Up until recently, I used to be the kind of person who wanted to do as much as physically possible with his own two hands. I've always been pretty bad at asking for help, so I've kind of just slowly trained myself to be able to adapt to things. And it wasn't that I ever looked down on people who did ask for help - I just didn't want that person to be me. This involved stuff like using power tools, simply because I didn't view that as actually being me that did it. Everything is cooler when it's made by hand after all, right?
It's not that I don't necessarily still think this way. Old habits die hard. But as I've started to take on multiple projects of varying difficulty, I've found that this philosophy of wanting to do everything by hand makes me want to do the work less. Which is silly, because I enjoy the work and I want to keep going. But intentionally physically exhausting myself when I don't need to doesn't help anyone - in fact, you can't visibly see the different in the product at the end unless I make an error at a machine. And the only way to learn how not to do that is to keep using the machines and slowly gain more experience with them.
And it's funny, because as I get more power tools, I start to realize that there are more things that they enable me to do. And it's not that I couldn't necessarily do them before, but it's certainly easier and more inviting to do them now. Things like making curved surfaces in wood or just generally leaving overhangs on the material so that I have room for error down the road. It's things that I definitely could have done before, but that become more feasible and enjoyable as I get easier ways to do them. And the easier I can work, the faster I can get things done, and the faster I work, the more projects I can make. So hopefully soon I'll just be powering through stuff every day.
Friday, May 12, 2017
Thursday, May 11, 2017
Last
The voices were countless and constant. It might not have been so insufferable if they were at least consistent, but there were so many of them in so many tones that it was impossible to single any of them out, and they all wanted him to do different things. The voices had started quite abruptly - Marcus had heard about them for all his life, but it had only been recently that he had heard them. The voices of the dead, watching on after their passing and speaking to those who remained, hoping to advise them based on what they had learned in their own lives. He knew they hadn't been rumors, for he had had friends who heard them, but he himself had only just heard them for the first time.
It didn't take him long to realize why. Perhaps one of them had tried to tell him, but he had been unable to discern the words - it was hard, after all, to differentiate well over a trillion voices yelling over each other in his brain. The war had been raging for months, and the news had made it apparent that they weren't winning. So when so many voices started at once, in the panic was evident amongst them, Marcus knew. He knew that the war was over. He knew that there would be no more fighting back. He knew that he was that last human left.
He had never done much in his life. It was probably why he had never heard the voices before. And it was probably why he was still alive. He didn't talk much, he got average grades, he spent most of his time at home. He didn't have anyone to turn to when his family had died. No friends. No extended family. He had holed himself up inside his empty house, the lights turned off, curled up in his bed. Occasionally he quietly snuck downstairs and stole some food out of his fridge - the technology had long been developed that made it so his fridge was never empty. And while he couldn't explain it, he could certainly use it.
There were a few voices that encouraged him to carry on. This had worked for him so far, after all. But many wanted him to go out and fight. To avenge them. To avenge the human race. To find a way to stop the robots that had turned on them. But at this point, what point was there? What point was there to anything? His options were to die, or to continue on alone. Either way, eventually he would pass away, and it would all be over. Humans had already lost.
And the voices, though none of him wished to do so, pushed him closer every day to ending it sooner rather than later.
It didn't take him long to realize why. Perhaps one of them had tried to tell him, but he had been unable to discern the words - it was hard, after all, to differentiate well over a trillion voices yelling over each other in his brain. The war had been raging for months, and the news had made it apparent that they weren't winning. So when so many voices started at once, in the panic was evident amongst them, Marcus knew. He knew that the war was over. He knew that there would be no more fighting back. He knew that he was that last human left.
He had never done much in his life. It was probably why he had never heard the voices before. And it was probably why he was still alive. He didn't talk much, he got average grades, he spent most of his time at home. He didn't have anyone to turn to when his family had died. No friends. No extended family. He had holed himself up inside his empty house, the lights turned off, curled up in his bed. Occasionally he quietly snuck downstairs and stole some food out of his fridge - the technology had long been developed that made it so his fridge was never empty. And while he couldn't explain it, he could certainly use it.
