Category Archives: Personal

Creationivity

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I’ve been working away at this concept of a novel series, Elyen, for over a decade now, though it’s gone by a number of other names in its earlier forms. Maybe it should not be taking me as long to make the kind of progress that I have in that time (which I will deliberately not specify), but the fact is that the story has changed immensely from its original concept.

I think that, out of all of the changes, the most profound is that of my role as the story’s author. In fact, I seriously question if ‘author’ is even now the right word for it anymore. What I mean by that is this: When I first set out to work on what is now Elyen, I had no doubt in my mind whatsoever that I was the story’s author, it’s creator. It wasn’t even a question. There was no alternative way of looking at my relationship with that early body of work, no other function to it beyond that which you would expect to exist between an author and his story.

Now, I see myself as being more of a reporter, if anything. The story might as well be its own living thing, and I am merely studying it. The universe (/multiverse/metaverse) that is Elyen, and the world of Drendast in particular, have become their own sovereign domains, into which I am now little more than a privileged guest, granted the freedom to write about anything I see.

I am become Marco…

Anyways, I’m sure you can imagine how perplexing it is to arrive at a conclusion like that and then pair it with the notion that I likewise exist as some unknown element within that same story as well.

So now I question whether I have ever created anything now encompassed within the body of work that is now, and will yet be, Elyen. This threw my head for a little spin when I really started thinking about it last night. My conclusion, however, is that I have created (and now maintain) the means by which I observe and report the goings on in Drendast. And that’s still a very vital part in the grand scheme of things, though not as dictatorial (why can’t we just shorten that down to just ‘dictorial’??) as what I believed my role was when I first began.

I now believe that the events which unfold in Elyen do so largely independently of how I might wish for them to, and that the characters have every bit as much free will as I believe that I, myself, have. I am unaware of what influence or impact I may or may not still have, if I ever had any to begin with. In either case, when I record something and it goes into the body of work known as Elyen, I understand that such things could just as easily have gone any other way. More accurately, given the multiversal nature of Elyen, it should be stated that anything I record is simply only one way (out of countless other ways all taking place simultaneously and in parallel) that things are going.

And if there’s one thing I wish to convey through the writing of Elyen, it’s that anything and everything that can happen, is happening. The question is not “what happens in Elyen?“, but rather, “which version of events am I seeing unfolding in Elyen?“

…Polo.

As it Turns Out

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The other night, I was visiting some new friends, one of whom practices witchcraft. It happened to be the night of the super moon, and I had just seen a shooting star. It was settled: spells were to be crafted and cast! At (or around) midnight, a candle was lit, and some other things happened that ultimately lead to the first participant naming that which he desired to see (more of) happen in their life. In this case, they just wanted to be/remain happy. Apparently, there was no stipulation about keeping one’s wish to themselves or anything like that.

This looks way more evocative than what we actually had to work with. Punked from http://img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130717123049/glee/images/7/72/Hands-cupping-candle.jpg

This looks way more evocative than what we actually had to work with.
Punked from http://img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130717123049/glee/images/7/72/Hands-cupping-candle.jpg

Next thing I knew, it was my turn. I was to understand that there was nothing I could want that I should feel guilty about asking for even in the slightest, and that the only rule was that, whatever I asked for that was intended to be directed at others, positive or negative, would come back on me three fold. After much deliberation, I said that I couldn’t go through with it because I had no idea what I wanted.

There were a lot of things I could have said, owing to the fact that there are a lot of things that I want, but I had no idea what I would have went with if I could only specify one thing. Maybe I didn’t have to narrow it down. Maybe I could have stated more than one desire. Maybe I could have said something that’s closer to number 7 on my list of 10 things I desire most in life (not that I really have such a list, but still, bare with me) and it still not ruin my chances of ever attaining items number 1, 2, 3 or 4, etc. in the future.

Maybe, it would have been okay to simply say, “I don’t know what I want” as the official utterance bound to the workings of the spell. Who knows?

Anyways, time has passed, and having given it further thought, I feel more confident about what I would have liked to have said instead. I am relatively content with my place in life. I get by on little money, I have great friends, and all of my basic needs are pretty much met in a relatively stress-free manner. I don’t require anything to increase my own personal happiness and well-being (though improvements would not be turned away). Instead, I want my life to have a positive influence/impact on the lives of others I come in contact with. Basically, I don’t really want anything for myself if it doesn’t come alongside of improvements (whatever form they may take) in the lives of others.

