Daily Write - Rage

It burns. This once unnoticed ember that grew into an all consuming flame while my eyes were closed. This subconscious spark that was awakened in the recesses of my brain that I tried my best to ignore. It burns and it rages, beating against every defense I have put up around it. Despite everything I have done, it only grows larger, hotter, brighter. Pushing and pushing with fingers I cannot run from.

I don't want to fight it any more, I want to give in. I want to let go and let it have me. Even though it threatens to turn my very essence into ash and my soul to soot, I want to be consumed by it. No more suppressing, no more pushing it down, no more white knuckled grip on logical sanity and calm. I want to burn. I want to break, erupt, explode, destroy. I want everything to crumble and splinter.

And when nothing is left of me but ash and embers, I want to be left alone.

NaNoWriMo Day 7

I have officially made it through the first week of NaNoWriMo. Started with gusto, but the past two days have been pretty tough. It feels like I have lost that sweet spot that I had the first couple of days this event started. The smooth and quick writing, the flow of ideas, everything was coming to me with such ease. Then suddenly it feels like I am pushing a boulder along as the story just slogs onto the pages. And of course I want to edit the heck out of everything that I'm writing. I have been keeping a pretty good job of sitting on my hands, but the enjoyment factor of doing this has dwindled over the past day or so.

There are things that I want to do with my characters, development wise. I just haven't hammered out how I am supposed to be doing it. There is character that I want everyone to hate. There is a character that I want everyone to feel sorry for. There is a character that I want to pull on everyone's heart strings. And yet I feel like I am not making any of that happen. I feel like I am striving at an idea, but I'm not hitting it full on the head. And that frustrates me more than anything.

The story also feels like it is getting too long, surprising as that may sound. Like it is taking forever to get to the actual point of why this story is being told in the first place. I know, that is an editing call as well. And maybe it isn't too long, but just the fact that I am not excited about writing this part, but later parts of the story. Don't get me wrong, this part is enjoyable to write, but it is not the meat of the novel. I am still dabbling with the beginning.

So I guess this is where the real work is going to start. This is where I dig my heels in and show that I can write this novel in 30 days. This Saturday is going to be where people write all day. I think I am going to use it see if I can't get some of that beginning inspiration back and dig into my novel even more. At least I can get a nice word count padding if nothing else comes of it.

NaNoWriMo Day 1

Well, National Novel Writing Month has gone charging off for another year. I tell you, it feels really good to be a part of it. Especially since I had to skip it last year. My story got off to a pretty strong start and the online midnight write in. There are a lot of gaps in the plot that I have yet to figure out. But I'm sure it will all sort itself out when I get around to that part of the story. Or I will just leave the holes there and wait for the editing process to figure out what to do with them.

My characters are coming out a little bit different than I had planned for them to be when I first started outlining. The male MC is a bit more jovial than I wanted him to be. I was looking for him to be more distant and detached due to emotional injury. Basically, I wanted him dark, broody and broken. Right now he isn't quite reading that way. He comes across pretty normal actually. And he sounds younger than I want him to be. I wasn't quite aiming for fresh faced youth. I wanted to write someone a little more life weary. I am wondering if the coldness and unavailability I'm looking for will present itself in other ways as the story progresses. If not, then it kind of throws a wrench into the whole thing.

A plethora of minor characters came flooding in without my permission. Most of which I had not planned for. For instance, sisters of my female MC. The original plan was for her to be an only child. So yeah, these minor/secondary characters just sort of happened while I was typing. I don't know how many of them will actually stay, since muddying a story with too many characters is something that I want to avoid. But for now, I like most of them. However, giving them names is a pain.

So far, so good with keep up with the word count. Hopefully I can keep ahead like this for most of the month and get some cushion for the holidays. I think this is the first time that I have started with a lead this early in the month. But also, the other years I did this, I had a lot of things on my plate that I was juggling. Now, not so much.

That is about it so far. My word count is ahead. I like where my story is headed so far and I have gotten to talk with several local WriMos. Things have started off really well.

Daily Write - Dancing with Snowflakes

It was like dancing in snowflakes. Well, more the fun and elation that comes from the thought of what dancing in snowflakes would be like. So yes, the romanticized thought of dancing in light, airy, magical snowflakes that beckon us to watch them from windows and draw them in story books. That would be the best explanation that I can come up with. 

Time was slow and the world lulled into the surreal; the unbelievable. The point where reality reaches the veil of the imaginary and somehow that veil is parted. But only just enough. Just enough for us to catch the slightest of glimpses. The background noise of one too many days and a few too many nights melded into the nonexistent. There was nothing left but myself lost in this blissful swirl of gamboling, twinkling light descending down on the tufts of these downy crystals.

I found myself smiling and not being able to stop; face alight, hoping to catch one on my nose. For that is how it goes in the many books that I have read and movies I have seen. Like melting sugar in your mouth or angel kisses on your eyelids. How could that not make someone want to smile? I stretched my arms out and spun with them, laughter on my tongue, joy in my soul. It felt like dancing, this well of happiness that washed over me completely. Wish that this moment would last for always. That the snowflakes would never end.

