A List of Lists

So, those ideas I wanted to remind myself about? Here's a portion of that list - both for your viewing (mis)pleasure and as the self-reminder I told myself I'd make.

Small Shade of Fear

In your average piece of literature, black is often used to represent the banes of humanity. The darkness in man's heart, the soullessness of the macabre, the indescribable face of chaos and evil itself - no other color lends itself so freely to such ideals as readily as black does. It represents what we can't understand - which makes it the first thing we think of when our thoughts somehow lead towards that looming oblivion waiting to claim us for eternity.

Yes, I know - this entry suddenly got dark (pun intended). Trust me: I'm going somewhere with this.

The problem I see with this whole "black represents fear" thing is that black doesn't represent a color I fear. I'm a writer in the 21^st century. People like us know that oblivion waits to claim us all. We've embraced our dark sides to the point of cursing ourselves with alcoholism and depression, drawing strength from what would otherwise be considered a weakness. (The writers of years past can attest to the former "curse," while the writers of today can vouch for the latter.) We turned this ebony pool of nothingness into a generous muse that we draw information from.

Does that make us invincible - gods among men? No. That's because we fear a different color: white. You know the color - the one we stare at from time to time when we turn on our computers or typewriters. We pull up a word processor, a blank sheet of paper, a website - and all we see is the same void of emptiness that black would normally represent. We see a lack of vision, an absence of clarity, the infestation of hopelessness.

That's how I feel about it, at least. Staring at a white... blank web page with a text box and a blinking cursor. I don't know what to write sometimes - and coming out of a writing hiatus and attempting an entry while my body is crying for sleep doesn't help any. Though I have to admit, staring into an oblivion that's white as snow is strangely comforting.

Done

To Everyone I've Held So Dearly in My Heart:



The past two years have been some of the toughest and most heartbreaking I've ever lived. Ever since this struggle began, it felt as though I was enveloped in an unnatural fog, stumbling blindly into the unknown.

While it's true that I haven't been alone through this harrowing ordeal, I should say that I feel otherwise. We all have suffered through this ongoing pain as equals - but I can't help the urge to be selfish and say that I've endured the most pain out of everyone.

You're probably arching your eyebrows and wondering how I could say something so brazenly. I could respond with the usual sardonic misogyny that can be seen in days past, but you've dealt with enough of that (or should I say a lack of that) in here, so I'll just come out and say it:

I am done with this. I AM DONE WITH EVERYTHING.

Serene Abduction

Friday, February 9th, 2007 –
The day when you kidnapped me from the world
And I was to be your captive for the weekend.

You took me across 22 miles of ocean
And settled me in a place called Avalon
To bond with 40 of my peers from class.

Never in my life would I picture myself
Temporarily residing with you and your sisters
Who dotted the vastness of the Pacific.

During my time there, you showed me peace
And brought forth within me a hidden sense of strength
That, while repressed within me, still keeps me going.

You also showed me of beauty and love,
The concept of having confidant(e)s,
The sweet luxury of being at ease with the world.

Alas, your tutelage was finite
And as soon as I felt your soothing embrace,
I was tossed back towards the chaotic mainland.

As I looked back on the boat ride home,
Your exotic-sounding name spurred within me
A deep longing for serenity that I may never have again.

So whenever I find myself on the waterfront,
I take the time to look your way and say,
"Catalina, I will forever thank you."

Figma

As I look, they stand there
a piece of my life staring back at me
they say nothing, think nothing
yet every time my eyes wander to them
they instantly dance to life

So full of joy and so full of emotion
their livid plastic pulsates vivid color
as they smile at each other
wave to me from their anchored position
offer me entertainment in the lulls

At times they're like fashion models
strutting flair and appeal to the masses
but I think of that as incorrect
They're more like girls that're best friends
same and different, plastic and real

As they stand there
they gaze at me
watch as I work
guide me to entertainment
when I tire of tedious jobs

They sit atop my desk
living it up like none other
because that's what Figma figures do
decorate, educate, dance, smile
and I can't help but do the same

An Armed Choice

I didn't believe my ears. My life was at risk? For what? Sure, I've paid a prom night's worth of speeding tickets and pissed off some friends to the point of burnt bridges. However, none of it seemed worthy of taking my life. I didn't have any enemies wanting me dead. (As far as I knew, at least.)

