understand. Likely it will not be until my death that I truly understand. But until that day comes I will fullfil my own destiny. Using that willpower and determination I will forge myself into the tool that is needed. I do not question the idea of a universal truth. A god, buddha or tao. I question who I am to such a power. A child? a student? A peer? Will I grow to the power of my unfathomable source? Will I forever remain a child to it? Good questions to reflect on. Simply knowing that a universal truth exists does not lay out a clear plan of action. That depends on the conclusions I choose to draw in my life. Perhaps god is offended that I question him. Maybe he is pleased that I seek answers honestly. My observations are pale to his eternal truths, truths which are hidden from me until my death. I think in the end god does not matter that I question as long as I do so with honesty and a heart and mind filled with good.

Lasting Victory

2006-10-27T19:13:00.000-06:00

It annoys me when I see someone win because their enemy was too greedy.
You see it all the time if you play video games with any frequency.
It's the person who isn't content to take out a few buildings and leave before help arrives. He wants to finish off the building or unit he came for. He is isolated and destroyed. His advantage is reversed because of simple greed. Now his victim has respite to rebuild and his allies will certainly press their advantage.

So it with poltics. The GOP thought that with a lock hold on the country it would be wise to push their agenda as quickly as possible. Passing gay marriage laws, rigging districts to keep democrats out of office, packing their friends pockets with goverment contracts... the list goes on and on.
Like that novice player they have over extended their lines, instead of a lasting victory they must now settle for short term gains while they focus on rebuilding.

The Republican party opposed de-segregation; and the civil rights movement as a whole. And they have paid for it in more recent times. My generation and the generations after mine are staunchly pro-gay marriage. Religion is less a priority for my generation. When the time comes for us to step up to the plate and take the reins of this country the republican legacy will crumble further. Interested only in immediate victory they keep selling off their future to immediate gain. I will admit that players like Karl Rove are brillant, genius even in their use of tactics. They have snatched impressive victories from a bumbling and weakened enemy.

If you want to accomplish something you need farsighted strategy. Don't just plan for your next battle. Plan for your legacy. I'm also the guy who gets his base torched by a well executed attack. But more often then not I still win the war. I guess it boils down to where you keep your eyes.

Coasting on empty.

2006-10-26T06:31:00.000-06:00

Have you ever ran a race? The thrill is something special... you can't find it anywhere else. You run and run and run. It's not about beating another guy down but finding something in yourself to push forward. Breaking down walls, ignoring pain and testing your limits. Yes there is another guy doing the same thing next to me, and behind me, and in front of me. If I focus on the guy in front or behind me then I lose that inner focus and falter.

I pushed myself hard, overcame obstacles I thought too tall to scale. Fought enemies cloaked in an air of invincibility. Yet now my pace has slowed. I stop and look around only to realize that I no longer have that terrible enemy to pace myself against. It some moments I let sadness in, I remember the terrible things that happened and the price I paid to defeat it. Instead of wallow I acknowledge this sadness and prepare for my future. 3/4 of my life is left. (at least) And I had better get to work to finish everything I've got cooking. I don't have time to be sad and to wallow and pout.

When I turn inwards I see how the changes have marked me, I alter my choice slightly. I imagine it's something like the starship enterprise. Picard was a badass for sure; but what happens while they are flying around at warp speed and almost hit a planet? You can't know where everything is, what about other ships? You can't keep track of everything in space. I like to imagine that while picard is blasting around space his ship makes little corrections in the course. It adjusts for a ship here, a planet there; perhaps a stray black hole or pulsar.
Life is much the same. The vast majority of people fixate on one aspect of life. They assume that if they find someone that loves them and find a decent job they have it made. It's a sad world that people limit their ambitions to so little.
They attend the same church, talk with the same people, play the same types of games, read the same types of books, eat the same kinds of foods.

It can be argued that humans are creatures of comfort and routine. More order and less chaos creates the apperance of control over life. If a surprise is delightful... then why limit yourself to a set course in life. I'm certain it's not going to provide you many surprises. Simply variations of the same things you've seen and done before. Perhaps it can simple fear. Fear is so very powerful it destroys, erodes, unravels. People keep secrets because they are afraid of the consquences of those secrets being known. People keep silly things a secret because of fear, most often it is a secret desire or lust; why not let it out? Why hold in something because of fear?

I have known fear, sometimes I can conquer it and sometimes I cannot. But always I am better when I do conquer it. Fear of not acting is not a reason for inaction. Delay perhaps; assessment? of course. How does this connect to my title head and earlier statements? Well it's a pretty direct course actually.

The last year was hell on my body. I went from being an able fighter and athlete to barely able to open my own bottles. I had sharpened mental focus which is also gone. Perhaps thinking they would always be there was a terrible sin. My hubris is truly opportunity however. I get the chance to rebuild much of who I am from scratch. I've outlined a plan. Much like me it needs some meat on it's bones... but for the moment it serves me just fine. Running a marathon on empty doesn't do it for me.

The first step is to detoxify my body, mind and spirit.
This is quite possibly the hardest step of all. For 3 days I cannot consume anything aside from rye bread with peanut butter and water.
After that I will add milk and non-sugar based juices. I'm very concerned that I could give myself diabetes with my addiction to caffine based drinks. That addiction will cause a great deal of painful withdrawals. To offset them I'll allow myself a can of soda on the 6th day. I will add food to my diet over time until I have a diet that can support my new lifestyle. Can I eat junk food? Sure. But not all of the time. Can I drink soda? Sure. But I have to drink enough water to flush it out. That could mean 13-14 glasses of water a day or more. Eventuallly I hope to phase such an addicition out of my life all together.

I'll fill in the other details later today. I may or may not post them here though.

Paragon Life

2006-10-24T23:05:00.000-06:00

Of my many goals it can be said they all have a single thread in common. Each lends itself to a larger cause: A destiny where I accomplish my life's ambitions.
A life of love and kindness, where I can realize my potential as a human being and as a writer. Self actualized is a good word to use. A lofty goal but one I am certain I can reach now.

In order to ascend to this lofty state of being I need a plan. My own plan has been destroyed. It's impracticality reflects my inexperience with life at the time. My new plans are more flexable, my new goals are smaller and easier to accomplish; each goal scales until it reaches a truly epic size. It brings to mind the story of the young ninja. His master planted a sapling and told the young warrior to jump over it 100 times a day. The student faithfully did even when the tree grew to an adult size. It's about building up slowly.