Oiling up the noveling machine

It is one month until NaNoWriMo starts. I am really excited this year. More excited that I have ever been. And that is probably because I wasn't able to participate last year. Also, I know several new people who are going to be jumping in this year, and my excitement for them adds to the excitement that I was already feeling for myself.  There is something about seeing fresh faces ready to go and hammer out those 50k words.

This year, I have decided that I want to something a little more on the romantic side. I have been wanting to write a romantic story for a while, so why not use this as my jumping off point? I have been brainstorming some ideas of what this story is going to be about and after tossing around a few ideas, I finally settled on something. I am most likely going to be going back to my comfort zone of a medieval/fantasy setting. I haven't figured out just how much fantasy the story is going to have. Right now, the story is just this grey formless idea that is hanging around in my brain. I have been trying to figure things out and jot down ideas to make it into something more tangible. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I will have something more solid by the time November 1st comes around. If not, I'm going to be making it up as I go along.

One of the things I want is for the story to be more of a drama rather than some sap story where everyone is staring starry eyed at one another. I find dramas to be engaging and easy to immerse yourself in. Sappy stories I find..well, I can't say that I like them very much. I don't really relate all that well. I also am not interested in something that reads like a soap opera. Don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with soap operas, but that is not what I want this story to be.

Part of me is a bit apprehensive about doing this. While it is not that far out of my comfort zone, it is something different. And different always makes me a bit anxious. But it is a good anxious. I have been writing a bit on something else starting back in August, so my writing gears won't be entirely rusty. I was hoping to be done with that piece before November. It could still get done, but I don't see that as being likely. And once November comes, there will be no writing much of anything else.

Also, I am hoping to blog (and maybe vlog if I'm feeling ambitious) about this whole process again. Maybe I will keep up better than I did the last time.

So, back to planning. November seems like it is going to come way too fast.

Creating my own shadow

Why is it that I am never satisfied with my own personal  accomplishments in life? I am never happy enough to turn around and pat my own self on the back and say good job. I am forever looking at someone else and saying "They are so much better at (fill in the blank) than I am. Too bad I can't be like them. Maybe my life would not be like it is now."

This happens every now and again and frankly I am started to get irked that my brain continues to do crap like this. There are so many who would trade lives with me in heart beat. They would not understand what it is that I could possibly not be pleased with. I am one of the few who have actually accomplished something that I have dreamed about doing my entire life. And I treat that accomplishment with such flippant dismissal as if it didn't take everything I had to see it come to fruition. Why? I just can't understand why I can't be happy for myself.

I'm not whining or feeling sorry for myself. I just want to understand why my brain is constantly working over time to inform me of every fallacy I have, and making up some that I don't, and puts them on replay all the time. It wasn't always like this for me. So why this constant berating, even after I have done so much and endured so much? When am I going to be proud of where I am and happy that I progressed to that point?

I never feel jealous about the others I'm always comparing myself to. I just always feel less. Like everyone is pulling out a measuring stick and I never seem to make it to the point everyone else is reaching. It is probably the indirect reason I stay to myself. Everyone around me seems to be progressing by leaps and bounds and I feel so inadequate. But why? I have proven that I'm not. Others can see it. I know people think highly of me; my peers, my professors, they all believe that I am this stellar person. So why do I think differently? In direct opposition. As if they are all lying to me.

I honestly have no idea why this keeps happening. And I have lived with it for so long, I almost accepted that it was just the way I was hard wired. I almost accepted the constant internal second guessing of what everyone else accepts as truth. But honestly, I am tired of it. I despise the feeling. I don't want to feel judged when the only one who is doing the judging is me. I am ready to let go of this thing, whatever it is, and live my life out differently. I just want to be proud of myself.

My Hair #3

Here we are at week 13 and now I am starting to run into problems. Well, not problems per say. Let's just refer to them as obstacles. I started a work out regimen recently and that means sweating. This creates one of my new obstacles. Sweat and my new growth just don't mix. Usually, after I wash my hair, the comb extension on my blow dryer does a pretty good job of keeping my roots and edges straight. But the sweat voids out that entire process. I am not sure what I can do in order to counteract that right now. I am not trying to use more heat, but what else is there?

Also, I haven't really been styling my hair so much as pulling it back and sticking some low key hair piece in it. I really don't have time to do anything involved with my hair in the morning, even I did have a clue what to do with it. I am thinking of going with a curly fro for right now. Yeah, it will be a pain to put in, but it will be a low maintenance hairstyle that I can keep up with for the rest of the week.

And talking about time, I have very little of it to myself nowadays. I have gotten slack with everything except wash days. And even my wash days have had a few steps cut out of them. I'm not using my hair lotion, my hair oil, nothing. I just put my satin cap on my head and go to sleep at night. I suppose this is the time where I have to figure out how to shove everything into my 24 hours. My hair just feels so much healthier now and I don't want to suddenly stop this process that I have started. Plus there are going to be times where my life is busy and I need to figure out to keep everything balanced. Might as well learn it now.