"What do you mean by 'my life will be at greater risk?' What exactly is going on?"

The Mysterious Caller

"Mister Blanco, I know you're there."

I didn't know what to say. Hell, I didn't know what to think. A mysterious voice on the phone who knows who I am... said phone wasn't even mine to begin with... a twisted ankle that had no known cause... this was both mystifying and perplexing. Whatever the case, it was shudder-inducing.

The voice on the phone spoke up. "You do realize you're going to have to talk sooner or later, Mister Blanco."

A moment passed before I let off a sigh. The voice let off what I assumed to be an amused chuckle. "I'll take that for now. Anyway, you must have some questions going through your mind right about now, such as 'Who is this person?' or 'What is going on?'."

I flatly responded with: "Yeah. Though to be honest, I'm more confused about the phone."

Rung In

*RIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!*

The audible chirp of the desk phone echoed in my ears as it roused me from my sleeping state. I merely groaned in response - it felt as if I didn't get enough sleep. Four hours? Six hours? I couldn't tell because I didn't remember what time I drifted to sleep.

As I wondered whether or not I should catch up on my z's, I felt an impending sense of dread. Scratch that - it wasn't like fear. This was more of a sense that something seemed wrong. I couldn't quite figure out what - I was just waking up.

Mapping Out a Future War (Revisited)

So, those ideas I was talking about yesterday? Here they are.

All the world's a stage... and its citizens mere combatants.

Okay, while this may not be as hilarious as I was claiming to be, it is full of ideas. And by "ideas," I mean "continents." Yes, that's lame (sorta), but I don't think this map quite is. Hehehe.

Quit your yapping - you know this is cool! *smiles*

Mapping Out a Future War

I was taught that characters are the most important part of a story. It makes sense, really - boring characters contribute to a boring story, which contribute to a boring book, movie, show, or what-have-you. To a writer, that would mean that there'd be no one to read it - and to the writer wishing to strike it big (be it monetary, fame, or a combination of the two), a boring project gives them the exact opposite.

And this is how wars are started: by figuring out the geography of the enemy's land.

However, that's not what I'm working on today. Instead of fleshing out characters that will become heroes, villains, or both, I'm drawing out the geographical setting of the world that this story will be taking place in. I already have a semi-decent idea of the characters and what happens for the first part of the story, but I have yet to figure out how the terrain will affect the characters' actions.

Yes, I'm letting the lay of the land affect this story due to the fact that I'm trying to work on a war epic. As such, details such as these miiiiiiiiiiiiiight be necessary for the story. Hehehe.

Booster Shot

When you're stopped dead in your tracks with a block of some kind, there spawns a very particular moment in time that seems to extend to infinity. Artists and other creative-types know this phenomenon quite well as an "artist's block." While there are many ways for such a block to show up, there are just as many ways to get rid of one. A person who receives such a block may be mentally exhausted from working on his/her art too much, and so taking a break may be a method to counter it. Those who can't seem to get the next part of the page fleshed out may find themselves compelled to complete a part of their work they haven't even started on. Others whose idea wells seemed to have run dry seek alternative sources of inspiration - be it other people or other projects out of their area of expertise.

Then there's a particular kind of artist's block that refuses to budge no matter what. The artist decides to tackle it with guns blazing, but the block becomes harder to budge than Stalingrad in the tail end of 1942. With all options exhausted, the person in question just gives up... and without warning some time later, the block begins to erode away from the sands of time. Very, very few things can last the test of time - and an artist's block? Not one of them.

(Former) Longtime readers of my blog can easily attest to how true the above paragraphs, because for the past two months or so I haven't really posted anything noteworthy. I felt myself stagnating - not just because of my personal situations, but because I lacked the inspiration necessary to compose something worth reading. It was like I was hit with an artist's block that affected more than my creative output - it seemed to damage what little morale I had left.

Time seems to be on my side, however - I can feel the block begin to crumble away. The motivation and creativity that seemed to be impeded are now making their way back to my mind (albeit in a slow, trickling pace). And you know what that means?

The Lion Finally Roars

For the longest time I've been stuck in some kind of energy-draining rut. Work seemed like complete and utter shit (and that's before considering fourth quarter traffic). Gaming felt like a grinding task to perform (and that's before considering the leveling I'm putting Gefallen through). Writing - both on my personal blog here and otherwise - became a chore and a nuance rather than a creative outlet for my restless mind. Life (and living, in general) felt like a despicable curse that haunted my very being.

