A discussion on a forum prompted this entry, it made me think about what I consider the two primary opposing sides of the internet, and even though you could say this is true for real life as well, I find it reaches its extreme online, when people seem to devolve into the most basic components of their psyche. I'm talking about the polar opposites of people who are predators, tormenting others for fum and are seemingly untouchable, especially by the other side - the sensitive people who are easily hurt and more interested in genuine human contact than the distant relationships preferred by the former. It can usually be observed in its most primitive form when several callous individuals on a forum or in an IRC are verbally abusing someone who is probably crying into their keyboard as they type out rebuttals in all-caps.
My natural inclination is to side with the latter; Regardless of the circumstances, I don't feel there is any honor in harassing someone weaker than you and seeing people gang up on someone of a weak constitution appalls me. I have an almost predesigned desire to defend the minority, but objectively that does not make the tormentors instantly villains.
In fact, they're as much victims to a cycle I've observed over the years as the people they're hurting - because they're turning those people into them. All of these callous, pessimistic remarks people make cannot entirely be the result of trolling even if there are a few people who just want to stir the pot; no, most of it is just people repeating what the internet generation before them told them when they were probably crying into their keyboard, and most of them are too proud to admit that. They're spreading the toxicity of cynicism and misanthropy to the next generation and that generation will do the same thing to the next.
Possibly the worst thing about all that is that even though there are few people willing to admit they were once the naive innocent newbie they are now trying to turn into a miserable cynic, there are even fewer of them that are willing to admit that even in a small way, the vitriol of others' poisoned words still hurt them. We have created an environment where having your feelings hurt is not acceptable and in doing so we've repressed encouraging compassion and humanity from everyone. Instead, people demand that everyone be as thick-skinned as they think they've become, but nobody seems to realize, or care, that thick skin can have rough edges, and in most cases, those edges are barbed with the poison of misery.
Sometime ago I tried to be untouchable, I wanted to be able to bounce insults off my skin like others seemed to do so well, but after trying for a solid 3 years, I realized that it was not only impossible for me, but self-destructive. Now, my philosophy is that the healthiest thing to do for the sake of yourself and your relations with others of your species is to be honest about how you feel. I practice this in my daily life. If I see someone who looks like they're hurting, I try to reach out to them to the best of my ability and I am not afraid to be sincere even though I live in a time period when sincerity is viewed as weak and sarcasm is a mark of the strong and clever. I know that this makes me a target for people who are malcontent or for people who are just bored and trying to get a rise out of me, and I'm not going to pretend those people don't succeed because doing otherwise would mean they have no consequences to their actions, but what I'm more afraid of is that if someone doesn't show the kind of honest sincerity I demand of myself every single day, then there will be no example for others and we will always live in an emotionally repressed society.
We humans feel emotions and are influenced by them. To ignore them or force them down is to deny ourselves of an inherent part of our nature, and when we start to accept and understand those emotions, we can be more understanding of the people around us.
I'm a well-established misanthrope. I don't trust people by nature, but even with my innate suspicion, I don't believe the majority are trolls and the minor percentage of trolls that do exist are far outweighed by ordinary people who are hurting. My ideal world is one where people can freely exchange experiences of emotional pain without fear of being persecuted for it and I think that will be possible one day if we learn to shed our rough edges.
Monday, December 23, 2013
Friday, October 4, 2013
Puppet Master
Today started like any other day, I ran into some asshat on a forum who I didn't like so I wrote up what I considered to be a pretty clever post stripping them of their dignity and tearing them a new one but since he happened to be a mod with no respect for other people's works of art he deleted that post and cried to his mommy about how I was mean to him so I had to remake a thread and exercise my infinite creativity and word my next post in a way that still made it clear that I didn't like him without giving him a reason to delete it. Unfortunately some other mod edited my post which I just re-edited back (and removed their edit message specifically to spite them because how dare you alter my art) but I think they got the message anyway.
SO, what was this about? Well, it started as just me being angry that I can't play Spyro on my new Vita which don't get me wrong, it's a good investment but not being able to play the PSX games that I actually give a crap about is a huge disappointment and I probably wouldn't have bought one if I knew that so because I can't be assed to dig up the old thread I'm just going to copypaste his response in the new thread and hopefully if you aren't a stupid soulless monkey worthy of my eternal disdain you'll know exactly why I don't like this asshat.
And the rest of this entry will make complete sense to you.
I'm also working off the assumption the thread will be locked because apparently having someone not play your shallow game of statistics justifies shutting down a discussion a passionate fan cared about.
"Sony clarified that statement well before the launch of the console. Those of us that bothered to read the Vita FAQ before buying the device knew that only Vita-certified Playstation Store content, meaning content that was specifically tested on the Vita, would be downloadable to the Vita. Support for PS1 Classics was not included until months after launch, and Sony at the time promised only that "at least 100" PS1 Classics would be Vita compatible. Sony passed that number within 3 months, so it doesn't have to do any more. At no time did Sony state that the Vita could run "everything" that the PSP could run.
False advertising suits are extremely difficult to win in US courts. You basically have to prove that the seller lied deliberately, and that is essentially impossible unless it was foolish enough to write down its intentions, or was recorded discussing them. Nobody ever received a penny, in or out of court, for any claims related to the Vita's compatibility with PSP content. People are entitled to their own wrong opinions about anything, but when it comes to the law, only the courts' opinions matter.
You are missing the point anyway. You have only made arguments for why a company could make the PS1 Spiro games Vita compatible. You haven't made a business case for why any company, whose objective is to make a profit, should bother. You have provided only anecdotal evidence of demand to play the games on the Vita, which does not even need to be refuted, because it is irrelevant to the publisher. The publisher cares about how many people want to buy the games in the future on the platform. Not how many people want to play the game on the platform. There is a difference, that makes all the difference. You haven't provided even anecdotal evidence that there is market demand to purchase the games, and you won't, because it doesn't exist. Sony knows exactly how many copies of the Spiro PS1 Classics sold in North America in the years before the Vita was released, and it was so few that the games were given to Playstation Plus subscribers for free. You will never convince Sony that there is money to be made in certifying the game here, because the data says otherwise. You are wasting your time trying.
As far as your jail-breaking argument is concerned, the rampant piracy of PSP games, especially in Europe, is the main reason why game publishers were reluctant to invest significant amounts of money in Vita games at launch. That is why we got mostly cheap ports of existing games, and indie games, from every publisher except Sony. Publishers want to see how secure the Vita proves to be, relative to the PSP, before they invest any real money in AAA Vita games. All that jail-breaking the console will do, in the long run, is to ensure that the Vita never gets more than a handful of exclusive third-party AAA games. If all you want to do is to play PSP games, then buy a PSP. Sony still sells them, for less than a Vita. If you want more AAA Vita games, then your obsession with PSP content is not helping; and your disregard for copyright laws is really, really, not helping. "
Note the legal babble, the general up-his-own-ass behavior that comes with ponces like this, but also note the thing that lack of any passion behind his words except to defend the most evil thing about any industry ever; the business-end.
Before you read my response to his bowel movement he's passing off as a post, let me give you some perspective on why I just insulted anything business like in the gaming industry or in any industry to ever exist:
"Hi there Mr. Bigshot Businessman, I'm an artist and a creative spirit. People in my field are usually doing all of the grunt work for, getting treated like shit by, and being screwed out of decent payment or recognition by people in your field. It's nothing personal, I just hate you and everything you represent. It comes with the territory, have a nice day."
So I have a slight bias just because if every CEO on the planet caught fire and burned down the entire highest tier of their respective slave operations they pass off as companies then I would convert to Mormonism and be reassured that good does exist in the universe, and the thought of the internet basically making it so that people can self-publish means that they're cutting off the middle-man and now every industry in chaos teetering on the brink of extinction honestly makes me frisky enough to feel up the corpses of the jackasses that created those power-structures while said power-structures crash and burn in a smouldering heap of what used to be their foundation.
So, knowing my immense contempt for living hell that is "The Industry", here's how I responded to this jackass:
"This is typically why I like dealing with indie developers a lot more than huge companies. If I asked this same question to an indie dev about their game, I'd get an answer from a developer, not some random forum users who think too highly of themselves, especially when they can't even spell "Spyro" properly.
What part of "I don't care about business mumbo-jumbo" did not clear with you the first time? I don't care, I have no intention of caring in the future, and you can sure bet that if I ever have the chance to develop and release games I won't care then either, because some of us have the moral integrity to care about other things besides money and you can get off your high horse right now because if you seriously think spewing a bunch of legal crap when some die-hard fan expresses an honest and passionate investment in a series they care a lot about is something to be proud of then you need to seriously re-examine your moral compass.
And please don't reply, just go get the other mod, I liked that guy a lot better. They were very direct. Or at least don't take three paragraphs to say what you can say in three words: "I don't care", because it's obvious that you don't in fact care at all and I'm really not interested in talking to someone who has probably never even played these games and can't relate to what they mean to people.
And by the way, maybe people wouldn't be motivated to hack their system if they're just release the content officially. Considering most of the content I care about on the Vita is Indie content anyway I don't feel that threatened if some triple-A company loses out, in fact nothing would make me happier, considering the way they treat their customers.
And by the way, playing PSX games on a handheld with dual-analog sticks was a huge appeal of the system for me but I guess that if anyone asks me if a Vita is good for that in the future, I'm going to say "No, I recommend saving up for an OpenPandora. It might cost $300 more but it can also do a lot more than PSX games without jailbreaking."
And as for respecting copyright laws, I can play Gameboy Advance games on my PSP as well as Genesis games, NES games, SNES games (although with horrible lag), GameGear games, and N64 games. In fact, the system being a portable emulator is a selling point for most people. I suspect that Vita sales will skyrocket once people can use it for the same purposes and if it chases off all the greedy triple-A companies who care so little about their userbase that they would actually not make a game available to them just because it won't sell well when it costs them nothing, then I consider that a victory, in fact, more power to the indies."
And in truth I wish Triple-A genocide for all consoles. This industry has screwed over too many people, from fans and customers to developers with dreams for it to deserve anything less than hate and contempt. People SHOULD rage against it, people SHOULD hate it, people SHOULD support independence from it, and people SHOULD be excited for the day when there is no industry, there is no middle-man, and there is no puppet-master businessman running the show anymore.
When we finally wash our hands of big companies dominating gaming, or music, or film, we will finally reach a point where people will no longer have their ideas shot down at the gate because it doesn't sell, and anyone who advocates this mentality that what sells is what gets done is 150% in the wrong.