I am trying out a new shampoo and conditioner from Organix. I really liked their Moroccan and Argan Oil, so this time I am trying something with a little more protein in it. I noticed that there wasn't really anything in my hair regimen that had protein in it, just moisturizing. So I am going to try this out for a couple of washes and see how things go.

Well, one more month down and on to another one. Keeping my fingers crossed.

Daily Write - Can't Find Myself

I honestly don't remember when I wrote this, but I can take a guess. Sometimes life does nothing but throw monkey wrenches...and bricks...at your face. I was probably getting pummeled with them daily when I wrote this. I guess the main takeaway point is...that time in my life passed and I'm still here. However, I did want to keep this here as a reminder that circumstances come and go. I, however, am here for the long haul.


At times, I wonder if I am losing myself,
Slowly falling to the circumstances and situations that are my life.
When did blue skies become grey? When did clear nights become so full of clouds?

How did I get here? To a place I don't recognize.
To a person I don't recognize.
When did everything fall apart around me?

I don't know what to do, but to keep falling.
I don't know how to pick myself up.
I don't know how to move on.

Is this what it feels like to have your soul slip through your fingers?
Is this what it looks like to have your life drain away?
Bit by bit. Piece by piece.
Colors fade, life wilts and every day another part of me is lost.

How many days do I have left?
How much more of me can disappear before I am lost entirely?
I want to leave this place I have found myself in
Someone show me how to turn around. How to go back.
To blue skies and clear nights, where I felt entirely whole.

Daily Write - Before the Ruin

This ruin wasn't something created recently. It happened many centuries ago. And since then has become lost in the passing of time, buried beneath the tide of years, slowly dismissed and forgotten. It used to be so beautiful here, which is hard to fathom when one lays eyes on it now. But it was a breath taking visage in a previous life. A splendor that really couldn't be captured in words, though many tried. There were endless attempts of those putting ink to paper, who tried to recreate in words what this place was. In rhyme, in song, in painstakingly organized prose; but there was no complexity of language that ever seemed to encompass everything. And now, this is all that is left of what was once indescribable. Simply broken and demolished. As if demons were belched from the cursed depths and devoured everything in sight, leaving their unnatural scar behind. 

Towers used to reach to the sky, glinting in unhindered sunlight. Everything sparkled, right down to the bricks underfoot. The very air was intoxicating. The city felt as if it were made with an essence of something that was unknown to us, yet it lived and breathed and poured out allure and exquisiteness that soaked into the very soil. The city was an entity, living, breathing, beating with a hypnotic pulse that no one could put into words, but everyone understood somehow. This place could not have been more entrancing had their buildings been made of crystal and diamonds, held together with gold and silver.

So how does something as legendary as a place that touched the heavens become dust and decay beneath our heels? Become forgotten and unspoken of, as if it never existed? The Purge happened. And not even this resplendent place could hold back that unleashed torrent. They washed through, like an ocean swallowing up the land. They ripped everything apart, from the heavens to the earth. And what they couldn't destroy with brute force, they burned to ash. Of course, that wasn't enough. Not for them. A beauty that cannot be defined had to be defiled beyond recognition, ground to powder beneath our feet, carried away on the winds of time and the tides of years. 

There was once beauty and splendor here that poured from the sky itself. But not any more. Demons came and tore it away.

My hair #2

So, it has been 8 weeks (closer to 9 actually) since I put in my last relaxer. Now I suppose the real test of this whole hair journey begins. New growth is starting to become visible and normally around this time I would start thinking about doing a touch up. I can't say that I'm extremely tempted to do so at this point. Let's see how I feeling in a few more weeks.

I am quite proud of myself for keeping up with this hair regiment I started for myself. I wash my hair every week and go through the whole process of hot oil treatments, tea rinses, deep conditioning and keeping the use of heat down to a minimum. With the help of my younger sister, I learned how to do roller sets better. So I will probably be going with the curly look as more of my natural hair grows out.

For some reason, I have never been a fan of hairspray, gel, or stuff like that. But it is humid summer in the south right now, and there was no way I am going to be able to keep a curl that won't fall within 2 seconds of me taking my rollers out if I don't use something. So I buckled and got the Olive Oil setting mousse. I have to say, it wasn't too bad. It did leave my hair feeling a bit dry and crunchy, but I used the Olive Oil moisturizing hair lotion afterwards. My hair returned to being really soft and my curls stayed in place. I really like the Olive Oil line of hair care products. It doesn't leave my hair feeling like it is covered in something slick and greasy.

There are still more things that I want to try and do with my hair, like learning new styles, better ways of taking care of it and what not. So far, I haven't gotten tired of doing this yet. Which is good, because I'm going to be doing it for a while.

Daily Write - My Hate

People always want some sort of explanation about why someone feels what they do towards them. Sometimes, the simple truth is that there is no explanation. The feeling is just there with no reason or impetus. It simply is, seated deeply inside, only growing stronger with each passing moment. And there was no action taken that caused the roots to firmly grip my soul. Nor any undeserved words spoken to cause the twisting of my emotions which shade out any hope of benevolent feeling towards you. It simply happened. 

