Moved.

I've moved this blog to a new location, as Word Press has more features and control options than blogger does. You can find a blog about common things at http://blogaboutcommonthings.wordpress.com/. My schedule is still Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday, with today's blog in the works. I hope you enjoy the new location and layout, bigger and better things are in store.

Thanks for your continued readership and/or bookmarking, it means quite a bit to know that others enjoy my hobby as much as I do.

We all got left behind, we let it all slip away.

As promised, I now finish my discussion of disposable media.

Games

This was a difficult task at first, until I realized a few very important things. Not only is a Gamecube a small system (built for being brought as a party favor), but the games came on Minidisk. They're tiny, and easily deposited into a minidisk case. As such, none were left behind (I only own seven to begin with, making things easier). The Playstation 2 games were much more difficult. I left behind Final Fantasy X2, The Sims, Kingdom Hearts, and Unreal Tournament. I'm yet to pack PS1 games, but in the event I do, only King's Field, Martian Gothic, Dragonseeds, and ReBoot will be left behind. All NES games will stay (besides Punch Out!!, one of my favorite games of all time).

I'm not abandoning classics, not really. FFX2 was mostly a marketing experiment that shouldn't've ever seen the light of day. There were a lot of cool things in it, but the whole thing reeked of spin off. The game should've been marketed as a stand-alone, with a new world and new characters. It would've done better, and not tarnished the reputation of an otherwise very good game. Whatever people say about Final Fantasy X, I will defend it better than they will bash it. I can't do that for FFX2. The Sims is an art project. Chuck Klosterman said in Sex, Drugs and Cocoa-Puffs something to the effect of "people playing a game about watching their lives while they play games." I don't play games to get surreal, I play to get rid of realism when I can help it.

Kingdom Hearts is another great game, but I'm not so big on showing constant love for Squeenix. They've failed in the past (see FFX2, most FFVII spin-offs, and most early games), and they know it. Kingdom Hearts isn't a failure (though Chain of Memories was), but it isn't vital enough to my personality. I haven't played it in three years or more, and I don't feel I'm missing all that much. I know what happens now, the grinding wasn't all that great, and the novelty of playing with Disney characters wore off within a half hour of playing the game. There's nothing there for me now. Unrelated, Unreal Tournament was only good for the PC. Getting it for the PS2 was an impulse buy from the used bin. Still one of the only FPS' I will play (besides Portal and Metroid Prime Hunters), but this version is nothing worth holding onto.

The average reader won't know three of the four PS1 games mentioned, and this might not be a bad thing. They were all pretty kickass in theory, but execution killed them. King's Field is a first-person hack and slash that was actually too good for the PS1's engine to handle. I played it recently on an emulator (since my PS1 decided to commit ritual suicide) and the enhanced frame-rate made the game actually playable... but it didn't help. The game was overly difficult, too advanced for the system it was on, and generally moody. Martian Gothic is a generic horror/survival in a haunted house in space. Scared the bejezus out of me when I was a kid, but now it's just cheesy in a bad way.

Dragonseeds was a cool game with a fun premise. You bred test-tube baby dragons to fight against one another in tournaments. They were given weapons, and told to fight to the death against one another. There was no other gameplay besides breeding, fighting, and shopping. What made it awesome was the combat system (preprogrammed moves, trying to foresee the opponent's moves for two turns) and the "wild" dragon area. The game would read the data from your memory cards and generate a random dragon based on what game info you had there... from other games. It's like an own-able MGS moment.

ReBoot was a show in the 90's that took place inside a computer and was made in Canada. The show was amazing. The game came out towards the end of the show's lifetime. It's a piece of shit. The controls are terrible, the motion is difficult without any momentum breakers (you're on Bob's hover-board... he can't seem to walk at all, and you need to pull back to slow down and stop), and the targeting makes me want to hang Bob with my controller cable. The game should've been good, and if the player could walk/lock on, then it would've been. Instead it's unplayable, and only makes for a nice conversation piece.

"Oh writer, how could you abandon those NES games?! I thought you were a real gamer!" Oh dear reader, how narrow minded of you. The old NES games were mostly fun, and it's credited as the system that brought video games to the forefront of home entertainment... but that doesn't make them good. I love the original Mario/Duck Hunt, and Contra. And even Dragon Warrior. I played them all until my controller wore out, and then I went to the spare. I don't care that I'm leaving them behind anyway, because they've all been rendered obsolete. Super Mario Bros. has been done so many times after that it could only get better. Super Mario Bros 3 is far superior, and Super Mario World surpassed that too. Then others came out down the line that were equally awesome, but for systems I'm going to keep, like the DS. My NES is in pieces right now, and I don't own a light gun. Why should I hold on to things that literally are unplayable? Besides that, Ikari Warriors sucks.