Anyone who believes a developer being stopped from making a sequel to a game they care about by their superiors because it "doesn't sell" is a reasonable demand is wrong. Anyone who believes being forced to make sequels to a game just because it sells is a good decision is wrong. Anyone who believes in upholding copyright laws that ultimately strangle developers or take away their rights to do as they please with what they created is not only wrong, but a sick human being, and anyone who cannot see the damage these practices do to the industry is not only wrong, but blind with ignorance.
People should be excited for an age where video games, music, art, books, movies, cartoons, and any other form of creative media are published by the same people who made them with their own two hands and people should get angry when those people are made the industry's bitch and crushed and milked and abused until there's nothing left in them. People should get angry when developers quit their jobs because the pressure from asshats who have no idea what their job is like becomes unbearable. People should get angry when big companies have such disdain for their own userbase that they won't even have someone with knowledge of internal workings answer questions for the community. People should feel suspicious and distrusting of any institution that isn't open and transparent with how they do things and people should outright disdain any organized project or effort where the voice of that effort cannot even speak with passion and free will, like a human being.
Right now is how things are, I'm speaking for how things should be. Things should be open, things should be fair, things should be fueled by imagination and the desire to share your ideas with other people, the desire for people to like your ideas, and the belief that your ideas mean something. Art of all kinds is not a damn race to the finish, it's not a competition, it's not an institution, and it's not an industry and none of those things have any place in art. Those things exist to control and exploit talent and all the gain is made by the soulless jackasses who pull the strings.
These business-focused systems benefit nobody but the greedy. They should feel threatened with the current age of information-sharing, they should be humbled by the efforts for people to break free of the institution. They cannot adapt without giving the people power they always should have had to begin with.
Any enemy of this ideal is my enemy.
SO, what was this about? Well, it started as just me being angry that I can't play Spyro on my new Vita which don't get me wrong, it's a good investment but not being able to play the PSX games that I actually give a crap about is a huge disappointment and I probably wouldn't have bought one if I knew that so because I can't be assed to dig up the old thread I'm just going to copypaste his response in the new thread and hopefully if you aren't a stupid soulless monkey worthy of my eternal disdain you'll know exactly why I don't like this asshat.
And the rest of this entry will make complete sense to you.
I'm also working off the assumption the thread will be locked because apparently having someone not play your shallow game of statistics justifies shutting down a discussion a passionate fan cared about.
"Sony clarified that statement well before the launch of the console. Those of us that bothered to read the Vita FAQ before buying the device knew that only Vita-certified Playstation Store content, meaning content that was specifically tested on the Vita, would be downloadable to the Vita. Support for PS1 Classics was not included until months after launch, and Sony at the time promised only that "at least 100" PS1 Classics would be Vita compatible. Sony passed that number within 3 months, so it doesn't have to do any more. At no time did Sony state that the Vita could run "everything" that the PSP could run.
False advertising suits are extremely difficult to win in US courts. You basically have to prove that the seller lied deliberately, and that is essentially impossible unless it was foolish enough to write down its intentions, or was recorded discussing them. Nobody ever received a penny, in or out of court, for any claims related to the Vita's compatibility with PSP content. People are entitled to their own wrong opinions about anything, but when it comes to the law, only the courts' opinions matter.
You are missing the point anyway. You have only made arguments for why a company could make the PS1 Spiro games Vita compatible. You haven't made a business case for why any company, whose objective is to make a profit, should bother. You have provided only anecdotal evidence of demand to play the games on the Vita, which does not even need to be refuted, because it is irrelevant to the publisher. The publisher cares about how many people want to buy the games in the future on the platform. Not how many people want to play the game on the platform. There is a difference, that makes all the difference. You haven't provided even anecdotal evidence that there is market demand to purchase the games, and you won't, because it doesn't exist. Sony knows exactly how many copies of the Spiro PS1 Classics sold in North America in the years before the Vita was released, and it was so few that the games were given to Playstation Plus subscribers for free. You will never convince Sony that there is money to be made in certifying the game here, because the data says otherwise. You are wasting your time trying.
As far as your jail-breaking argument is concerned, the rampant piracy of PSP games, especially in Europe, is the main reason why game publishers were reluctant to invest significant amounts of money in Vita games at launch. That is why we got mostly cheap ports of existing games, and indie games, from every publisher except Sony. Publishers want to see how secure the Vita proves to be, relative to the PSP, before they invest any real money in AAA Vita games. All that jail-breaking the console will do, in the long run, is to ensure that the Vita never gets more than a handful of exclusive third-party AAA games. If all you want to do is to play PSP games, then buy a PSP. Sony still sells them, for less than a Vita. If you want more AAA Vita games, then your obsession with PSP content is not helping; and your disregard for copyright laws is really, really, not helping. "
Note the legal babble, the general up-his-own-ass behavior that comes with ponces like this, but also note the thing that lack of any passion behind his words except to defend the most evil thing about any industry ever; the business-end.
Before you read my response to his bowel movement he's passing off as a post, let me give you some perspective on why I just insulted anything business like in the gaming industry or in any industry to ever exist:
"Hi there Mr. Bigshot Businessman, I'm an artist and a creative spirit. People in my field are usually doing all of the grunt work for, getting treated like shit by, and being screwed out of decent payment or recognition by people in your field. It's nothing personal, I just hate you and everything you represent. It comes with the territory, have a nice day."
So I have a slight bias just because if every CEO on the planet caught fire and burned down the entire highest tier of their respective slave operations they pass off as companies then I would convert to Mormonism and be reassured that good does exist in the universe, and the thought of the internet basically making it so that people can self-publish means that they're cutting off the middle-man and now every industry in chaos teetering on the brink of extinction honestly makes me frisky enough to feel up the corpses of the jackasses that created those power-structures while said power-structures crash and burn in a smouldering heap of what used to be their foundation.
So, knowing my immense contempt for living hell that is "The Industry", here's how I responded to this jackass:
"This is typically why I like dealing with indie developers a lot more than huge companies. If I asked this same question to an indie dev about their game, I'd get an answer from a developer, not some random forum users who think too highly of themselves, especially when they can't even spell "Spyro" properly.
What part of "I don't care about business mumbo-jumbo" did not clear with you the first time? I don't care, I have no intention of caring in the future, and you can sure bet that if I ever have the chance to develop and release games I won't care then either, because some of us have the moral integrity to care about other things besides money and you can get off your high horse right now because if you seriously think spewing a bunch of legal crap when some die-hard fan expresses an honest and passionate investment in a series they care a lot about is something to be proud of then you need to seriously re-examine your moral compass.
And please don't reply, just go get the other mod, I liked that guy a lot better. They were very direct. Or at least don't take three paragraphs to say what you can say in three words: "I don't care", because it's obvious that you don't in fact care at all and I'm really not interested in talking to someone who has probably never even played these games and can't relate to what they mean to people.
And by the way, maybe people wouldn't be motivated to hack their system if they're just release the content officially. Considering most of the content I care about on the Vita is Indie content anyway I don't feel that threatened if some triple-A company loses out, in fact nothing would make me happier, considering the way they treat their customers.
And by the way, playing PSX games on a handheld with dual-analog sticks was a huge appeal of the system for me but I guess that if anyone asks me if a Vita is good for that in the future, I'm going to say "No, I recommend saving up for an OpenPandora. It might cost $300 more but it can also do a lot more than PSX games without jailbreaking."
And as for respecting copyright laws, I can play Gameboy Advance games on my PSP as well as Genesis games, NES games, SNES games (although with horrible lag), GameGear games, and N64 games. In fact, the system being a portable emulator is a selling point for most people. I suspect that Vita sales will skyrocket once people can use it for the same purposes and if it chases off all the greedy triple-A companies who care so little about their userbase that they would actually not make a game available to them just because it won't sell well when it costs them nothing, then I consider that a victory, in fact, more power to the indies."
And in truth I wish Triple-A genocide for all consoles. This industry has screwed over too many people, from fans and customers to developers with dreams for it to deserve anything less than hate and contempt. People SHOULD rage against it, people SHOULD hate it, people SHOULD support independence from it, and people SHOULD be excited for the day when there is no industry, there is no middle-man, and there is no puppet-master businessman running the show anymore.
When we finally wash our hands of big companies dominating gaming, or music, or film, we will finally reach a point where people will no longer have their ideas shot down at the gate because it doesn't sell, and anyone who advocates this mentality that what sells is what gets done is 150% in the wrong.
Anyone who believes a developer being stopped from making a sequel to a game they care about by their superiors because it "doesn't sell" is a reasonable demand is wrong. Anyone who believes being forced to make sequels to a game just because it sells is a good decision is wrong. Anyone who believes in upholding copyright laws that ultimately strangle developers or take away their rights to do as they please with what they created is not only wrong, but a sick human being, and anyone who cannot see the damage these practices do to the industry is not only wrong, but blind with ignorance.
People should be excited for an age where video games, music, art, books, movies, cartoons, and any other form of creative media are published by the same people who made them with their own two hands and people should get angry when those people are made the industry's bitch and crushed and milked and abused until there's nothing left in them. People should get angry when developers quit their jobs because the pressure from asshats who have no idea what their job is like becomes unbearable. People should get angry when big companies have such disdain for their own userbase that they won't even have someone with knowledge of internal workings answer questions for the community. People should feel suspicious and distrusting of any institution that isn't open and transparent with how they do things and people should outright disdain any organized project or effort where the voice of that effort cannot even speak with passion and free will, like a human being.
Right now is how things are, I'm speaking for how things should be. Things should be open, things should be fair, things should be fueled by imagination and the desire to share your ideas with other people, the desire for people to like your ideas, and the belief that your ideas mean something. Art of all kinds is not a damn race to the finish, it's not a competition, it's not an institution, and it's not an industry and none of those things have any place in art. Those things exist to control and exploit talent and all the gain is made by the soulless jackasses who pull the strings.
These business-focused systems benefit nobody but the greedy. They should feel threatened with the current age of information-sharing, they should be humbled by the efforts for people to break free of the institution. They cannot adapt without giving the people power they always should have had to begin with.
Any enemy of this ideal is my enemy.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Coinflip
Everyone who knows me knows violence and cruelty even in video games disturbs me, in fact it's a fanatical obsession of mine to raise hell about how popular mainstream shooters are because people like to pretend they're mutilating other people or living creatures and until recently, I've never understood why this is acceptable and mainstream. Why would you laugh at this? Why is it funny on TV but not in real life?