Raw feelings of anger, bitterness, annoyance, jealousy, all writhing on top themselves into this firmly entrenched, roiling cauldron of hatred that sits square in my chest. There is no denying, fighting, or pretending not to notice. It leaks from my soul, into my heart, being pumped into every organ. It is all that I smell, that I hear, that I feel, that I think towards you. I hate you, with every poisoned fiber that is myself. I hate you.

 You will probably want to know why my loathing towards you burns with such intensity. And all I will tell you is that it simply does. Nothing you did started it, accept that you are. Nothing would give me more pleasure than have you simply disappear and be forgotten. And even then, I would still hate you.

My Online Family

I want to fill this space up with words that make an exciting story, but honestly, I don't have much of an exciting story to tell right now. My life has been pretty mundane these past few weeks. I don't mind it being mundane. Exciting usually means that I'm running around like a chicken with its head cut off and praying for some time to myself where I have nothing to do.

Instead, I am going to talk about this phenomena that I am starting to see evolve around me. I think my online friends are starting to out number the friends that I have in real life. There was a time when I would have thought that something was wrong with me if this had been the case. But now, I don't really feel like that any more. My friends in real life (God bless them, I love them dearly) don't really understand any of my hobbies. Any of them. In fact, a lot of my friends discourage me. They don't realize what they are doing, but it doesn't make it any less disheartening. I am told that I'm wasting my time, or I don't have enough time to be indulging in things like that. The best one has to be that I need to get out more. But the people that I have met through writing and gaming seem to get it. I don't have to explain myself, because they already understand. Not only that, but they are involved in the same things.

There was a time when I wasn't very open to people who I couldn't attach a face to or were only words on screen or disembodied voice. I had to see them face to face. Somehow that was supposed to make the relationship that I had with that person "real". Now, those walls are slowly starting to crumble away. That whole mantra that used to be solidified in my brain that you couldn't be actual friends with people that you couldn't see is starting to fall apart. And the number of people that I'm getting acquainted with just keeps growing. I even met up with a few of them at PAX East.

On top of that, these people are really awesome. They are nice, they are cool, they are fun. And sure, most of interactions I have with them are just typed out words in chats, forums and on my Twitter feed, but still. It's more interaction than I have with people who I see face to face. The ones who don't talk, call or text because they are too busy.

But for some reason I have this strange concern. There is always this worry that it will all go away in a blink. One day I'm going to wake up and all these cool people I've met are just going to be gone. Or worse, I'm going to excluded from the cool kids table for some reason. I don't know why I think that, I just do. It's like I can't just enjoy what's happening as it happens. I know, I'm weird.

I don't know how I found all these cool people or why they let me tag along with them. But I'm enjoying myself. I like folks who have some of the same interests as me and don't make me feel like some leper for having them.

A blog about my hair

Girly update! I suppose this post was going to happen sooner or later, right? Those of you following my Twitter saw this coming. Three weeks ago, I declared that I was going to have my final relaxer put in. (I feel like the relaxer was angry about that, because I burned something vicious. And I usually don't burn at all). I have been wanting to go natural for a long time, it's just that I had no idea what I was going to do with my hair once I started down that path. For some reason when I thought about being natural, all I could think about was afros and plats. Then I saw all these girls/women with hairstyles that I loved. And then I was reminded that the press and curl still existed.

Plus, let's be honest, my hair is really just being ridiculous at this point. I have mismanaged this quaff for God knows how long and now it is going on strike. It's breaking, shedding, screaming, throwing tantrums, etc. So I am going to have to take the extra time in order to be nice to it and see if I can't get me some long sexiness out of it. (That sounded very dirty).

I think I have done more research on this going natural thing than I ever did for any project that I had in school. I feel like a lot of this is going to be hit or miss and talking things out with my hair dresser. Maybe I should call her my stylist. It sounds more flashy when I say stylist. Right now, I am able research all this stuff because I am in that lull period between "done with school" and "get a job". I'm a little worried, however, about keeping up a regimen once I start having pulls on my time. But I suppose I will cross that road when I get there.

Another worry I have is the time aspect. It takes over a year to grow a relaxer out. A year!! Closer to a year and half. And most hair journeys (as they are termed) take 3 years. Guess what guys? I don't think I have ever done any kind of beautifying regimen that lasted more than a month or so. Now I'm heading down some 3 year path. When I think about how long it is going to take, I don't even feel like starting. But what if in 3 years I had hair down to my waist? Would that not be amazing? It would my own hair, not hair that is mine because I paid for it.

I think another draw that is counter balancing the whole time issues is making my own hair products. There is something fun about doing kitchen cosmetics and DIY projects. This is definitely where the trial and error comes in. I am starting simple with making pre-poo oil treatments. I will probably add  more later on. I like the fact that I can make something cheaply with things in my kitchen cabinet and not have to spend gobs of money because someone has a fancy name written across the bottle.

