deklawed

Homogenized but not pasteurized

2010-08-26T12:49:00.000-06:00

I feel a twinge of guilt whenever I go into a fast food chain or even a chain of restaurants now. It has nothing to do with eating processed or healthful foods. It has everything to do with homogenization of culture. In an ironic twist, the very signs and brands that I felt comfortable with in my early life now cause me discomfort when thinking about the world - when thinking on a global scale. Clearly, this is something I should explore further. Any suggestions are welcome.

True or false?

2010-08-18T03:42:00.000-06:00

I'm trying to get through some of my Netflix queue during what's left until fall semester starts. It seems to be going in the wrong direction though, because for every one thing I watch, I add two more. Today, I watched among other things, Breathless and an episode of Fawlty Towers. Sure, the latter is funny. But these two works also touch a nerve with me.

The protagonists are just, well, to put it bluntly they're total assholes. Pompous, arrogant jerks. It's just difficult for me to stomach the behavior of such people, even in a work of fiction. At least when I interact with strangers in passing that seem to be the source material for such caricatures, I can write it off as someone having a bad day. Rather than the synergistic result, not even a simple sum, of an awful childhood compounded by poor education. No. I definitely prefer to believe that all people have the potential to be good (starting as tabula rasa). But it's so hard! Fiction like that then serves as a reminder, not an escape.

Big G and U

2010-08-08T21:12:00.000-06:00

People bitch and moan about the government constantly, without ever realizing that the government is really a reflection of the current state of culture. How could it not be?

1. Government has as much flexibility in power as people demonstrate complacency.
If given an inch, yes, government will take a foot. But that's true of any rational agent. Government is not a nebulous entity, but run by actual people, flesh and blood. If offered powered, it will be taken. Naturally, this is why coup d'etats actually work. If kings were gods, then none would be deposed.

2. People don't understand the current state of affairs nearly as well as they think they do.
Unfortunately, this applies to politicians, in the U.S, say, Congressmen, as much as it does to ordinary citizens. But let's face it, do the average citizen really understand how a cap and trade system for carbon emissions functions like a Pigouvian tax on a negative externality? No? Then why do so many people sit on their asses railing against one like they do? Can the average citizen provide a definition of socialism and distinguish it from communism and capitalism? That minimum wage laws are a form of socialism, but the stock market is capitalistic? So why do people whine about pigs making their fortunes on the stock market while ignoring the minimum wage, while in the same minute declaring this or that administration to be socialists that are taking our country to a nose dive? Are you fucking kidding me?

3. Equality is contagious.
If you are among those people that believes that your neighbor can do anything they want as long as the law has the ability to differentiate them from you, then I both pity and despise you. What is marriage? It's both a commitment made public as well as a potential financial windfall (although this does occasionally go the other way, screwy tax laws). So what's wrong with two people in love proclaiming such a commitment and being rewarded appropriately by the government? Don't give me the argument that marriage has been a cornerstone of civilization, because that's just a load of bullshit. If you want to make that argument, then I counter that marriage ceased to be a cornerstone of civilization ever since Henry VIII defied the Catholic Church and decided that divorce was a-okay. If you support divorce, then you by default must abandon the historical view of marriage, because it's now tried and true that marriage is, like all other institutions, SUBJECT TO CHANGE. If people continue to embrace diversity and equality, it will catch on. Faster in some areas than in others, but it will become the status quo instead of a "liberal" novelty.

I'll come back to this topic, I'm sure, another night after another six-pack. But for now, to be continued.

Pieced together from one side of a conversation: confessions of a cynic

2010-07-07T02:37:00.000-06:00

Here are some bits and pieces from my side of a text conversation. I find it awkward to have conversations about anything but the simplest subjects via text, because there is always so much that I want to say that I never get around to. Partially due to the character constraints, and partially because it is amazingly fucking annoying to type on a touch-screen phone when compared to the wonderful tactile feedback of an actual god damn keyboard.

"Internal-external disconnect. People have different values than I do. Or place different value on things. Makes friendship tenuous. Someone gets 'bored'."

It still amazes me to this day that it's so hard to find people that feel even remotely the same about subjects important to me. Qualities that are important in people, important in life, important in society. And I don't just mean internally, because I think a lot of people have strong feelings about any given topic, but most of those feelings aren't necessarily worth discussing, because they're already set. So what's to discuss?

"My schema: people become 'friends' with me when they need something. I'm a cynic. And I always assume that I'll be left behind otherwise."

I'm not just a cynic; I'm a misanthrope. Until people demonstrate otherwise, and I almost used prove, but prove is such an ugly word, best left to the elegance of mathematics, but yes, until people demonstrate that they actually desire my companionship or conversation, I'm going to be watching and analyzing. Determining what it is a person wants from me, what need I can possibly fulfill, and having done so, what happens next. People don't generally come back to me out of the blue. It's because, well, they already got what they wanted. Not everyone is like that, but why waste effort on the ones that are?

Now poaching from an entirely different conversation from a different media: maybe I'm just afraid that I'll mistake someone's social frivolity for sincerity. Maybe I already did and I've since incorporated that into my schema without ever thinking twice about it. Fear feeds cynicism. I'm fairly certain I've written this down elsewhere.

"The converse is true too. I have to feel like I provide some value or worth to someone else."

Therein lies the rub. Any given instant of great utility creates a diminishing marginal benefit later. Unfortunately, being keyed into that concept means feeling a lesser value of self-worth over time. Two ideas come together here. First, that the benefit of putting more effort into something or someone should equal the cost of pouring in more effort; second, that some schedule of reinforcement comes into play. So, there has to be a payoff every once in a while. A few laughs. Maybe some drinks shared and good stories swapped. The simple things in life. And it can't be too hard, too out of the way to get, unless the payoff is just that good. Usually it won't be, but that's okay.

Lately, it just hasn't been that good.

Turning point

2010-06-30T01:25:00.000-06:00

Every day I think I get a little closer to a turning point that would be comparable to an epiphany. There's this kernel of knowledge in the back of my mind, something that I know I should be listening to and following, acting out, and yet I just can't quite bring myself to do it. Not yet. But every day I get nudged a little closer in that direction.

I think I spent the last part of my high school years and a good portion of time thereafter in a state between people that I felt I belonged with and people that I wanted to belong to. Somewhere along the line, I found a good group of people. Friends I really cared about and enjoyed spending time with. But the saying goes that all things must come to an end; sometimes this is a cause for celebration, and sometimes this is a cause for sorrow.

In any case, that left a gap of sorts, one that I've been trying to fill ever since. Instead of following the advice that I should have all along, I've tried to create structure after structure to replicate the one before. Naturally, success has been nowhere to be found. And instead of just going with what I knew all along, that I'm not in the right place, not with the right people, I've been trying to force the issue.

So it's time to round the bend. I can finally truly give up on trying to have friends in this city and feel good about doing it. If I meet a someone or two that I feel truly connected with, then great. In any case, I've finally figured out what I want to do with the rest of my life, so for now I'm just going to put my head down and get to it.

The painting.

2009-11-06T21:05:00.000-07:00

You know, I was thinking earlier today that I seem to enjoy finding situations of increasing complexity. But then I came to the thought that perhaps all human interactions are incredibly complex. Just that with experience comes the ability to discern the minutiae that creates the texture of those interactions.

For example, being able to identify a single broad brush stroke in a painting, but bit by bit seeing each one for what it is, until you begin to see more of a composite image out of these individual brush strokes. You start to make out the lines that together define a tree trunk. Eventually a horizon comes into view. Elements of the sky come into focus. In the end, you might get a glimpse of the whole painting.

So then it wouldn't be so much that the situations are more complex as it is that I have a better grip on what is actually going on. Not really a bad thing at all.

Another silly chemistry metaphor.

2009-11-03T16:18:00.000-07:00

I don't remember what exactly got me to thinking about this. Yet somewhere I got an idea in my head for a metaphor to describe emotional states. Oh. Yeah. Now I remember what it was that I was thinking about. But I'll just gloss over that ...

So here we go. Let's start with some basic chemistry first. Atoms consist of protons, neutrons, and electrons. Nuclei have a set composition at least to a certain degree. The number of protons determines what element you have, and neutrons the isotope. So maybe I could try to fit radioactivity in here but I won't. This is going to get stretched pretty thinly as it stands.