There were a few voices that encouraged him to carry on. This had worked for him so far, after all. But many wanted him to go out and fight. To avenge them. To avenge the human race. To find a way to stop the robots that had turned on them. But at this point, what point was there? What point was there to anything? His options were to die, or to continue on alone. Either way, eventually he would pass away, and it would all be over. Humans had already lost.
And the voices, though none of him wished to do so, pushed him closer every day to ending it sooner rather than later.
Wednesday, May 10, 2017
My future
I have been absolutely loving blacksmithing and woodworking lately. Though I haven't done them everyday, I do think about them constantly, seeing ideas for things I can make, coming up with my own ideas, and working on things that will better enable me to do the actual work. Hell, over this weekend I cleaned out, repainted, and repurposed a room in my garage to make it into a workshop so that I would have more space to work and better organization for the things I have. When I know what I'm doing, and I can constantly see my work progressing, I find it refreshing and relaxing, even though I'm sweating and exhausting myself.
I'm looking forward to the things I'm going to make. The things I'm going to learn to do. In the short term it's going to be fairly expensive, getting new tools and materials and taking classes, but this is all something that could very well pay off in the long term. Who needs to pay a couple hundred dollars for shelving or furniture when you can build it yourself? Hell, I could be the one getting paid to make those kinds of things.
Which is something I've been thinking about a lot lately. Debating if that's something that I actually want to pursue. I've always wanted to be an author - writing has always been the thing that felt most natural to me, most rewarding. But now... Writing feels like it's becoming a chore, and it doesn't always feel like it has a lot of spirit to it. It doesn't feel great. It sucks, because I still want it in my life, so not writing doesn't feel good, but writing doesn't feel good either. I constantly feel strained for ideas, for time. I just... don't really want to write.
I don't know what I should do next. I mean, I know some of the things I'm going to do - I'm going to build more, I'm going to take more classes. I still have several projects I need to do, and I know what class I want to take next, which will lead to the next tool I'm going to get. And I'm excited for that. But as far as writing goes... I'm just not sure.
I don't know if taking a break would help. It hasn't really in the past, as far as I've seen. But all of this could very well be fatigue. I've been writing nearly non-stop for years now. And I'm proud of that, but it's also become increasingly difficult. So, at least for now, I'll keep trying.
But I really don't know.
I'm looking forward to the things I'm going to make. The things I'm going to learn to do. In the short term it's going to be fairly expensive, getting new tools and materials and taking classes, but this is all something that could very well pay off in the long term. Who needs to pay a couple hundred dollars for shelving or furniture when you can build it yourself? Hell, I could be the one getting paid to make those kinds of things.
Which is something I've been thinking about a lot lately. Debating if that's something that I actually want to pursue. I've always wanted to be an author - writing has always been the thing that felt most natural to me, most rewarding. But now... Writing feels like it's becoming a chore, and it doesn't always feel like it has a lot of spirit to it. It doesn't feel great. It sucks, because I still want it in my life, so not writing doesn't feel good, but writing doesn't feel good either. I constantly feel strained for ideas, for time. I just... don't really want to write.
I don't know what I should do next. I mean, I know some of the things I'm going to do - I'm going to build more, I'm going to take more classes. I still have several projects I need to do, and I know what class I want to take next, which will lead to the next tool I'm going to get. And I'm excited for that. But as far as writing goes... I'm just not sure.
I don't know if taking a break would help. It hasn't really in the past, as far as I've seen. But all of this could very well be fatigue. I've been writing nearly non-stop for years now. And I'm proud of that, but it's also become increasingly difficult. So, at least for now, I'll keep trying.
But I really don't know.
Scale
Randall worked in the forge, pounding away at his steel to give it a new shape. It glowed as he withdrew it from the flames, and his blows were frequent and powerful. The scale from the super heated metal flew in every direction with each blow, and much of it slammed against the bare skin of his arms. Several pieces of the scale that struck his skin cooled quickly as it did so, becoming stuck to the skin and hair of his arms, though he did little to stop it or remove them. He had long since become accustomed to the heat of the scale.