I am going to start taking pictures of my hair tomorrow after I wash it. And I should take them monthly. Sometimes seeing a little bit of progress will help with continuing the process. And my stylist (hehe, stylist) did tell me repeatedly that it will be a process. Well, here it goes!

A New Journey

I feel like I should be blogging more, but honestly I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be telling you guys. Saturday all my dreams came true. Honestly, not some figure of speech, my dreams came true. Becoming a physician has been something that I have wanted ever since I was a kid. It has been something that I have worked for and chased after for years and years and years. I scrawled my name countless times on scraps of paper, practicing my signature. And Saturday, I was given my earned title as MD. It is still surreal. That I am a trained physician. A doctor. I have earned the long white coat.

Of course now, I have to other things to do in order to carry me further down this path. It was like arriving to my dream just opened the door to undertake more things. Things that I am unsure about. Things that are hiding behind a haze of unknown and uncertainty. But that is life, isn't it? Giving up the familiar for a better and brighter unknown that lies beyond what we are used to doing in our day to day.

Of course, this is the part where I wish my life had come together much like my other classmates had. But once again, I have walked down another path that is unlike the masses. I'm unsure how to feel about that either.I suppose that is the bittersweet of it all. I arrived at my dream. The dream that took blood, sweat, tears, prayers, and determination to claw my way too. And I found that it was only a door to yet another journey  stretching out in front of me. Most likely leading to another dream and another and probably one beyond that. But for now, I am going to stand here and enjoy the view. Looking back at everything I accomplished, standing on this hill and taking it all in.

I made it. I actually made it. And it feels good.

The words of my piano

I used to play the piano. It almost feels like another life ago. I started when I was 5. It was my parents' idea, of course. Both of them had wanted to play the piano ever since they were young. However, neither of them got the opportunity to learn. I supposed it had been a dream of theirs for some time, seeing how we owned a piano that did nothing more than sit in the corner of a room that simply referred to as "the back". No one played it, tuned it, even so much as got a chance to look at on a daily basis. It just existed in that corner.

Eventually the piano was put to use as both my younger sister and I were enrolled in piano lessons. I took them for quite a long time. I played decently, learned to read music pretty well, even tried composing music of my own. However, I gave it up once I started high school. I just had a lot going on and piano just wasn't high on my list of things I wanted to spend my time doing.

However, that all changed the summer between my junior and senior year. I spent my summer with some of the most amazing people that I would ever have a chance to meet. And one of the things that most of us had in common was that we all played the piano. And for the first time, I met people who played for the musicality of it. Not because they were asked to play hymns at church or carols at Christmas. There was something about how they made the piano sound. Almost as if it were speaking in a language that I could only understand if I closed my eyes and gave myself over to it. It was amazing. Why had I not felt this before? Why had I not played like these guys did? Piano for me had always been so boring and methodical. It was nothing like what I was hearing now. I wanted to play like they did.

So my senior year I went back to playing the piano, with a new teacher. She was fun, very different from my last teacher in teaching style. My last teacher, though she was good, kind of let me get away with things. Little things, nothing egregious. But getting a new teacher, she never allowed for those type of things. My being lazy and lackadaisical when it came to practice would not be tolerated any more.  And we played different kinds of music. Music that was better suited to what I liked. I remember something my teacher told me whenever I got frustrated trying to learn this new stuff. I remember there were so many notes on the page and it looked daunting.

"Just think of the notes as letters," she told me, "The letters become words and the words become sentences." For some reason, that made sense to me. So practice wasn't as difficult. Later that year, I ended up playing for my  Baccalaureate. People said that I played very nicely. But it was my recital were I think playing the piano finally became solidified in my soul. 

My teacher only had two students who were going to perform that day among the battery of others from other teachers. The chairs were full. My family was there, dressed to the nines. It was the day after my graduation. All my friends were spending the day at an amusement park. But I was here, playing the piano. And to be honest, I didn't want to be anywhere else. I wanted to perform, wearing my dress and makeup. 

So, I played, and something interesting happened. I forgot the audience. I forgot about my family watching. I forgot that everything around me existed. It was just me and the piano. It was just the sentences of notes in front of me, making a story. For the first time, I actually felt what I was playing and was completely lost in it. And probably for the first time, I made my music speak to those who were listening.

That was many years ago. A lifetime ago. But I still remember it clearly. The day that I finally made my music speak. The day that others closed their eyes and gave themselves over to it, to hear the words and sentences and story that I told with my fingers and a piano.

Tangible memories

I recently had a colleague who was doing some planning for the baby he and his wife were about to have. One of the things that they were doing was choosing books to read to their new addition to the family. He made the statement, "I should just buy all the books on my iPad. It would make things much easier.".

I'm not sure why I rejected such a thing so violently (inwardly, I didn't say anything to the guy about it). But there was something entrenched inside of me that reeled at the thought of not having an actual physical copy of the books. I tried to figure out why I would feel this way. I mean, I own a Kindle and love it. So why such a visceral reaction to someone getting baby books on their iPad? Was I just romanticizing the importance of a physical book?