Well, everyone who also knows me knows that the last few months of my life have been...a relapse, of sorts. The abridged version is that I suffer from extreme anxiety, am prone to panic attacks (If you've never had one I hope to god you never do. If you've never seen one, I'd imagine it's the most pitiful thing you've ever looked at but it's a really severe problem and I recommend calling 911 if you don't know what to do.), and basically, I'm a nervous person in general. I've been a pretty relaxed person since 2009, but around February or so I started having those stomach knots that feel like you've got some kind of bug as well as all kinds of negative self-defeating thoughts, and this continued until around Memorial Weekend when...that thing happened I already talked about in 3 other blogs. Skip ahead a couple months and I'm basically in a state of mind where everything is worth revisiting, even the things that I am basically trained to hate on sight like modern Western animation and shootyman games. One interesting thing that I've recently learned from the doctor and on-call crisis worker was that excitement and terror are two sides of the same coin - just like love and hate. What this means is that essentially the same chemical reactions in our body are responsible for feelings of love as well as feelings of hate, give or take a few milligrams.
This really got me to thinking about what other human responses are essentially similar - a lot of what we view as opposite has often been described as a coinflip by other people, a good example that also happens to be completely on-topic to my intended subject is comedy versus tragedy.
I can't take credit for this little piece of information because it was introduced to me by two friends seeking to explain to me how humor works - I realize that sounds silly but to be honest with you, I'm not inclined to humor naturally. The sense of humor I do have was refined for the sake of socialization and because I associate being funny with being charismatic which is an extremely desirable trait for your average internet nerd, and that just happens to describe me fully. Anyway, my point is that there are aspects of humor I just don't "get" and one of those is the most popular kind of humor; the kind that comes at another person's expense.
Ever since I was a kid, I've been bothered by scenarios in cartoons or even some live action shows where the comedy comes from making one character miserable, even indirectly. My favorite Spongebob character is Squidward, I feel bad for him because I wouldn't want his neighbors either. Whenever Tom & Jerry was on CN regularly at some point in the 90s I always favored Tom. Whenever my cousin would watch Fairly Odd Parents (usually to get to Invader Zim ;v) I'd feel bad for the criminally insane teacher. You can ask my cousin about that by the way, if it's one of those days where he can even remember breakfast he'll gladly tell you what a hippie I've always been about wanting to hug everyone, especially the people with problems who are imperfect and very skewed. (People like that get full-featured episodes in anime. Probably why I like it so much.)
But anyway, I think you have a pretty good idea about the trouble I have with understanding "cruel humor" as I call it. One of the few western cartoons I like is Courage because aside from a couple characters, nobody is really evil and everyone just has their own problems that are usually resolved with hugs and empathy. (Also some episodes legit make me feel like crying. Space squids anyone?) But aside from MLP's recent phenomenal popularity, people don't like cartoons with hugs and empathy, they like cartoons where the cast are different breeds of jackass, and they like games where they can be a jackass themselves for the amusement value it apparently has. However, like I said, I just don't get it, and spent two hours listening to (and arguing with) these two people about it.
One of the things I took away from it was that humor is mostly cruel when you think about it, and that's because humor is how people deal with tragedy. Humor is how people overcome it, and after the fact we find humor in horrible memories because it makes those memories not so bad. It's a survival mechanism.
I'm going somewhere with this. While it is generally considered rude or insensitive to find humor in someone's current misery, it's common to make light of the bad times and even to relate to them. Thinking about it this way makes it easier for me to understand what it is about watching an interpretation of treating someone like shit that makes it funny - a lot of other people can probably relate to the character in those situations, and they might not be laughing at their misery, maybe they're laughing at past misery of their own. We as humans are also generally concerned with others in our lives, though to different degrees. If some stranger in IRC really needs to vent about their bad day, I will volunteer to listen, but I'm on a more extreme end of that spectrum. Some people would concern themselves with their immediate family and friends while others would be concerned with anyone looking down that they passed. Point being, we're all saps for a sad face - and seeing someone suffer through misery wouldn't amuse us - at least not to the same level. Maybe we'd have an "I've been there" moment, I get those sometimes, but we'd be genuinely concerned with that person even more because of it and we'd want to help them. Even though I feel this way about fictional characters or interpretations of human behavior, I think some other people might distinguish between "tv and real" by thinking of TV as a reflection of past experiences or registering it as an interpretation of a bad experience and not the same thing as a current trouble someone is having, which is completely different to them regardless of how it's portrayed.
Another thing I've considered are things that are not related. I used to believe intent and action were synonymous, but have been questioning that lately. I am not what you'd call an accepting and understanding person by nature, and I have to work very hard at being one, but on two separate occasions people have told me some of their nastier thoughts, and both people asked me not to say anything so I won't go into detail but basically, these are the kinds of things that we make villains out of - yet neither person would ever harm another. Then I reflected on the dark part of my mind. You know the cub thing? I get off to far worse, some of which is so despicable that the only time it doesn't make me hate myself is when I'm horny. Until this post, in fact, I've never been comfortable enough to post that in a public place because of how horrible a person I thought I was for imagining the kinds of things I did.
But the thing that I thought about the last time someone confided some really horrible thoughts to me was "This person would never hurt another person, they don't want to hurt others, they make a sincere effort to not be a jackass." And then something occurred to me. "There are no evil people, only evil acts." When I thought about it, the possibility occurred to me that thought and even intent do not make a person a bad person, and mutilating people on a video game is more equal to intent than action. Only acting on cruel intent - causing misery to a real person - might really be an evil act, and even in those situations, I have to ask myself if that person is really evil, or if there's something else going on. Obviously cutting up a completely innocent person is not acceptable and jail time is warranted. I don't want anyone to suffer, and I do mean anyone. But, even Hitler wasn't an evil person, he just allowed evil things to happen - he also chose to be a vegetarian because he hated animal cruelty and dragged his country's economy out of the gutter. You could say there are no good people either, but there are good acts just like evil ones.
This is important to me because it means that even someone imagining bludgeoning in someone's face for holding up the drivethru is probably not going to do it, and even if they're really thinking about it, their clear premeditated thought only becomes evil when translated into action, and if it never is, it's just that person's private thought that might be forgotten as soon as the line starts moving again. I'm sure every human has thoughts like this, few of them act on them. People talk about shooting their wives on facebook, blowing up schools in texts, and punching that indie developer in the face for saying PCs are for spreadsheets all the time, and is that inherently evil? No, it's free speech and still only in the intent category. All of this probably sounds really obvious to some people, but I've given a lot of though about the subject for a week, especially tonight, and thinking about it like this hopefully can help me become more accepting of others on the whole.
Those are just my thoughts on some things, I have a lot of thoughts I need to write down lately, but that's enough for right now else it'll get off-topic.
Well, everyone who also knows me knows that the last few months of my life have been...a relapse, of sorts. The abridged version is that I suffer from extreme anxiety, am prone to panic attacks (If you've never had one I hope to god you never do. If you've never seen one, I'd imagine it's the most pitiful thing you've ever looked at but it's a really severe problem and I recommend calling 911 if you don't know what to do.), and basically, I'm a nervous person in general. I've been a pretty relaxed person since 2009, but around February or so I started having those stomach knots that feel like you've got some kind of bug as well as all kinds of negative self-defeating thoughts, and this continued until around Memorial Weekend when...that thing happened I already talked about in 3 other blogs. Skip ahead a couple months and I'm basically in a state of mind where everything is worth revisiting, even the things that I am basically trained to hate on sight like modern Western animation and shootyman games. One interesting thing that I've recently learned from the doctor and on-call crisis worker was that excitement and terror are two sides of the same coin - just like love and hate. What this means is that essentially the same chemical reactions in our body are responsible for feelings of love as well as feelings of hate, give or take a few milligrams.
This really got me to thinking about what other human responses are essentially similar - a lot of what we view as opposite has often been described as a coinflip by other people, a good example that also happens to be completely on-topic to my intended subject is comedy versus tragedy.
I can't take credit for this little piece of information because it was introduced to me by two friends seeking to explain to me how humor works - I realize that sounds silly but to be honest with you, I'm not inclined to humor naturally. The sense of humor I do have was refined for the sake of socialization and because I associate being funny with being charismatic which is an extremely desirable trait for your average internet nerd, and that just happens to describe me fully. Anyway, my point is that there are aspects of humor I just don't "get" and one of those is the most popular kind of humor; the kind that comes at another person's expense.
Ever since I was a kid, I've been bothered by scenarios in cartoons or even some live action shows where the comedy comes from making one character miserable, even indirectly. My favorite Spongebob character is Squidward, I feel bad for him because I wouldn't want his neighbors either. Whenever Tom & Jerry was on CN regularly at some point in the 90s I always favored Tom. Whenever my cousin would watch Fairly Odd Parents (usually to get to Invader Zim ;v) I'd feel bad for the criminally insane teacher. You can ask my cousin about that by the way, if it's one of those days where he can even remember breakfast he'll gladly tell you what a hippie I've always been about wanting to hug everyone, especially the people with problems who are imperfect and very skewed. (People like that get full-featured episodes in anime. Probably why I like it so much.)
But anyway, I think you have a pretty good idea about the trouble I have with understanding "cruel humor" as I call it. One of the few western cartoons I like is Courage because aside from a couple characters, nobody is really evil and everyone just has their own problems that are usually resolved with hugs and empathy. (Also some episodes legit make me feel like crying. Space squids anyone?) But aside from MLP's recent phenomenal popularity, people don't like cartoons with hugs and empathy, they like cartoons where the cast are different breeds of jackass, and they like games where they can be a jackass themselves for the amusement value it apparently has. However, like I said, I just don't get it, and spent two hours listening to (and arguing with) these two people about it.
One of the things I took away from it was that humor is mostly cruel when you think about it, and that's because humor is how people deal with tragedy. Humor is how people overcome it, and after the fact we find humor in horrible memories because it makes those memories not so bad. It's a survival mechanism.
I'm going somewhere with this. While it is generally considered rude or insensitive to find humor in someone's current misery, it's common to make light of the bad times and even to relate to them. Thinking about it this way makes it easier for me to understand what it is about watching an interpretation of treating someone like shit that makes it funny - a lot of other people can probably relate to the character in those situations, and they might not be laughing at their misery, maybe they're laughing at past misery of their own. We as humans are also generally concerned with others in our lives, though to different degrees. If some stranger in IRC really needs to vent about their bad day, I will volunteer to listen, but I'm on a more extreme end of that spectrum. Some people would concern themselves with their immediate family and friends while others would be concerned with anyone looking down that they passed. Point being, we're all saps for a sad face - and seeing someone suffer through misery wouldn't amuse us - at least not to the same level. Maybe we'd have an "I've been there" moment, I get those sometimes, but we'd be genuinely concerned with that person even more because of it and we'd want to help them. Even though I feel this way about fictional characters or interpretations of human behavior, I think some other people might distinguish between "tv and real" by thinking of TV as a reflection of past experiences or registering it as an interpretation of a bad experience and not the same thing as a current trouble someone is having, which is completely different to them regardless of how it's portrayed.