Electrons are generally more interesting, as they are heavily involved in chemical reactions. Like emotions and human interactions. In a neutral atom the number of electrons is equal to the number of protons. Pretty elementary. The electrons, however, are not clustered in one spot like like the other particles in the nucleus. Instead they wander about probability clouds, or orbitals.

If you do the math, the probability of finding a single electron around a single proton (a hydrogen atom) can be mapped out, and we end up with a sphere. So there's the first orbital. And two electrons with opposite spins can reside there happily, but when you add a third you end up with a new orbital. Also a sphere, but larger and there are locations where you won't find that third (and fourth) electron. The next orbital holds up to six and actually resembles lobes along an x-, y- and z-axis. Point being, the orbitals get more complex and more importantly, they fill in a specific order.

The reason they fill in a specific order is due to the energy state of the orbital. Lowest energy states fill first, because that's the natural order of things. All things being equal, things tend toward the lowest energy state. Furthermore these energy states are quantized. We can give discrete energy values to each orbital and there is no in between. So we can measure how much energy an electron absorbs or emits if it jumps from one orbital to another.

Now emotions can't be quantized. At least not in the sense that I can tell you that I feel x number of units of affection for this person but I feel y units of love toward this other person. We do qualify our emotions, however, with descriptors that attempt to identify the degree of an emotional state. You might go from "I like you" to "I like you very much" and eventually to "I love you". And so on. Sure, we could discuss context as well, but I'll assume that's mandatory for communication between two or more people. Here I'm thinking in terms of measuring just myself, so I can provide my own context for my qualifiers. An emotional particle in a box, if you will.

I suppose I always thought of emotions developing gradually over time. But it seems to me that the onset is so rapid, that often a new state is achieved through some combination of experience and rationalization. Okay, so your mileage may vary. But it would generally follow that to achieve a "higher energy" emotional state, say to fall in love with someone, then the previous "orbitals" need to be filled in order to have a stable emotional state. What causes these to be filled can vary. An environmental trigger. Something he or she said or did. The possible factors are numerous.

Let's return to the atom for a moment. It is possible for a photon to come along and hit our electron, causing it to absorb a specific amount of energy thus exciting it and causing it to jump to another orbital. We actually observe this on a daily basis. When the electron returns to its original state another photon is emitted, and depending on how the energy is conserved it can be of a different wavelength. This is used in fluorescent light bulbs. Phosphorescence is a slower decay. But back to our person.

So something out of the ordinary happens to this person. And there's a jump in emotional states. But because the excitation is temporary, because there isn't a stable shell, this emotional state is bound to return to its ground state. But we as humans don't fluoresce or phosphoresce or such. The energy still has to go somewhere though. An outburst. An abnormal change in emotional state. Something cathartic might alleviate that perhaps.

The fox, the dog, and the lake.

2009-10-27T23:14:00.000-06:00

Once, in a small forest, a young dog befriended a young fox. They would frolic and play by the side of the lake. After tiring each other out, the fox and the dog would sit and chat about the future while staring out onto the lake.

"I am going to set out to explore the world to find adventure beyond this mere forest!" exclaimed the dog.

The fox was curious as to what his friend intended to seek out, and so asked, "What is it that you wish to find?"

"I don't know," the dog replied without so much as a second thought. "But surely I will know when I do."

The fox nodded and continued to stare at the still water. In this way he sat when the day finally came for the two friends to part ways.

The dog was concerned for the fox's seemingly complacent attitude, and urged his friend to accompany him on his journey. The fox politely declined with a smile.

"Not knowing what I seek, I prefer to sit by the lake, where I know I can be content," the fox said.

A few years passed, and while wandering through the forest, the dog saw the fox sitting by the lake as he always did.

"Still sitting by the lake I see?" the dog inquired of his friend, thinking to boast about his many adventures.

"Indeed." The fox beamed. "I am waiting for my beloved, as we are to meet here before finding a meal. And what of you, my good friend?"

The dog recounted a few of his more interesting stories to the fox, but felt uneasy about his own lack of a family. Unable to deal with the feeling the emptiness, he decided to travel again beyond the reaches of the forest with no particular goal in mind.

The friends bid each other farewell once more. Several more years passed before they met again, this time each near the end of his life.

The fox still sat by the lake, now languishing in his final days. The dog approached him and without so much as a greeting began to pour lamentation upon his old friend.

"Woe is me," the dog cried, "for I have done little with my life, and have fathered ungrateful whelps."

Nodding, the fox sat in silence for some time. Finally, he said, "I cannot say I have any complaints. My beloved has passed on, and I fear I am not long after. But we shall be survived by a beautiful son and daughter. And my best friend has come to visit me one last time. I can go in peace."

The dog puzzled over this. "Every time I see you, you are simply sitting here by the lake. And yet you seem perfectly content with your life. How can that be?"

The fox shrugged. "When you left, I was so lonely. So I stayed here, and my beloved happened upon me. Recently, I had thought to see you again, and started to come here again. And here we both are. I could never force myself to go looking for something without knowing what I was looking for, and perhaps that is just as well."

The dog nodded and sighed. At least, realizing what his friend had always known, he decided to stay by the lake with his friend until their end of days.

If I were a cat

2009-10-22T22:27:00.000-06:00

I was thinking of something short to write about for the sake of practice. And I noticed two of my housemates' cats are sitting at the top of the stairs and sort of staring off into the distance. They're quite adorable. So I got to thinking about what I would do if I were a cat. Here we go.

If I were a cat, I'd definitely want to be an indoor cat. Oh sure, it'd be nice to be able to saunter the yard around in the spring or autumn, with the crisp green grass under my paws. Maybe even scare a bird or two. But you know how many friends of mine I've seen get spooked and then end up in a tree? That's just not for me. If I want to practice for American Idol try-outs, I'll do it from the safety and comfort of the other side of the patio door, and at ground level mind you. Maybe a little song for my human servants to let them know that I need a snack.

I would start and end every day with a nap. A deceptively, disarmingly light sleep, since drowsiness can strike any time, anywhere. Curiously, some people just don't notice the difference in texture between my sleek, soft, well preened fur and the ancient worn shag carpeting when they are putting their foot down. So I have to be ready to bolt at a moment's notice. I mean. I'm not a squeak toy after all.

Meals would be more of a throughout the day experience. I would expect that there always be a plate of dry food left out for me, and that's fine. It's somewhat meager fare compared to the wet stuff, but I've always been the type that would much rather graze a buffet all day long than have one sumptuous meal a day. Not to mention that I've always had a sort of distaste for Pavlovian conditioning. But it can't be helped if you eat the wet stuff all of the time. The unmistakable pop of the easy-open can lid, and the metal on metal shearing as your servant pulls with his index finger, back and away. What should be a grating dissonance becomes a glorious melody, a harbinger of satiation and satisfaction. The food's great, but at the expense of becoming a slave to the sound of a can opening? I'm not sure about that.

Lastly, I would try to be an ambassador for felines to humans. Oh sure, being cute and adorable is great, but people need affection too. Like curling up on someone's lap, a meow hello when someone gets home. Dogs seem to enjoy a status as man's best friend. But there's no reason that has to be. See, I'm going to start changing the status quo. Right after this nap ....

Shard - Ainixia's monologue

2009-10-18T22:55:00.001-06:00

Ainixia is a character in a story that I'm writing. If she were sitting in a room all by herself, thinking out loud, her monologue would sound something like this ....

I don't remember anything that happened before I started working for him. Just these feelings, like an oily residue all over my mind. I can't clean it up, you know? It smears, smudges, but never comes off. And it's like a venom, seeping into me. Anger and jealousy, all that. Always been a part of me. Maybe that's why I'm here now. I often think that's the case.

So I try to change but what am I really trying to change? Myself, or the world around me? And even if I change the world, am I really changing others around me or just my appearance, thus the perception of me? I thought these were pretty simple questions but no one wants to give me a straight answer. Only you can know that, I get told. Or the answer lies within. Or without. It doesn't make any sense! I'm not asking for contradictions! I mean sure, there's a parallel I can draw between answers like these and the dualities that exist in nature, like the particle wave phenomenon of photons, but that's just a metaphor. I'll leave that shit to the others. I don't really like words. Numbers and code. That's concrete. I get that.