I remember my parents reading to me when I was little. Some of the books were tall, with shiny covers, and smooth pages. Others were squatty and square. Some covers were thick, others were thin. And I loved the books were you could pull on tabs and flip things over to see what was underneath. There was something about that tangibility that made these moments in my life memorable, up to even now.

About two years ago, I got a Christmas present from my father. It was a book called Chester. All I really remember was that Chester was a horse. I don't recall the story at all. What I recall the most was that it was the story that my dad read to me all the time. So much so that I had the entire story memorized. I knew all the words and knew when to turn the page without being told. I almost tricked my dad into thinking that I was able to read (according to my parents). However that farce was blown when I started ad libing in some synonyms. I just don't think you can recreate that with a virtual book. What can you give your child 10,15,20 years later to make them remember those times?

Maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps you don't need a physical object to attach your memories too. But I just think there is something to be said about having it. About running to the shelf and picking out your favorite book. Remembering what it felt like in your fingers, turning the pages while you sit next whomever is reading to you. About looking at the physical stack of memories that are going to last forever. I like the idea of that much more than the convenience of storing everything away in an intangible virtual cloud. I also, I like the idea of when I have a child, them sitting next to my father and hearing about Chester from the same book that I had when I was their age. But again, this just might be me romanticizing. 

Thoughts, I have them

I must admit, I am just a bit envious of people who can sit down and write every single day. I feel like there just isn't enough inside of me to be constantly pouring out things on paper. After a while, everything in my head goes silent and there is not a interesting thing left. Then I thought, maybe it is because I have so little experiences left to pull from in order to keep the creativity going.

Honestly, some of my best inspirations come from moments in my life. Some are huge moments and others are mundane and simplistic. But they all hold that possibility of being the spark that I need in order to write something that I like. In college, I used to take these long walks and just let my mind roam. Sometimes I went with friends, sometimes I went alone. I can't say anything overly exciting ever happened on any of these walks, but there were so many moments, it just caused me to write all the time.

But I don't really do that all that much any more. I spend most of my time indoors, away from the rest of the world that is happening outside. And those "moments" are less and less. I feel like my writing has become repetitive and predictable. It is like I am hammering away at the same theme over and over. But I don't really know what else to do. And then there are times when I don't have a single idea in my head. There is nothing to write, because I have dreamt up nothing. And so the blank page just sits for months at a time.

I think I am going to start going back out again, experiencing the world that is outside of the 4 walls that I am constantly barricading myself in. Maybe then, new and interesting things will come to me and I will write more. And if not, at least I will be having fun.

Anxiety, you aren't helping

Why is it that when I try something new and put myself out there, that it terrifies me? And I don't mean that as a figure of speech. I actually get very very anxious to the point I start pacing and I can't think straight.

For those who might not know, I got into livestreaming game play a few months ago. First stream was right before Christmas and for the most part it was successful. I streamed a few more times after that, but wasn't really getting that much traction. No one was stopping by and if they did, they didn't stay long. It was mostly just me and Pandora, hanging out with 1 or 2 people sitting in chat. A short time past, my life started getting hectic once again and streaming got put on the back burner. I thought about going back to it. But every time I thought about it, I didn't see the point. No one wanted to watch me so why try?

Just recently I was gently coerced into returning to it. It seemed that people found (more accurately, they were showed to) my corner of the internet. It was a fun time. I honestly had not expected as many people to show up as did that night. So when it came to streaming last night, I felt like I was trying to trap lightening in a bottle twice. My brain went through all the ways that everything could go wrong and all the disappointment that would come with it. You would think that I was doing something important and not just playing video games. 

I don't understand why stuff like that happens to me. I make such insignificant things into these huge ordeals. And I have been doing it since I was a teenager. It is like my brain decides that I am having way too boring of a day and hits the overdrive switch. I imagine that everyone goes through a little nervousness when stepping out into something different and unknown. But I don't think everyone overthinks and panics the way I do.

The thing is the stream was a disaster. I had so many technical issues that I had no idea how to fix. But the world didn't end. The viewers didn't leave. Even after all the things that went wrong, they called my 2 hour stream too short and wanted more. So all the worrying was for absolutely nothing.

Next time, I am just going to make myself a cup of tea and start playing meditation music when I start feeling anxious.

PAX East 2013

I really don't think there are any words that describe what PAX East is aside from 'awesome'. And you can only use that word so many times before people get sick and tired of hearing it. I didn't quite know what to expect several months ago, when I purchased my 3 days pass to this thing. This huge daunting convention in a city I had never visited in order to do something I had never done before. And that uncertainty was only heaped on all the more when I found out that my guides were going to be two guys that I only knew through the internet. I felt like I was breaking every cardinal rule I was taught as a kid when it came to strangers and the world wide web. But all in all, I am so glad that I did it.

I suppose I should talk about all the games I saw, the costumes I took pictures of, the swag I tried to nab, but really that wasn't what left a lasting impression on me after all was said and done. Sure I got to play NeverWinter and Wildstar. I got to see PAX exclusives about Watch Dogs and see RoosterTeeth in person for the first time in my life. And yep, the concerts blew me away and I never wanted to nights to end. But PAX was so much more than that.