It's easy to pinpoint (and subsequently blame) potential sources of this lethargic malady... but do I really know if they are the origin points? I found myself beginning to turn blue when my camera got lost a while back. It was found a little over a week ago, and while I was ecstatic (my co-workers will report something on the lines of "overjoyed"), my spirit's core wasn't lifted any. When I lost the right to use the phrase "I'm going home," I wanted to cry my small Asian eyes out and wail like crazy. (Nopony knew this; I'm good at façades.) However, this... depressed "condition" of mine... started long before I became homeless. So, if these weren't the sources (although I can honestly say they amplified my "condition"), that left me to ask two things:

1. What's the true source of this malady?
2. Why the frak is it still afflicting me like so? (Or rather: why the frak am I letting it afflict me?)

I don't know the answers, but I'm certain they'll come to me in due time.

I'm going to be frank with you: this post was originally going to end here. As you can see, however, I didn't let it stop. You'll also see that the rest of this entry's overall mood and morale levels are much, much higher than they've been in weeks - nay, months. (PMX 2012 lifted my spirits, but apparently I didn't show it well enough.)

/roar

Let's find out what got me to finally roar like the lion I know I am...

Casual Insanity

The difference between the things you and I share are nothing, because you and I share nothing in this world that is fleeting and justly confusing. And here I am confusing you like always, but let me tell you that truth lies here in these mists of delirium.

As Eternal Darkness Rose

This morose shroud of the night
Was scattered throughout the air.
Around, the lights shone brightly,
But for him he did not care.

He simply trods down the road,
Indiff’rent his path would be.
Expressionless his face was,
Walking uncontrollably.

A fruitless search he began,
Yet surrender? No, he’d fight.
He resumed his noble quest:
The search for the hope and light.

Throughout that time the city
Broadcast glamour and appeal,
But these illuminations
Were without a doubt unreal.

Wait, hold on! It’s just midnight –
Far too early in the morn’!
The darkness still envelops;
The dawn has yet to be born.

Hours and hours later
And sunrise he’s yet to meet.
Darkness would claim victory
And with waiting came defeat.

But soft! what is a-stirring
From the horizon afar?
He’d remember this moment
When the light shone without bar.

The melancholy he faced,
This sickening depression –
It would all be washed away
And end his oppression.

But good things come to an end
As daylight’s hours went past.
The forecast made was crystal:
Skies of darkness overcast.

His waits would be forever
And with joyous thoughts he knows:
Hell spawned these glam’rous façades
As eternal darkness rose.

P4 Dissertation Preview

Over the course of the last week I found myself suddenly inspired to write. I wrote and wrote and wrote - and to be honest with you, it feels good. Tiring, yes... but good.

For those of you wondering what I was working on... remember that crazy idea I had for a dissertation back in April or so? Well, after six months of not doing anything about it, I did something about it.

It's what I was working on last week, and I'm proud to say that it's actually going somewhere!

For your entertainment, here's an excerpt from the preface. Enjoy!

Short-Handed Prose

And it comes down to this - writing and some bad prose. It all leads to something new, something more... and I become weary of working on my words. But I continue to do so, as it compels me to do more - to write more and create more.

For the world is now mine to mold into what I desire, and I wish for nothing but blissful words that work out the problems I see.

Come on, follow me - we'll soon be able to find the truth we've reached for all this time...

That Which One Stalls

Sometimes the answers come when you don't want them to. When that happens, you'll find that such things like deadlines are meaningless in their mission.

Saluting Farewell

Work was tiring last night - and I found that out the hard way as I drove home from work. So as I was getting myself home, I sort of drooped around but was able to keep conscious for two reasons:

1. I was chatting with my girlfriend on the phone. (I had a headset.)
2. Sleeping on my bed sounded wonderful.

Despite my best efforts to stay 100% focused, I was tired. Tired like you could not believe. I mean, I was at that point where the moment I walked into range of my bed, I'd lose consciousness and just fall asleep right then and there. Truth be told, I almost did - and if it weren't for the fact that I was on the phone with my girlfriend, I'd probably be drooling on top of my bed until 1000... and then wake up wondering why my car is upside-down and tail-end first through my room's window.