Really I don't know why I started asking myself these questions either. I guess I feel the need to change myself. I do have the feeling I was okay with myself when I was a child. At least from what little I can remember. So there's got to be a trigger somewhere. Something that set me off. Pushed me down this slope, you know? I'll find it too. And at least I'll have a starting point. But my big fear is that it's all just a big cascade of events and decisions, this life, and knowing where I began won't reverse what's been done to me. How the world has shaped me. Or is it how I shaped the world? Maybe it doesn't even matter because that emotional residue, it really is stuck. And I'll always be kind of angry. Part of me wants to reject that notion though because it would mean we're predestined to meet a certain end. All because we can't overcome our physical nature. If we can't control our chemical impulses, our reactions, we're doomed to that thing we call fate.

I'm just going in circles. This is awful. No way to live. I'll change things though. I have a plan. There's something in the back of my mind that's trying to guide me. Whispering to me. Maybe I should start listening. He'll notice then. Oh, he'll notice ….

The world is peachy.

2009-10-17T20:39:00.001-06:00

And now for something completely different.

It's funny how the little details stick with you over the years. Let me recount an example of what I mean.

I spent the entirety of my sixth grade year in England. My father was in the Air Force, and my mother and I came along when he was stationed at RAF Mildenhall. We were in East Anglia, about 80 or so miles north of London. I've seen many beautiful places, but none so green as this part of England. During the late spring and summer, pastures and trees form a vibrant, almost surreal verdant blanket over the landscape.

The school I attended was an American middle school located on an Feltwell Air Force base. Being that all of the students were in a foreign country, and a country rich with history at that, every year a low cost trip was offered to the sixth grade class. That year the trip was to Wales to see some three castles: Caenarfon, Conway, and Beaumaris My parents not only had the good sense to let me go but chose to go themselves as chaperons. Two good friends of mine, Matthew and Paul, were also going.

The bus ride from the school to Llandudno, Wales would be at least half a day. I sat next to Matthew on the bus, and Paul across the aisle from us. My parents and I had traveled frequently by car around the States, so I was used to passing the time by simply staring off at the distant scenery. The edges of the motorways are not nearly so pretty as the oft unkempt vegetation lining smaller roads. Nevertheless, watching trees and structures pass by was a good way to feel a sense of progress toward our destination.

Perhaps an hour or two into the drive, our British culture teacher stood at the front of the bus holding a jar of gingersnaps. The cookies, he told us, were a nice remedy for nausea, should anyone be feeling at all queasy or motion sick. "I guess I'm too late," he muttered.

I hadn't heard anything unusual. No one made any sound indicating some sudden onset of illness. Nor was there an accompaniment of groans protesting in disgust. I glanced over at the aisle and saw what appeared to be spilled peaches. I shrugged and went back to looking out the window even as the bus came to a stop at the side of the road. Matthew left and the teacher came over to clean up. As he did so, he turned to me and asked, "Did he get any on you?"

"Get any what?" I replied quizzically.

Oh.

And it clicked. When Matthew got back on the bus and we started moving again, Paul cackled at me.

"You didn't notice?" he asked.

"I thought he spilled some peaches."

The three of us agreed on that point. I'm not sure to this day how Matthew managed to eat and then expel peaches in such a fashion, but it made for a bit of interesting if not odd conversation. It also wasn't the only time on that trip that he got sick either.

Wales was gorgeous, the castles were magnificent. But as I said, it's funny how the minor details stick out in my mind so vividly. Just goes to show. It's the little things in life.

Building roads.

2009-10-14T21:37:00.001-06:00

What is a friend? Well, according to the Random House dictionary, it's "a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard". Fair enough. By The American Heritage Dictionary, one can take a friend to be "a person whom one knows, likes, and trusts".

It's a pretty straightforward definition. And yet such a simple word can mean so many different things. Varying levels of emotion or attachment that aren't and can't possibly be ascribed to a single word by a dictionary entry. At times I find myself mildly frustrated at the word's broad definition. There's a pretty far cry from someone that one just chats with in passing, maybe just at work, and the person with which one shares every dark secret.

Maybe it was my upbringing that taught me to try to work quickly when developing friendships. Military family, move every few years, start over in a new neighborhood, with new people. If you don't want to be lonely there's a certain pressure to make a move. That said, friendship as I remember it in my childhood was pretty easy going. It didn't take much, just find a common interest, a game to play together outside, something along those lines.

As an adult, things are simple to a degree. Perhaps in terms of defining what one wants. Say that I want someone that I can head out with once or twice a week, maybe drink a beer or two, maybe take a walk somewhere and talk, or watch a movie. Someone I can trust, can have a good laugh with. Occasionally discuss serious topics with. Maybe starting to sound a little like a dating advert. But these are qualities that shouldn't be too difficult to find, right?

Except for the part where for whatever reason, it's not so easy. Not to make a deeper connection than just "an acquaintance" (which is incidentally part of second definition in The American Heritage Dictionary). After all, it takes two people to make a relationship of any kind work. Otherwise there's no real friendship, just a dependency.

What I visualize in my mind are two people building a road to nowhere, each coming from a different direction. They see each other. Stop, wave from afar, and continue building the road without really being able to see what the other is doing. Until at some point the two roads now meet, and therein lies a moment of truth, an epiphany as to whether things will ever work out. And maybe if things just happen too quickly, there's a jarring disconnect. Without any time to adjust, to adapt, suddenly these two roads are adjoined and without the most serendipitous coincidence, the two find that not only has their road gone nowhere, but also become a logistical and rational mess. Perhaps a small country road meeting a larger interstate; each road reflecting the emotional needs of its builder. Such a clash should inevitably lead to problems.

I'll take the road metaphor one step further. Roads require maintenance, else they fall into disrepair. They must be driven time again, lest they become strange and unfamiliar. True, there are always the exceptions, but perhaps it is those exceptions that we seek. Certainly not all roads are constructed with equal care.

Recently, I tried to befriend a particular person and in reflecting on it, this is more or less exactly what happened. Oh sure. There's certainly something to be said that I never felt really natural around this person, but I suppose that has a lot to do with trying to build too much road far too quickly; not only for the comfort of this person but for myself as well. Maybe this person didn't really want friendship, maybe this person didn't want much of anything at all. I'm not sure, only sure that I'll never know the answer to that question. Just that the roads built didn't work out.

Frankly, it sort of bothered me, and the thoughts made manifest into text tonight have been flitting around my mind. Someone contacted me. An old friend. Someone that I had connected with very quickly. Even though I rarely get in touch with her, there's still a very special place in my heart for her. I couldn't tell you how that came to be, or why. That she remembers? Meant more to me than I care to try to express in words. I suppose in a sense I was so busy trying to find something special that I forgot how rare it is. Enough introspection.

So friendship. Pardon the trite use of the expression at this point, but friendship is a two way street. So maybe I can live with the dictionary definition after all. A lot of the other words used can vary in depth. How well do you know someone before you can say you "know them"? And how much should you trust someone before you've given a friend you trust? That said, I have a few roads to work on. Maybe a bit slower this time.

About food, but not really.

2009-10-11T19:24:00.002-06:00

If you believe the hype, one of the big goals in life is to live as long as possible. Even if that means living an otherwise useless protracted existence, perhaps sessile and incapable of chewing your own food. Maybe it means leading a lonely life because you can't remember who the people around you are, or were, from times when you could put a face to a name. Maybe it means lying in a bed in a vegetative state until your body withers away.

A bleak picture, to be sure. And to some it's a puzzle too; this is a world that predominantly believes that the best is yet to come after life ends. If what we have to look forward to after we die is so amazing, why seek to artificially extend the inevitable?

To that end, our culture in the United States is a morass of conflicting ideals. Please, enjoy your fast food value meal. It tastes good, there's nothing wrong with admitting that. But you can also feel better about eating it because it's now made with more wholesome ingredients and fewer additives than last year's recipes, and served in packaging that uses 5% more post-consumer recycled materials than last year's packaging. What progress! Never mind that it's still not good for you. We want guilty pleasures while placating our consciences with the jingle of FDA approved catchphrases.

A tangent: I remember watching the Jetsons as a child and thinking about how great it would be to take a pill instead of having to eat a whole meal. Perhaps something as small as a pill is out of the question, but no doubt we could get into the neighborhood as far as sustenance is concerned. After all, we already consume multivitamins. What about a bar or tube packed with the other necessary proteins and calories? Just eat one a day, lead a healthy life.