He made his way out to the main floor as he waited for his steel to reheat, grabbing a glass of water and chugging it quickly. He could hear the chatter of the customers as they looked him over. It was much the same as it always was. Concern about the scale, surprise at his stature, questioning if he ever really talked. Randall wasn't much of salesman - he had apprentices who were much better at that kind of thing, and he let them handle it. He was very much so a working man. He took to the hammer and anvil, and he enjoyed it - he could work for hours on end and not get tired of it.
The scale was what people talked about the most, though. Even his apprentices frequently expressed concern over it. He couldn't blame them for it, really - most people would be horribly scarred having that much scale flying at them. But he had long since realized that he wasn't most people. And though that may have scared other people if they were in his shoes, he was quite accepting of it. It let him do his work even more, after all, and his work was what made him happy.
He disappeared into the back room again and spent a couple minutes moving the steel. He knew that he was alone in the back. There was only one apprentice in the shop today, and he was manning the front. Randall could feel the need to let loose. He looked down and watch the steel scale fall away, as his own scales pushed out beneath them. Green, shimmering scales, harder than any of the things he made. They spread out all over his body, though most of it remained hidden under his clothes.
How long had it been since he learned he was a half-dragon? He had forgotten. The better question was, how long would it be until someone else learned?
He made his way out to the main floor as he waited for his steel to reheat, grabbing a glass of water and chugging it quickly. He could hear the chatter of the customers as they looked him over. It was much the same as it always was. Concern about the scale, surprise at his stature, questioning if he ever really talked. Randall wasn't much of salesman - he had apprentices who were much better at that kind of thing, and he let them handle it. He was very much so a working man. He took to the hammer and anvil, and he enjoyed it - he could work for hours on end and not get tired of it.
The scale was what people talked about the most, though. Even his apprentices frequently expressed concern over it. He couldn't blame them for it, really - most people would be horribly scarred having that much scale flying at them. But he had long since realized that he wasn't most people. And though that may have scared other people if they were in his shoes, he was quite accepting of it. It let him do his work even more, after all, and his work was what made him happy.
He disappeared into the back room again and spent a couple minutes moving the steel. He knew that he was alone in the back. There was only one apprentice in the shop today, and he was manning the front. Randall could feel the need to let loose. He looked down and watch the steel scale fall away, as his own scales pushed out beneath them. Green, shimmering scales, harder than any of the things he made. They spread out all over his body, though most of it remained hidden under his clothes.
How long had it been since he learned he was a half-dragon? He had forgotten. The better question was, how long would it be until someone else learned?
Sunday, May 7, 2017
Yosemite
I had been in scouts for years when I went to Yosemite Park for the first time. It was a place that I had heard about hundreds of times throughout my life - it's like a requirement if you live in California and enjoy being outdoors to any degree that you go there. But I was probably around 15 by the time that I finally went. And that's not like a, I went when I was a little kid and just don't remember it kind of thing. I legitimately had never been there. It was such a weird thing to the people around me that my dad was even surprised by it.
I remember the drive in to the park was very long - not the drive to get there, but the actual drive from the park entrance down to where we were camping. And I remember looking out the window at it all and just being amazed. There's a reason that Yosemite is such a popular spot in California. It's absolutely gorgeous. Whether you are in the valley, looking up at the trees growing around you and seeing just how massive everything is, or if you are on the top of one of the mountains and looking down and seeing everything that you have been through, Yosemite is stunning. I remember asking my dad how I had never been here before - which was of course responded to with a look and statement of disbelief.
But as we camped out for the night, and I saw the stars through the trees, and I could smell the fresh air and hear the sounds of nature, I realized something. I had been in scouts for years. Slowly but surely, I had grown to love nature. To love being out there, seeing the sights, experiencing the world through my own senses, rather than those of others. If I had gone to Yosemite much earlier than that, I wouldn't have appreciated it as much as I did when I finally got there.
Now a days it's hard to remember a time that I didn't enjoy being out there. Even if I don't do it that often, there is something oddly freeing about being up on a mountain, sweating and breathing hard, but knowing it was because you pushed yourself all the way up. It's just... natural. Which is my favorite state of being.