Don't worry; I got home perfectly fine. If anything, you should laugh - Murphy's law kicked in and instead of falling unconscious instantaneously, I shot up wide awake with energy. Don't know where it came from, but it just showed up out of the blue. Rather than curse my luck for this adrenaline rush (I for some reason have a shift starting at 1100 today), I decided to embrace it.

So as I was chatting on the phone, I figured I'd somehow kill the unknown amount of time I was blessed cursed with. I grabbed an Arizona Orangeade I had sitting in the fridge, booted up my laptop to browse the Internet, and began debating with my girlfriend on what to do. To that end, I usually have three primary methods of killing time using the Internet:

1. Randomly shuffle through Wikipedia entries. (Learn something new.)
2. Trap myself in the wonderful world that is TV Tropes. (Read something silly.)
3. Scope Facebook to see what's up with everypony. (Stalking!)

For some reason, the latter option sounded like the best way to deal with this sudden surge of... insomnia? Adrenaline? Lords know, but either way, Facebook ended up being my decision. So I took a few sips of my orangeade and logged on. Seconds later, I was off to lurk on the social network site like the sneaky, devilish bastard I am see what was going on in everyone's lives.

Little did I know that I'd find out something that would alter how the rest of my night played out.

A War Diary

Last night (and a majority of the early part of my day) was spent grinding through Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance and doing my best to max out the stats of my main party. So I'm taking a much-needed break today from video gaming to talk to you about that thing I was talking about yesterday.

Just wait 'til I put it all together.

Yeah. Legos. And that project I was talking about.

Gangnam Monotony

Day 261 in the 12^th year after the Millenium War began.

What is there to talk about today, I wonder? What is there? This world has been trashed since the start of this war - no hope for a future, for love, for peace. Despite this, my commanding officer found it "imperative for the future" for us to document our dull and dreary lives. *scoff* "Imperative" my ass.

You have to be vigilant at all times. Even Lego!me has to remain alert in case anyone attacks...

Currently I'm situated at an abandoned library in the ruins of Thessalia. (Peyton says it's the Sutherlands Regional Library...) It's been situated as the OP for today. Due to the hectic fighting around the Thessalian streets, we've been forced to advance at a remarkably slow rate of one block per day. The Cremisians are really giving us Hell, and it looks like they want this city just as bad as we do...

So, here I am, writing in this journal because it's been relatively quiet. Sporadic movement here and there, but my guess is that it's just a recon element poking around for gaps in our front line. (They haven't found anything yet - and if they did, I'm sure that the mortars I called in eliminated them.) But apart from the bloody war that I'm participating in, what is there to write about? What IS there that's worth jotting down in this notebook for "the future" to read? At this point, I don't really see anything worth jotting down.

Now, don't get me wrong - I believe in my commanding officer. (I have to; she's the princess.) I honestly believe in Lieutenant Allisenna Novelli and her wish to liberate the country that was stolen from her by war. I wish to see her homeland (as well as my own) freed from the unholy grasp of Cremisa and sovereignty restored to Her Highness. But... how does this... this documentation that's "imperative for the future..." how does it help us win a battle that seems nigh victorious? A stagnant war that should have been over years ago?

It's been said that the pen is mightier than the sword, but so far my rifle's killed more men and women than this book has. (I should consider Lady Kurz to be lucky - she claims to have dirtied her pen with the blood of a Cremisan.) So, why write? Why bother to preserve our dimly-lit history with the minutiae of war and -

If I was a soldier who spotted this while at an OP, I think I'd stare in confused shock.

...what the...!? There's... there's a Cremisan dancing. Let me say that again: a Cremisan. Dancing. RIGHT ON THE MLR. Is he asking to get sniped? (Where the hell's Webster when I need him?) I should probably radio this in to the Lieutenant... which means that I'll probably be moving out in a bit.

So, until the next time I'm able to write in this thing. Who knows - mayhaps I'll have a good reason as to why Her Highness' "imperative" order was an excellent one.

- J.G. Alexander

(MC2, SRDF Navy)

(Author's Note: Hehehe. It's been a while since I've referenced this work of mine. I was originally going to whine about how I have nothing to talk about today, but then this popped up - how fitting, huh?)