I’m not sure if I believe in witchcraft, or, even if there is something to it, if I particularly care one way or another, but I will state my wish here and now without concern for super moons, shooting stars, candles, or other trappings that I feel the universe ultimately sees through in discerning the desires of a person’s heart:

I want other people’s happiness to increase.

I feel that I would be satisfied in knowing that some of that increase in happiness comes from my place in their lives, subtle or otherwise, but more than that, however, I want this to apply to all people as a whole, regardless of whether I have any direct or contact with them or not. The fact is that there is a lot of strife in the world. A lot of that which depresses me comes from reading the news, hearing about the state that other places in the world are in (and more than a few that are much closer to home), and feeling helpless to do anything about it. So, if I could expand on that, my wish would be the same as that good old cliche line many of us hear over the holidays:

I wish for peace and goodwill for all.

If I can help facilitate the manifestation of that wish into the actual, help make that desire a reality for others, then like my friend Emily at seventeenbutterflymug, I would be happy to do so 🙂

Drendast, Part 1: The Big Picture

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Image

My best attempt to track down the original creator of this image came up inconclusive, but there’s a strong chance that credit for this picture goes out to BBC. Or Mother Nature. Or a space agency of one sort or another. Or an artist, you know, like the kind who render images like these for fun. Either way.

I’ve been sitting on a lot of ideas pertaining to the story I’ve been working on called Elyen for a long time now, but in all this time, I’ve hardly shared any of the details publicly. This is my first major disclosure of some of the bits and pieces I’ve got going on so far, starting first with the setting.

Much of Elyen toys with the idea of parallel universes/multiverses. In fact, Elyen is the name of a particular(ly large) multiverse, within which the characters will end up doing a great deal of sight-seeing. At the heart of Elyen is the planet Drendast, serving as a the primary hub between universes.

Drendast is a mega water-planet forged in the ether eons ago. It is absolutely massive. It originally sported no less than 12 super-continent sized landmasses called Subworlds spread evenly across its surface and separated by unfathomable distances of sheer ocean. It is so huge that rather than orbiting around a star, it had three of its very own sun-sized stars orbiting around it, ensuring a perpetual state of day light . 

Had, was the operative word. Around ten thousand years ago or so (according to the few surviving historical records), one of the suns orbiting around Drendast came crashing down, causing massive devastation in its wake. But rather than destroy the planet outright, Drendast happened to be SO huge that it absorbed the worst of the impact without crumbling apart or evaporating away. Many myths abound to this day attempting to explain the cause of the judgement that reigned down from the heavens that fateful day.

Originally, the three suns were Tropreus, Neora and Selah. Now, only Selah and Neora remain.

Originally, Drendast had 12 thriving Subworlds. Now, a full third of them have either been rendered uninhabitable, or were vaporized completely.

Much of the action in the early stages of the story will take place on one of the remaining Subworlds called Sarenalis (Ser`n`AY`liss). Before the Fall of Tropreus, there was never (or very, very seldom?) any night fall. Like on most Subworlds, many of the creatures which evolved there had the benefit of being photovorus (light-eating).

There was certainly enough sunlight to power all of creation indefinitely when all three stars circled the world. However, since the Fall, all life became a struggle. Sarenalis was one of the Subworlds least affected by the Fall since it was located on the complete opposite side of the planet from where the impact took place. Still, great suffering occurred there as much as anywhere else where the night touched.

Once great and peaceful creatures took to predation and killing all in order to survive in the face of scarcity and chaos. Civilization fell into disproportionate states of disarray. Many advances in medicine and technology were lost. Most importantly, the Subworlds, which were once connected to one another by a series of ethereal channels (often mistaken for wormholes by outsiders) called Conduits, were now completely isolated. The oceans between Subworlds were simply too vast to ever cross using most surviving conventional methods of transportation of the day.

Geographic separation began to take its course. At the height of Drendain evolution in the day was a humanoid race known as the Sævanii. Ever since the Fall, the separation between Subworlds forced the original Sævian line to branch out and become distinctly new entities.

Now, nearly ten thousand years following the calamity that Tropreus brought down, the Conduits have slowly begun to repair, re-establishing the links between the remaining Subworlds, but more than that, re-establishing the links between Drendast and the now-wild external multiverse at large. Mighty airships have also begun to make an appearance, slowly replacing reliance on the Conduits as the only way to get around the planet.