Books

This was the hardest of them all, as my readers know. I love books, and in a way they become a measure of my progress as a thinking person. They aren't all/mostly intellectual, but they can't all come with me. It's unrealistic. So a small section of the stuff that was left behind includes most of Shakespeare's work, Pet Sematary, the Lord of the Rings books (including Hobbit), Something Wicked This Way Comes, the Harry Potter series, and most of my Calvin and Hobbes collections.

I don't mind leaving behind Shakespeare so much, he's public domain. I can look him up anywhere and print his work out for my leisure for free. I left behind Measure for Measure, The Tempest, a version of Othello, Antony and Cleopatra, All's Well that Ends Well, Much Ado About Nothing, Coriolanus, and Cymbelline. That said, I kept the other half of the Shakespeare I owned. At one point I was strongly considering becoming a literature major with a supreme concentration in Shakespeare's work. Then I realized it's silly, when he's been dead for centuries. I'd rather study things that are still alive and fresh, rather than trying to breathe fresh life into the dead. I don't love his work any less (though I know many can't stand him), but I don't think it matters that much to have every obscure play he's done. Coriolanus is a fine example of a steaming lump of yesterday's supper that The Bard emitted to pay his bills when he got old. It happens sometimes.

I don't like Stephen King's written work for the most part. He's a wonderful storyteller, and I respect him greatly, but his style of writing is too poppy for my taste. He can create a character's snapshot perfectly in three sentences (usually to kill them a page later), and his stories are beyond words. I just hate his stuff when it's written, and not filmed. Pet Sematary is one of three exceptions so far (the other two being Green Mile and On Writing, the later of which was kept). I loved this story, and the writing was passable because of the build. It's not that I'm a zombie buff, or that I love twisted takes on innocence being distorted. The characters grabbed me better than nearly any other pop-lit novel has, and the story came together perfectly. Why's it getting left behind? I've got somewhere around 400 books, and I can only afford the space for (maybe) 75 of them. This gets left behind in favor of something more vital.

Tolkien is another man I respect greatly, but not for his writing. Tolkien was an amazing linguist, and a man of great conviction to his faith. He's probably the most popular Christian author anyone is likely to read, and most people don't even realize it. I respect anyone who can mix their faith with their personal hobbies (the study of folklore and mythology was a major theme in his life, obviously) and make something enduring. Of all the things Tolkien was, he was NOT a writer. He created the Lord of the Rings series to give his languages a home. Elvish is a fully fleshed language, and LotR exists for it. Not the other way around. The stories have terrible pacing, the characters are mostly bland, and it offers little else besides beautiful shots of being lost in the woods. Just like a certain book later in this list thing. If I wanted to wander in the woods, I'd go do it in reality.

Ray Bradbury's brilliant, but Something Wicked... isn't one of my favorites from him. The evil carnival motif is cool at first, but the entire first quarter of the book is "OMINOUS OMINOUS AND DARK," without any plot development. Cool atmosphere, bad build. Fahrenheit 451 wins instead.

Harry Potter's a lot of fun after the first two children's books. The series really starts at the third novel, with extended backstory. I do like the series greatly, and perhaps if it wasn't so over-saturated in today's culture, I'd bring them with me. I don't really need to though, this shit's everywhere. A few years ago I couldn't look anywhere without seeing something relating to the boy that lived. As the series progressed it got darker, and the writing got more mature. By book 7, Rowlnig took a turn for the Tolkien, wasting half the book wandering in the woods. I actually stopped reading this book for a few weeks because I couldn't get out of the fucking woods. I began to suspect that Voldemort was hiding inside a goddamned tree. This series, while wonderful, is also largely unoriginal. Nearly all aspects - while used creatively - are drawn from most of the same sources Tolkien used. If I owned it in paperback and it wasn't so common, I might consider braving the extra weight. It isn't, so I won't bring it.

Calvin and Hobbes has a very special place in my heart, it was the first comic I really got attached to. Bill Watterson is one of my heroes, and when I was doing a comic strip column for Serpentine Magazine I referenced him frequently. He was my first exposure to many fantastic concepts that I wouldn't've cared about otherwise. He gave some of the best dialogue I've ever seen. He presented the option of imagination. In nearly every way, Watterson shaped me - in some part - into who I am now. As such, I own 10 of the collections. I only have the space for one or two. I still haven't decided which I will keep.

