The End

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

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

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

Not Fade Away

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bad bad list

I'm having a slow slow nervous breakdown.

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

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

My internet is getting turned off tomorrow (later today)

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

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

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

I miss my cat.

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

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

Victimless Identity

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

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

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

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

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

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

Limit Break

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tabula Rasa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heero! Come kill me!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Grand Finale

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

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

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

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

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

Rest in peace Gary.

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

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

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

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

A most magic of candles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Broken

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

-Ernest Hemingway


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

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

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

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

An untapped ability

My first real hobby was gaming.

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

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

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

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

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



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

I'm hopelessly stuck right now.

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

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

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

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

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

A New Years Kitty

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Grim Flavour

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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