Ramble - My Place Amongst Fools

Free-writing after a moody walk in the cold.

I'm listening to Thom Yorke.  Isn't he that guy from Radiohead?  Or maybe that's someone else.  I like the song, and to be honest, I like most songs that have a heavy beat or fast beats or both.  Any beat?  I'm anxious, but no real reason for it.  Tomorrow is my day off, a beautiful day off; I have to study, and I should work on homework for everyone.  I think I should probably make it a priority to... sorry got derailed by thinking about this one girl.  I think I should also work on the campaign for wednesday.  I can whip up something, but I want it to really be fun.

Why do I keep such strange and juvenile hobbies?  I can't really think why not, however, other than a few people who might make fun of me.  It's odd; being an adult, growing up, requires very little in the way of actually changing from who you were to where you should be.  And what does happen is not sudden.  I have childish hobbies, but I share said childish hobbies with so many others, a good many of my generation.  Now The Xx is on the radio.  Pretty chill.  I've always liked good female vocals in a song.  I think I might have strange views and issues with women, though it just fucking now dawns on me that that's completely normal.  Women are like men, but NOT.  They're completely NOT men, though they're undoubtedly human, and completely and utterly enthralling.  Nothing catches the eye like a woman with whom you have a strong connection.  Catches the eye, hmm, I mean, engages the mind.  Projecting.  Or was I?  Where was I?

My hobbies are childish, but so are everyone else's.  Doesn't that mean we're all childish?  Those amongst us with the most embarrassing interests and hobbies, they're the fools that get mocked, looked down upon.  But how different are we, we outcasts, we fools?  I doubt it very much that we're very different at all.  And there's me thinking about that girl again.  Girls again.  Women?  No, women are adult girls.  No one I know is a real adult.  But whatever.  Perhaps no one wants to look like an idiot, like a fool; no one wants to send the wrong signal.  To the opposite gender.  Or to society.

Animals know how to send signals; it's how they know to mate, to progress down the line.  Our society has grown so much.  We're TOO advanced in some ways, and far, far behind in others.  We're afraid to send the signal to others that we're not catching up, that we're not strong or sexually proficient or intelligent or wise or successful... but our society only has a vague, disgruntled view of what the criteria for all of those things are.  And whenever we accept anything as concrete, something or someone comes along to contradict the whole mess.  It's fascinating, strange, and wonderful, to be a part of such a messy, convoluted machine (modern society).  Where was I going with all of this?  Hmm.  Oh, I wasn't, random typing, getting out my musings, my thoughts, my worries.  I'm actually just practicing typing at this point, seeing how good my WPM are.  Cat dog frog log chain gang bang clang sane mane Jane lane etc.  The dumb fox jumped over the stupid hedge, or whatever.

My derailed train is derailing.  No structure.  Yet I'm always looking for connections.  How ironic.  I'd better find a new way to waste my time, to lose myself among my thoughts and my foolish neuroses.  This has been another entry, and another night in a long series of nights, alone in my head.

Oh, man, that one remix of that song by Trentemoller is on.  This song makes me wanna dance.  Think I'm gonna.

Mischief and Isolation

Why try and get in trouble?  What good does it do?

There is something about getting attention from others, good or bad, that lights a spark in some people.  Most people, actually, if we're all being honest.  We've all seen someone poke, prod, kid, harass or generally vex those near them--and we've all done it ourselves.  Boys pull girls' hair, chase them, and so forth.  Girls have their own methods, some more subtle than others, and usually much more subtle than boys' (at least to me, of course).  But from where does this behavior derive?

I bet I could reach into a hat and pull out ten experts that would all have vastly differing opinions on this subject.  Mating ritual, cry for attention, prenatal isolation, developmental immaturity, "trolling."  There's always a new way to look at these kinds of hypothetical questions.  As biology, sociology, psychology, and ignorance march onward, these kinds of vague questions are dragged along with them.

I can't help but wonder, however, if it all comes down to pure, simple attention.  No man or woman is an island, after all.  When I see someone mess with someone else--smiling, laughing, playing--I see someone simply looking for something they cannot find within themselves.  They can't bug themselves.