There are hundreds of other books left behind too, including things I got for class and novels I really enjoyed when I was younger. They're innocent victims of circumstance mostly, but circumstance is really all that matters. A man fishing is fine in most cases, unless he's catching endangered fish. Then he's become a felon. These aren't really all disposable, but they must all be disposed of.

Can't Fight the Future

“People they come together, people they fall apart. No one can stop us now. ‘Cause we are all made of stars.” - Moby

College has a funny way of taking you away from the things and people you love. Sometimes you're still present for them, but ultimately you're somewhere else mentally, and everyone notices. You don't realize it until much later, but by the time you're finished with your Associates, Bachelors, Masters, or Doctorate depending on personal preference, you are transfigured into a new person independent of who you were when you started.

In high school I used to love to tell stories in my writing, drawing fiction from reality in Star Wars storytelling forums online. I built fantasies around characters loosely based around who I was then. They were facets of the things I liked, aspired to be, and avoided ever becoming. I wrote about an evil mastermind that could shape-shift, but eventually realized he had a soul and shifted away from the Dark Side of the Force. I wrote about a survivalist in a post-apocalyptic environment, after God and Satan have both killed each other off, leaving Earth, Heaven, and Hell behind. I wrote short stories about romancing extra terrestrials as satire.

Now I write nonfiction. It's still wet and thick with detail when I can help it, but nonfiction only leaves so much room for fun. I've stretched out instants that take no more than three seconds in real time to a three page psychological odyssey, in which a mouse click becomes the most difficult thing in the world. I've painted vivid images of college arcades, capturing snippets of tournament gamers by their details to give an accurate account of their personalities. I've delved into the nature of things, described delusions and daydreams with more clarity than reality often brings, and earned readers' sympathies for characters that should have none for their actions.

I never used to write poetry, yet now the structure of verse seems almost comforting in a way.

None of this seems important to you now, and it really shouldn't. People change as they grow older, that's a side effect of existence. College is a catalyst, not an origin. The ways my writing has changed reflect the ways my own personality has changed. I'm not the same person I was last year, or the year before, or five years before that. I like who I am and what I've become, even if I don't like everything about it. I can look back at those years now and draw from them. The experiences, the sights, the people - they're all back story now. A proper base to build the character on for future developments and plot twists.

We're all works of fiction in our own ways, but acknowledging it at least gives ground for the plot. I don't know for certain when the back story stopped and my plot began. I don't know if I'm simply drawn from a writer's mind like my Sith Master was, or if I'm a blur of detail in an overarching piece. I don't know if I'm just trying to survive after God and Satan dueled to mutual demise. Maybe I'm a rhyming couplet at the end of a sonnet.

I do know for certain, however, that right now I like where the story is going. I like the narrative arc, and (assuming that I am the protagonist of the story) my antagonists are not without sympathetic traits. My characters are developed and complex, and I love them all. I'm proud of how my story's coming along.

We should all be proud of our stories.

Magical Friendships (Heart)

I've been rereading a few books from the old Magic: The Gathering series, from when a storyline still mattered. Specifically I'm rereading the Ice Age trilogy by Jeff Grubb (Gathering Dark, The Eternal Ice, and Shattered Alliance). They came out in 1999, at the beginning of my obsession with this game and the books that explained the storyline. I didn't realize it when I was thirteen, but the concepts covered in the stories thus far (still need to do Shattered Alliance one last time) are incredibly complex and relate to a number of things outside of this tiny corner of the nerd universe.

They've made me realize a few things:

-I don't know if I fully trust anyone based on intentions alone.
-Relationships are fragile, temporary, and can only exist while living.
-Relationships of all kinds - not just the popularized definition which only refers to romantic relationships - should be mended when injured, not discarded like a broken toy.
-I identify more with old men in regards to thought patterns and logic, without it seeming antiquated in execution.
-I hate publishing trends for phasing well written books like these out in exchange for much of the crap I sold when I worked in a bookstore.

The last is probably the most important on a larger scale, if I really wanted to talk about our culture, but that's not what I'm aiming for. I care about the way people work with each other, not the way they take advantage of one another for monetary gain.


The following partial synopsis contains spoilers. The books are eleven years old and harder to find now, but if you ever plan on reading them (you should if you don't mind fantasy) you shouldn't read the next few paragraphs.