It's not too much to hope for is it? A career, a family, skills and accomplishment. In reality it would be endless nights of travel to promote books. Research trips, etc. Not fair to a young family or my someday bride.
I suppose without children I could let my wife/girlfriend travel with me. But it's so much to ask someone to leave their life behind while I tour.
Mmm, I guess it's one more thing to think about while I try and scratch out my career.

Balance of Power

2006-10-24T04:41:00.000-06:00

I've been thinking long and hard about my beliefs. Constantly challenging and reexamining. A thought a few snags I would share with you to see what your imput is.

Anything in it's extreme is bad. A long held Taoist principal is that excess and extremes are bad. Take for example power.
Lets take a current example with President Bush. He may in fact be a god-loving christian... but power has far greater a corrupting effect then most people realize. Most presidents don't have a lock-grip on congress like he does currently and therefore have a diminished power base. To make matters worse our country was attacked giving him free reign to seize even more power. An excess of power can destroy anyone, even a good hearted christian. The ideal solution is to balance power with power. In my own life I have to learn how to balance my own power with the power of others. Too much and I become a tyrant... too little and I become a slave.

I struggle because like all people I want control of my life. I want to say that certain things are under my control. Perhaps this is a way of psychologically asserting control over a situation which honestly can never be fully controlled. Yet then again too little control and I drift around like floatsam on the swells of the ocean. If I go to battle of course I want to control my enemies actions and movements... of course I want to do what is needed to attain victory...

Control is a great comfort; it really is. Yet control is empty... it is not dynamic and it does not give rise to creativity and spontanaity. The trick is as always in my philosophical school of thought in balance. Sometimes a momentary excess is needed to lift yourself to another plane or to experience something new and euphoric. Perhaps if I become a political agent or military commander I need to control people... but in life that sort of control is wrong and many levels. It's danger is plainly clear, tyrants live in fear and deprave themselves of the basic human need of trust. I would rather discard the need for control and opt for cooperation.. for true leadership. A true leader does not make his followers believe what he believes... he reflects what they believe. He does not order them; instead he vocalizes the words that stir within their hearts they cannot put name to.

All things I quietly reflect on this night. Perhaps someday I find realize my ideal of a world without excesses of power. But I am consoled in knowing that another taoist law works against those evil tyrants... the law that nothing on this earth is immortal or eternal. They suffer from decay, loss of control and power. disinterest and boredom. Strain. They are replaced by those they have oppresed and those people in turn are corrupted by that power until they to are overthrown. Evil is not an absolute, but like all energy it is dynamic and constantly changing.

Bladesong Reprive Part 1

2006-10-14T08:40:00.000-06:00

This story is a soliders tale. She becomes more then a solider over the course of the entire story. This is all I have right now and I'm not sure when I'll have a chance to finish it. But this is a pretty good stopping point.

Bladesong Reprive Part 1
It had been 26 years since the last Mordathal solider had step foot in Bladesong.
Twenty-six years of fear and regret; finally melting into history where it belonged.
It was during that battle here in the fields of Bladesong that I: Solem Molani became a warrior. I write here of my own free will the events that lead me into the service of the goddess of my enemies.

My father Saitko Molani was a famous blacksmith; he applied the Kokuran forging techniques to the larger double-sided Mordathal bastard sword, it took him 3 months to craft a single blade, and warriors from across the island coveted his steel. Because of this we lived well and my father provided me an education in both martial disciplines and scholarly pursuits. However a month before my 17th birthday the Keshian war broke out. My schooling would have to wait. Every able hand eagerly joined the militia and I was no exception.

I was of course Mordathal. A race with a destiny of battle, my devotion to the goddess was unwavering. The night before my unit left father gifted me with one of his creations,
A modification of a Kokuran Katana: much longer and slimmer with a simple blood red hilt. Kaitaro the Enchanter who was my father’s business partner enchanted it to seek the blood of the goddesses’ enemies.

I remember the tears in his eyes as he helped me into my armor. I felt embarrassed by his weakness until he told me how proud he was. I said goodbye to my mother and younger sisters. Each of whom would someday be a warrior in her own right.

The Bladesong Militia was divided into 6 units. I was assigned to unit 3 under a carpenter named Silvarian. During the march he would tell stories from previous battles. All knew the Keshian’s were fat merchants; they did not hunger for battle like we did. But rather gold and comforts, Manthos who was our unit’s war-mage laughed and told us in Kesh they considered us little more then illiterate apes. Silvarian told him to be quiet and we marched in silence for the next few miles. His words burn in my heart.
We are a people of the sword, not savages who kill without cause. Was it not the greed of Kesh that forced us into this war? I brooded the politics to myself for the rest of that night.

Within the week we reached the body of the army. Silvarian brought our papers to the quartermaster and we were assigned tents. I have never seen so many men, so many tents or so many swords. My papers classified me a light swordsman and I was given a new unit. Of my new squad I recognized Manthos from my village but no others. He and I talked much more then we had before. I came to respect his keen mind and oftentimes we would spar while waiting for orders. Those orders did not come for another week.

Kesh had blockaded our island and forbid any ship to enter. No navy in the world could hope to defeat Kesh. The rich island spent fortunes building and maintaining a powerful navy to protect its mercantile interests. The malaise of the soldiers could be felt in the air as you walked about camp. Manthos lived in Kesh during his apprenticeship and told me more about the enemy. I listened intently picking over the details of my enemies home.
Those orders were not to disband as many feared: But instead a march to the north.
Keshian mercenaries had landed armies along the northeastern half of our island: A full legion of sell-swords from every corner of Drakkor. During the day we would march and Manthos and I spent the night discussing every topic from politics to theology.
Our unit, the 453rd was split off with several others as a quick response battalion. We would ambush and harass an enemy army moving towards the Moroden forests.

Manthos sat in my tent that night calmly smoking his pipe. He seemed considerably less relaxed then he had before. Finally he pulled the pipe out and addressed me. “Solem. Have you ever been in a battle before?”
I didn’t respond at first. I had never considered if the well-traveled mage had seen battle.
He had certainly never told me any stories of battle. “Once my father dueled a warrior from the capital. The warrior thought himself fit enough to carry one of my fathers swords. That is the closest I have come”

He stroked his wiry thin goatee as he pondered it. “Our goddess does not love cowards, she is a goddess of warriors. What would you think of me if I told you I was afraid of dying tomorrow?”

I opened my mouth to speak. But before I could Manthos put his arms around me and drew me against him. I blushed and tried to push him away. He held on tighter and I protested half-heartily. I gave the mage a playful kiss and he responded in kind. He held me in his strong arms until I fell asleep. I felt truly alive that night, even though we did not make love. His presence calmed my own secret fear.