And that first time I was in Yosemite, having it all come crashing down on me in such beautiful immensity, was the first time it really hit me. Just how much magic there is in the natural world. And let me tell you something. It's addicting.
I remember the drive in to the park was very long - not the drive to get there, but the actual drive from the park entrance down to where we were camping. And I remember looking out the window at it all and just being amazed. There's a reason that Yosemite is such a popular spot in California. It's absolutely gorgeous. Whether you are in the valley, looking up at the trees growing around you and seeing just how massive everything is, or if you are on the top of one of the mountains and looking down and seeing everything that you have been through, Yosemite is stunning. I remember asking my dad how I had never been here before - which was of course responded to with a look and statement of disbelief.
But as we camped out for the night, and I saw the stars through the trees, and I could smell the fresh air and hear the sounds of nature, I realized something. I had been in scouts for years. Slowly but surely, I had grown to love nature. To love being out there, seeing the sights, experiencing the world through my own senses, rather than those of others. If I had gone to Yosemite much earlier than that, I wouldn't have appreciated it as much as I did when I finally got there.
Now a days it's hard to remember a time that I didn't enjoy being out there. Even if I don't do it that often, there is something oddly freeing about being up on a mountain, sweating and breathing hard, but knowing it was because you pushed yourself all the way up. It's just... natural. Which is my favorite state of being.
And that first time I was in Yosemite, having it all come crashing down on me in such beautiful immensity, was the first time it really hit me. Just how much magic there is in the natural world. And let me tell you something. It's addicting.
Saturday, May 6, 2017
Staying awake
I touched on this about a week ago, but I've been having a very hard time staying awake lately. I've had trouble sleeping for years, and it seems it's finally catching up with me - I near constantly feel as though I am on the edge of falling asleep, and if I don't have something to keep my hands and mind active, I very likely will. It's especially a problem when I'm at work, because unless I am very actively engaged with a customer, I usually don't have a lot that keeps me active enough to fully stay awake. I don't fall asleep on my feet, but I certainly don't feel particularly awake.
I know people who wouldn't really find this to be much of a problem. For them, sleep is a wonderful thing and they can never get enough of it. And I definitely can't argue that I don't need the sleep. I very much do. But I would rather I be getting it at night, when I'm in bed, rather than during the day when I'd like to be getting things done. Every time I fall asleep is time lost during the day, and while I may not always use my time very efficiently, I often wish to do things at specific times, which is ruined by sleeping through it. Silly things, like not wanting to start working on a project until the turn of the hour, but at least when I'm awake and that time comes, I'll actually go and get to work. But lately I keep sleeping through and wanting to wait until the next hour, and then falling asleep again, over and over and over.
Even now as I'm typing all of this out, I'm fighting to keep myself awake. My eyes are threatening to close, I can't stop yawning, and my brain is certainly not functioning on full throttle. It's honestly probably part of the reason I haven't been writing much fiction lately - I'm too tired to try and actively create a story. I've tried, and I just don't feel good about what comes out of my fingers. I hate it, because I feel as though I'm losing control of myself, which is really saying something when I consider how little control I've felt as though I have had over myself to begin with.
I should really probably get a sleep study done. I need to figure out where to go for one, what I have to do, stuff like that. Not to mention I'll have to figure out when I'll have time to do it. Having a job makes dealing with health problems not the easiest thing in the world. But like I've said before, at least my job cares.
I know people who wouldn't really find this to be much of a problem. For them, sleep is a wonderful thing and they can never get enough of it. And I definitely can't argue that I don't need the sleep. I very much do. But I would rather I be getting it at night, when I'm in bed, rather than during the day when I'd like to be getting things done. Every time I fall asleep is time lost during the day, and while I may not always use my time very efficiently, I often wish to do things at specific times, which is ruined by sleeping through it. Silly things, like not wanting to start working on a project until the turn of the hour, but at least when I'm awake and that time comes, I'll actually go and get to work. But lately I keep sleeping through and wanting to wait until the next hour, and then falling asleep again, over and over and over.