A character named Jodah inadvertently becomes magical in his biology, aging significantly slower than the average human. Incidentally, a side effect of aging is the accumulation of memories, of which an overabundance will drive one mad. I understand this concept, and the writing presents it in a believable way. More importantly, he is able/forced to experience the loss of loved ones and friends hundreds of times over, as they die while he stays mostly the same. His only advantage over reality is that he can start over without the guilt weighing as heavily on his conscience as he would had they aged with him in his way. The guilt will still be there, and grow worse as time goes on, but at least the person it relates to won't be there to salt the wounds.

Maybe that just drives the damage deeper.


End spoilers. Pansy.


While thinking about this I realized that we can't all simply "start over" whenever we cause detriment to our relationships. Our friends are there for us only as long as we are alive and keep the actual friendship alive. Once it dies, it is dead. No rekindling into a zombie, no rising from the dead. Much like real life, it stays dead.

This can relate to many things. An old flame? Once it's snuffed, it's gone. Former friend that bonked your girlfriend? The damage can never be undone, outside of letting go and determining what matters more. Even when relating with strangers in the workplace, you must keep on good terms. The dead don't buy things (no one will get this reference). Every person you've ever interacted with, to a degree, has a relationship with you. The kind you have is entirely up to you, and how you play it out.

This doesn't mean I'm going to reach out to the man that raped a close friend and shake his hand, nor does it mean that I'm going to hold back from speaking my thoughts even when they might not be what someone wants to hear. It does mean that I will value all of my friends more than I would anything else though, and the people that matter to me will continue to matter/matter more than previously. It's a bit like elevating a pedestal that was already above the others.

More important than all this, I will make an active attempt to not let small things bother me as much as they potentially could. I will go out of my way to be the best individual I can be for all around me, human condition withstanding. I wish I could remember how Shattered Alliance went, though the title alone seems contradicting to the theme I present here. It's fine for the context of Eternal Ice.

Day Two

So far there is a distinct absence of failure. I'm posting again, and it's still recent and relevant to the previous one. Suck it, apathy.

I'm a geek, and I'm quite proud of it. I know this because I fawn over the technical aspects of upcoming video games while I try to compose a list of influential graphic novelists to pretend is definitive. Said list is far from complete, and right now mostly consists of Frank Miller, Grant Morrison, Alan Moore, Neil Gaiman, and Jeff Smith. These folks are proper reflections of my reading tastes, and I suppose my tastes in most other media. I could write several paragraphs about each author's unique style and how it relates to the human condition (therefore to myself), but at present I don't really see the need. Any following I'm likely to develop will probably either know who these people are, have the sense to look them up, or stopped caring once they realized that "graphic novelist" doesn't mean "people that write sex and violence and cannibalism," (even if these are all evident in Frank Miller's work. I think the more important trend to get from this list is the overarching genres each tends to fall into.

These five authors are all heroes of mine, and each represents something different about the way I see life. Jeff Smith has the ability to present complicated concepts in a way that anyone can understand and sympathize with, without getting tedious and preachy. Neil Gaiman presents the unusual in natural ways, allowing the audience to cope with the adversity in a more civilized manner. Alan Moore encourages the readers to pierce the conventions of normalcy that skew true vision, even/especially when said conventions are so huge that we miss them in everyday life. Grant Morrison asks questions that no one ever wishes to ask, and provides insight into the queries that all have but few ever ask in sanity. Frank Miller shows the gritty, animalistic side of all humans, especially those who are so "civilized" that their humanity rides solely on the perceptions of all other humans around them.

I generally didn't have comic books as a child, I discovered each of these authors within the last half decade or so, some as recently as this past month. This isn't nostalgia talking, it's practical research and pragmatic logic. If it were nostalgia, you wouldn't know what the hell I was typing about when I reference Zen: The Intergalactic Ninja. Comics aren't for kids, but when they get them, kids pretend they are.

I should start writing a graphic novel soon. Fundamentally, this is very different from a comic. Comics, as inherent in the title, are supposed to have punchlines. I want to write something deeper than a few throw away jokes on some throw away characters. I don't want it to be "Two guys walk into a bar... PUNCHLINE!" (This one works better in person, accompanied by a jab to the nose.) I want it to be "To guys walk into a bar in Israel... five minutes later, it ceases to exist." No nonsense, only the gravity of a situation and just enough quips to make it digestible to the reader.

There is just enough nonsense in the five heroes above's work to make the intense nature of the stories told bearable to the average person. Monsters craving quiche give way to discourse over materialism and fear mongering. The happy appearance of the campy villain from the 60's provides cover for the unraveling of all of space-time through God's boredom. The humor provides a lift so the readers can stay on point for the trauma yet to ensue.

I've got to try it. There's no drawback, there is only progress. And quiche.