Being clustered in a convention center with thousands of strangers, there was still this sense of camaraderie and belonging. Just about everyone was nice (except for when they were hungry or their feet hurt) and I felt included. I was finally in this space where I didn't have to explain myself. Everyone got it. It just felt like riding this wave of connection for the entire weekend and it was a space that I didn't want to leave. It was great. So much energy, so much excitement. People just talked to you for no reason except you were next to them. We clapped for the worst dancers we had ever seen, because they were gutsy enough to play Dance Central, on a stage, in front of everyone. We laughed at each others jokes, while playing our DSes as we waited in line. We were this community of strangers and yet, it felt like nothing could have been farther from the truth.

I am definitely going back next year. I want to try more things, talk to more people, explore every bit of everything that this convention has to offer. Because there is something about what Penny Arcade created when they made PAX and I don't think I will ever get enough of it.

So, I went indoor rock wall climbing...

So this past weekend I did something I never thought I would ever do. I went indoor rock wall climbing. I wish I could say that I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I honestly want to say that. However, I wouldn't exactly use those words. When the idea was first presented, I thought it would be a fun thing to do. It was definitely out of my comfort zone and probably something that I wouldn't be asked to do again for some time. So I thought to myself "why not? Sounds like fun. Let's be adventurous."

Well, the closer it got to the actual day, the less like fun it sounded. In fact, the night before, I had already settled in my mind that I wasn't going to show up. What could I possibly have been thinking? I'm not Spiderman. What the devil was I thinking about, going off and trying to scale walls. Bump that. I am staying home, on the ground, where it is safe. But after talking to my family, they convinced me to go and at least try it. And then call them afterwards.

So, my mounting concern was not helped at all by the fact that I got lost and was late getting to the place. And then when I finally got there, the guy who "taught" me how to put on my harness inspired next to no confidence whatsoever. I wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't high. And went over all the straps and buckles so quickly, I wondered if he understood that I didn't know what I was doing and this series of straps around my body was the difference in me driving myself home versus leaving pieces of myself on their gravel. 

So when it was finally time for me to climb this wall, I was a little more than a bit nervous. I wish I could tell you that I put my mind to it and scaled that wall with no problems. Or that I made it to the top with a little coaxing from my friends at the bottom. Nope, that is not what happened. I was about two steps away from the top and freaked out. I mean, panic addled mind freak out. The only thing I could think about was getting down before I fell and broke something. I don't know how to explain it. Everything was going fine and then suddenly...everything was not fine. And your brain is screaming that at you. The hand holds are suddenly smaller and shallower. You aren't exactly sure where to put your feet. And then a voice in the back of your mind goes "Nope, we're done here."

I hate not finishing what I start. And I had determined that before the day was over, I was going to scale to the top of something. Unfortunately, each attempt I had came to the same ending where I freaked out before reaching the top. I tried to tell myself that it was mind over matter thing and that I was fine. But my body responded with my heart pounding in my chest as if it was signalling in morse code "We are not fine!".

At the end of the day, I'm glad I went. This is definitely something that I am proud of myself for doing. Can't say that I'm rushing back to try it again though. Ya'll can keep that. Also, there is video of this whole ordeal. And against my better judgment, I will be putting it out there soon enough for all to see.

Sketching!

So once upon a time, I spent a lot of my time world building for roleplaying forum that I belonged to. That forum has long since gone the way of many before it, falling silent and nothing left of it but thoughts of the good times. But all that world building and thought process that I had hammered out did not go anywhere. It just got stacked up with all the rest of the writing ideas that I have and put in the corner, waiting until I come back and look at it again.

Well it seems that those ideas are starting to surface again, but this time more as visual art than being put down in written form. Most of the time when I sit down to sketch something, I can never really think of anything to sketch. Then I decided, "Why not draw something that I have written about.". This brought up something interesting. Most of the time, if someone asks me, I usually tell them that I don't "see" anything when I write or read. Some people have very vivid imaginations and a movie is playing in their brains as the story unfolds. Not me, not really. Probably the reason I never really get my tailfeathers ruffled when movies are adapted to look similar to scenes from books I read. So now how I was supposed to draw what I wanted?

Slowly, this became an exercise in how do you artistically represent words. How do you draw certain emotions? What colors best gave the feel of what I was after. Usually I just missed the mark or decided that I didn't feel like trying to figure it out. But I know that I want draw something that represents what I have written, this is probably something that I need to work on.

So back around to what I have drawn recently, I am working on faces. I feel like if I can build on the generic faces that I have been drawing and add some character to them, it should help out a lot. Faces are probably one of the easier ways to show emotion. I drew a couple tonight. I believe them to be, not bad. It's also kind of cool to see actual faces when normally I don't see any.

More Late Night Ramblings

As I have gotten older, I have found myself more involved in playing video games and being part of gaming communities. I think I am going backwards, because usually you are supposed to do stuff like this when you are younger. At least that is what I have always been led to believe.