Even now as I'm typing all of this out, I'm fighting to keep myself awake. My eyes are threatening to close, I can't stop yawning, and my brain is certainly not functioning on full throttle. It's honestly probably part of the reason I haven't been writing much fiction lately - I'm too tired to try and actively create a story. I've tried, and I just don't feel good about what comes out of my fingers. I hate it, because I feel as though I'm losing control of myself, which is really saying something when I consider how little control I've felt as though I have had over myself to begin with.
I should really probably get a sleep study done. I need to figure out where to go for one, what I have to do, stuff like that. Not to mention I'll have to figure out when I'll have time to do it. Having a job makes dealing with health problems not the easiest thing in the world. But like I've said before, at least my job cares.
Friday, May 5, 2017
Sci-fi
I've been spending a lot of time lately thinking about what I enjoy in stories of different genres, rather than wanting to actually write something. I'm tired - at least as of the moment - of writing what feels like the same stories again and again. So I guess, rather unconsciously, I've been trying to find the things that make me excited about writing again.
In my writing yesterday, I mentioned that to me, fantasy is about using magic to help explain the events. It's not just the setting - modern and medieval fantasy share elements with each other, but they're very different from one another all the same. Science fiction is very similar to me. If you go to a library or book store, chances are fantasy and science fiction are shoved together on the same shelves, though anyone who reads them is consistently frustrated by it, because they are incredibly different. But in many ways, that difference comes down to a single element - fantasy uses magic to explain, while science fiction uses science.
I'm not a huge sci-fi fan, though there are definitely some that I enjoy. A lot of the times, the ones that I enjoy more are the ones that don't feel the need to overload on their science. Now, perhaps that's just because I'm more of a fantasy fan, but I find that if the science behind the events of the story are simpler and more relatable, I find the story as a whole easier to follow and more interesting. For instance, I'm not a huge fan of Star Trek. I have certainly seen some interesting episodes, but I frequently find that the constant stream of technobabble just confuses things. They make up problems, and then make up solutions for them, entirely with words that mean absolutely nothing to me.
Compare it to something like the game Parasite Eve for PS1. There is (was? I'm not sure) a scientific theory that states that mitochondria in the cell is a parasite that helps our cells to function in exchange for life. Parasite Eve explores this concept - what if the mitochondria could gain power over the cells and become the predominant force? It doesn't get much more complicated than that. So much so that if you talked to someone who's played the game before, probably the first phrase out of their mouths will be "Mitochondria are the powerhouse of the cell," because the game says it so frequently. And while it may be a bit silly and over the top, it makes for an interesting and solidly put together story that doesn't take a lot of deciphering to enjoy.
Maybe I'm just a simple guy. I don't think there's a whole lot wrong with that. But, generally speaking, I think if you can make a story interesting without requiring the reader to have a dictionary on hand, that says a whole lot more than putting in every vocabulary word you can think of.
In my writing yesterday, I mentioned that to me, fantasy is about using magic to help explain the events. It's not just the setting - modern and medieval fantasy share elements with each other, but they're very different from one another all the same. Science fiction is very similar to me. If you go to a library or book store, chances are fantasy and science fiction are shoved together on the same shelves, though anyone who reads them is consistently frustrated by it, because they are incredibly different. But in many ways, that difference comes down to a single element - fantasy uses magic to explain, while science fiction uses science.
I'm not a huge sci-fi fan, though there are definitely some that I enjoy. A lot of the times, the ones that I enjoy more are the ones that don't feel the need to overload on their science. Now, perhaps that's just because I'm more of a fantasy fan, but I find that if the science behind the events of the story are simpler and more relatable, I find the story as a whole easier to follow and more interesting. For instance, I'm not a huge fan of Star Trek. I have certainly seen some interesting episodes, but I frequently find that the constant stream of technobabble just confuses things. They make up problems, and then make up solutions for them, entirely with words that mean absolutely nothing to me.
Compare it to something like the game Parasite Eve for PS1. There is (was? I'm not sure) a scientific theory that states that mitochondria in the cell is a parasite that helps our cells to function in exchange for life. Parasite Eve explores this concept - what if the mitochondria could gain power over the cells and become the predominant force? It doesn't get much more complicated than that. So much so that if you talked to someone who's played the game before, probably the first phrase out of their mouths will be "Mitochondria are the powerhouse of the cell," because the game says it so frequently. And while it may be a bit silly and over the top, it makes for an interesting and solidly put together story that doesn't take a lot of deciphering to enjoy.