I know when I mess with someone, particularly the opposite sex, this theory applies.  It's a reminder; I'm here, and I'm not feeling a connection with those around me right now, not enough of one at least.  Pay attention!


I think upon this as I post baiting messages on Facebook.  I seek a reminder that I'm connected to others, and hope it gets me attention.  I am not alone in doing this.  In fact, if Facebook has proven anything, our need for connectivity and communication is extremely important, and part of Facebook's function is to keep us connected in the easiest way possible.  You don't need deep; you have wide and easy.

There's a "Like" button on Facebook; there's even a "Poke" button on Facebook.  I think you see my point.

So I don't feel so bad, reaching out to others.  I don't feel so bad messing with my friends, or with people I'd like to be friendlier with.  I mean well.  I know that deep down I seek what we all seek, and I'll get it however I am allowed, just like everyone else.

Losing It--Gaining It

Anybody ever wonder if the obsession over weight loss is somehow a metaphorical expression of our desire to conquer our more internal shortcomings?  No?

So I'm trying to lose weight.  I want to go from a pudgy to a normal, a size or two.  Not impossible.  I find it's not terribly hard to watch what you eat, monitor your intake.  The lovely iPhone (or Android, or whatever) has many apps that can do just that; there are even apps that monitor how much you walk or exercise, estimating how many calories you use.  Exercise is, of course, key to losing weight.  Yet the diet manages the weight, and keeps what has been lost, off.  You can't expect to lose much weight chomping on burgers in between jogs.  No, a healthy diet is paramount.  And grocery stores offer fresh produce, lean meats, Healthy Choice meals, weight loss shakes, and all manner of aids to facilitate shedding those extra pounds.

Only two real problems stand in the way of a successful diet change: time and money.

"Oh, only time and money?  That's nothing!"


Money is the most straightforward of the two problems; you simply can afford to eat healthy, or healthier, or you simply cannot.  Fast food (see: time) costs terribly less than fresh, well-prepared healthy meals.  I made 4 quarts of vegetable stew at home--all of my ingredients fresh and prepared by myself--and it costs me around $30.  And salad?  Salad is expensive at home and away.  But you can get a hamburger for a dollar, tacos for 89 cents.  Yet, if you have the money, if you're comfortable enough to afford it, the healthier items are within reach.

But who prepares them?  You do, good sir or madam!  You prepare them with your own two hands and your collection of expensive (see: money) pots, pans, and kitchen aids.  You've got a few free hours before or after work or school, and you're stuck in line at a grocery store.  Poor you--first world problems.  Then later, when you get off work; it's 6pm--or 9:45pm for myself--and it's time for you to start cooking.  Thirty minutes to an hour later, and you're eating healthy--or healthier.  Yet you sure did pass that McDonald's on the way home, and you've got a few bucks in change in your car...

These problems seem daunting.  They seem practically insurmountable, when the cheaper, faster, and sometimes tastier alternatives are close at hand.  And certainly most of us--even those with time and money--find it easier to eat cheap and quick.  I possess neither unlimited time nor unlimited money, and I fall prey to eating garbage, and pay for it in the long run.

So how is my diet fairing, then?  It is my current internal battle.  I asked earlier if our (modern) obsession with weight loss--with our image and our eternal search for good health--isn't some metaphor for our internal drive to improve ourselves on less corporeal levels.  I certainly think it is.  I find my search for myself in my new home, my new life, to be a search for a better self, a better life.  Why settle?  Why accept unhealthy patterns and habits as inevitable?  One doesn't have to, and it doesn't take miracles; just hard work, and that one characteristic which seems truly key to thriving in life, above possessing money and time: the will to accomplish.

Enough blathering.  Where's my boring rice cake?

Bachelorhoodom

I am single.

I am a singularly supreme ruler of a domain of one; the cat is the house of parliament, but like any good monarch, I at most appease it and often seek to avoid involving it.  From atop my lonely mountain, in my ivory tower, I am king of all I survey.

How absolutely boring.