Many creatures have begun to adapt to the new nightfall conditions, even making sense of the star-and-constallation-filled night skies for the first time in all recorded Drendain history. New ecological niches have begun to mature. Balance and vitality were slowly being restored to the planet.

However, a new element began to materialize in the natural world still very much under-repair: Ambition. Can the devastated people of Drendast survive this strange new drive emerging from among them to carve out a competitive way of life for themselves so soon after their world was nearly destroyed?

I Saw A Movie Once

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In all honesty, I was just in a weird mood when I decided I wanted to write this entry the other night. Then, I got sitting on it, distracted by other things. Now, it’s so far removed from the original motivation that I’m not sure what to say here. I owe it to myself to say something regardless. I need to keep the writing practice up, after all.

I suppose I can still reflect on what started this: the movie Detachment. If you’ve never seen it, I don’t recommend it if you’re easily depressed. For anyone who’s seen and/or perhaps maybe even enjoy the movie Requiem for a Dream, this might just be right up your alley. Either way, it’s a slow and dreary showcase of what I take to be the failing of the modern public education system in certain parts of the States.

At least, that’s the backdrop.

The more significant message I got out of it was how different degrees of emotional investment result in differing levels of emotional burning out in a place where the overall surrounding culture fails to support itself (sucks and drains rather than contributes). The main character became the favourite teacher of many students who otherwise couldn’t give an ounce of respect for the other teachers. But he was only a sub. He wasn’t a permanent fixture.

I can relate to certain aspects portrayed by the main character (who’s name I can’t remember. Huh… Well, it’s not like this is a right proper review anyways), but I’m not sure they’re really the best traits to relate to. Detachment, as far as I was able to tell, was mostly about exactly what it says.

‘Detachment’, from the root word ‘detached’: “impartial or objective; disinterested; unbiased: a detached judgment.”

Words that freely associate with ‘detachment’ in my mind include ‘stoic’, ‘indifference’, ‘apathetic’, ‘controlled’, ‘sociopathic’ (minus the criminal/dangerous elements), and even ‘ataraxia’.

I like ‘ataraxia’ in particular: “a state of freedom from emotional disturbance and anxiety; tranquillity.” Not that the movie Detachment really showcases much of any of that, but still…

Actually, come to think of it, it exhibits a whole lot of the exact opposite of ataraxia in that sense. Even the main character, the good teacher who breaks down the walls preventing his students from learning some hard-hitting truths about life is constantly shown reflecting back on an earlier childhood trauma. He is not free of his own demons and torments, but still, somehow, more so than almost everyone else, he seems to be able to keep it together.

How? Why?

How is it that he can be just as messed up as everyone else but still make a massive, positive difference while even still never investing himself 110% into what he’s doing?

It’s almost like the world’s inability to hurt him any more is what gives him strength. His mind may not be one filled with bliss and happiness, but he knows how to separate his problems from what he’s prepared to give to, share with and do for others. Most of the time, he’s just doing the bare minimum of what’s expected of him. Not in a laziness sense, but it’s clear that he doesn’t volunteer at soup kitchens or community centres or charities, etc. which one might expect from a more heroic ‘real person’ protagonist. He mostly just does what’s expected and little else.

But, for what it’s worth, he does it well.

Then, situations come along, ones where there’s an opportunity to help in some way that goes just that little bit above and beyond. Those same situations are also ones where he has every right in the world to simply do nothing, turn around and walk away. And sometimes, he does. But if this movie had any redeeming quality, it was that as awful as many of the other circumstances going on around him and the other students and teachers were, and as much as he may have been entitled to shelter himself from that kind of harshness that reality can serve up all too often, he doesn’t always.

His efforts for standing up, sticking his head out and trying to do the right thing in those few crucial situations are rewarded in mixed ways. Some efforts wind up biting him very hard in the ass. Others create meaningful situations which bring an immensely greater good out of the darkness that existed before. That, to me, is a realistic portrayal of life.

It also tells me that, for the ways in which I feel I can relate, I’m not beyond hope. I can still make a positive difference, even if I can’t engage with every situation that requires someone to care. I’d go mad if I tried to fill the needs of as many others out there as there appears to be on my limited reserves of practical, hands-on compassion. I’m more suited to be an enabler for those with greater compassion than I have. Still, I have much learning and growing to do.

