The Lonely Battlefield

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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.