Another thing I've considered are things that are not related. I used to believe intent and action were synonymous, but have been questioning that lately. I am not what you'd call an accepting and understanding person by nature, and I have to work very hard at being one, but on two separate occasions people have told me some of their nastier thoughts, and both people asked me not to say anything so I won't go into detail but basically, these are the kinds of things that we make villains out of - yet neither person would ever harm another. Then I reflected on the dark part of my mind. You know the cub thing? I get off to far worse, some of which is so despicable that the only time it doesn't make me hate myself is when I'm horny. Until this post, in fact, I've never been comfortable enough to post that in a public place because of how horrible a person I thought I was for imagining the kinds of things I did.
But the thing that I thought about the last time someone confided some really horrible thoughts to me was "This person would never hurt another person, they don't want to hurt others, they make a sincere effort to not be a jackass." And then something occurred to me. "There are no evil people, only evil acts." When I thought about it, the possibility occurred to me that thought and even intent do not make a person a bad person, and mutilating people on a video game is more equal to intent than action. Only acting on cruel intent - causing misery to a real person - might really be an evil act, and even in those situations, I have to ask myself if that person is really evil, or if there's something else going on. Obviously cutting up a completely innocent person is not acceptable and jail time is warranted. I don't want anyone to suffer, and I do mean anyone. But, even Hitler wasn't an evil person, he just allowed evil things to happen - he also chose to be a vegetarian because he hated animal cruelty and dragged his country's economy out of the gutter. You could say there are no good people either, but there are good acts just like evil ones.
This is important to me because it means that even someone imagining bludgeoning in someone's face for holding up the drivethru is probably not going to do it, and even if they're really thinking about it, their clear premeditated thought only becomes evil when translated into action, and if it never is, it's just that person's private thought that might be forgotten as soon as the line starts moving again. I'm sure every human has thoughts like this, few of them act on them. People talk about shooting their wives on facebook, blowing up schools in texts, and punching that indie developer in the face for saying PCs are for spreadsheets all the time, and is that inherently evil? No, it's free speech and still only in the intent category. All of this probably sounds really obvious to some people, but I've given a lot of though about the subject for a week, especially tonight, and thinking about it like this hopefully can help me become more accepting of others on the whole.
Those are just my thoughts on some things, I have a lot of thoughts I need to write down lately, but that's enough for right now else it'll get off-topic.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Universal Fallacy
Some of my recent posts have been on a dark note, I thought I should give some background as to why.
I am not in a rush to die, but I do not, and never have, wanted to live in a universe like ours. Our universe is fatally flawed in terms of fairness or morality, in that neither concept has a place, even in human society both are often ignored. I want no part of it, I hate it, and I want somewhere else to go.
So, I play video games. I read books. I create art. I write stories. I escape.
Because there is nothing here for me, I do not belong here, I was never given the choice.
And the truth is, I only began to actively seek the miniscule amounts of contentment that I could in our horrible, broken universe when I realized that I couldn't kill myself and reach an afterlife, a rebirth, or some other state of being with absolute certainty those things exist. To me, that was the only way out, and that was 6 years ago.
Now, I believe there is none.
Animals used to be my example for peace. I thought hey lived together in forests in harmony, free from human flaws like greed and malice, but nature is cruel and horrible, perhapse worse than humanity in some ways. No even the animals live in true idealism, what hope do humans have of it?
And why is our universe so horrible to me? There is no such thing as fairness. In nature, I would be killed by my own mother for being weak. There is no justice. In nature, many things kill not just out of need, but out of spite and hate. Bullying is common in nature, aggressors go unpunished. There is no objective good. What is right and wrong is fickle and gauged by the majority of humanity, and changes depending on who's in power. Often those concepts are created or built on for corrupt ends.
We are taught from birth not to take people at face value - to expect dishonesty. We are taught that our opinions should be kept to ourselves in many social situations - to lie. We see people gain success and power through underhanded means - cheating. Some of us learn there are no consequences for bullying others - violence. Most of us look away when others are being oppressed - cowardice. We are taught virtues, and slowly, subtly, insidiously discouraged from them by society - hypocrisy. We are truly a species worthy of scorn and hatred. Whatever greater agency may pass by our planet should not look on us as anything but despicable savage animals, like rabies-infested dogs caught in the light of an incoming bus we are easily frightened into paralysis, never moving to act on our behalf or the behalf of others. But the universe is like this, not just us. Therefore, no greater enlightment is expected of us. Nothing is expected of us at all. We are meaningless. Everything is.
Everything is without purpose.
There is no way to know if we are good people. I need this information, I cannot live without it.
I have built my entire life around the concept of justice and fairness. Without these concepts as objectives, I am nothing, I am worthless and have no reason to exist. I lose the will to exist. My purpose loses its meaning. I become nothing.
I do not want to be here. I want to go somewhere else.
I am not in a rush to die, but I do not, and never have, wanted to live in a universe like ours. Our universe is fatally flawed in terms of fairness or morality, in that neither concept has a place, even in human society both are often ignored. I want no part of it, I hate it, and I want somewhere else to go.
So, I play video games. I read books. I create art. I write stories. I escape.
Because there is nothing here for me, I do not belong here, I was never given the choice.
And the truth is, I only began to actively seek the miniscule amounts of contentment that I could in our horrible, broken universe when I realized that I couldn't kill myself and reach an afterlife, a rebirth, or some other state of being with absolute certainty those things exist. To me, that was the only way out, and that was 6 years ago.
Now, I believe there is none.
Animals used to be my example for peace. I thought hey lived together in forests in harmony, free from human flaws like greed and malice, but nature is cruel and horrible, perhapse worse than humanity in some ways. No even the animals live in true idealism, what hope do humans have of it?
And why is our universe so horrible to me? There is no such thing as fairness. In nature, I would be killed by my own mother for being weak. There is no justice. In nature, many things kill not just out of need, but out of spite and hate. Bullying is common in nature, aggressors go unpunished. There is no objective good. What is right and wrong is fickle and gauged by the majority of humanity, and changes depending on who's in power. Often those concepts are created or built on for corrupt ends.
We are taught from birth not to take people at face value - to expect dishonesty. We are taught that our opinions should be kept to ourselves in many social situations - to lie. We see people gain success and power through underhanded means - cheating. Some of us learn there are no consequences for bullying others - violence. Most of us look away when others are being oppressed - cowardice. We are taught virtues, and slowly, subtly, insidiously discouraged from them by society - hypocrisy. We are truly a species worthy of scorn and hatred. Whatever greater agency may pass by our planet should not look on us as anything but despicable savage animals, like rabies-infested dogs caught in the light of an incoming bus we are easily frightened into paralysis, never moving to act on our behalf or the behalf of others. But the universe is like this, not just us. Therefore, no greater enlightment is expected of us. Nothing is expected of us at all. We are meaningless. Everything is.
Everything is without purpose.
There is no way to know if we are good people. I need this information, I cannot live without it.
I have built my entire life around the concept of justice and fairness. Without these concepts as objectives, I am nothing, I am worthless and have no reason to exist. I lose the will to exist. My purpose loses its meaning. I become nothing.
I do not want to be here. I want to go somewhere else.
I'm Not Cool
But that's okay.
So while at my grandparents' house yesterday, I showed my grandmother the recent thing I painted (because showing your grandparents your accomplishments never stops feeling good :V) and then I found a bunch of my old crap on her machine from 3+ years ago. I was going to delete it all but then she demanded I not do that, she keeps everything of mine, regardless of how terrible it is or not. (I love my grammy ;v)
So, for shits and giggles I decided to upload some of it to my dA scrapbook. Here, look at the amazing artist I was in 2010 and earlier, gaze in wonderment at my infinite knowledge of MS Paint and bad grammar.
http://kazeskyfox.deviantart.com/art/Pickel-389212346
http://kazeskyfox.deviantart.com/art/What-happens-at-3am-389213689
Here's the thing: I am not a cool artist. I never started off with some amazing art talent. A lot of cool artists show me their art from 5 years back and complain about flaws I cannot see, meanwhile their at they believe is terrible might even look better than my art currently, or at least like skills I have only recently grasped.
And then there's me, too embarrassed about my old art to do anything but nod and agree most of the time. Most of the cool people drew like I did when I was 18 when they were 10. When I was making terrible comics in 9th grade, they were far superior to my level. When I was yelling at my art teacher in 10th grade for dissing anime, they were making still-life paintings like Cezanne on crystal meth. When I was making terrible MS Paint fanart while alternately flaming the sonic fandom 3 years ago, they were painting landscapes like a Bob Ross.
I am anything but a special snowflake. I was not born with Michelangelo's blessing, I did not demonstrate phenomenal ability at age 5, I never took art classes, I didn't win any awards, and I've never been to a proper art college.
But, you know what? I think that's okay. I talk to a lot of people online who also think I'm some kind of art god, I run into people all the time who are impressed with me, I see people say how they can't even draw a stick figure or understand color theory, I see people who joke about how great their MS Paint art looks, I see people who say they used to draw in school but lost interest when they saw how amazing other kids their age were on the internet, and my heart goes out to all those people, but the truth is, I'm not that impressive. I was exactly like them until roughly 2 years ago. All my ability (as proud of it as I am) just came from practice and watching other people and how they drew. Really, that's all, no relation to Da Vinci or sacrificing a black lamb involved.
Of course I'm still embarrassed about it, I'm human, I want to be cool and special, I wish I were like one of those phenomenal artists who was always 50 levels above everyone like a Skyrim guard on Expert difficulty.
But I'm not, I just tried really hard and took good advice from good people. I'm not cool but that's okay, my fans love me anyway. And so do I. :V
So while at my grandparents' house yesterday, I showed my grandmother the recent thing I painted (because showing your grandparents your accomplishments never stops feeling good :V) and then I found a bunch of my old crap on her machine from 3+ years ago. I was going to delete it all but then she demanded I not do that, she keeps everything of mine, regardless of how terrible it is or not. (I love my grammy ;v)
So, for shits and giggles I decided to upload some of it to my dA scrapbook. Here, look at the amazing artist I was in 2010 and earlier, gaze in wonderment at my infinite knowledge of MS Paint and bad grammar.
http://kazeskyfox.deviantart.com/art/Pickel-389212346
http://kazeskyfox.deviantart.com/art/What-happens-at-3am-389213689
Here's the thing: I am not a cool artist. I never started off with some amazing art talent. A lot of cool artists show me their art from 5 years back and complain about flaws I cannot see, meanwhile their at they believe is terrible might even look better than my art currently, or at least like skills I have only recently grasped.