Either way, it’s true that if enough people come together and contribute whatever little bits they can towards a greater good, miracles can happen. However, sometimes, it’s just really, really nice to see a life completely transformed for the better by more personal and individual acts of kindness as well. Sometimes, those of us who want to make a positive mark on this world need to see, with our own eyes, the fruits of our efforts. It helps keep a fire of hope alive that this world really can be made into an even better place for all of us.

Split Focus

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So I had idea of what it might be like to have multiple personalities earlier. My guess is that most people will stop reading now. If not, just keep in mind that I’m not meaning to offend anyone for whom this might be a sensitive issue.

Earlier this afternoon, I was playing a song on guitar, and I noticed something: I moved around, mentally. It was as though I wasn’t alone. I mean, I never felt what I would describe as another presence in the room, per se, at least not physically, but for a little while there, it did seem as though I adopted the perspective of someone else, someone who wasn’t ‘me’ (at least not in a way that I could recognize), but yet someone whom I was definitely immersed with.

This ‘not me’… ‘person’… I didn’t sense them exterior to myself. As I was playing guitar and doing the best I could not to sound like crap singing along, I started paying extra close attention to what I was doing. Some time had passed. I was barely conscious of the fact that I had been talking through my thought process out loud to myself. From the voice/perspective of what I can only describe as a bonafide music teacher.

Memorize that picking pattern. Start over. Do it till you get it right. Slow it down if you need to. Now keep doing it right. Again. Again. Again. Good.

You’re slouching. Support your voice, from the diaphragm.

Feel the dynamics, don’t just play them.

Quit it. You think you’ll have time to stop and burp if this were live in front of an audience? Either disguise it or wait.

Listen. You hearing that? That’s what this part of the song is supposed to sound like! Keep it up.

So, a mix bag of tips and pointers, complements and constructive criticism, all of which I learned from my teachers from high school and college. Seems like I’m just regurgitating information, right? I’m not so sure. It felt an awful lot like I was both myself saying the things that I know that I already knew AND I was someone else, someone who was hearing all of it as though for the first time in either a very long time, or perhaps even just for the first time, ever.

Logically, I know I wasn’t ‘hearing’ anything, let alone anything new, but it sure as hell felt like I was.

Maybe I just have an over active imagination, which would usually be a good thing, being an aspiring writer as well and all, but in this case, when I ‘realized’ this seeming split was taking place, there was difficulty ‘disengaging’ from it. When I felt like I was wholly back into my own head space, it was almost like breaking a spell, snapping out of it.

I’m not claiming to have multiple personalities, or to know the first thing about what it’d be like through the eyes of someone who does. What little I know about the topic comes mostly from tv, so… I know essentially nothing, in other words. This little ‘episode’ could have been any number of things (petit mal epilepsy?), but it did get me thinking: What if it were possible to adopt/permit the presence of additional personalities by choice? Would we? Should we?

My default attitude would largely have been “hell no!” Too much at risk. What if an unwanted second-party internal personality became dominant and unrelenting? Could we ever trust a source guaranteeing that that could never happen? Who’d be willing to be a guinea pig? Maybe a neurological ‘sandbox’ environment would allow a safe, mental buffer space with which to experiment, but is anything really ever completely safe?

Regardless, after this experience, I realized that I might actually be down to try it. What I feel I could now expect, should the technology ever be developed and proven ‘safe’ (less dangerous than getting into a car and crossing town?), is that an additional internal personality would manifest itself in the form of coach, teacher, trainer, etc. In other words, for someone who wants to learn a new hands-on skill and/or improve on one, it would just be a simple matter of turning on a pre-selected ‘voice’ in your head (probably downloaded from a reviewed and rated repository), only you feel what they feel, you understand exactly what they’re trying to convey.

Essentially, if you want a demonstration, you simply tap into the appropriate bank of compiled experience (could have a name, a personality modelled after someone in particular, whatever) understand a set of directly-relayed instructions (should feel natural if you adopt enough of the alter), and then, simply, do.

Also, the free version should be the only version. Open source that shit.

Levels of Separation

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Under the right state of mind, or way of looking and thinking about things, sometimes I find it difficult to enjoy certain games. A number of diverting past-times are particularly well designed, capable of creating an immersive experience that, even if just for a brief moment, leave the one experiencing them unable to differentiate between their obvious fictional basis and their potential real world basis.