But don't most people live to feel pleasure? To at least some degree anyhow. Those most miserable generally end up departing this world by their own hands. So eating a plain nutrition bar or toothpaste tube of protein gunk day in and day out probably doesn't factor into a fun existence. Indeed, gastronomy is a significant part of any culture. Regions of the world become renowned for food, sometimes for just a single product. What's travel without food? Take a trip, be adventurous, not just seeing the scenery but also tasting the local cuisine. Things you just can't get at home.

So what does all this food have to do with a picture of a miserable end to life? Clearly we live our lives bent on enjoying what we can. Food is just one facet to our lives. But there's no sense in feeling guilty about the choices that we make so long as we are honest about accepting the consequences for our actions. For if we are honest about shirking an extended future for the here and now, then no one else should feel the need to convince us otherwise. And certainly not feel the urge to try to compel us to feel better about a choice we've made.

Nevertheless, people hop onto their soapbox and rant and preach to all the world about this or that great and wonderful new cure-all to that which ails you. And while not inculpable, the media can't really be blamed because it is our natures that permits incomplete information to foment, propagate through the airwaves and fester. Subjects as complex as religion, politics, and nutrition have to be boiled down into thirty second sound bites. Again, all to placate ourselves. To make us feel comfortable and not leave any dirty question marks hanging over head. As if the metaphorical curl of punctuation becomes a coil of literal serpent waiting to strike us down.

Through our various networks of information, new diets, new fads, and new science percolate up through the masses. Remember the Atkins diet? Every major eatery struggled to create some product or line that catered to a fad which crashed as quickly as it lit the country on fire. Gluten-free products might be next. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with trying to pursue a more desirable weight or better overall health. But the message being sent seems to always be one of taking a high road with no consequences. There are no choices in life without consequences, a tough but valuable lesson that is not oft enough taught to adults, much less youth.

So to anyone still attempting to reconcile the grim image of life coming to a slow end with the epicurean shrugging off of better decisions; the dots are connected. It's not just food. It's anything. Your body, your choice. Live with it.

Murdering time.

2009-10-09T22:05:00.002-06:00

Not just killing it. Brutally murdering it. I've been so unproductive with my writing lately, I figured I'd pour a few words out and see if I can get my thoughts focused enough to want to something with my time.

It's almost funny, really. I seem to be a hell of a lot more creative when my thoughts are muddied. Like ideas that just pop out of some maelstrom that swirls about in my head. And then when everything is clear, no more ideas. Sure, it's not an uncommon story, in fact more a cliche. "Ah, I must suffer for my work!" I think I'd prefer to split the difference.

Next week I'll just have to force myself to head out to a cafe or something so that I can just sit down and do some writing in my notebook. There's just something about having other people around you, but that aren't talking to you, aren't bothering you, aren't really interested in you, that sort of feeds into that creativity. Like a sort of network that we're all connected to, one that becomes stronger with proximity.

Some people might think this is just plain silly, but hear me out. Call it what you will, a collective consciousness, a social network (the real kind, not the web versions!), hive minds or group thinking. But people seem to not only gravitate to the same areas but also the same behaviors often unawares. For example, in a large store, maybe a grocery store, maybe an electronics store, watch how many people walk towards the exit because they're done shopping. If it's moderately busy, sometimes it'll be eerie how a whole bunch of customers go at once, as if everyone realizes that it's time to leave.

Anyhow, that's what I'll do next week. Find myself a crowd. A collective, a network. And hopefully draw off some of that thought, that energy, that creativity, and be productive again.

Short story, first revision.

2009-10-01T16:36:00.003-06:00

Thanks to the J man for his assistance. Should have done this a lot sooner, but hey. Still feel that this story is really missing something, so it probably will end up as a fragment of a larger story. But maybe in a few more months I'll tinker with it again, and we'll see what happens.

**********

The waitress tapped her pen against her chin and smiled.

“You both want the usual, yeah?”

The young woman nodded. He also gave her a single nod. Usually he would say a little something, maybe a joke, or asking how the waitress how her day was going. Not this time. Not now.

“That'd be great, thanks,” he said. Off to the kitchen went the waitress wondering if that wasn't a twinge of nervousness she heard in his voice, and also why he wasn't so talkative today.

His friend was giving him a sidelong glance. A quizzical look, lips parted as if to speak. But she restrained herself. She knew him, could read him all too well.

He sipped some water from a plastic stemmed cup. An earthy flavor permeated the water. I'm not going to find my resolve in this cup. If I explain everything, I can shake this sense of being lost. Get some direction. Move on with my life.

“What's wrong?” his friend finally asked. “You've been kind of quiet since we got here.”

She leaned forward, head tilted, as if to get a better look not just into his eyes, but beyond. Her gaze was met only by weary brown eyes looking back at her. Whatever he was seeking was not found in her almond shaped green eyes, or her gently bobbling locks of blonde hair.

He knew he couldn't mask his feelings well. Whatever he thought, he wore on his face. She'll try to figure it out, coax out of me whatever is bothering me.

“Is it that girl at work?” she searched. “How are things going with her? You talk to her yet? I don't think you said anything about her the last time we had lunch. You better not be giving up again!”

She smiled. He knew this look, and he should have felt comfortable, relaxed even. She was teasing gently, just trying to get him to open up.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, her,” he trailed off into a mumble. A pressure was building inside his chest, anxiety threatening to suffocate him at any moment if he didn't remember to breathe. Control, I need control. Collect my thoughts and just breathe.

He looked around the restaurant for something to focus on. The floor, the walls, nothing caught his attention, but for the moment it hurt less than looking into her eyes.

Inhale. Deep breath.

“I don't ah, I don't know if things would have worked out with her. Heard from a few that she's a little too serious. The one person in the room that doesn't laugh at the joke that everyone else laughs at. Smart as all hell, but, I, you know, I want someone with a sense of humor. Someone upbeat. Too bad. She is kind of cute.”

Exhale.

She looked away. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see him turn his gaze back to her. She felt a tension dripping from almost every word he spoke. The how of it was unanswerable, just an indelible feeling emanating from his person. An almost imperceptible change in the timbre of his voice. A slight staccato punctuating each sentence. It was so hard to tell. But it was there. And the why, she sensed, would not make things better. The girl from his work? Not what he wanted to talk about.

“Now you're the quiet one,” he sighed.

“Just thinking,” she mused. “Hey, we've known each other for a long time. I know there's something gnawing at you. Just spit it out, you'll feel so much better. You always do.”

She bit her lip.

His sight wandered again off into the distance. He knew that she only bit her lip when feeling conflicted. Every rational thought coursing through his head told him to stop. How did it come to this, anyhow? Is it because familiarity breeds contempt? Or comfort? So that I want to cross that line now. Or at least just say how I feel. And here I've been waiting for this moment, this opportunity, and it feels like it's all wrong.

A light switch flicked off inside his head. All of these thoughts were gone. Emotion took over and gave rise to hope. Just a sliver, but enough to make him press on.

Where to start? “I guess lately I've been wondering,” he sputtered, “what things would have been like if we'd met under different circumstances. You know, if you had been single and um, that sort of thing. It's silly, I know.”

“Okay. And that's what's been bothering you?”

“Well, not quite all of it.” Too far. Too far. Just finish it. Get it out of the way. What was I thinking? Hoping for? Just spit it out and pray it's okay. “I love you.”

The pressure in his chest was released at last. Now replaced by a pounding in his head, the audible rush of blood flowing through his temples preventing him from looking into her eyes. Slowly, painfully he lifted his gaze to her face.

What have I done?

She sat in silence. Staring at him intently.

The waitress dropped two plates off at the table. The heavy atmosphere was enough to send the waitress shuffling off to another table without a word.

The pounding in his head ceased. He still felt a little flush, but otherwise fine. His mind at least felt more calm. Soothed. Although there would be no telling how long that would last. When regret would sink in, with the realization that he had damaged a cherished friendship.

He felt a need to explain himself. “There's just something about seeing you every week. I've always had feelings for you. And I guess while I know better than to expect anything, I thought maybe you'd understand.”

“I do. It's why we're friends in spite of your wanting more. I just don't understand, though, why you had to say it.”

She smiled sadly, and picked up her fork.

Food?