And then there's me, too embarrassed about my old art to do anything but nod and agree most of the time. Most of the cool people drew like I did when I was 18 when they were 10. When I was making terrible comics in 9th grade, they were far superior to my level. When I was yelling at my art teacher in 10th grade for dissing anime, they were making still-life paintings like Cezanne on crystal meth. When I was making terrible MS Paint fanart while alternately flaming the sonic fandom 3 years ago, they were painting landscapes like a Bob Ross.
I am anything but a special snowflake. I was not born with Michelangelo's blessing, I did not demonstrate phenomenal ability at age 5, I never took art classes, I didn't win any awards, and I've never been to a proper art college.
But, you know what? I think that's okay. I talk to a lot of people online who also think I'm some kind of art god, I run into people all the time who are impressed with me, I see people say how they can't even draw a stick figure or understand color theory, I see people who joke about how great their MS Paint art looks, I see people who say they used to draw in school but lost interest when they saw how amazing other kids their age were on the internet, and my heart goes out to all those people, but the truth is, I'm not that impressive. I was exactly like them until roughly 2 years ago. All my ability (as proud of it as I am) just came from practice and watching other people and how they drew. Really, that's all, no relation to Da Vinci or sacrificing a black lamb involved.
Of course I'm still embarrassed about it, I'm human, I want to be cool and special, I wish I were like one of those phenomenal artists who was always 50 levels above everyone like a Skyrim guard on Expert difficulty.
But I'm not, I just tried really hard and took good advice from good people. I'm not cool but that's okay, my fans love me anyway. And so do I. :V
Monday, July 8, 2013
Dark Places
This weekend has been full of thoughts, some of them very dark, even for me.
And others full of color.
But mostly full of meaning.
Articulating all of them is difficult, and I'm not sure if my overall attitude is positive or desperate - I'm a proper cynic, optimism doesn't come easily to me, but assuming I know what it feels like, I think that's how I feel, and I earned it through fighting depression and doubt.
I had help, though.
I feel okay about sharing this publicly. I could be mocked for it, but that's okay, because there are things I want to tell people that I hope can help someone.
About six weeks ago, my depression came to a head. I think I wrote a blog post about it, but it's mostly incoherent groping for words in a flood of strong feelings. I'd like to say that I hope someone can relate, but at the same time, I'm not sure I want anyone else to feel that miserable, hopeless, desperate, and like you have the world on your shoulders and a black rock in your chest. I became so depressed that I made myself physically sick from it - yes, that can happen. Depression is also a neurological and chemical affliction and not just a psychological one - and after trying to vent online to my friends in a Skype chat about it for a while, I made the aforementioned post.
I should note that the specific chat I vented in is full of people who are good friends to me. I might only know them online, but we have shared deep conversations - and very involved arguments - about things that make me feel like we both know each other and care about each other. There is a mutual air that we enjoy each other - well, mostly - and that I feel confident that they are concerned with me, which they have proven to me on multiple occasions.
Unfortunately, that night was an exception.
A person who I have a lot of respect and admiration for said something in roughly four lines to make the entire thing worse. I don't blame this person, I think if they knew just how truly bad off I was, they wouldn't have said this thing to me. It probably didn't help that, in that state of thinking, my usual clear-cut sentences were jumbled into meaning nothing to others. But I need to bring this up to illustrate my point.
What did she say to me? Something along the lines of "Invite me back when you're done whining about not getting your way."
I should note that I wasn't particularly upset about one thing as much as a bunch of things, and that I don't recall specifics about it but also don't remember being upset about something not going my way - quite the opposite, since an issue I've been dealing with since graduation was finding my own direction in society and giving other people something I feel truly passionate about. And even if this doesn't sound like something that would be particularly upsetting to someone, I've been told things like this all my life. My family finally came to understand the depths of my complicated issues, legitimately diagnosed or otherwise, several years ago, but that still left teachers, peers, and internet presences all treating any issue I had as shallow or "whining about nothing" and there are times in life when a person is really upset. Even if it is about something small, their feelings obviously are not. Because of my own struggles with these issues, I try never to tell someone else they're worried about nothing, or if someone is upset or sad, I want to sympathize with them in some way and let them know that it's okay to cry sometimes even over small things, because we all need the relief it brings.
My reaction to the statement, paraphrased as I've made it, was not positive - it actually turned into the worst thing it could have. A negative remark became the catalyst for my dark thoughts to overwhelm me, and I was seriously considering ending everything in the fastest possible way.
I was shaking ,and crying, and I do not even remember what pills I took that night, but they couldn't have been that strong because I got to five or six before getting a text. It was like I forgot I had a cellphone. (Damn good cellphone too, I've dropped it many times but it still works and the phone plan is cheap. Fuck yo smartphones) I checked my messages, and I saw it was one of my friends wondering where I was or if I went to bed.
My resolve collapsed and I sat in the middle of the floor crying for a very different reason.
This was one of my couple friends who both contemplate suicide - probably my best friend, actually - I have encouraged them out of it before, assuring them that people do care about them, including me.
And I was about to do the same damn thing to them.
I could have even been the catalyst for them.
I related this to my mother the other night. To my horror and relief she told me how broken she would be if I did that. I have always viewed myself as the useless daughter that grew up to do nothing with their life and mooched off of her food and bills, and when I told her this she became so angry, and I became so ashamed.
The past six weeks have been heavy for me. I've come in and out of depression and I'm still being treated for it professionally - pills and therapy do help, I encourage anyone who hasn't looked at that as an option to consider it - but one thing has made it easier to cope with.
There are people who care about me, including them.
My best friend pulled me out of a very dark place, my friends give me help and comfort when I need it and I try to do the same for them. We keep each other from falling into dark places, and we are all each other's light.
And they really do care about me.
The people in our lives can be shoulders to lean on even when they are not physically there. Even when it seems illogical, genuine caring and friendship resonates with people even through the darkest places. Reach out to your friends and take their hands, regardless if you're the one pulling or they are.
And others full of color.
But mostly full of meaning.
Articulating all of them is difficult, and I'm not sure if my overall attitude is positive or desperate - I'm a proper cynic, optimism doesn't come easily to me, but assuming I know what it feels like, I think that's how I feel, and I earned it through fighting depression and doubt.
I had help, though.
I feel okay about sharing this publicly. I could be mocked for it, but that's okay, because there are things I want to tell people that I hope can help someone.
About six weeks ago, my depression came to a head. I think I wrote a blog post about it, but it's mostly incoherent groping for words in a flood of strong feelings. I'd like to say that I hope someone can relate, but at the same time, I'm not sure I want anyone else to feel that miserable, hopeless, desperate, and like you have the world on your shoulders and a black rock in your chest. I became so depressed that I made myself physically sick from it - yes, that can happen. Depression is also a neurological and chemical affliction and not just a psychological one - and after trying to vent online to my friends in a Skype chat about it for a while, I made the aforementioned post.
I should note that the specific chat I vented in is full of people who are good friends to me. I might only know them online, but we have shared deep conversations - and very involved arguments - about things that make me feel like we both know each other and care about each other. There is a mutual air that we enjoy each other - well, mostly - and that I feel confident that they are concerned with me, which they have proven to me on multiple occasions.
Unfortunately, that night was an exception.
A person who I have a lot of respect and admiration for said something in roughly four lines to make the entire thing worse. I don't blame this person, I think if they knew just how truly bad off I was, they wouldn't have said this thing to me. It probably didn't help that, in that state of thinking, my usual clear-cut sentences were jumbled into meaning nothing to others. But I need to bring this up to illustrate my point.
What did she say to me? Something along the lines of "Invite me back when you're done whining about not getting your way."
I should note that I wasn't particularly upset about one thing as much as a bunch of things, and that I don't recall specifics about it but also don't remember being upset about something not going my way - quite the opposite, since an issue I've been dealing with since graduation was finding my own direction in society and giving other people something I feel truly passionate about. And even if this doesn't sound like something that would be particularly upsetting to someone, I've been told things like this all my life. My family finally came to understand the depths of my complicated issues, legitimately diagnosed or otherwise, several years ago, but that still left teachers, peers, and internet presences all treating any issue I had as shallow or "whining about nothing" and there are times in life when a person is really upset. Even if it is about something small, their feelings obviously are not. Because of my own struggles with these issues, I try never to tell someone else they're worried about nothing, or if someone is upset or sad, I want to sympathize with them in some way and let them know that it's okay to cry sometimes even over small things, because we all need the relief it brings.
My reaction to the statement, paraphrased as I've made it, was not positive - it actually turned into the worst thing it could have. A negative remark became the catalyst for my dark thoughts to overwhelm me, and I was seriously considering ending everything in the fastest possible way.
I was shaking ,and crying, and I do not even remember what pills I took that night, but they couldn't have been that strong because I got to five or six before getting a text. It was like I forgot I had a cellphone. (Damn good cellphone too, I've dropped it many times but it still works and the phone plan is cheap. Fuck yo smartphones) I checked my messages, and I saw it was one of my friends wondering where I was or if I went to bed.
My resolve collapsed and I sat in the middle of the floor crying for a very different reason.
This was one of my couple friends who both contemplate suicide - probably my best friend, actually - I have encouraged them out of it before, assuring them that people do care about them, including me.
And I was about to do the same damn thing to them.
I could have even been the catalyst for them.
I related this to my mother the other night. To my horror and relief she told me how broken she would be if I did that. I have always viewed myself as the useless daughter that grew up to do nothing with their life and mooched off of her food and bills, and when I told her this she became so angry, and I became so ashamed.
The past six weeks have been heavy for me. I've come in and out of depression and I'm still being treated for it professionally - pills and therapy do help, I encourage anyone who hasn't looked at that as an option to consider it - but one thing has made it easier to cope with.
There are people who care about me, including them.
My best friend pulled me out of a very dark place, my friends give me help and comfort when I need it and I try to do the same for them. We keep each other from falling into dark places, and we are all each other's light.
And they really do care about me.
The people in our lives can be shoulders to lean on even when they are not physically there. Even when it seems illogical, genuine caring and friendship resonates with people even through the darkest places. Reach out to your friends and take their hands, regardless if you're the one pulling or they are.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Without Purpose
Humanity is without heroes.
We live in a world of shades of gray, the only way to know what is and isn't right or good is to aim for the majority.
But what kind of world do we live in when the majority practices evil?
Are we all damned sons of bitches? I think we might be worse. It might be time to accept the worst possible consequence of life: There is no such thing as a good guy. Our aspirations and ideals are comprised of lies, and always have been, for very petty reasons. We seek to explore ourselves for enlightenment through religion and spirituality, but what are we really doing? We are reaching out to gods that do not exist, or striving for ideals that only hurt us. The truth is that trying to be a good and right person is damaging to you. Those are constructs of society designed to control people, and we currently live in an age of moral ambiguity where everything is right and everything is wrong.