Case in point (and this is going back a little while now), but when Halo 4 was first released, I did a marathon run through. It took me awhile ’cause I like deliberating, taking my time, checking over everything, and basically just wasting time. No big deal, usually, except that this was one of the first video game titles that I played from beginning to end while high.

For the record, I enjoy a little weed from time to time. Mind you, I’m a ridiculously easy bake, and I can easily make $10 worth last me an entire month. I know tonnes of people who can’t even make that much last them half a day. So.

I don’t need much, and since I use so little, I develop almost no tolerance over time whatsoever. This helps keep it affordable. Usually, when I’m out, I’m out and it’s no big deal. Life goes on. I manage. However, I enjoy having some on hand for specific uses. I find that it really does help lubricate the cognitive machinery, and allows me to think of things with greater depth, or from unusual angles, or whatever. I’m not really sure what exactly it does do, but the TL;DR version is that it really helps me out in the creativity department.

We’ve all heard that before one time or another.

As much as I know from first hand experience the truth of that, there are instances of pot use which have other, unintended effects, such as while gaming. It helps me achieve a heightened degree of focus. Textures seem more vivid. Progression seems slower, allowing me time to take more details in as I go along. Events that happen in game seem more believable. Encounters with enemies seem much less like targets presenting themselves on a screen (to which I respond by pushing buttons in order to dispatch) and more like legitimate contact with some sort of supposedly hostile alien life form.

And of course they’re hostile! Don’t you seeing them firing at you? A voice of reason in my head might insist, if there were voices in my head. Testing that hypothesis is silly. I’ve played countless FPS titles before, not the least of which were prior titles in the same bloody Halo series. I know when the game is presenting me enemies and when it is presenting me with friendlies (or, more rarely neutrals).

As a gamer, my instincts are automatic. There is absolutely no moral imperative to question what it is that I do in the name of fun. If ever I found myself in doubt, all I would have to do is fail to return fire in response to being fired upon. The character that I play, the iconic Master Chief, drops in defeat. Dead. I restart from a previous check point, losing progress made.

Sounds awful! How dare those moving polygonal meshes execute scripts which generate coded beams of colour which just so happen to inconvenience my ability to get from various, vaguely similar A-to-B points in a rapid fashion! THEY MUST ALL BE DESTROYED!!!

And, because I’m just a gamer playing a completely fictional character in a completely fictional, computer-generated universe, pitted again completely non-sentient, computer-controlled AI, why on Earth shouldn’t I just enjoy the strongly implied acts of violence I’m evidently encouraged to carry out?

You see how describing it with alternative language sheds a different light on what a gaming experience can sometimes feel like? At almost no time do I ever question my actions playing First Person Shooters while not baked (I’d say ‘sober’, but it seems that alcohol only emphasizes the ‘okay-ness’ of simulated violence, so…). However, while baked, I find myself questioning everything.

The fact of the matter is that I have almost no understanding of what I’m really doing. I believe there are companies which hire artists (something I want to be!), programmers, designers, creative directors, and tonnes and tonnes more besides who spend ridiculous hours and funding to put a game together for the eventual enjoyment of gamers.

I don’t write code. I wouldn’t be able to interpret a block of C++ to save my life. And with the rate that technology is advancing (careening steadily closer and closer to Turing-approved AI), how do I know that I’m not actually playing a role in the deliberate destruction of a variety of under-credited artificial life forms, hmm? It wouldn’t be a stretch to attribute the tag ‘alien’ to such life forms, would it?

That’ll be a blog for another day.

For now, the point is to provide a basic commentary on what makes a game a game. If a game turned out to be a real and truly violent activity on some poorly-understood (likely informational) level, then I, among countless other well meaning gamers, would be guilty of cold-coded murder on multiple counts. If, however, a game is just a game, well then… Have fun! As for me, the lesson I think I’ve learned is to really limit how often I play games baked in order to still be able to enjoy them as they were intended to be. Otherwise, the layers of separation feel like they become stripped away, the experience becomes uncomfortably raw, and the immersion at times feels all too real.

Dissonance

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I have to admit, I haven’t left the shell of my comfortable existence very much lately. Since moving into the place that I’m currently in at the beginning of September, I haven’t once spent a night anywhere other than in my own bed up until the night of Christmas Eve. I was invited to spend the night and Christmas day with my girlfriend’s family, most of whom I hadn’t even met yet.