Moroden was north of Bladesong and I remember passing the Karderong River in my childhood. Our scouts had announced the enemy was waiting on the north bank of the river for us. Several of those scouts did not return. Evidenced by blood soaked arrows scattered along the forest floor. No bodies were found.
Manthos picked up one of the arrows. These are elven he whispered to me. Our arrogant cousins have thrown their lot in with the merchants.

I watched as Manthos raced ahead to warn the commander. I do not know how far he made it because shortly after he left the elves began firing at us from the forests.
Our war-mages acted quickly making walls of wind and raw magical force to repel the arrows. Our crossbowmen responded, as did our mages. After a brief firefight the elves vanished. A handful of soldiers were injured and taken to the priests for healing.
I wasn’t able to look for Manthos because we started marching right away. The commanders ordered us to march to the river. The enemy army had moved away from the river and deeper into the Moroden.

The commander ordered a quick crossing. Fear of a surprise attack during the crossing concerned everyone. The priests of the goddess brought forth sturdy brides out of thin air. The soldier’s mood lightened at this. With the goddess all things are possible they whispered to each other. I started to sing the hymn of the crimson tiger as we crossed.

The warriors around me heard the song and began to sing as well. The sound of our faith filled the forests loudly. At first the commander tried to silence us for fear of giving away our position. Then after moment the song began to affect him as well.
The enemy began to arrive about an hour later. Skirmishers and scouts returned wounded saying the enemy was near. With the river behind us we fell into orderly groups. I lost track of my unit briefly in the mad shuffle. I found them just as Manthos had arrived from other end of the line. I could not speak to him over the roar of the army; I looked into his eyes and saw his fear. But I could also feel his resolve. He smiled at me with his twisted grin and began to cast his first spell.

My first battle was frightening. The invaders came in groups covered by archers. Our initial line held them back. I stood just behind the first line with my sword in hand.
My father told me that in Kokuran you could not draw your sword unless you intended to use it. I remembered those words as I pulled his beautiful sword from its sheath.
The commander gave us the order to counter attack. The front ranks opened and we poured out into the battlefield.

The warriors around me screamed and yelled to the heavens. The sound of a hundred swords being drawn deafened the forest further. Beside me was Manthos chanting his spells as we charged. We reached the enemy line each man fell into his own private battle. Manthos beside me started to blast away at archers situated in the trees. I covered him with my sword. My first opponent came in through the space between my comrades battles. He flashed a wicked toothless grin as he came at me. My sword met his and pushed him backwards into another fray. One of his men stepped on his head and fell; both struggled to get up. I raced over and neatly put my sword through both.

Behind me Manthos cried in pain. The archers began to pepper him with arrows. One hit his shoulder and another buried itself in his left leg. He stood firmly chanting his spells one after another taking down the hated archers. More soldiers rushed us. I locked shoulders with another Mordathal swordswoman and we held them off Manthos awhile longer. They pressed us hard and we started to get swept away from the rest of our unit. I pushed back against the flow of bodies fighting my way back to the mage. Manthos took a sword to the back. His eyes filled with anger and pain Manthos turned to his assailant and turned his armor molten hot. The warrior cried out in pain and crumpled to the ground. All I could smell was the burning of flesh and leather.

I lost track of Manthos, of my unit. and I focused on my sword. My own battles, I took down several more warriors killing them as they came. After a moment I realized that no enemies stood. My heart was filled my rage and passion. Bloodlust.
I wanted to keep killing and fighting but I couldn’t see any more enemies. Manthos staggered towards me bleeding from several places. In his eyes I could see the same passion. I reached out for him and kissed him urgently. We fell together in the forest and made love. I was not gentle despite his injures, nor was he to me. The blood and sweat rolled off our bodies as we became one. I dug my nails deeply into his back causing new tiny wounds. He did not wince but held me even more roughly. After our exertions I laid on his chest feeling the rise and fall. I noticed now in this moment of peace that I too was wounded. We tended each others wounds and returned to camp that morning.
“You are like the crimson tiger herself” my lover said to me that night as we retired to our tent.

A crusade and a valkyarie, and much more.

2006-10-14T05:41:00.000-06:00

For those who know me in World of Warcraft. You must know I got into the exclusive Burning Crusade Beta. Aside from that I burn my hours playing Valkyarie Profile 2: Silmeria... or rather I would be if I didn't have better things to do.

You see. I haven't exactly been creative for a long time. Most everything you've read here is a rehash of something or a retelling of an event. Nothing especially creative for at least a year. Now the problem is inverse. I have so many ideas and not enough outlets that it's drowning me out. Dozens of short story ideas, poems, haiku, articles, game concepts etc.

To make matters worse my computer has decided that it doesn't want to function properly anymore. This has driven me back to the much hated long hand. Anyone who knows me knows that I suffer from terrible hand writing. My recent physical problems with my hand haven't helped, although alot better; the atrophy has yet to be overcome. I'm going to focus the bulk of my efforts on my fantasy setting and short fiction. Nick deserves a suitable epic adventure for his return to Drakkor.

I'm counting the last year as a wash. But the year before that I learned alot about storytelling. Not merely storytelling but better application of skills I already had. I was around not merely people all the time, but people with meaningful deep stories. These are all vital in my new narrative. Perhaps I'll put a bit of my short story "Bladesong Reprive" on later to serve as an example.
To me storytelling is what I am. It's an art I had forgotten in my heart for such a long time. Returning to it now is like returning home after a lengthy trip.
It defines who I am in a way that ironicly words cannot describe.

I'm back

2006-10-10T18:14:00.000-06:00

Most issues are largely resolved. Here is a breakdown of things that are happening.

Still working on getting my hands fully functional again. But I should be able to resume a raiding schedule again. Holley and I are retooling the Destructive Affection comic. It's now going to be funny.

As for pressing psychological matters. I've taken a great many steps to reduce and repair damage. I don't believe it will be as great a problem as it was in the past. I appreciate the support I did receive. You guys know who you are.

This blog will become more diverse in it's topics as I hope to expand my writing . I'm also starting a new job, this one should be easier on my health.

The last thing I want to mention is a close friend of mine is returning home today. Elder Nick Fowler is coming home from Ohio today. I worried alot about his safety; among other things. It's good to know he's back in Utah where people don't shoot each other for expressing their faith. (Although at the risk of attracting ire I must say they are hardly open minded about disscussion.)
I've started to write a suitable adventure to celebrate his return. I'm not sure what it's about yet; but I've been toying with the idea of a stampede of Tarrasque's. The mythic time sink caverns or perhaps my personal favorite: invasion of sex-depraved catholic schoolgirls in short skirts. All very dangerous.