As adults, we are supposed to think for ourselves, we are supposed to develop our own constitution, and we are supposed to live by our own code, but when everyone is doing that in their own way, the ideal of righteousness loses all meaning.
Because we no longer have outside validation of whether or not we are right, and I honestly cannot tell myself that I am right or good anymore.
Especially when I was born in the minority.
I am not just talking about gaming culture which is 90% of my existence - I was born broken, I am alive because of technology, nature wanted me to die. I have struggled with being different from everyone else since the moment I was revived, and some people are quick to remind me that I am not like the majority.
Human custom dictates that I am evil, because the evils are the minority.
And so I have always been the villain. People have told me it was my fault for being a brat, but do they think I would have been that way if I were born to the norm anyway? Fair chances were never a part of my childhood, people either excluded me or felt so sorry for me that they gave everything to me, and I did not grow up with a concept of normalcy. There was nothing normal about my house, my schooling, or whatever interaction you can misinterpret as a social life. The only thing that made it worth living was listening to my grandparents tell me some god loved me despite being strange. That was the only thing that ever made me feel welcome in a world where even natural laws did not want me. Now I do not see a place for myself, every major group pushes me out or is naturally unappealing to me, and none exists for me. The one that used to feel like home has become a hostile and uncomfortable place to exist. People are violent and confrontational even when among allies.
In fact, people are violent regardless of circumstance. The majority is all kinds of evils and sins, and the minority are all kinds of broken minds and bodies. We are either defective or damned souls and I don't even know which is better anymore.
I have no clear concept of objective good, I don't even think it exists.
And honestly, I do not want to live in a world without it. I can't live without it, it was the only thing I had and I lost it 5 years ago. I spent 5 years in a dull gray where nothing made sense and everything seems meaningless.
We are all born, we accomplish subjectively successful things, and then we die. Maybe people will care about us throughout the course of our lives, but their feelings are also subjective, and those people are not infallible. In fact, there is nothing that says those people don't in fact have bad taste in friends. There is nothing to truly validate any one person's existence besides the hollow belief that what they are doing with their lives objectively matters.
And how can we even tell if it objectively matters? There is no indicator, if there is a higher being it sure as hell isn't telling us. We only have each other, and the opinions of humans are a poor judge. They are not unbiased or objective, they are not perfect. There is no perfect way to know.
And that knowledge has eaten away at me for five years.
I used to believe I meant something in the grand scheme of things. Maybe that was arrogant, but I survived on arrogance. I don't think I can survive in a world where I cannot feel objectively important. That was my entire reason for living, to be objectively meaningful. I cannot do that, I'm just expected to construct my own meaning. In other words, I'm expected to lie to myself to scare off the belief that we are a meaningless species with too much self-importance and no objective impact.
The likelyhood that any of my ideas will matter in the long run is not even an issue anymore. I will paint some pictures a few imperfect humans like and maybe make a few games that some fallible creatures will play, and then I will die. I will die and be buried like everyone else. I will not end my life in any better or worse stature than anyone else, so whaat is even the point of trying?
That is what really gets to me. If there is no reward for living a productive and influencial life, and we all die the same way, are equally consumed by nature for resources, and there is nothing waiting for us, what is the purpose of our existence? I can see none, we are just food for microbes and insects and stardust in the end, we are equal in that regard, our false belief that personal achievement improves us objectively makes me sick to my stomach now. I have been lied to my entire life, and I have lied to myself to stay alive, but I don't know how to deal with this anymore.
I will one day cease to function like a broken toy that is thrown in the garbage. The dead can't feel the love and admiration of their fans, or revel in their success. You can only do that for a short time in your life, and what is even the point of owning something you cannot keep? What is the point of "owning" your life when your life has an expiration date you cannot control? There is no point, everything is pointlessly temporary. Only permanence gives meaning to anything and a reason to live and grow, but everything I do can be taken away from me and my corpse will be as relevant to the universe as any criminal's.
The life I want is one where what I do means something, where I can create and feel like it will benefit me throughout the ages, but that is not for me, that does not exist, and I want no other existence. The one offered me is not good enough. It will never be enough, I do not want to settle for anything less than that, I cannot possibly settle for anything less or I will just continue to waste away inside myself like I have for five years. Every day has been waking up one day at a time and hoping to god people are online that can validate my existence for the limited time that they can, but every other moment spent has no meaning to me besides to perpetuate misery and self-ruin. I can never be happy again, I cannot be motivated to create anything like I used to, the only reason I keep doing it is so other people can tell me I matter and that is not good enough anymore. Those people might believe what they say, but what people believe does not equal truth.
And without absolute truth, I don't know how I am supposed to live. I'm sick of playing moral guessing games, I want something to either tell me what the fuck is expected of me or to end me, because unless I can believe I am fulfilling a destined purpose I cannot deal with this horrible world anymore. Putting up with evil humanity holds no reward, and therefore no purpose.
I want nothing to do with a world without purpose.
We live in a world of shades of gray, the only way to know what is and isn't right or good is to aim for the majority.
But what kind of world do we live in when the majority practices evil?
Are we all damned sons of bitches? I think we might be worse. It might be time to accept the worst possible consequence of life: There is no such thing as a good guy. Our aspirations and ideals are comprised of lies, and always have been, for very petty reasons. We seek to explore ourselves for enlightenment through religion and spirituality, but what are we really doing? We are reaching out to gods that do not exist, or striving for ideals that only hurt us. The truth is that trying to be a good and right person is damaging to you. Those are constructs of society designed to control people, and we currently live in an age of moral ambiguity where everything is right and everything is wrong.
As adults, we are supposed to think for ourselves, we are supposed to develop our own constitution, and we are supposed to live by our own code, but when everyone is doing that in their own way, the ideal of righteousness loses all meaning.
Because we no longer have outside validation of whether or not we are right, and I honestly cannot tell myself that I am right or good anymore.
Especially when I was born in the minority.
I am not just talking about gaming culture which is 90% of my existence - I was born broken, I am alive because of technology, nature wanted me to die. I have struggled with being different from everyone else since the moment I was revived, and some people are quick to remind me that I am not like the majority.
Human custom dictates that I am evil, because the evils are the minority.
And so I have always been the villain. People have told me it was my fault for being a brat, but do they think I would have been that way if I were born to the norm anyway? Fair chances were never a part of my childhood, people either excluded me or felt so sorry for me that they gave everything to me, and I did not grow up with a concept of normalcy. There was nothing normal about my house, my schooling, or whatever interaction you can misinterpret as a social life. The only thing that made it worth living was listening to my grandparents tell me some god loved me despite being strange. That was the only thing that ever made me feel welcome in a world where even natural laws did not want me. Now I do not see a place for myself, every major group pushes me out or is naturally unappealing to me, and none exists for me. The one that used to feel like home has become a hostile and uncomfortable place to exist. People are violent and confrontational even when among allies.
In fact, people are violent regardless of circumstance. The majority is all kinds of evils and sins, and the minority are all kinds of broken minds and bodies. We are either defective or damned souls and I don't even know which is better anymore.
I have no clear concept of objective good, I don't even think it exists.
And honestly, I do not want to live in a world without it. I can't live without it, it was the only thing I had and I lost it 5 years ago. I spent 5 years in a dull gray where nothing made sense and everything seems meaningless.
We are all born, we accomplish subjectively successful things, and then we die. Maybe people will care about us throughout the course of our lives, but their feelings are also subjective, and those people are not infallible. In fact, there is nothing that says those people don't in fact have bad taste in friends. There is nothing to truly validate any one person's existence besides the hollow belief that what they are doing with their lives objectively matters.
And how can we even tell if it objectively matters? There is no indicator, if there is a higher being it sure as hell isn't telling us. We only have each other, and the opinions of humans are a poor judge. They are not unbiased or objective, they are not perfect. There is no perfect way to know.
And that knowledge has eaten away at me for five years.
I used to believe I meant something in the grand scheme of things. Maybe that was arrogant, but I survived on arrogance. I don't think I can survive in a world where I cannot feel objectively important. That was my entire reason for living, to be objectively meaningful. I cannot do that, I'm just expected to construct my own meaning. In other words, I'm expected to lie to myself to scare off the belief that we are a meaningless species with too much self-importance and no objective impact.
The likelyhood that any of my ideas will matter in the long run is not even an issue anymore. I will paint some pictures a few imperfect humans like and maybe make a few games that some fallible creatures will play, and then I will die. I will die and be buried like everyone else. I will not end my life in any better or worse stature than anyone else, so whaat is even the point of trying?
That is what really gets to me. If there is no reward for living a productive and influencial life, and we all die the same way, are equally consumed by nature for resources, and there is nothing waiting for us, what is the purpose of our existence? I can see none, we are just food for microbes and insects and stardust in the end, we are equal in that regard, our false belief that personal achievement improves us objectively makes me sick to my stomach now. I have been lied to my entire life, and I have lied to myself to stay alive, but I don't know how to deal with this anymore.
I will one day cease to function like a broken toy that is thrown in the garbage. The dead can't feel the love and admiration of their fans, or revel in their success. You can only do that for a short time in your life, and what is even the point of owning something you cannot keep? What is the point of "owning" your life when your life has an expiration date you cannot control? There is no point, everything is pointlessly temporary. Only permanence gives meaning to anything and a reason to live and grow, but everything I do can be taken away from me and my corpse will be as relevant to the universe as any criminal's.
The life I want is one where what I do means something, where I can create and feel like it will benefit me throughout the ages, but that is not for me, that does not exist, and I want no other existence. The one offered me is not good enough. It will never be enough, I do not want to settle for anything less than that, I cannot possibly settle for anything less or I will just continue to waste away inside myself like I have for five years. Every day has been waking up one day at a time and hoping to god people are online that can validate my existence for the limited time that they can, but every other moment spent has no meaning to me besides to perpetuate misery and self-ruin. I can never be happy again, I cannot be motivated to create anything like I used to, the only reason I keep doing it is so other people can tell me I matter and that is not good enough anymore. Those people might believe what they say, but what people believe does not equal truth.
And without absolute truth, I don't know how I am supposed to live. I'm sick of playing moral guessing games, I want something to either tell me what the fuck is expected of me or to end me, because unless I can believe I am fulfilling a destined purpose I cannot deal with this horrible world anymore. Putting up with evil humanity holds no reward, and therefore no purpose.