Sleeping somewhere other than in my bed wasn’t uncomfortable in and of itself. It was a bundled package which included other events, such as meeting a respectable number of new people (~10), getting all kinds of friendly attention from an almost equal number of their pets, visiting 3 entirely new places these new-to-me people and their pets lived in, and otherwise being completely out of my element for a period of approximately 30 hours.

In all of that, I have no complaints. I actually had an enjoyable time. I keep forgetting that I have that quality. I’ll explain. I’m an introvert. I spend most of my time lately in my living room with my laptop in front of me. Leaving the house is not something I actively seek out opportunities for, and I’m generally happier not having to be involved in social functions where I know less than 2 people, but I was invited. I agreed to go and spend time with her and her family instead of stay at home by myself ’cause, let’s face it, not even I’m that anti-social.

And, for once, I didn’t even hesitate to agree. She’s invited me to one or two previous family functions, but I hummed and hawed my uncertainty and skittishness before eventually declining. I felt guilty almost immediately, but I also felt relief. I don’t like that I tend to be so nervous and shy, but in this instance, I wasn’t going to let that stop me from finally biting the bullet and meeting everyone. Sure enough, I had absolutely nothing to worry about.

The only dissonance I felt and can discuss, however, pertains to differences in world views. We all know the social etiquette advice warning people to avoid bringing up religion or politics during family functions. That wasn’t really an issue in this particular adventure, but I’d say there was something like it afoot.

I am open to the idea of Panspermia which is the theory that life may have arisen elsewhere in the cosmos, and bits and pieces of that life could have hitched rides on asteroids and other things in space we too often call “debris” and/or “materials”, ending up all over the place, including Earth. Or like in the opening to Prometheus. Cool. Or even like on Ancient Aliens.

Or maybe not. I don’t know.

And that’s my point. I sure as hell don’t know everything about everything, but I’ve heard a lot of different ideas. I like ideas. Nay! I heckin’ LOVE ideas! But… they’re just so weird when other people talk about the same sorts of things. It’s not as easy to connect to people with some of the same weird ideas as me as I thought it’d be. I mean, sometimes it’s great. Other times, like recently, I find myself hearing things that I partly agree with mixed with other things, hard to place things, which have the effect of turning me off from the conversation.

For example, I can get excited about ideas and pop off all kinds of ‘what ifs’, but when I hear someone else discuss the same things less from a speculating and theoretical standpoint and more from a “here’s how it is” point of view, I withdraw.

I feel cognitive dissonance each and every time I hear an opinion presented with the same authority one might use when presenting a fact, even if I happen to almost fully agree (‘almost’ because, if I completely agreed, I’d assume my opinion was based on fact, and that, therefore, their’s  likely was as well. I am aware that that isn’t always true). I’m too long winded and reliant on the typed word to formulate an effective, balanced and fair response in the event that I think someone is mostly right when sharing their thoughts in person, but that they might do well to keep an open mind. Just in case.

What I can say is that it is, nevertheless, a thing of beauty to hear new voices with varying degrees of conviction in a number of things I don’t normally hear people discussing, whether or not I agree.

Nuts and Bolts and Progress!

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I try to do too much at once. I have been sitting on the same story now for over a decade. Obviously, it’s evolved. It’s nothing at all what it was when I originally envisioned it, but my problem is that I have a bit of a hard time committing to any particular version of the story. Who knows if, come tomorrow, I’ll see the story from some new, unforeseen angle and what to redraft the whole thing through the filter of the new vision.

Also, I can’t fully settle on what events should happen when. Lots of ideas, but they’re all disjointed. There’s a few overarching themes I have in mind, but very little substantial glue to bring it all together and hold it there in a way that feels quite natural. At least not just yet.

What is becoming more and more obvious to me is that certain things cannot be planned. There are a great many things which can only be discovered during the writing process itself. I’m finding myself increasingly guilty of letting ideas evolve exclusively in my head on their own to such a highly specialized extent that they suddenly start having very little in common with the heart of the rest of the story as a whole.

Instead, when I take to writing my ideas out in the direct context of actual story material, no matter how simple and incomplete they may be at first, they’ll at least have the benefit of being cohesive with the over arching vision. I’m now facing a turning point where I may need to open myself to some serious pruning. Eventually, the lofty and abstract concepts I’d like to feature in the story will make their appearance, but will they express themselves to the same refined extent which they currently exist in my head, or will they take an unexpected turn and show me something new instead? I’m getting closer to finding out each and every day.