Hiatus

2006-09-29T03:39:00.000-06:00

Due to medical issues my blog is on hiatus. Thank you for your support at this time. If I return I promise you many great stories. I will be giving admin status over to Holley in the event any announcements need to be made.

Moments that are fragile.

2006-09-24T03:24:00.000-06:00

How honest is a person expected to be? Not merely in his day to day. How many of us lie to ourselves? We say that something isn't as bad as people think. We marginalize things bit by bit. Making less and less until our views no longer match reality. Even here in this blog where I have supposedly set out to unearth the truth I use metaphors, hintings and the vague. I suppose I could claim creative purposes but I know thats not true. I'm going to tell a very short story. and then explain what it has to do with me.

Long ago in a valley kingdom there were two warriors. The light warrior was kind, empathic and had a love of helping others. The dark warrior was lustful, aggresive and ruthless. Both warriors were formiddable in the kingdoms defense. Even a dark warrior had in his heart the desire for a home and peace. Even the light warrior enjoyed the thrill of battle, victory and defeated. Even being paragons of their respective idealologies they were not one sided.

The king grew old and died without an heir. The kingdom was thrown into upheaval, eventually the kings brother is found and brought to kingdom. But the brother is not wise or fair. It does not take long for the new king to anger the two mighty warriors. Each warrior plots the demise of the corrupt ruler. One seeks to displace him for the good of the people, the other seeks to displace him for his own pride and ambition.

The warriors had great respect for one another. Over the years they had sparred many times, but fighting for the same kingdom it was never in anger or to the death. Each raised an army, the light warrior arrived first with his army. He forced his way into the castle using the element of surprise and took the castle.
When the dark warrior arrived the castle had already been secured and the light warrior made king. Rather then fight his friend he and his army returned and disbanded in the town.

The light warrior did not have an easy time. Supporters of the kings brother now in exile waged a war on the light warriors men. They fought and fought and as they did more and more people began to cry out agains the light warrior-king. The dark warrior came forward and defeated them both. Took the crown and banished both sides. Some said the Dark warrior was cruel, some said he was fair. But lurking in the background was the light warrior ready to strike again.

As interesting as that story could become I won't bother finishing it.
I am still sick. some of you know this; others do not. It isn't just my left hand anymore but now my right. Each day the headaches grow worse. I feel hot and sweaty in a cold room. When I close my eyes I feel terrible visions, I'm being drawn back into a hell of my own creation. My psyche was fragmented before... and it's like I feel it being fragmented again. Slowly my thoughts are drifting from me even when I try to cling tightly to them. I see painful memories when I close my eyes, visions of a future denied to me.

The battle has not ended, but it has changed. I understand one thing that changes everything now but I do not know how it changes this.
I was fighting the wrong enemy. I want my hands back. I want my body, spirit and mind to be mine again. Parts that have been broken off my psyche to be reborn.

I desire so much to be free, freedom might not come to me until my death.
Freedom my pain, freedom from the burden of my mind......
ugh. I am so very sick. I'll complete this thought later.

Denial is not Victory.

2006-09-19T06:18:00.000-06:00

Sun Tzu once said that if you denied an enemy battle then he could not win. It's a basic concept that if your weak you should avoid battle. But to deny the battle also takes away opportunity for victory. When you rest your enemy can do the same. It's basic tactics to never allow your enemy rest. (Unless to encourage sloth.)
As the pieces move across the board you get a feel for the game. The agressor and the defender become defined; the enemy is not always in front of you. But sometimes true enemy is your own heart. Can you be ruthlesss and retain your humanity? Can you give mercy and sympathy to a deadly enemy?

I lost the use of my left arm last week. I awoke and it was numb, along with my leg. My left eye is blurry and I have a very strong headache.. on my left side.
Even as the ghosts from my past come back to haunt me I can feel my enemy gaining strength again. When I am strong he is weak, when I am weak he is strong. It is not the time for me to pour my soul into this battle, it fast approachs but I must deny it the chance. I deny because I cannot win, and within that denial I cannot lose either.

You cannot kill someone that is a part of you without diminshing what you are. But can you master it? Control it? Compromise with it? Co-exist?
I'm tired of having darkness cloud my soul, it grows because I won't face it.
I have stared into the dark, into the shadow. I have felt the warmth and I have felt the cold. My scars aren't merely body or soul. But deeper still it taints the world surrounding me, the wound widens and deepens as time passses.

My choice is victory, I will not win by defeating evil. I will win by mastering myself... it is a mastery that is lifelong in attaining and more rewarding then anything else this life can offer. I have chased too many snares, fallen into too many pits and will not falter again so easily. I'm waiting for the wind to change, then my blade will be drawn.

Goodnight. I'll write more tomorrow I hope.

Accomplishment, The most important list.

2006-09-14T14:31:00.000-06:00

Well I've been promising it for quite some time. But honestly I've been slightly afraid to post my list of things I want to do in my life. Some are silly, some could even be considered offensive to people. I decided that I just want to be what I am and not worry about what others think.
Most of the items on this list are pretty old, a few as recent as last night. I think it's a fair reflection of the direction I want to take in life. Presented here now are the first 50. I'll post the next 10 later. I believe when I am finished I should have close to 100.
My goal is 2 a year.

1. Write and publish a book of every major Genre.
2. Get a doctorate.
3. Adopt a Child.
4. Ride a motorbike the length of the Great Wall of China.
5. Visit all 5 continents
6. Get married
7. Visit Stonehenge
8. Learn to speak Japanese fluently.
9. Live in Japan for at least half a year.
10. Swim in every ocean.
11. Become a skilled Zen archer.
12. Master 3 forms of martial arts.
13. Visit the Dao Mai.
14. Learn to Snow Board.
15. Visit Interlockken Switzerland.
16. Have a threesome with 2 girls.
17. See the hall of mirrors in France.
18. Raft the Colorado River.
19. Go ice fishing in Alaska.
20. See the Grand Canyon.
21. Own a house.
22. Be in an airborne airplane.
23. Design one video game.
24. Hunt for Yeti in Nepal.
25. Learn to Surf
26. Scuba Dive the Great Barrier Reef.
27. See the Pyramids of Giza
28. Become a highly proficient swimmer
29. Run a 5-minute mile.
30. Go hang-gliding
31. See a bullfight in Seville with (Zhuangzi)
32. Be the lead in a play.
33. Learn to play the Piano
34. Visit Loch Ness
35. Be a national Magic: TG champion.
36. Protest injustice in DC.
37. See a Broadway show.
38. Attend Ashida Kim’s Ninjutsu training camp.
39. Go to Mardi gras in Louisiana.
40. Build a massive room sized Lego castle.
41. Learn the proper Japanese Tea Ceremony.
42. Be an extra in a Hollywood movie or TV show,
43. Publish a D&D Module.
44. Have a WoW item named after me. (Or my avatar)
45. See Bon Jovi in concert; get his autograph.
46. Meet Bill Clinton; get his autograph.
47. Be a Convention guest.
48. See the North Pole.
49. Meet Michael Stackpole: Get his autograph.
50. Tame and raise a baby cockatiel

Comments, another dream.