I want nothing to do with a world without purpose.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Dreamer's Depot
I've had the same vivid dream for three nights now. I enter a train station, but I'm not myself, I'm something else - a creature of no definable species but who is obviously female. My memories and experiences of the world are completely different and I know different people, but when I wake up, I barely remember any of it even though the feelings are so vibrant in my mind.
Whenever I enter the train station, I check the route map - I can read it in the dream, but do not remember the significance of the marks on it when I wake up, only vague pictures of its design. The most vivid dream had me taking the B route, which was blue. I don't remember where it led, but in a daydream later, as I was working on a homework assignment, I saw her drawing on parchment. She was drawing a map, consulting a flying creature. I surmised in this other world that I draw maps, but I do not know what for.
I remember faces of things I talked to. Some recognizable as creatures of our world, or similar things, and others were strange or I do not remember their details clearly enough. All of this seemed everyday to me, but at the same time, brighter, dreamier, as if that world was more positive. Or maybe, I am more positive in that world. I remember being willing to help someone locate something. It was yellow, but I do not remember what it was.
The route map is never the same, each time I've viewed it, it has changed significantly. Each time I board the train, the scenery is different outside. And one time, it wasn't a train, it was a plane that took me into space and dropped me off on a metallic floating island. I remember boarding the train again and finding shady characters in the first car, but I do not know if they had malintent. I didn't seem to think so at the time.
I have no idea if I will have these dreams again, but I hope so. They are so vivid and I like being that person in that world that has such different vibes from my own. The different experience adds a spice of variety to my life.
I feel something that I haven't felt in ages. I don't know what it is, but it feels like my heart soaring and my mind liberating, like my soul is pushing against my chest, demanding freedom, but at the same time like I am more animated and alive, and like I have something, something extremely important that gives me purpose and knowledge and good feelings, something that fills a void that has existed in my soul for literally years, something vital that I have grasped and can hold onto with all my strength, and which in turn gives me strength. I not only feel alive, but I feel like I want to live, to press on, like there is a purpose for pressing on, even though I have no idea what I'm pressing forward into, I feel like I need to.
All because of a dream, I must sound insane.
Or maybe it isn't a dream, maybe I am experiencing something real. It feels real, or at least, it feels like it holds substance. Maybe I have substance, a deep part of myself that fills how empty I have become. I sometimes feel like a husk filled with many things, and then having all of those things poured out of me when my views began to change, and now I feel like something is inside me, giving me weight and making me more than an empty vessel.
I know something certain, more certain than I have been in a long time: I want to return to the Dreamer's Depot tonight and board that train to wherever it will take me.
Whenever I enter the train station, I check the route map - I can read it in the dream, but do not remember the significance of the marks on it when I wake up, only vague pictures of its design. The most vivid dream had me taking the B route, which was blue. I don't remember where it led, but in a daydream later, as I was working on a homework assignment, I saw her drawing on parchment. She was drawing a map, consulting a flying creature. I surmised in this other world that I draw maps, but I do not know what for.
I remember faces of things I talked to. Some recognizable as creatures of our world, or similar things, and others were strange or I do not remember their details clearly enough. All of this seemed everyday to me, but at the same time, brighter, dreamier, as if that world was more positive. Or maybe, I am more positive in that world. I remember being willing to help someone locate something. It was yellow, but I do not remember what it was.
The route map is never the same, each time I've viewed it, it has changed significantly. Each time I board the train, the scenery is different outside. And one time, it wasn't a train, it was a plane that took me into space and dropped me off on a metallic floating island. I remember boarding the train again and finding shady characters in the first car, but I do not know if they had malintent. I didn't seem to think so at the time.
I have no idea if I will have these dreams again, but I hope so. They are so vivid and I like being that person in that world that has such different vibes from my own. The different experience adds a spice of variety to my life.
I feel something that I haven't felt in ages. I don't know what it is, but it feels like my heart soaring and my mind liberating, like my soul is pushing against my chest, demanding freedom, but at the same time like I am more animated and alive, and like I have something, something extremely important that gives me purpose and knowledge and good feelings, something that fills a void that has existed in my soul for literally years, something vital that I have grasped and can hold onto with all my strength, and which in turn gives me strength. I not only feel alive, but I feel like I want to live, to press on, like there is a purpose for pressing on, even though I have no idea what I'm pressing forward into, I feel like I need to.
All because of a dream, I must sound insane.
Or maybe it isn't a dream, maybe I am experiencing something real. It feels real, or at least, it feels like it holds substance. Maybe I have substance, a deep part of myself that fills how empty I have become. I sometimes feel like a husk filled with many things, and then having all of those things poured out of me when my views began to change, and now I feel like something is inside me, giving me weight and making me more than an empty vessel.
I know something certain, more certain than I have been in a long time: I want to return to the Dreamer's Depot tonight and board that train to wherever it will take me.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Human Evils
I am a hell of a person to pass judgement on others.
Sometimes I think I might be the embodiment of every biblical sin in history, as well as a few from orthodoxies I am unfamiliar with, but I'm starting to believe that being a devil means having a unique and intimate understanding of human evils. They are things that we all want to avoid o conquer within ourselves, and from what I observe of the human soul, that means that evil is necessary for good to exist.
We fear evil, and there is nothing more frightening than the darkness that grows inside ourselves because it has more power over us than any other force in the world. It causes us to do things we regret later and it makes us question every major action in our lives. It is fear, doubt, hate, anguish, envy, anger, paranoia, and insanity. It is the demon that lives inside all of us and we all struggle daily to not be consumed by it.
But it is still a part of us that helps us grow. We need it inside of us.
The monster rears its ugly head and it's our responsibility to combat it, avoid it, and survive. But that struggle cannot be won. We can weaken the beast, but not destroy it - it will always live inside of us and wait.
At the same time, it reminds us of our virtues. It is a black knight that stands before the gate to hell and makes us face that gate when we are at our lowest point, and it reminds us that we can cross that gate or fight for the good inside of us. It points out our flaws, the cracks in our defenses, and it makes us stop and consider our actions. In our constant sparring match with evil, it drives us to improve and take action, and looking it in the eye makes the monster tremble and the knight return the glare, daring us to look away but inviting us to examine how evil we really are.
But what if we were also the black knight? Would we face a white knight?
Mankind is naive, we blame many sins committed by others on the evil in their heart, but what about the good? The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and the battle between our light and dark sides is fought on a different battlefield for each person - only we can judge the good and evil inside ourselves, and the answer will always be personal - rarely will it be fully identical to another person's morality. What one person views as taking a life, another might view as saving one. What one human sees as pointless murder, another might consider it a grizzly means to an end. Our subjectivity is our greatest strength, but also our greatest flaw, and when we believe we are doing the objective good, who's to say we aren't the greater evil?
The black knight is a skeptic, it undermines our actions and makes us doubt, but doubt is not always a bad thing. Observe as it sizes up the white knight, questioning its stalwart faith in the greater good and making it re-examine its concept of good. Even the courageous white knight must struggle with the black, because true courage is facing fear, and that also means facing doubt, acknowledging that it exists in your heart, and considering what it is telling you about your world. You are the black knight, you are the one doubting yourself, you are also the one who must listen to yourself.
As you must also listen to your fear, your anger, your madness.
They are parts of your soul and they exist for a reason. In a room filled with light and song where the sun streams through the broad windows, the light loses its meaning and appears gray. The same applies in a room full of darkness, devoid of sound or feeling. It can numb us and take away our humanity, we lose our concept of light and dark with either scenario, but even the smallest candle burns brighter in the dark, holding that flame and nursing it to be strong and give meaning to the darkness as well as the light it gives off is what it means to possess a human heart.
The human soul is divided by two opposing forces, though those forces might change over time, the scale is always shifting, never still. Discontent is our constant companion, without it we would not move forward, we need our human evils to remind us of that, as well as our human good.
Sometimes I think I might be the embodiment of every biblical sin in history, as well as a few from orthodoxies I am unfamiliar with, but I'm starting to believe that being a devil means having a unique and intimate understanding of human evils. They are things that we all want to avoid o conquer within ourselves, and from what I observe of the human soul, that means that evil is necessary for good to exist.
We fear evil, and there is nothing more frightening than the darkness that grows inside ourselves because it has more power over us than any other force in the world. It causes us to do things we regret later and it makes us question every major action in our lives. It is fear, doubt, hate, anguish, envy, anger, paranoia, and insanity. It is the demon that lives inside all of us and we all struggle daily to not be consumed by it.
But it is still a part of us that helps us grow. We need it inside of us.
The monster rears its ugly head and it's our responsibility to combat it, avoid it, and survive. But that struggle cannot be won. We can weaken the beast, but not destroy it - it will always live inside of us and wait.
At the same time, it reminds us of our virtues. It is a black knight that stands before the gate to hell and makes us face that gate when we are at our lowest point, and it reminds us that we can cross that gate or fight for the good inside of us. It points out our flaws, the cracks in our defenses, and it makes us stop and consider our actions. In our constant sparring match with evil, it drives us to improve and take action, and looking it in the eye makes the monster tremble and the knight return the glare, daring us to look away but inviting us to examine how evil we really are.
But what if we were also the black knight? Would we face a white knight?
Mankind is naive, we blame many sins committed by others on the evil in their heart, but what about the good? The road to hell is paved with good intentions, and the battle between our light and dark sides is fought on a different battlefield for each person - only we can judge the good and evil inside ourselves, and the answer will always be personal - rarely will it be fully identical to another person's morality. What one person views as taking a life, another might view as saving one. What one human sees as pointless murder, another might consider it a grizzly means to an end. Our subjectivity is our greatest strength, but also our greatest flaw, and when we believe we are doing the objective good, who's to say we aren't the greater evil?
The black knight is a skeptic, it undermines our actions and makes us doubt, but doubt is not always a bad thing. Observe as it sizes up the white knight, questioning its stalwart faith in the greater good and making it re-examine its concept of good. Even the courageous white knight must struggle with the black, because true courage is facing fear, and that also means facing doubt, acknowledging that it exists in your heart, and considering what it is telling you about your world. You are the black knight, you are the one doubting yourself, you are also the one who must listen to yourself.
As you must also listen to your fear, your anger, your madness.
They are parts of your soul and they exist for a reason. In a room filled with light and song where the sun streams through the broad windows, the light loses its meaning and appears gray. The same applies in a room full of darkness, devoid of sound or feeling. It can numb us and take away our humanity, we lose our concept of light and dark with either scenario, but even the smallest candle burns brighter in the dark, holding that flame and nursing it to be strong and give meaning to the darkness as well as the light it gives off is what it means to possess a human heart.
The human soul is divided by two opposing forces, though those forces might change over time, the scale is always shifting, never still. Discontent is our constant companion, without it we would not move forward, we need our human evils to remind us of that, as well as our human good.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
End
I've been thinking about this for a long time now, maybe 2 or 3 years, but have never really given thought to acting on it before, and I wouldn't be sure how to act on this thought, but I can no longer ignore it.