Speaking of which, I’ve been busy the last couple of days. I’ve written a chapter for my story, Elyen, and will be looking to get some feed back from friends soon enough. If all goes well, I’ll share it online for anyone who’s interested in actually reading what I’ve been working on, rather than reading me talking about what I’ve been working on. Keep an eye out for that in the coming weeks.

Also, I drafted up a short poem called “Intentions” (originally called “Pretentious”), hosted on Wattpad. If you get a chance, please check it out and let me know what you think! It’s a quick read.

https://embed.wattpad.com/story/10888194
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Lesson Learned?

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You know what sucks? Losing something you spent a lot of time working on. For example, a nearly-ready-to-publish draft of a short story.

I take autosave for granted. In fact, I’m taking it for granted right now with WordPress, which, if I might say so, is precisely what it’s designed for. Anyone disagree? Not that I care. My blog. My rhetoric. Anyways. The funny thing is, not everything in life has autosave features (believe it or not), even if it seems like certain bits should. For example, Wattpad doesn’t have a native autosave feature.

So.

When one is working on a typed something something, doesn’t matter what it is, if one happens to be doing this using Wattpad, one would be wise to consider manually clicking the save button every so often. Another way of thinking of it is to compare this recommended strategy with one that this author highly discourages: The one who is perhaps not so wise might draft up a lengthy typed document of whatever sort, and even if it falls short of being a masterwork the likes the world has never before seen, it still requires due diligence to proofread and edit the whole thing. After a long day and a late night of typing, such a task might best be served with a fresh set of eyes, as would be the case after getting a good night’s sleep. Wouldn’t want to be hasty, skimping out on a quality clean up prior to publishing, now would we?

However, one might happen to notice an icon in the system trey awaiting their attention in the morning. An icon, as it so happens, indicating that updates are ready for one’s computer. Perhaps, never having any prior issues with installing updates before, one might be tempted to rubber stamp all updates as soon as they are made available. A sensible notion, keeping up with security fixes and what have you. And certainly, just because the updates in question happen to be specific for the browser one evidently happens to be using to type the soon-to-be-published literature, there is no mention that following through on said updating process might cause the sturdy, never-failing interweb-bearing application to suffer, how shall we say? A ‘minor’ hiccup.

What could possibly go wrong?

Ah yes! After a good night’s rest, a fresh batch of updates successfully installed, it is now time to — oh whatever. You already know how this story ends. I didn’t think to save my shit. Not even once. I leave all the data in the text field, let it sit over night, install an update for my browser, everything freezes, aaaaaand…

Gone. All gone.

🙂

Hard Reset

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So, I’ve been meaning to readjust my sleeping pattern for… years? Jesus, k, well… It’s definitely one of my more difficult vices to wrestle with. Maybe this will help: Yesterday evening around 6 pm, I felt overcome by a wave of fatigue out of nowhere. Thought to myself that it’d be a fine time to take a nap. Heck, even slept in my clothes with the intent of getting up again before 9, probably.

Didn’t.

Instead, I slept right through the night, but not without tossing and turning, waking briefly a few times and checking in with myself as to whether or not I was going to keep sleeping or if I felt the need to get up before the morning (proper) came around. I held out. I managed to resist waking up fully right through ’till about 30 minutes ago, at which time, I nom-chomped an apple and then set out to boast to the world that my lazy sleeping habits must surely now be behind me!

Well, that remains to be seen. Sure, it’s not easy to force yourself to sleep an additional 6 hours above the threshold of already being “well rested”, and certainly, having done so will now make it infinitely easier to be asleep again tonight before midnight, but is that what’s going to happen? Even if it does tonight, is that what is going to happen consistently for a period of at least, what is it, 28 days or something?

Anyways, the plan for today at least is to publish this, get a bit more food into me, and then go for a hike in the trails around my neighborhood as the sun rises, ’cause I haven’t done that more than once in years, and the last time was on a drunken adventure with my best friend in Toronto (good times, that). This time, it’s gonna be for my personal enjoyment, with the intent to connect a bit more with what land the city I live in has tried to preserve, and what better way than with a mobile sun salutation while I’m at it?

Maybe I’m still lazy, or maybe it’s smart, but who’da thunk that taking one extended nap would potentially lead to hitting three birds (sleep adjustment, physical and spiritual exercise) with one useful accident?