2006-08-29T04:40:00.000-06:00

Last post's comments were mainly centered on how unfocused and poorly written it was. I agree. I had a terrible night for a variety of reasons and tried to write about something I was clearly not in the mindset for. I'll try for a better post later. For the moment I have another dream. Elements of this dream tie into older dreams so I will elaborate on them now. This dream is not for children or people offended by sexuality or violence.

Early in the study of my dreams I discovered a reoccuring theme. Several of them to be honest. A high steel tower in a lightning storm, Boxes of glass, trains, falling and even being lost. But the most puzzling and startling theme is the dark men. They first appeared after a vicious fallout with my old friends. Like I've stated before it was a major turning point in my life. The first is to me as vivid as anything I've ever experienced. I stood on the slope of a mountain. There was a woman with golden hair with me, she had a very strong aura of good and purity about her. We ran up the mountain hand in hand giggling and laughing. We came to rest on a ridge overlooking the city. I hear the snap of a twig behind me. I turn to see a man robed in black. He had a hood overshadowing his face and pale twisted hands.

It was really not an amazing dream by my modern standards. But for the time it was remarkable. The next night the dream changed slightly, the girl and I kissed in the woods beneath the moon. In the leaves I found a rusty old sword.
The next week another dream, and then another. Together they formed into a larger dream. They came to inspire me to my second serious attempt at novel writing. Although my skill had improved since that time I hadn't learned how to manage my willpower or time.

Recently the men in black have returned to my dreams. Wielding swords of darkness and snow. Glass and stone. A few nights ago I had what could be considered the best (or worst) of this vein of dream. A quick note: I did not use lucid dreaming consciously. All the lucid dreaming was a result of prior training. The men in black can die but become wraithes. The wraithes can be hurt only with a sword focused with energy.

I was laying in the forest on the hillside. All around me there were neat piles of leaves. I heard a creek in the distance and realized I was very thirsty. I stumbled over to the water and immediately stuck my face into the freezing water. I inhaled the water deeply and felt the cold shiver down my body. I pulled my head out of the water and turned my neck to the right. In a still eddy of water I could see the silloutte of a woman. Her hair was long all the way to the top of her knees and was quite apparently wet. I sat watching her silently. Afraid to move. Occasionally she would bend over and gather the cold water in her hands, then lift it above her head and release it. I exhaled sharply and a cloud of cold breath floated toward her.

With more grace then a thought humanly possible she turned her body toward me. Still no more then a shadow she beckoned me with her hand. I stumbled toward her awkwardly at first. Then I pulled myself up and walked toward her stiffly. She held her arms out for me. I stopped just before her and kicked my shoes off at a nearby tree. She took a step out of the water and onto the carpet of fallen leaves touching my arm with her hand. I could see her better now. She was very skinny and had pale white skin. She was about my height and had a very soft grasp.
She moved her right hand to my chest and became to unbutton my shirt. Her warm breath fell across my shivering body. Within seconds my shirt fell to the ground beside me. She came close to me, her nipples barely touched my chest and instantly I was aware that I was now very erect.

She smiled and finished undressing me. Tugging at my hands she dragged me into the woods.
She kneeled by an old gnarled oak tree. Mezmorized by her beauty I simply followed her. She didnt stand but instead ran her fingers down my body. Each time she passed I grew more and more excited. No longer content with her hands she began to lick me. Slowly at first and stopping occasionally to kiss my body, she worked from head to toe and back again. Taking long stops at every point of interest. Her touch was driving me mad. I couldn't control myself any longer and pushed her down against the cold ground. Our bodies entwined in a glorious embrace. She kissed me on the lips and tilted a bit to open her mouth. I felt like I was melting into her lithe body with each new kiss.

Her breasts were small but warm and soft against my body. I broke away from our embrace to admire them a moment. Putting her arms around my neck she dragged me back to her lips. Unable to fight it I gave in to her. We disappeared in a flurry of fallen leafs. Rolling in our tight embrace she emerged on top of me. I didn't realize at first that I was already inside her. She smiled and gently rocked her body against mine. Time seemed to stop as she went. I felt no lust but a sense of contentment to be inside her. The gentle jiggle of her breasts with each thrust was as natural as the moonlight on our bodies. our hands locked together and embraced me again. We rolled in the leafs once more. Each roll was its own thrust and we never stopped our pace.

Somewhere far away I could hear the hooting of an owl. As if on cue she pins me down again and pushes against me harder. Undaunted by her show of force I make myself stand. Holding her body in my arms I maintain the pace we set earlier by lifting and lower her body.
She seemed maddened by his and shifted her weight forward. I nearly trip and over compensate falling forward into a maple tree. If she was hurt she made no signs, instead she used the tree as a brace to push me harder. Unable to fight her anylonger I fall backwards. She keeps going over and over again. I can feel the energy crackle between us, like an approaching storm the air was charged with it. Finally she releases and falls limp beside me.

We both lay there in the leafs watching the moonlight fill our grove. I dress myself. My lover is asleep when she fell smiling. Beside her I notice my sword. It's a katana with a blue scabbatd. Etched along the scabbard are ocean waves and seagulls.
I admire the sword and the woman for awhile. She awakens after awhile and kisses me.
We sit in the darkness together not saying a word. It felt as if words would destroy how sacred the moment was. I felt butterflies in my stomach looking at her blue eyes.
We looked at each other for a long time, occasionally I would glance at the blue sword at my feet.
She dresses herself eventually, I watch in awe . Every move she makes is graceful and natural.

She turns her head to the darkest part of the forest. I looked where she looks. I see nothing but trees and darkness. Out of the darkness there is a thin line of blue light. A sword reflecting the moonlight matches toward me. My lover doesn't seem concerned. She sits down and lays her head on my lap. I can hear in the woods the shadow men are looking for me. But it seemed like we moved farther and farther away from them. I felt at an incredible peace with this being of nature. I get lost staring into her eyes. Before too long I am entralled by her. I watch the strands of hair fall to place when she moves her head.