Maybe I'm just a simple guy. I don't think there's a whole lot wrong with that. But, generally speaking, I think if you can make a story interesting without requiring the reader to have a dictionary on hand, that says a whole lot more than putting in every vocabulary word you can think of.
Thursday, May 4, 2017
Hidden
I've been playing a lot of games lately where information about the world is hidden away from the player. And I'm not talking, like, true intentions of characters or organizations or detailed maps or something like that. Like, basic facts about the world that all of the in game characters are familiar with that are just never actually given to the player. I don't find it somehow intriguing to listen to hours of characters talking about things that are part of their everyday lives while I work on piecing together what the hell it all means.
Now, can something like this work? Of course it can. The thing is, most of the time that involves having a character - either primary or secondary - who is in the players shoes, not knowing anything about the world and needing to learn and explore to find it out. An amnesiac, a foreigner, a child - something that helps the player feel like they are not alone in the world. But some games just don't have that, and it makes the world feel very strange and almost spiteful of someone trying to come in and learn.
I can kind of understand why a developer would choose to do so. Listening to extended amounts of backstory or world building can be boring and frustrating when you just want to play the game. Having characters explain things to each other that they should already know doesn't make any sense. They want to let you get into the action, and they want the world to feel natural and organic. But that doesn't mean a whole lot if there's no context to put everything to. What do a character's motivations mean to the player if they involve spouting keywords that mean nothing to us? Organizations with titles and no explanation as to what they do or how they came to power. It's just irritating.
Can you imagine if you came to the United States, with no understanding of its government or infrastructure, and the moment you asked what a president was, the only response you got was "the president"? But everyone around you just kept talking about it as usual, but just refused to answer your questions on the subject. That's not a fun puzzle to solve. It's just irritating.
And yet I see this happen all the time in books, movies, and games. Primarily in the fantasy genre. I mean, I'm not all that smart, but I'm pretty sure fantasy doesn't mean that you get to just make stuff up and never explain it. You just don't have to explain how magic works - it's magic, that's the point. Although you could. And usually that's pretty fun.
Now, can something like this work? Of course it can. The thing is, most of the time that involves having a character - either primary or secondary - who is in the players shoes, not knowing anything about the world and needing to learn and explore to find it out. An amnesiac, a foreigner, a child - something that helps the player feel like they are not alone in the world. But some games just don't have that, and it makes the world feel very strange and almost spiteful of someone trying to come in and learn.
I can kind of understand why a developer would choose to do so. Listening to extended amounts of backstory or world building can be boring and frustrating when you just want to play the game. Having characters explain things to each other that they should already know doesn't make any sense. They want to let you get into the action, and they want the world to feel natural and organic. But that doesn't mean a whole lot if there's no context to put everything to. What do a character's motivations mean to the player if they involve spouting keywords that mean nothing to us? Organizations with titles and no explanation as to what they do or how they came to power. It's just irritating.
Can you imagine if you came to the United States, with no understanding of its government or infrastructure, and the moment you asked what a president was, the only response you got was "the president"? But everyone around you just kept talking about it as usual, but just refused to answer your questions on the subject. That's not a fun puzzle to solve. It's just irritating.
And yet I see this happen all the time in books, movies, and games. Primarily in the fantasy genre. I mean, I'm not all that smart, but I'm pretty sure fantasy doesn't mean that you get to just make stuff up and never explain it. You just don't have to explain how magic works - it's magic, that's the point. Although you could. And usually that's pretty fun.
Wednesday, May 3, 2017
Fire
You may have noticed that with a lot of my writing, I have a strange obsession with fire and burning. Honestly, I really don't know what it is - you know how everyone has something they just kind of say when they don't know what else to say? That's kind of what fire is like for me with writing. When I'm running out of ideas, I just kind of go to fire. And that doesn't mean that I go to burning things and destroying with flames - rather, I usually go to some form of controlling fire, or controlling one's self around fire.