I've spent the past few weeks settling in and organizing my bachelor-kingdom--enacting many mandates and projects--with still many more projects and plans ahead of me.  But already the dullness of it all is starting to wear upon me.  I've attempted to occupy myself with as many activities as I can--playing Skyrim on Xbox for hours at a time, for instance.  I've also begun a daily ritual of actually cooking food for myself; my servants do not mind, as I keep them busy in the interim.  I've also found solace in IHOP, and have passed many evenings with fellow bachelors there; it is not part of my kingdom, but relations are improving, and I am thinking of accepting a bride, if the dowery is sufficient.

And yet, the albatross that is boredom weighs upon me, and up until now I have had little luck shaking it loss from my neck.  A new solution has emerged, however.  I have discovered... THE BOOK.

Don't be confused; when I say The Book, I do not mean The Nook, or the Kindle or iPad.  I found The Book.  It's made of that material we write little notes on, or receive in the mail, covered in glossy photos or due dates; it's a book, made of plant matter and ink, usually black.

Did you know that some entertainment doesn't come in a box, or isn't displayed on a plastic or glass screen?  Did you also know that some information isn't discovered online, on Wikipedia, or from casual conversation with coworkers?  The Book provides such entertainment and information; it is truly amazing!

My introduction to The Book is a curious and coincidental thing; divine intervention, if you will.  I was struck queer by its reference while conversing with a relative of mine; he had made claims that information he had obtained--exciting, relevant, entertaining information--was received not from Reddit or Wikipedia or television, but from The Book.  I, of course, was incredulous, but too curious, and soon inquired further into the nature of his genius.  I was directed to seek out The Book in a neighboring kingdom, a realm known as Half-Price Books, where The Book is distributed at minimal cost.  I could barely contain my brimming, bursting, repetitive alliteration--my excitement, i mean.  Within the hour, I had obtained The Book, and brought it back to my kingdom.

I'm still reading it.  It's not a long book... but it was also explained to me that, the more you read, the more you desire to read more, and the higher your level of comprehension.  This makes sense; in the Kingdom of Bachelor, playing a game repeatedly over time builds up skill, thereby making the experience more enjoyable and easy; it seems using The Book mimics this.

Curiously, it also seems that, though information received from the book comes slowly to the Reader--as those who use The Book are called--the enjoyment of said experience is just as great as any fast-paced video game or movie.  Again, I look to my realm for relevance; while reading a summary online of a season of Dr. Who can certainly catch one up to date on what has come before the latest season, it isn't as fulfilling as watching the previous season's episodes prior to moving on to the latest.  It's fascinating, the parallels.

And so, I have found a way to assuage the boredom.  But The Book is not the final solution, only one of many.  Indeed, I have certainly ceased Reading in order to write--another past-time useful if you are attempting to waste time.  But the power of The Book is apparent to me now, and will soon become a welcome addition to my new kingdom.  So now I will return to The Book; I am eager to see if the central figure will succumb to the wishes of Sam-I-Am, and consume his offering of green eggs and ham in a box, or possibly with a fox.

Naming this pitiful thing

I'm having the damndest time coming up with a title for this blog.

Why am I changing the title?  Because I want to, because I don't feel "No Structure" describes or satisfies like it once did.  The web address will be the same, and really I'm the only person who consistently reads this--cause I write it--so it doesn't really matter.  But I want it changed.

That's not the point.  The point is, I can't think of anything.
I did some sniffing around, googling what I felt were clever blog titles that I thought vaguely described what I blog about or what i'm interested in...

...Save vs Boredom, Suspension of Disbelief, Metagamers Anonymous...

...and all of them were taken, in some fashion or another.  I think perhaps I'm not even going to get a good name, at this point, if I'm waiting for one that's not already claimed.  But I'm going to try and avoid titles that have already been claimed by other blogs.  Because, ya know, people read this and will be offended if I stole someone else's blog title.

If you are reading this, and have any suggestions, well be careful, I can only read so many messages.  Don't flood the comments section or anything!
Until then, I've got some creative thinking to do.

RPGD: To Rage, or Not to Rage

To rage, or not to rage:
That is the question
I ask myself almost every time I sit down to make a character.