The men in black do not stop looking. I can see torches now. A small fire in the grass. then another elsewhere.
I'm angry at them. I stand up with the blue sword. My maiden tugs at my shirt, in her eyes I see a mixture of concern and resolve. She doesn't say a word as I walk into the woods.
The men in black are clustered up around what appears to be a wounded animal of some sort.
I whisle and they turn to face me. There were about 7 of them with swords. the 8th had only a torch.

They fan out around me and I hear the rustle of more far behind me.
I charge the first with an iiajitsu neatly removing his head. They close in around me like a steel trap. I smack the first to reach me with the blue scabbard. Flicking my sword into an easier to manage one-handed stance I parry the first blow from the right.
The torch man comes up behind me at the same time as they others. I smack him with both scabbard and sword. Then I let the scabbard fall to the earth.
I swing my free hand to the hilt of my sword and switch into a top-to-bottom guard stance.

3 of the men with swords of ice charge in trying to get under my guard. I step back and lower my sword from guard to thrust. All three fall to a rapid overhand thrust.
They all came at me at once. I drop all defense and attack each as he moves into range. I drop a few more. Soon each is dead. I have a wound at my side.
I walk backwards for awhile trying to find my lover. I come across the grove where we made love but it seems undisturbed. I remember looking for her after that but I could not find her.

I toned down the details on this story quite a bit. It's actually very rare for me to have a sex dream and even more rare for me to remember.

Sex, Life and Food.

2006-08-28T02:48:00.000-06:00

Eye catching title eh?

In three weeks one of my best friends ever will be returning from his mission. It's a remarkable thing really that he put two years of his life into service to god. In those two years I made considerable progress to my material wealth. I lost control of my psyche, had several physical problems and lost virtually every friend I had. With the soon-to-be arrival of my friend I've been pushing myself harder to pull things together. 3 weeks I've given myself.

This has given me alot of reason to pull my own religion out of the swamp. Taoism has many many different schools and sects with varying degrees of seriousness. I found in a lengthy conversation with Justin many insights from his beliefs that reflect into mine. I'm not really 100% taoist. I've got some Buddhist in there, some hindu, alittle Shinto, a bit of leftover mormanism from my youth, Catholism and even alittle Bohemian Materialism. Even beliefs that do not fit neatly into any catagory. Why the title for this entry? I'll be there in a second I promise.

Sex is from a taoistic standpoint good and bad. It purges the body of Qing and empties it out. It's a dynamic movement of energy that is good for that body. When it's overused or improperly used it expends vital Qing uselessly. As much as I enjoy physical intimacy the spiritual aspect is for me far more rewarding and yet elusive. I'm mentioning this because of how it ties into the next thing I'm going to ask.

What is the nature of the universe?

That one is sure a doozy eh? I honestly don't know. I can feel at times a power that moves the world. It is in the wind and water. It is man and woman. Beast and machine. I choose to call it tao. It could be god, or Buddha. or Allah or even Jehova. I know it's there but words to explain it are as elusive as it is. My objective in life was always to be powerful or famous. When I studied religion and philosophy those dreams changed. The idea of power for the sake of power became hollow, I examined those earlier seminal beliefs and found them to be based on anger, jealousy and resentment. I came to view the world in terms of accomplishment. What had I added to society? What causes did I support? How many children did I teach? Will my writings withstand the test of time?

That was not the only shift in my views. For the first time I became to really enjoy life. I lived with my senses. Touch, smell, sight, sound and even taste. That was the first step in my views on the essence of pleasure. I found the courage to speak up against injustice and intolerance. It was truly a time I look back to with a great amount of nostalgia. Nowadays I view life as a more complex puzzle. How can a god create such beauty and not expect it to be a vision of lust? Obviously god intended his work to be used, to be enjoyed, but like all artists he does not appreciate his work being mistreated or used improperly.

I feel strongly that life is a double sided challenge. We must enjoy life while contributing to the success and happiness of others. Happiness and kindness are amazing things. A kind word can do what a dozen threats cannot. It's infectious and potent. When we improve the quality of life for one we improve it for all. ourselves included. Can I admire the beauty of the world and still look into the dark and ugly side? Can I fight evil and admire good? It's a slippery slope to admire a womans body without wanting to possess it yourself. It's difficult to fight evil without yourself being dragged into it and becoming it. I feel that beauty and kindness do that.

Food and Sex are good for you. But they are pathes to evil. Justice quickly becomes vengence. Collecting what is needed quickly becomes obsession and greed. I seek the beauty of life and the evils. The good and the ugly. I will fight and I will create. If I fail then I know I at least failed trying. Like a necromancer of words I will bring to life dead projects. One such I will post tomorrow is the list of things I want to accomplish in my life. Oddly enough food and sex are a part of that list.

Elements and the Mind

2006-08-25T04:15:00.000-06:00

The ancient ninja were among the first true psychologists. They spent a great deal of time trying to understand how their enemies (And sometimes friends; if there was truly such a thing) thought. A variety of schools evolved from those early observations. One such school focused on emotional dominace while others were more intellectual. The emotional being far more effective and therefore getting more attention (obviously). The 5 primary emotions were paired with elements which were already prominet in the local religion. (Mainly shinto and buddhism.)
Similar systems have been seen in china and india. Some even speculate that the great general Kongming used them along with astronomy/astrology and sorcery to predict the future.

According to accepted theory I'm mainly Lust/Sympathy. Predominatly I'm earth natured with some fire. According to this same theory my strong points are compassion, happiness and love. My weaknesses would be Lustfullness, Frustration, Pity and Helplessness.
Now that doesn't mean that I myself am helpless or pitiful, but that it is difficult for me to ignore people who are helpless or pitiful. I'm even-tempered and rarely anger. However when I am angered it's a very great anger. I'm also more likely to favor my intellect over my emotions then others.

The systems the ancient ninja used are quite elaborate and woven deeply into their religion. Even within modern times it can still be seen (Water pokemon defeat Fire Pokemon, Ground pokemon also defeat fire, fire is seen as passionate etc) in japanese society. Looking at myself in a completely different way is just another mental exercise I'm using right now. I admit more of this is true then I feel comfortable admitting. It's hard to imagine someone who is both lustful and compassionate... yet here I am. While I prefer my intellect there are more then enough times that I recklessly use my emotions over common sense. It is truly in my nature to make people feel better, rather that is out of guilt or geniune desire to better the world is still a matter for debate however.