2009-09-18T23:16:00.003-06:00

Whether friendships or more, relationships are like food. We often gauge what we eat by presentation, and take immense pleasure in the initial taste. But there is a great deal of value beyond mere flavor. People live and die by nutrition, not palate alone.

Getting back on track.

2009-09-13T21:26:00.002-06:00

I'm going to try really, really hard to not sound cynical here.

People as a whole like to talk. I'm no different than most. I like to talk, like to discuss what's on my mind. I like to listen too though. Lately, I've done a fair amount of listening. That doesn't bother me.

What bothers me is that the way that I generally cope with feeling lost or confused is to spew out a number of random thoughts. A lot of times these thoughts are tied in to the very emotions that either cause confusion or are the result of being lost. And so what I say just ends up sounding stupid, ridiculous, or at worst just plain alienating to the person I'm trying to talk to. And by the time I reach a reasonable conclusion on where I am, where I'm going, or where I'm belong, I'm afraid that I've probably done some unnecessary damage.

Without getting into specifics, I am pretty sure I have a clear idea of what I want. Unfortunately, I am also pretty sure I can't get what I want for a few reasons. There are pretty clear conflicts in a few aspects of my life. I want out of my job, but switching to a different company could preclude me from going to school. Now that some time has passed since I split up with my now ex-girlfriend, I have a better idea of what I want out of my personal life. I don't really even want to get into that, but suffice it to say that it's probably pretty easy to trip up there, and I'll have all the grace of a paralyzed lemur in that regard anyhow.

Time to move on to the next question. How to make things happen. I can only hope that once I feel a few positive changes in my life that I'll actually be able to stay happy for more than 12 hours at a time.

Rant over. This week is going to be productive if it kills me. Poor Relanna's story has been waiting for over a decade to be put on paper.

Two metaphors

2009-08-08T13:45:00.003-06:00

In chemistry and physics, there is a certain pressure and temperature unique to a compound called the triple point. At the triple point, the compound will exist in all three states of matter simultaneously. For example, H2O will exist as water, ice, and steam in the same container.

At some point in the last few days I think I managed to achieve a triple point with self-loathing melting into paranoia and sublimating into cynicism. Like a very real triple point which take great care to sustain, this didn't last. In fact, the realization was enough to force a laugh and knock me back into a happier reality.

More physics. The law of inertia applies to people just as it does to mass. What is habit but a vector? The greater the velocity, the greater the acceleration (thus force) required to change that velocity. Want to start exercising? Or cleaning the house every single day instead of as needed? Assuming that these things don't come naturally to you! It takes a lot of effort to do it each time until it becomes habit. An automatic routine. Want to stop smoking? Biting your fingernails? Better fire that bullet into a wall. Or the ground. Stop it dead in its tracks. Cold turkey, you know?

So that's it. So much angst from inertia! Silly me. That's not the whole of it, but it's been a large part. Now I feel like I can go back to working on other writing. So that's exactly what I'm going to do ....

Nonsense and drivel

2009-08-02T20:09:00.003-06:00

I used an awkward analogy last night. Something about the ultimate relationship between a man and a woman and the struggle for dominance between the two. The man, in this analogy as originally told, is one of many starving villagers and the woman is a UN troop deployed to provide aid. She knows what he wants, she knows what he needs, but most importantly she knows she has control over the outcome of his wants and needs. Of course, the roles could be reversed. This isn't a gender specific analogy.

Sometimes I wonder about the profundity and at the same time, the silliness of it all. As a species we seem to be hardwired to crave attention, to the point that even negative attention is better than nothing at all. And the more attractive the person giving us attention the better. Even when everyone else is seemingly after the same thing, we throw ourselves at such a pursuit. But to be a recipient is to be chosen, and having that choice is power. Why choose to empower others?

Of course, if anyone could be the troop, almost everyone would choose to do so. However, if no one wants what you've got to offer, lines will be short. Might even be standing around for months if not years before someone notices. And it hit me, while pondering all of this, that I'm in that crowd. Starving. Except I can't see what it is that I'm in line for.

Blurb, part 2

2009-07-29T10:54:00.003-06:00

So aggravated right now. But that's a different story for another time. To continue my thoughts from where I last left off, let me first expand slightly on my thrill seeking analogy. Racing, skydiving, these are manufactured situations. Controlled risk, but there is a risk, to be sure.

I think that's how I view people to some degree. A controlled risk. I'm an introvert, so it's not especially in my nature to go out and talk to people I'm not familiar with, much less seek out new people for this purpose. I like my circle of friends to be tightly knit. Definitely not a fan of having lots of acquaintances with whom I can share nothing deemed "too personal".

So when I push outside of my normal boundaries, that can be a manufactured thrill in an emotional sense. Although, that sounds almost cold, mechanical. And also sounds like it involves investing more of oneself than is healthy into basic human interactions. I suppose though if one is looking harness negativity, that's just how things are. Probably ties in with why I like to write stories about people with problems of all kinds. I'm trying to capture a moment of doubt and anguish, perhaps pain too, without the scars.

Maybe that's what I'm looking for. When I'm miserable, I look for something to make me happy. But when I'm reasonably content, I look for little ways to grasp the roots of unhappiness without letting go of what I currently have.

So it goes.

Unfinished blurb

2009-07-27T17:02:00.002-06:00

I was writing this on my lunch, didn't finish, and can't remember exactly where I was headed. I might continue it if I can. Also I lost my pen. Boo.

Every so often I get the feeling that I need to look for something. But I can't describe what that "something" is. Just an intangible feeling that something is missing from my life.

So I wonder now, is it an edifying search? Will I find fulfillment? Peace of mind? Perhaps I'm a lost soul (lonely soul!) wandering through a desert chasing mirages. And what's really missing is the sensation of entropy, a chaotic unraveling of life and mind. As if this search becomes an excuse to justify to myself some ultimately self-destructive behavior.

The truth likely lies in between these poles.

I'm not really a thrill seeker. Not in the sense of looking for extreme physical situations, like racing? I'll pass, thanks. Bungee jumping? No way. Skydiving? God forbid. You get the idea. But maybe lately I'm looking for something more emotional in nature. Plenty of people do, no doubt. Who doesn't feel euphoria upon falling in love with someone? Or having the special kind of conversation only the closest of friends can enjoy, not to mention the path to forming that bond. Maybe that's what I miss. It goes the other way too though.

Certain uncomfortable situations, painful even, get the blood pumping. Mind racing. Arguments, rejection, conflicts that common sense dictates we avoid. These things can provide enough peaks and valleys, emotionally, to make life interesting.

Blah

2009-07-26T20:28:00.002-06:00

I'm staring at a half filled page while finishing a modest dinner. Listening to Urbs. Not talking to anyone, not expecting anyone to log on. I'm tired and probably need sleep.

A few thoughts float through my head about with what I want to fill this space. Honestly, nothing cheerful or uplifting comes to mind. Why force it, I guess is the question I'm asking myself.

I wonder what it's like to be naturally happy. Or at least, have an effervescent personality. Complete with a twist of citrus.

... guess I'll just get that sleep I need.

[Fragment] On making friends and breaking walls

2009-07-23T13:40:00.004-06:00

A lot of people seem to go through life while banging their heads against metaphorical brick walls of various shapes and sizes. And no different than a real and physical wall, it hurts. Still, we continue.

Perhaps the satisfaction of finally having one give way to an expertly placed blow is what drives us. I'm not just talking about the actions we take due to instinct, or some other virtually hardwired response developed during one's formative years. I'm more talking about the stupid shit we do that we have control over.

Like drinking or smoking too much. Or driving too fast. Or spending too much money on unnecessary whirligigs or whatever strikes your fancy. Okay, so it can be argued that there is a malady for any of these behaviors. They're addictive or people have genetic predispositions or this or that.

So here's one that's a little more difficult to write off so easily. Trying to befriend people that seem to have on interest in speaking to you. And you say to yourself, "Why chiral, that does sound pretty damn stupid!"

I agree. There's a giant brick wall, except this one is more interesting than ephemeral exhilarations. People are more rich, more rewarding, so if someone seems interesting enough, why not? Often the stakes seem low; keep trying and at worst eventually be pushed away. Time is the majority commodity spent here.