Anyway, I have started to accumulate a good number of games (for better or for worse) both for PC and console. And now this has presented a new situation; playing with other people online. Now, I am not really a stranger to that, because I played WoW for years. I'm very used to raiding, PvPing, talking on Vent and all of that. But for some reason, I find myself not being as active when it comes to online play as I used to be. Especially when it comes to console games. That darn controller is the bane of my existence and I really rather not have my stumbling around scrutinized by other folks who are more advanced that I am.

And then there are some games where I just don't want to play with certain people. *cough* League of Legends *cough*. Honestly, I would rather just play with random people in the kiddie pool section of the game with beginner bots. I don't have to talk, get on Skype or anything like that. Just log in, punch at some pixels and go on my merry way.

Not sure when I got so introverted about online gaming. This definitely wouldn't have been the way I handled things several years. My God, I was all about meeting new people over the internet and becoming buddies. Now, I don't know. I don't mind making friends, but I'm not so much chasing after it. I just want to play the game, enjoy having fun. And I don't really need other people to do that. (Unless the multiplayer is better than the single player :P).

I suppose I look at all these other people and see how they amass a group of players around them and I wonder if I should be doing the same thing. Their friends lists are full. Whenever they turn a game on, there is someone to talk to. I am quite the opposite. Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing it wrong. Other times, I don't really care to know.

Daily Write - Firefly Summer

Fireflies flit and spin in the coming of the summer night.
The leaves rustle on their tall branches as the cool breeze glides by.
Tonight is a perfect night.

They come from their hiding holes.
They come from their nests.
They come from their sunning spots in the middle of the lake
Tonight is the perfect night.

Past the tall grass and into the thicket
They all come trotting, in a swaying line

Meaningless objects

I find it interesting how we can attach so much emotional and sentimental value to otherwise meaningless objects. Simple, easily replaced items that could be misplaced, tossed out, traded in for something bigger, better and shinier. Yet these things are so steeped in bonding ties, we could never imagine such a thing happening to it.

My younger sister was started some math class and needed a calculator. I had a simple 4 function one that I didn't use any more. So I let it her have it. There was nothing impressive about it. I had bought it from a drug store that was next door to the grocery. I really had no need for it, since I using a much more expensive TI calculator at the time. I thought nothing of giving it away to her. After a time, I had forgotten the thing even existed.

Several years passed. I was in college and my sister was in high school. I was home on break when my sister told us that someone had taken her calculator. It was very obvious that she was upset, to the point of tears, that her calculator was gone. I figured that she must have had one of those expensive ones now, like I had. I would have been upset too. But no, she was talking about that drugstore calculator that I had given her.

"I don't understand," I remember saying to my mother later that evening, "That cheap thing? We can get her a new one if that is all she wants."

My mother simply shook her head at me.

"She's upset because the calculator was yours."

"Then I'll tell her that it is no big deal. She doesn't have to cry because someone stole something that used to belong to me. It's not like I wanted it back."

Sometimes I am amazed at how thick I am.

"No, that's not it. She had something that belonged to you. That made it important. She carried around her big sister's calculator. Now someone has taken it."

I assume that my sister got a new calculator, a much fancier one, after a while. My old one never turned up. We never found out who took it or why. It was just one of those things that happened. For me, it was something so simplistic, but for my sister it represented something more. Something important. Something that was upsetting when it was taken. And I am almost certain that whoever took it had no idea how much value they held in their hands.

Well look at that. It's 2013

Well a new year is in full swing. I wish I could say that I made some resolutions or something along those lines. But I didn't. I am not quite sure why. Usually have some goal that I want to tackle. But this time, there was just nothing. I guess I am kind of tired of December 31st rolling around, I think of all the things I'm going to do differently and then it only lasts for a few weeks. By February, I'm right back where I was in December. Probably a very pessimistic way to look at resolutions, but it is what it is.

This New Year's Eve was the first one that I have spent with family in several years. While it was nice, it didn't feel complete. There is normally a ritual that my family does; something that was started spontaneously when I was really young. We watch NYE in Times Square on television and when the ball drops, we all drink a glass of ginger ale with cherries in it. Dad usually says some short prayer of thanks, we all say Amen and finish watching tv. This year, while I as finally able to be home, my sister couldn't be there. My parents don't have tv any more, so we had to watch the webcast version of the ball drop on a livestream. That was...different in a strange, quirky sort of way. My dad slept through the whole thing and only mom and I ended up drinking ginger ale together. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't slightly disappointed that we didn't keep tradition. I have no idea when I am going to be home for NYE again.

There is going to be a lot of changes that are going to be happening for me in a few months. I am not sure if my brain is processing it all or if it has decided that it wants to shut off and not think about it. In a few months, I have plans to go out of the country, attend my first PAX East, graduate from school (finally), and have my first legitimate job as a physician. I am going to try and take it all in, because I feel like if I blink, I am going to miss it.

Maybe that is why I was so chill when it come to ringing in the new year. I knew that life for me was about to make several changes in really big ways, so there was no reason to make any resolutions. The ball is already rolling.