In what I consider irony according to this theory my most glaring weakness is love. I carry a double-vulnerability. Earth element people want affection and Fire element people want lust.
If you ever wondered about why I chose to use this name there you go. Thats why. Lust is destructive and powerful. Paired with sympathy its crippling. Taking this in the abstract is one thing, but to really feel the energy involved is another. At one moment lust is burning hot, in another you are left with chill of regret. Can emotions truly be considered elemental in nature? Blood is hot, heat is certainly an element. Remorse and guilt also burn.
Have you ever felt cold from sorrow? How about shivers from terror?

All worthy of consideration.

Dream: Floating death?

2006-08-20T02:25:00.000-06:00

Because people seem to enjoy them. Here is my latest attempt at Lucid Dreaming. It went well methinks.

I was standing in a graveyard, like the earlier dreams I was standing in the moonlight.
There were wisps of fog hanging about, I realized after a second it was clouds. I walked a few feet and came to the edge of the graveyard. I looked down and realized the graveyard was flying high in the air and the clouds/fog were wafting past me quite quickly.
I backed away really really fast. (I'm scared shitless of heights.) It was also around this time I realized I was dreaming again. I stood in the center of the graveyard for a second as I gathered my senses. Realizing that I had pretty decent control of my mind's avatar I thought about flying down. (Something I wasn't able to do when I practiced this, It always caused me to panic.)
I walked to the opposite side of the floating graveyard turned and charged.

I didn't fly, I fell. Like every time before I couldn't quite do it. I fell strait down and hit the ground. I shuttered and moaned in pain (I could hear myself in IRL, it was disturbing.) My arms and leg twiched and I laid there in the crater for what seemed like an eternity. I looked to my side and saw a white cross. It was another tombstone... behind it was another and another. There were white and black crosses as far as I could see. The grass was amazingly green. Also the ground wasn't flat it was very hilly. Far to the east my view was obstructed by a sizable hill. It was now day light for some reason. I felt very uncomfortable and started walking south.
I realized after I moment that I was standing on the slope of a mountain and south was leading me into the valley. After a few minutes I stopped and started looking at the tombstones. They had writing on it but I couldn't quite read it. I tried a few others and didn't find anything.

I reached a hill and walked onto it. Off in the distance I could only see more crosses and a crypt. Even farther away I could see mountains. I started walking toward the crypt and suddenly got a chill. Despite it being sunny and temperate I felt cold. I looked around but could see nothing so I kept walking to the crypt. The closer I got the more anxious I felt. Now that I was closer I could see that the crypt was in good repair. It had a single door on the south side and gothic fencing all around. I grabed the fence to throw myself over when I realized it hurt. I pulled my hand back and it was bleeding. It seems the entire fence was razor sharp. I chose this time to hurdle it.

Inside the gothic crypt there was a pile of bones. They didn't seem all human because of them were very large and oddly shaped. Others were very small versions of human bone.
I walked outside the crypt and it was night time. Sitting on the corner of the fence was a boy with a flute. He played a very sad song. I stood and watched him for awhile. After a few rounds of his tune he removed the flute and began to sing.

Haunted. I flee desire.
Harried, I choose death.
I found my rest in filthy waters.
Hands, naked hands touch my body.

The song bothered me so I approached the boy to ask him about the song.
He seems surprised to see me when he turns around.
This place isn't meant for the living. You must run.
I see behind him the tombstones are no longer white crosses. They are now gothic tombstones. Some of them appear to be vandalized.

"They cannot sleep" The boy told me plainly.
I felt cold again.
"I came here from devotion" I told him (I have no idea wtf I was saying)
He didn't talk, he just point his arm south. There was a man in black shrouds standing in a pile of bodies. He isn't the shadowman from before. But I realize that he is the enemy I came here to fight. With a quick sidewards swipe I call out my katana. I then realize that I am wearing loose fitting white clothes. The man in black nods to me, then from his hands emrges a massive Halberd. He descends with maddening speed towards me.

The boy watches, after I second he sings another song.

"Dance, dance with blades of death"
"Fight for life, fight for love."
"Let hope decend and darkness flee"
"In lights thee find his warriors strength"

I was quicker with my blade then before. I let loose a few controlled right-to-left slashes testing his guard. He angles the shaft of his halberd in a cunning block. I locked the shaft to his chest. He pushes back hard; he gains the advanage and prepares to throw me back. I relax my blade and duck, then lunge under his surprised guard. He gurgled blood and stepped back from me.
Raising his halberd in the air I feel a blast of cold, All around me there the nameless men come.
Spinning around I cut them all, then duck and run to the left between them. They seem to be endless.

Directly behind me I see a small creek. I hop it and spy a hulking black creature. It was about 10 feet tall and made out of an oozing darkness. It was vaguely humanoid alough it's right arm was much larget then it's left. At the end it had a wicked claw.
I put myself in a defensive stance and my swords clinks into a satisfying Left-stabbing position. The monster charges me. at about 20 feet I break my defensive stance and run past him slashing. The shadow parts as my blade hits it. The top half falls onto the ground and seems to splatter. I jump backwards but an arm shoots out of the blob and grabs my leg. I fall to the ground hard, I feel warm blood on the back of my head. I hack down with my sword severing the creatures arm.

I flip up and walk away. The blob seems to have formed into chistled looking men. The texture seems alittle redder this time. I engage them both again. After this I lose track of everything that happened. I remember next running away. The blob was dead but hundreds of minature reaping creatures took it's place and cut up my legs. After I got far enough away I forced myself to wake up.

Yeah that dream was a let down.

Yet another odd dream.

2006-08-16T03:33:00.000-06:00

A few things to go over tonight. First order of bussiness. New dream; this dream is alittle different then the others.

I was at a train station in Milford Utah. (For anyone who doesn't know. It's about the smallest town on earth. The size of the town almost doubles when the train comes in.) I was waiting by the tracks for the train to come in. It was dark and the moon was eclipsed slightly. I'm not sure if it was clouds or not but I remember it strongly for some reason.

I remember getting on the train. It was an old steam engine. The seats were old and embroided green. I was sitting next to a boy with a gameboy, he was playing a yellow game which I assume was Pokemon: Yellow. There was strangely enough nobody else on the train car. I sat and looked out the window for what seemed like an eternity. I saw high mountains and rolling plains. Occasional trees and rivers. It was really incredible what I remember.
After awhile we passed the salt flats (Geographically this dream makes zero sense. Don't yell at me) and headed north. We entered a tunnel and after some time passed we emerged over a river. We then rolled into a massive city. Parts of it seemed like New York.
I got out of the train and entered a subway station. This part gets fuzzy. I remember walking around the river and the alleyways; I felt like I was looking for something but I couldn't name it.
After awhile I realized that it was late and getting dangerous (Unsavory people began to appear) and I started to get desperate.