Of course, things are never so simple when people are involved. For a lot of people, I would wager, rejection of any kind has an emotional price. And over a long enough period of time, resolve and trust erode away. Like a man at the racetrack that keeps betting on an unlikely horse and so goes bankrupt does a man that keeps a up routine of emotional masochism threaten his own heart with emptiness. A void that damage near everything brought in.

Clearly, such a person should stop. But just as it can often be so easy to pour one more or smoke one final, it can be so enticing to start up one last conversation. Because you can always stop "next time".

Rough draft

2009-07-20T14:06:00.003-06:00

Note - this is a very short rough draft grotesquely in need of at least one revision, and probably more. There are a few places that I want to add more. Anyone kind enough to read this, if you don't mind telling me what you think (honestly, critically), much appreciated.

***

The waitress tapped her pen against her chin and smiled.

“You both want the usual, yeah?”

The young woman nodded. The man sitting at the table with her also gave a single nod.

“That'd be great, thanks,” he said. Off to the kitchen went the waitress wondering if that wasn't a twinge of nervousness she had heard in his voice.

He sipped some water from the same plastic stemmed cups that were always used at this restaurant. An earthy flavor permeated the water. I'm not going to find my resolve in this cup, he thought.

“What's wrong?” his friend asked. “You've been kind of quiet since we got here.”

She leaned forward, head tilted, as if to get a better look not just into his eyes, but beyond. To see through the physical exterior. Her gaze was met only by weary brown eyes looking back at her, searching for an answer. One not found in her almond shaped green eyes, or her gently bobbing locks of blond hair.

“Is it that girl at work?” she searched. “How are things going with her? You talk to her yet? I don't think you said anything about her the last time we had lunch. You better not be giving up again!”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, her,” he trailed off into a mumble. A pressure was building inside his chest, anxiety threatening to suffocate him at any moment if he didn't remember to breathe. Control, I need control. Collect my thoughts and just breathe.

Inhale. Slowly.

“I don't ah, I don't know if things would have worked out with her. Heard from a few that she's a little too serious. The one person in the room that doesn't laugh at the joke that everyone else laughs at. Smart as all hell but, I, you know, I want someone with a sense of humor. Someone upbeat. Too bad. She is kind of cute.”

Exhale.

A question echoed through her mind. What's wrong? She felt a tension dripping from almost every word he spoke. The how of it was unanswerable, just an indelible feeling emanating from his person. An almost imperceptible change in the timbre of his voice. A slight staccato punctuating each sentence. It was so hard to tell. But it was there. And the why, she sensed, would not make things better.

“Now you're the quiet one,” he sighed.

“Just thinking,” she mused. “Hey, we've known each other for a long time. I know there's something gnawing at you. Just spit it out, you'll feel so much better. You always do.” But really, please just don't let it be that.

His sight wandered off into the distance. Perhaps the answer he sought could be found on her face. But that's not what he wanted right now. How did it come to this, anyhow? Is it because familiarity breeds contempt? Or comfort? So that I want to cross that line now. Or at least just say how I feel. And here I've been waiting for this moment, this opportunity and it feels like it's all wrong.

Where to start? “I guess lately I've been wondering,” he sputtered, “what things would have been like if we'd met under different circumstances. You know, if you had been single and um, that sort of thing. It's silly, I know.”

Damn it, she thought. “Okay. And that's what's been bothering you?”

“Well, not quite all of it.” Too far. Too far. Just finish it. Get it out of the way. What was I thinking? Hoping for? Just spit it out and pray it's okay. “I love you.”

The pressure in his chest was released at last. Now replaced by a pounding in his head, the audible rush of blood flowing through his temples preventing him from looking into her eyes. Slowly, painfully he lifted his gaze to her face.

What have I done?

She sat in silence. Expressionless. But staring at him intently.

The waitress dropped two plates off at the table. The heavy atmosphere was oppressive enough to send the waitress quickly shuffling off to another table without a word.

I thought we were okay. Good friends. But to push this now, then something isn't right. You're not happy. Not happy with us, the way we are. “Why? Why did you have to say it?”

The pounding in his head ceased. He still felt a little flush, but otherwise fine. His mind at least felt more calm. Soothed. Although there would be no telling how long that would last. When regret might sink in and wreak havoc with his thoughts of what else might have been. “I guess I just got tired of pretending.”

She smiled sadly, and picked up her fork.

Cynicism

2009-07-19T16:23:00.002-06:00

Every so often, I find myself falling prey to cynicism. There's a certain comfort in simply believing that everything in the world and everyone in the world embodies some facet of negativity, or is some physical manifestation of evil. See also, Hobbes. Answers to pressing questions in life are so much simpler if you assume the worst. Personal responsibility, accountability, these ideas are very nearly defenestrated by a world view that sees a sinister motive behind every smiling face.

Sometimes though, the easiest or most comfortable way isn't the best way. Since the dawn of civilization people have said, have written, have taught that we should be good to and do good by one another, trust in one another, have faith in one another. And yes, there is pain that goes hand in hand with betrayal of that trust which rends the fabric of faith asunder. And so we turn to the security blanket that is darkness, wrapping ourselves to be protected from hurt.

I think of the fable about a fox that wants grapes from a vine, and after many attempts fails to procure his treat. They must be sour! he exclaims as he wanders off. Yes, I want to rationalize away any pain, anguish, perhaps even shame, just like the fox. But there will be many other bunches of grapes to come.

Untitled

2009-07-15T13:09:00.002-06:00

I'll leave in the typos and such in this morning's post. There are fewer than I would have expected, all things considered.

This needs some serious, serious, serious revision. In fact, I think I'm going to end up rewriting whole stanzas, but it's a rough draft, so ... here it is in all its unglory.

I'm not as bad as I think I am.
I'm not as good as you want me to be.

This crazy autopilot keeps me flying,
trying to figure out how to
wipe away my pain;
a refrain to a time long lost.
To regain some aspect of the past
almost regardless of the cost.

I'm not as bad as you think I am.
I'm not as good as I want me to be.

Just when I think I can find my own way,
my brain shuts down.
You say you may know the sound
that bounces between my ears,
behind my eyes,
but who will be the one
to stifle the lies?

I'm not as bad as I think I am.
I'm not as good as you want me to be.

Frustration mounting, tension building.
Have to keep my thoughts fenced in.
This continuation of a discussion
in my head of what might have been
is punctuated by an empty glass.

I'm not as bad as you think I am.
I'm not as good as I want me to be.

Pulling together

2009-07-15T01:46:00.002-06:00

My mind is first starting to calm down.

I'll get the geeky shit out of the way first. In four hours, our guild got from scratch to General Vezax down in a 10 man raid. That's pretty damn cool. There's something to be said for accomplishing something that is done as a team. So it's a game. There's still a goodly amount of effort that goes into that.

Nevertheless, that probably has the least impact on how I'm feeling. Today I managed to crank out about a page and a half of a short story. I'm at something of an impasse with regard to how I want to develop the story further, but I'll actually give credit (credit, and not blame, mind) for that to Rachel. Not the other Rachel. (Heh?!)

Just something that came up in a bit of chat. Maybe it was meaningless to her (which from my own typical viewpoint would be the case for most people I talk to) it was a comment that resonated with me. I won't go into more detail, because I hate dropping lines directly from chat and I don't want to spoil the story either, but suffice it to say that I'll probably write three different versions of the story, and I'll go with the one that turns out the best. Because really, the characters in this story, it's up to them where the story goes. And what direction they choose to go in.

Some textiles just refuse to be woven in a particular way. For this particularly story I chose to develop characters that can be woven into many different fabrics of life. Hey, there's something to be said for flexibility. (I'm going to ramble. A fucking lot. The important shit has been said, so you can stop reading now and not miss a thing.) Especially if you like gymnasts. I don't. But this guy I knew in the 3rd grade. He did. Can't remember her name, just that she was in the 4th grade. The things he talked about doing to her .... lord. Illegal at my age to talk about a girl like that.

Disgusting or disturbing jokes aside though, it was an age at which that subject, sex, was at once pervasive and elusive. The genetic data is there, providing that instinctual drive toward the opposite sex, if you happen to fall into that 90%, but the blueprints stop there. There was, for me at least, a definite sort of mystique about girls for a while, even as adolescence and puberty cruelly twisted emotions awry with hormones. To ignore, or worse, to quarrel with a girl because attraction was beyond rational never gave good results. Not then, not now.