I've been playing the numerous editions and incarnations of Dungeons & Dragons almost my entire life; Advanced Dungeons & Dragons was the first real roleplaying game I was a part of (outside of making up my own games, emulating my brother), and i've since found the joys of other, newer systems that take their inspiration from D&D.  But in all those times I've never played a barbarian or a berserker.

To inform the laymen: the barbarian, or berserker, is a type of character who draws on a quasi-supernatural level of rage and anger with which he smites his foes and cows his enemies.  He is rarely clothed in much of anything, usually hails from a primitive culture, sees nothing wrong with wanton destruction and death, and is often illiterate.  The barbarian is a staple of the fantasy/sword-and-sorcery genre.

I have yet to make or play one.  I'm usually a wizard or sorcerer, occasionally a thief or warrior, and i've played my fair share of noble, devoted priests.  But why not a barbarian?  Why haven't I raged yet?  Maybe the barbarian hits a bit to close to home.

Roleplaying games are about escapism.  Candy-coat it all you want, but these games are almost pure fantasy daydreaming.  Intelligent and rational adults, however, can get together and tell a story, roll some dice, follow the rules of the game, pretend they aren't just another cog in the machine, and enjoy the company of others.  It's healthy, but its escapism.  I personally enjoy playing characters with a firm grasp of the magnitude of their intellect, or characters that are so impressive physically or mentally that its almost irrelevant, a side note to their adventures.  "Why, yes, I can climb that building.  let's get started," or "why, yes, I can fly up that mountain; I'm a wizard after all."  I play something I feel I'm not, or I play a character that I feel explores something about myself I wish to enhance or fulfill.

Ay, there's the rub.

"Why does it take you an hour to get ready in the morning?
It can't take you THAT long!!  RAHHH!!!"  --Me, raging

Anger is a real problem in my life.  From time to time, I rage.  And unlike the D&D barbarian, all it gets me is grief and the disrespect of those closest to me.  I have never considered my anger an external force, something I need to conquer to free myself.  I'm an angry person, because I discovered at an early age that, instead of dealing with a problem with calm reflection, logical analysis or simple compromise--I can yell at it.  And sometimes it goes away.  If I yell loud enough, I might cow someone into complicity.

The truth is that my rage betrays my intellect and my compassion, and it undermines the things that strengthen and grow my relationships.  It keeps me from confronting problems, taking responsibility, and from learning to adapt to complicated situations--the stuff of life.  My rage is my inner child, who still wants to get his way, even when it's unhealthy or unnecessary.  I AM a barbarian, and it's no fun.

So why play one?  Why rage?  Why occupy my time exploring anger and destruction in my fantasy life, with my friends and loved ones, when in reality my own rage does more harm than good?

Perhaps because its time to confront it.  We all have things in our lives we want to improve or eliminate; I always play characters who are confident, dedicated, and focused--things I am not.  Maybe it's time I played a character that was in control of his anger, or better yet, a comical character who was as ridiculously stubborn and destructive as I am.  Perhaps, then, i'll see what it really means to rage, to be the one seeing it from the outside.

To rage, or not to rage...

I think I know the answer.

Hey, look, a journal entry!

Hey, look, a new blog!  it's been a month.

So I'm reading William Gibson's Neuromancer.  This is, by a lot of people's standards, a classic.  I'm excited, excited to read some genuinely acclaimed science fiction, and the birth of the cyberpunk genre.  S'gonna be great, i'll probably give some sort of report or review when I finish it.  No structure.

I've still got George R. R. Martin's Game of Thrones sitting beside me at my desk... i'll get to it, I keep promising myself.  It was a tough decision, reading award-winning fantasy or reading award-winning science fiction.  But Neuromancer is a quicker read, and oddly enough, more my style.  It's funny how I weigh these decisions so heavily.

In further news, I'm signed up for fall classes!  Pretty scary, but in a good way.  Success scares me.  So i know i'm on the right track, if doing what i'm doing makes me want to flee.

Anything else to talk about?  Not right now!  Yay for a short blog... more like a journal entry...