I'm tired.
I have done nothing with my life since I graduated, at first I had so many things I was going to do, but I never did them. I also had so many issues I was struggling with, and finally dealt with the really severe ones, but after that? I had no idea, I still don't.
I have tried many different things thinking they were my dream, like making video games, writing stories, learning to animate, even getting a mundane job for a while and going to college, but as I continued to struggle with inner demons and look for what it was that lit a fire in my heart, I came closer to the true answer - and now it's time to stop burying it in excuses.
I want nothing, I want to do nothing, and there is nothing left for me.
I'm not saying this because I'm depressed, I'm not writing this in a dark room while tears stream from my face and despair engulfs my soul. I wish I were, at least I would feel something besides this fatigue and anhedonia that has been eating me for years.
I struggled with my purpose, with my strengths, with the world around me and its design, and my philosophies. I wanted to draw because it gave me purpose, it brought my ideas to life, but I no longer need to do that, it no longer satisfies me or gives me purpose. Nothing gives me purpose or makes me feel accomplished, and I have tried hard to consider the logical advancements I've made, but they don't matter.
And I feel old.
I feel like I've toughed the universe and the human soul, albeit in a very small way, but I feel like I've gotten the answer, that answer people struggle all their lives for that isn't really an answer but the key to their contentment as they pass on into the next world and leave ours, the thing that makes their life worthwhile and makes them feel like they've contributed all they can. That's how I feel every day, but I've barely lived a third of my expected lifespan, ye t I feel ready to die.
I don't want to kill myself, that would not be a proper end, that would be forced and I'd leave before my time, but I feel my time coming, and every day I feel like I'm wasting away more and more and it might be time to accept it and lay in bed waiting for it.
The fuel that fires my soul has burned out and the passion of youth has left me, I feel like having a will to live at this point is irrelevant in the same way someone in a nursing home might feel their desire to live is irrelevant. I might want something more, my heart might reach out for new pursuits, but it feels meaningless and hollow like the pottery you make in an old age home - no value, no contribution, just a thing to pass the time before you die.
I am lost in a void of gray and all passion and misery pass by quickly.
I miss being able to let misery simmer and anger boil but now I let go so easily, it slips out of a grip that is too tired to hold it anymore. The only thing that makes me feel the way I used to is when I'm dreaming.
I wonder if we dream in death.
My insanity is how I cling to my life, maybe it's time to become sane.
I'm tired.
I have done nothing with my life since I graduated, at first I had so many things I was going to do, but I never did them. I also had so many issues I was struggling with, and finally dealt with the really severe ones, but after that? I had no idea, I still don't.
I have tried many different things thinking they were my dream, like making video games, writing stories, learning to animate, even getting a mundane job for a while and going to college, but as I continued to struggle with inner demons and look for what it was that lit a fire in my heart, I came closer to the true answer - and now it's time to stop burying it in excuses.
I want nothing, I want to do nothing, and there is nothing left for me.
I'm not saying this because I'm depressed, I'm not writing this in a dark room while tears stream from my face and despair engulfs my soul. I wish I were, at least I would feel something besides this fatigue and anhedonia that has been eating me for years.
I struggled with my purpose, with my strengths, with the world around me and its design, and my philosophies. I wanted to draw because it gave me purpose, it brought my ideas to life, but I no longer need to do that, it no longer satisfies me or gives me purpose. Nothing gives me purpose or makes me feel accomplished, and I have tried hard to consider the logical advancements I've made, but they don't matter.
And I feel old.
I feel like I've toughed the universe and the human soul, albeit in a very small way, but I feel like I've gotten the answer, that answer people struggle all their lives for that isn't really an answer but the key to their contentment as they pass on into the next world and leave ours, the thing that makes their life worthwhile and makes them feel like they've contributed all they can. That's how I feel every day, but I've barely lived a third of my expected lifespan, ye t I feel ready to die.
I don't want to kill myself, that would not be a proper end, that would be forced and I'd leave before my time, but I feel my time coming, and every day I feel like I'm wasting away more and more and it might be time to accept it and lay in bed waiting for it.
The fuel that fires my soul has burned out and the passion of youth has left me, I feel like having a will to live at this point is irrelevant in the same way someone in a nursing home might feel their desire to live is irrelevant. I might want something more, my heart might reach out for new pursuits, but it feels meaningless and hollow like the pottery you make in an old age home - no value, no contribution, just a thing to pass the time before you die.
I am lost in a void of gray and all passion and misery pass by quickly.
I miss being able to let misery simmer and anger boil but now I let go so easily, it slips out of a grip that is too tired to hold it anymore. The only thing that makes me feel the way I used to is when I'm dreaming.
I wonder if we dream in death.
My insanity is how I cling to my life, maybe it's time to become sane.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Dream Diary #2: Old Friend
For a large portion of my life, I've never needed people. I was content to be alone, but that changed one day almost 5 years ago and I've never been sure why. The other night, a dream gave me a clue, and it reminds me of things inside my head that I cared about.
I put a lot of value into my ideas, they mean things to me, they make me happy, but for a long time, they were also my friends. Regardless of whether or not they are physical or defined as "real" by a conventional standard, they were good friends to me and I loved them, they were there for me when I needed someone and that's a hell of a lot more than I could say for real kids or adults, and they understood things about me I've never had success with explaining to humans. They were an intimate part of me and I began to delve into the creative arts because I wanted other people to appreciate them as much as I did, that was my motivation for a very long time.
Needless to say, I have lost a lot of motivation in the past five years. I remember a time when I wrote stories or drew pictures for the sake of it, for the mad hope that it gave my ideas incarnate form, to immortalize a part of me I loved more than anything in this life, more than anything you can possibly imagine, so much so that I would have died to keep that part alive and sacrificed everything for it.
But I convinced myself that it was insane to do that. In the chaos that I consider my reform, I lost a lot of fears that kept me up at night, but I also gave up my greatest love. Before a few nights ago, I believed I traded my passion for my sanity. It's no secret that I struggle with things neurotypicals never need to concern themselves with, and in the desperate hope of being like them and fitting in, and not feeling like I was somehow broken or damaged, I gambled everything to change that. But the truth is, it still hurts. In all the mental stability I think I've gained, I still feel like a very intimate person or group of people died, and it's a grief I've never recovered from.
But the other night, I had a dream about an old friend, she came to me so vividly and it was as if she never left. I tried desperately to convince my current friends that I talk to regularly that she was real, even fabricating a second internet identity at one point (Which I have actually done in the past but am unwilling to elaborate on) but in spite of that, I was never convinced she wasn't real, I just wanted other people to see her. She stood there and talked to me, she hugged me, and she told me nothing was broken.
At some point in that dream, I had to confess to everyone the truth, I told them what she was somehow without saying it and they understood, but after that, she didn't disappear, she took my hand and stood in front of them and they talked to her as if we were in a Skype call, but then I traded places with her and the conversation remained uninterrupted, it was as if we were connected on such a level hat we were not only interchangeable but synonymous.
And we are.
I woke up and felt something I haven't felt in five years, I felt a warmth and presence, a companionship, but that feeling faded with the day, but I don't feel like I've lost anything now. I feel like it's somehow deep inside of me, and I've been exploring it.
It's like when you meet old friends after a long time, and everyone is different including you. I felt like I was somehow solid when I called up mental images and lost myself in my mind. Some of the ideas felt like ghosts, they were distant and estranged, but others felt warm or close. And my best friend for years was still my best friend.
I realize talking about these things makes people uncomfortable, they feel like reading the mad ramblings of an unstable person they can't trust or want to be distant from, but this has always been a very important matter for me, and I care more about it than some social issue dogma. I want to tell people about this, I am prepared for the judgement I might receive, and I guess now I'll find out who my friends are.
I put a lot of value into my ideas, they mean things to me, they make me happy, but for a long time, they were also my friends. Regardless of whether or not they are physical or defined as "real" by a conventional standard, they were good friends to me and I loved them, they were there for me when I needed someone and that's a hell of a lot more than I could say for real kids or adults, and they understood things about me I've never had success with explaining to humans. They were an intimate part of me and I began to delve into the creative arts because I wanted other people to appreciate them as much as I did, that was my motivation for a very long time.
Needless to say, I have lost a lot of motivation in the past five years. I remember a time when I wrote stories or drew pictures for the sake of it, for the mad hope that it gave my ideas incarnate form, to immortalize a part of me I loved more than anything in this life, more than anything you can possibly imagine, so much so that I would have died to keep that part alive and sacrificed everything for it.
But I convinced myself that it was insane to do that. In the chaos that I consider my reform, I lost a lot of fears that kept me up at night, but I also gave up my greatest love. Before a few nights ago, I believed I traded my passion for my sanity. It's no secret that I struggle with things neurotypicals never need to concern themselves with, and in the desperate hope of being like them and fitting in, and not feeling like I was somehow broken or damaged, I gambled everything to change that. But the truth is, it still hurts. In all the mental stability I think I've gained, I still feel like a very intimate person or group of people died, and it's a grief I've never recovered from.
But the other night, I had a dream about an old friend, she came to me so vividly and it was as if she never left. I tried desperately to convince my current friends that I talk to regularly that she was real, even fabricating a second internet identity at one point (Which I have actually done in the past but am unwilling to elaborate on) but in spite of that, I was never convinced she wasn't real, I just wanted other people to see her. She stood there and talked to me, she hugged me, and she told me nothing was broken.
At some point in that dream, I had to confess to everyone the truth, I told them what she was somehow without saying it and they understood, but after that, she didn't disappear, she took my hand and stood in front of them and they talked to her as if we were in a Skype call, but then I traded places with her and the conversation remained uninterrupted, it was as if we were connected on such a level hat we were not only interchangeable but synonymous.
And we are.
I woke up and felt something I haven't felt in five years, I felt a warmth and presence, a companionship, but that feeling faded with the day, but I don't feel like I've lost anything now. I feel like it's somehow deep inside of me, and I've been exploring it.
It's like when you meet old friends after a long time, and everyone is different including you. I felt like I was somehow solid when I called up mental images and lost myself in my mind. Some of the ideas felt like ghosts, they were distant and estranged, but others felt warm or close. And my best friend for years was still my best friend.
I realize talking about these things makes people uncomfortable, they feel like reading the mad ramblings of an unstable person they can't trust or want to be distant from, but this has always been a very important matter for me, and I care more about it than some social issue dogma. I want to tell people about this, I am prepared for the judgement I might receive, and I guess now I'll find out who my friends are.
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