Eventually, one grows out of that phase. Nevertheless, there are certain qualities of that period of life as well that carry over into later stages of life and become an indelible characteristic of one's personality. And I think that perhaps I know a lot of people for which that is especially true, because there's a fear, maybe a reverence, but more than anything a very visceral fear of speaking to women. Also a very human response to rejection. And combined this makes for ultimately a complete lack of desire to reach out.

Frankly, I forgot what the fuck I originally wanted to say. But recently I've had, or given myself, the opportunity to taste that fear. It is on one hand not an especially positive experience with which to deal. I might need something like that more often though to give me some energy, to pump some adrenaline through my system. Active that fight or flight mechanism. It might very well be better to live with a nervous invigoration than a tired complacence.

...

This was pretty damn long.

So much for keeping up!

2009-07-13T23:12:00.002-06:00

A month and a half. I suppose it's time to put something down here.

Ever have one of those days where you just can't stop thinking? Heart won't stop racing? Close your eyes but visions won't stop appearing?

Start to stretch that out over a few weeks and it can wear a little thin. More on that after I regain some of my sanity.

On the game front, playing a little bit of Devil Summoner (it's good; expected), and Saint's Row. Just because everyone needs something of a guilty pleasure now and then.

Whoops

2009-05-29T16:43:00.003-06:00

It's been over a month now. Guess I'll have to try a little harder to keep up with this.

Not playing anything at the moment except for WoW. I guess my ennui finally went away. I am waiting for Devil Summoner on the DS though; that looks like it will be great.

Also watching the second season of House on DVD, and there are only a few episodes left and less than a week before it needs to go back to the library. I have some thoughts on the show, but more on that later. Just felt the need to touch base here.

Now playing: Not being sick, Luminous Arc (DS)

2009-04-22T04:22:00.002-06:00

Being sick sucks.

Hopefully I'll have a vacation coming up in two weeks, which means I'll be able to get some serious writing done, and maybe even catch up on some gaming. The latest patch in WoW has seen me playing more. People that don't know about or don't care about WoW can skip the next paragraph.

The Argent Tournament is a lot of fun so far. It's a bit shallow, but there's a lot of potential here, and as far as dailies go, it's a fantastic departure from the standards (kill 10 of this, gather 8 of that, loot this item, etc). I would have liked to have seen some sort of Ahn'Qiraj-esque war effort with regard to building the tournament facility, but I guess it will be ready when it's ready. As far as Ulduar itself, the difficulty is definitely a huge step up from Naxx 2.0. Sure, the world's best guilds have cleared it already, but for us normal people, the challenge is definitely a rope dangling from a steep wall. Daunting, difficult, perhaps frustrating at times, but not insurmountable. Well, it had better not be, or I'm going to kick the asses of the people that are making it so.

My lunchbreaks at work have been filled with Luminous Arc as of late, which is a really quite charming tactical RPG. The gameplay is pretty good, but ultimately the characters steal the spotlight, as most of them are reasonably likeable. Otherwise, it plays just like any other tactical RPG (think Final Fantasy Tactics or ... oh hell, on consoles everyone compares tac games to FFT). The difficulty ramps up curiously fast right in the middle of the game, where gear upgrades become sparse. Grinding is of course one way around this. I feel like better planning from the get-go would have aided as well, but I tried to maintain a very balanced party, and my characters' levels are dramatically below the mobs I'm fighting. Well, we'll see how this turns out when I'm done with the game.

I have other thoughts that beg to be expunged from my mind onto paper or screen but the nature is rather morbid. Still, I suppose no one really reads this anyhow, so perhaps it doesn't really matter anyhow. But for some reason I found myself pondering Catholicism, the Catechism, and suicide. And I started to wonder about the whole Christian concept of Jesus Christ forgiving sins.

So here, obvious to any Christian, Protestant or Catholic of course, Jesus Christ is writ to forgive any sin if one accepts him as true lord and savior (and asks, naturally). But suicide is said to be an unforgiveable sin, since one cannot ask for forgiveness after the fact, and since the last act committed is a sin, one's soul is condemened to Hell. Apparently asking for forgiveness in advance of the act is not sufficient to absolve oneself of the sin of murder, even if of thine own body.

So here's where my question of morality arose. Since you can't be forgiven after the fact for a sin that you have committed after you're already dead, why would you be forgiven for any sin which is premeditated? According to Scripture, if you commit first degree murder, that is to say, think about the crime, plan it, then actually carry it out, but ask for forgiveness, that's okay. So first degree murder is forgiveable, killing 6 million Jews is potentially forgiveable, raping small children is potentially forgiveable, but killing yourself is not.

It really seems strange to me.

I guess (and please don't worry about me, should anyone actually read this) that I just don't view suicide as that horrible of a thing. It's just something that humans have the potential for, as so many things are. Other animals don't share our twisted sense of morality that can force our sense of emotion to take precendence over rational decisions. So we can't honestly say that suicide is against the laws of nature, because there is no basis for that. It makes a difficult moral argument, if you ask me, because the only person being physically hurt is victim, who happens to be the perpetrator.

Sure, the argument can be (and often is) made that the act is selfish, and hurts only those close to the victim. I can't profess to fully understand the feelings of one who has committed suicide (obviously) or one that has been truly close (I mean nuclear family, significant other, that sort of thing) to one that has, but it would seem to me that even if such a wound never healed completely, it could at least start to close over time. Regardless, such a pain probably couldn't compare to the pain someone must feel to actually end one's own life. I could be entirely mistaken about that, but I've heard at least one story of a person that wanted to end everything only to turn around for the love of those closest to him. If the bonds of family or friendship can prevent such a thing, then a person that chooses the other path must feel truly alone.

Just finished: Hotel Dusk Room 215 (DS)

2009-04-12T23:35:00.003-06:00

I guess I'll need something else to play at work while on my lunch break. This was an absolutely charming, if not sometimes frustrating game. When I play an adventure game from Tim Schaefer, I might struggle with a particular problem until it finally clicks, and say to myself, "Ah ha!" Hotel Dusk instead made me at times say, "Finally!" when trying to accomplish simple tasks.

Still, the game is not without its appeal. The cast of characters is intriguing, and the important questions are answered. I really wish that there were more games like this, where the characters take center stage, and gameplay is just a vehicle to the narrative.

I'd love to know how many games go unfinished by gamers because developers believe either that ascending difficulty is natural for game progression, or that narrative is unimportant to the gaming experience. I'm not saying that the former is unwelcome, nor that the latter is requisite for all good experiences, but most of the great gaming experiences I've had recently eschewed one or the other.

Now playing: with a vial of Anbesol

2009-04-08T22:50:00.002-06:00

Although, it doesn't seem to help much. 15 minutes of numbness followed by worse pain seems like a lousy trade.

I have bad teeth. Not straight, a possibility of impacted wisdom teeth (I should have had them removed, but that's a whole different issue), and prone to rotting. I can't really eat anything, talking is risky because if my teeth touch, a likely occurance because they're not aligned quite right, then I feel a rather large amount of pain. It's even enough to really put me off of gaming.

Otherwise I'd probably be working onHotel Dusk: Room 215. I think I'm pretty close to finishing it, so I'll just save my comments for that time. In the meantime I'm hammering away at some penny poker games, 1/2 cent NLHE and 25 cent sit and gos. I have some pretty big leaks somewhere, which results in a pretty vicious cycle of variance. So one week I'm up $40, and then next week I'm back down $35. Maybe one of these days I'll fix my game and earn enough to play in low stakes again instead of this micro crap.

Now playing: Ar Tonelico 2 (PS2) and Valkyrie Profile: Covenant of the Plume (DS)

2009-04-03T01:52:00.001-06:00

I'm enjoying both. I'd enjoy Ar Tonelico 2 more if Gust games didn't have such horrendous data management. If you play this, or any other Gust PS2 game on the PS3, I implore you to BACK UP YOUR DATA. I got hit with the corrupt data bug, and while it only cost me an hour from my last back up, it's still sours my mood for playing the game.

Valkyrie Profile is proving to be thoroughly enjoyable, although the difficulty seems to be all over the map. Fights seem to range from trivially easy to moderately difficult depending on how you go about accomplishing your mission. Not to say that the challenge is unwelcome when it is present. I actually hope the game isn't too terribly long, given that there are multiple endings, and I would actually like to see all three.