After running around the city for awhile I came across a hotel in the middle of an 3 way trianglar intersection. It was about the size of a mcdonalds. I walked in and asked for a room. The man told me it would be 5 bucks to use the flophouse. I gave him some money and walked into the only room in the place which was at the very top. It had no walls just windows on both sides. I sat and watched the bridge out of town rise and fall. I longed to escape the city but had no more money. When I woke up in the morning the gameboy kid was sitting next to me playing again. I remember this time he had red hair. He was shorter then me and had freckles.

I left the strange hotel and walked into the bright light of the city. The air was really thick with smog and pollution and it made me feel sick right away. As I walked down the street everything appeared to be very generic. I recognized one person walking away from me. It was Sarah's sister Luann. I tapped her shoulder and she turned around. Next thing I realize I'm at her house (In NY oddly enough) with her and her husband.
She asks me why I am there. and I explain that I am lost and trapped. I don't have the money to get over the bridge back home. She hands me a white package and tells me to start for the bridge before it's too late. I give her a hug and thank her. Then leave.

On the way to the bridge I open the package. It has money (Alot of money, like a mafia movie style money) a romance novel and a cookie. I eat the cookie and hold the book as I walk.
When I reached the bridge there was a man in a toll booth. He took my money and let me through. As I crossed the bridge the cityscape disappeared and I was standing in the salt flats again. It was dark now and the salt flats looked amazing as ever. I walked south and then woke up.

Dream Reflection

2006-08-13T02:57:00.000-06:00

So my earlier posts are conclusive proof I can't control my lucid dreaming very easily.
Willpower is like any other developed trait; if you don't use it you can kiss it goodbye.
It seems like so much in my life is like that. I'm barely keeping friendships alive. I may as well put an IV on most of them. I don't feel like whining about it. I've put out pleas for friendship before and they fell on deaf ears.

I may not have employed willpower but I did break down the barriers inside me. Human beings are complex and I am no exception. I have laid in reflection of the events of my life over and over. I understand some things and others I am confused about. In my perspective a person has three aspects: Emotional-Mental/Physical/Spiritual.
The dynamics of the relationship between the three is well documented elsewhere so I won't elaborate on that. I will say that for me all three have been very low. I want to say that it wasn't my fault that it happened. But thats a boldfaced lie, I made the choices that lead to my fall. It was I who accepted burden after burden until my back broke. People around me suffered unduely because of it.

In my dream I described the sensation of a struggling Tyrant and Saint. That is how I have felt for a long time. On the one hand I believe a person should explore his feelings and let them out. But what if your feelings are too dark? What if that would hurt people? It isn't such an easy choice then. I didn't explore my feelings or let them out; when I did finally release them it was torrent too powerful to control. The typical emotional responses followed: Apathy, Depression and Anger. The lucid dreams have taught me alot. In the first dream I was afraid to fight, I only fought when I was cornered like an animal would be. In the second dream I fought with an unhuman bloodlust. It is a strange dichotochy that someone who was so obssessed with love and affection would also be drawn towards violence and bloodshed.

I struggled to understand myself out of desperation. I dug for answers in the darkest parts of my past. I tried to understand why I had such a dark and terrible side. I could tell you the conclusions, it's the same story a hundred times over and telling it wouldn't change anything. It wasn't until I rememberd that I had conquered that evil that I began to get better. Evil is empowered by that stagnation and breeds within it. A stagnation of mind, body and spirit.
I am not out of the swamp yet. I am not that rash.

Also in the dream I fought a shadowman. All my life I have had dreams like this. Strange men with an eerie familarity have invaded my dreams. I did in fact learn the lucid dreaming technique in the first place to confront them. It wasn't until later that I learned it had entertainment aspects to it. (I hope to get into those soon)
The battles were the same every time. I could only win at the cost of my old life. A marytr.
I think secretly everyone dreams of being a martyr; to bravely give your life for people who mistreated you. The greater the feelings of resentment the greater the need to "prove" or absolve oneself of those feelings. If the Shadowmen (or man in the case of my recent dreams) are a part of my psyche I cannot fight them forever. I should instead understand and cope with them.

Other points about the dream and it's ramifications:

I am sorry to Jenni, my dreams did not treat you well. Not only were you a ghoul but you had your arms removed while I was fighting the shadowman. The obvious conclusions are all there. But I think there is one deeper point. Inside my dream I felt that we were the same. My physical apperance (as oddly mutated as it was) was similar to yours. Something worth deeper consideration.

Todd (The gambler) did not appear in my second dream. Odd? Perhaps.

Blackham (The Icy Maiden) did not appear in my second dream. Between the first and second dream I underwent a series of smaller changes. I was in a sense more spiritually focused. Blackham did not appear in the second dream either which seems to indicate a shift in my feelings. Having a better grip on myself emotionally my old feelings were less likely to "leak out" and taint the dream the second time around. This is a relief to me.

Sollah and Piiky: No idea on that one. I don't even know Sollah. Shes just a fun little girl (Sorry Sollah I think of you as little) that I play games with. I did talk to her one desperate night and considered her words thoughtfully. This is perhaps my minds way of manifesting those kind words; I'm not really sure what to think on this one.

Dwight the conflicted assasin: In my little cast of characters this is the one I understand least. Dwight has at many times been helpful to me... I admit there is a dark side to his personality. But the light/dark conflicted assasin seems to exaggerated. I suppose it does fit the nature of dreams to exaggerate things but it the light of reality it seems off and difficult to subject to a inspection. In the end a sudden tactical move resulted in the shadowman turning the assasins bloodlust against me. Given that within my dream I felt the same kind of bloodlust I saw in him I wonder if this is a warning about myself? It's certainly easier to observe something within yourself through someone else.

One more thing within my dream I want to point out before I go to sleep.
In the first dream I was fleeing, in the second dream I was fleeing AND seeking.
Now at first glance it's obvious that I have painful memories in New York. But... I don't know.. I don't think I was fleeing a person or a place per say. I can't put my finger on it, I have a feeling this one will torment me for many weeks. It's not in my nature to flee or give up. I always want to fight to the end if I can... that part of me changed. My fear is stronger then my mastery of it.
Thats something that has to change.

Goodnight everyone.