That reminds me, I left off last time talking about a peculiar gimmick in games, which is to reuse the same levels or layouts. I have mixed feelings about this practice, and I'll start with the cons.

First of all, poor implementation of this idea can make a game stale. It's more of a testament to the gameplay or that elusive and ill-defined "fun factor" that reusing a level or layout works. Games that have "expert" modes or that sort of thing. I typically skip those, because they revolve around the concept of mastery, which I've more or less given up on. Secondly, though this is perhaps a more subtle idea, part of the excitement of playing a game is seeing new ground trodden, and reusing material is the very antithesis of this process of discovery. I might go so far as to say that the old adage "familiarity breeds contempt" applies well here.

On the other hand, this design can give the player some options with regard to how long the game experience will continue. One of the primary reasons I stop to think twice before starting a new game is because of the time commitment. Even a relatively short game at 5 to 6 hours is a signifcant portion of my free time for the week. An RPG that clocks in at 40+ hours could potentially take me a few weeks to finish. So having the option to decline getting extra content is a relief if the option is to play a game that would otherwise be longer.

One last thing on my mind, which originally led me here at such an ungodly hour. I've decided to step down as an guild officer (In WoW, of course). It's too much like actual management, except that there are no incentives to be provided. I don't think I've worked any job for more than 6 months without listening to a coworker complain. I accept that as a sort of fact of life. Work is not fun; emulating the behavior expected for the intended consequence (getting paid) is not fun. But managers are responsible for other people, not just their own actions or behaviors, and that's where the real challenge lies. I suppose that when you feel that you've tried everything possible to make things better, and nothing has really changed, you'd better throw in the towel.

Recently finished: The World Ends With You and Ar Tonelico

2009-03-30T17:37:00.000-06:00

Surely but slowly I'm slogging through my backlog of games. Ar Tonelico honestly got a bit bothersome toward the end, since all the maps looked the same, combat eventually becomes too easy to become interesting, and the story seems a bit stretched out. Not to say that it is a bad game, but rather more like an interesting experiment that ran out of script before its 30 to 40 hours were realized.

The World Ends With You, however, compels me to do something that I normally do not: be a completionist. It's funny, because I remember as a child always having a reasonable selection of games, but still playing a favorite over and over again to the point of mastery. In the days of the Atari 2600 or even the NES, there were no extras to be had, no bonuses to be found after completing a game. So the only incentive to be had in playing a game again was in the experience of the game itself, and that was fine because games were short.

Nowadays a game without some form of extras, whether it's as simple as achievements or trophies, or as complex as a "new game plus" system won't warrant another play from me. There are simply too many games available that I would rather opt for a brand new experience than revisit an old one.

It's not just games either. I can't recall the last time I reread a book instead of choosing to read something yet untouched. Oh sure, I keep telling myself that I ought to reread the Tao of Physics, but, well, I guess in that case I'd need to dig it out of the basement first. Again, as a child, I recall certain favorites that found their way into my hands repeatedly. Dear Mr. Henshaw always springs to mind.

But I digress. Games that I've enjoyed that offer additional storyline for finishing extras definitely warrant an additional playthrough, and The World Ends With You offers exactly that, with the convenience of a chapter select feature. I suppose one could argue such a feature as a gimmick to present new information while not using any more levels, but I'll return to that line of thought later this week. To be continued.

Now not playing: World of Warcraft

2009-03-22T00:30:00.000-06:00

Yes, I'm taking a much needed break from raiding in WoW. Most term such an absence as due to "burn-out", but really it's more like the mental equivalent of lactic acid produced in muscles during an anaerobic workout. A searing pain shoots through the mind, followed by a raw stiffness that brings time to a grinding halt, each second dripping with indelible agony.

So yeah, that's my raiding experience for the last few weeks. Hopefully Ulduar will reinvigorate me, but honestly Blizzard's new vision for WoW is a bit scary at times. Blizzard want to make WoW more accessible, but that also means easier to play in some regards. Now, the guild I'm in isn't top tier talent by any means. We have our struggles, and indeed we still have yet to drop Sartharion with three drakes up. But I'm not worried about the difficulty of raids. Even if we were smashing through content, making raids difficult is a simple task. I recall reading comments from id regarding competitive AI, basically, the programs that we compete against in "PvE" or when fighting "bots" in other genres. Whoever was doing the bot scripts said that making a bot tough or invincible was cake - making it a fun, manageable challenge was the real challenge.

So I'm paraphrasing a bit, but I think the same is true here. Making bosses hit harder, giving more health, those are easy knobs to turn for a raid. I think too many people are really focused on that aspect of the game right now. I think the bigger issue is that the classes themselves are becoming too easy to play. Just go to your favorite theorycrafting website, find a cookie cutter spec, a standard rotation, set up your action bars and macros and bam, you're in business. As something of a fledgling tank, I feel shorted in some ways of the experience that I signed up for. I remember a day and age when tanking was truly taxing work. It was tough. Demanding. Multiple mob encounters required focus and concentration to work above and beyond the rest of the party or raid. No more. I always thought face-rolling was a joke, but the other night I actually tanked my way through a good portion of an encounter by slapping the 1, 2, and 3 keys in unison while occasionally dodging some environmental hazards. Color me disappointed.

So I say again, hopefully Ulduar will reinvigorate me. I could certainly use the extra time that I spend each week for raiding to do more useful things, like writing, but I'm loathe to leave the guild I'm in. Although there are an increasing number of people that I don't know and probably never will, as always happens in a guild that is growing, there are at least a few that I hold quite dear, though they might never guess it. Usually that's more than enough to bring me back, but sometimes, the game has to do its share too.

Now playing: Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne and Ar Tonelico.

2009-03-16T21:09:00.000-06:00

One week is definitely too long between posts. I need to make a schedule for myself. More importantly, I then need to adhere to said schedule.

Also, I think at some point in the near future I'll put a rating on things that I play or watch. A simple five point scale based on whether or not I would recommend it. A friend once asked me why I pay so much attention to reviews when I profess to not actually caring about what reviews say. On the surface, the answer is a simple one: I like to know what other people are thinking.

A deeper truth, but perhaps no less simple, may be as humans, we feel comforted when others agree with us. And I am no different in that regard. Still, it hasn't stopped me from truly loving and recommending some books, movies, and games that have been held in lower esteem by either critics or the mainstream, nor has it stopped me from occasionally stepping onto a soapbox and lashing out against a darling of the masses. On a small scale, of course. My soapbox is short, and my voice doesn't carry especially far.

Onward to the games of the week. Ar Tonelico has a cute and fun battle system. The story is pretty lackluster, with another valiant, oblivious protagonist. But I'll reserve final judgment until I finish the game. I find Nocturne much more refreshing, as it not only features a silent protagonist as all MegaTen games do, it completely abandons the concept of "saving the world". The world as we know it ends about ten minutes into the game. How's that for an encore to your morning bowl of Cheerios?

Now playing: Star Ocean: The Last Hope

2009-03-09T13:44:00.000-06:00

Here I go again. Every year, or two, or sometimes more, I feel the urge to tap away on the keyboard and type for no one in particular. At least this time I have an idea of what I'll write about, so as to keep myself focused. I'll be keeping track of games I play, movies I watch, a sort of journal about various mediums of art (I insist that video games can indeed be art - to be expounded upon at a later time).

Today I will be brief. I finished Star Ocean a few days ago and am in the process of slogging through the extra dungeons. The one thing about the game that really took me by surprise was the quality of the story. It was awful. Utterly terrible. I felt as though someone grabbed a book full of cliches and battered my head until the book's binding fell apart. So Star Ocean is definitely a great example of a game that you play because it's a good game, and not for any other reason.

Perhaps the worn archetypes and stale dialogue wouldn't have been so jarring if I hadn't just finished playing Persona 4 and Persona 3: FES (in that order). Those two games present characters that speak like real people might and have emotions that go beyond the single facet expected with regard to the "epic" "mission" In the case of Persona 3: FES, friendship is shown to be more than just patting someone on the back and saying that everything will be okay. Indeed, sometimes such a bond is so fragile as to shatter with a single wrong touch, yet other times elastic, stretching, allowing two to pull further and further away, yet never breaking, in time to be effortlessly returned to its original state when the time is right.

A little longer than I expected. I only hope that means I return more quickly this time around.