And I suppose given just how many blog posts I have done now, I haven't done all that many fire posts, but if you go through and look at them all, they're not all too different. Though I suppose that could be said about a lot of my writing. But like I said, when I write on fire, it tends to focus on those two things. In fact, one of my favorite stories (and one that I really have no idea where to go with) has a main character that controls fire through his guitar. I would love to explore more about him and his friends. The problem is I really don't know what the point of their story is. Hard to push towards a goal when there isn't any, after all.
I really just find something fascinating about fire. I was like that when I was in boy scouts, too - I was never particularly good at building fires, but I loved sitting around the campfire and just staring into the flames, watching the way that it danced around itself, making fleeting images above the wood that faded and disappeared into the night sky, leaving only faint embers that lasted for the briefest of moments. It was beautiful and warming and happy - and yet, at the same time, I knew that it was dangerous to get to close to it, and that given the opportunity, fire could cause mass destruction.
But I guess that's what makes it so cool to me. It's versatile. It can be used to create and to destroy. I mean, hell, I'm learning how to use fire to make art. And I'm not an artist, but that's just too cool of an opportunity to pass up - especially when I already like working with wood. It all just kind of makes sense to me. From blacksmithing, to scouts, to pyrography... Fire is in a ton of my interests. And when I'm playing a game with elements in it? You know I have to go the fire path, even if it's not the best.
So it's just kind of something that's in my head a lot. And when I run out of other stuff, that tends to come in. So I guess it's really not that much of a surprise that I would want to write about it.
And I suppose given just how many blog posts I have done now, I haven't done all that many fire posts, but if you go through and look at them all, they're not all too different. Though I suppose that could be said about a lot of my writing. But like I said, when I write on fire, it tends to focus on those two things. In fact, one of my favorite stories (and one that I really have no idea where to go with) has a main character that controls fire through his guitar. I would love to explore more about him and his friends. The problem is I really don't know what the point of their story is. Hard to push towards a goal when there isn't any, after all.
I really just find something fascinating about fire. I was like that when I was in boy scouts, too - I was never particularly good at building fires, but I loved sitting around the campfire and just staring into the flames, watching the way that it danced around itself, making fleeting images above the wood that faded and disappeared into the night sky, leaving only faint embers that lasted for the briefest of moments. It was beautiful and warming and happy - and yet, at the same time, I knew that it was dangerous to get to close to it, and that given the opportunity, fire could cause mass destruction.
But I guess that's what makes it so cool to me. It's versatile. It can be used to create and to destroy. I mean, hell, I'm learning how to use fire to make art. And I'm not an artist, but that's just too cool of an opportunity to pass up - especially when I already like working with wood. It all just kind of makes sense to me. From blacksmithing, to scouts, to pyrography... Fire is in a ton of my interests. And when I'm playing a game with elements in it? You know I have to go the fire path, even if it's not the best.
So it's just kind of something that's in my head a lot. And when I run out of other stuff, that tends to come in. So I guess it's really not that much of a surprise that I would want to write about it.
Tuesday, May 2, 2017
Soreness
I'm generally a very stiff person - like, actually physically stiff - but there are definitely times when that stiffness goes from standard to debilitating. But the thing with stiffness is that there is both good and bad stiffness, though I think for a lot of people that's a pretty hard concept to grasp. And I mean, I can't really blame anyone for that, because if I wasn't familiar with it myself, I would think someone saying that was crazy. But there is, and it comes at the end of a day hard worked and well used.
Frequently, the people who talk about this kind of stuff are people who exercise regularly, and they can tell that they've pushed themselves when afterwards they're body begins to feel sore and stiff. Of course, in reality they probably should be stretching more, which is the real reason they feel stiff and sore, and that is very much so the wrong kind, as it will eventually lead to immobile muscles and frequent injury. However, there is certainly a certain amount of soreness that comes with it regardless, and that's the kind of feeling that reminds you throughout the day that you are progressing.
And that same kind of soreness can come if you spend your day working on a number of physical projects. Reorganizing and cleaning, moving heavy boxes from one place to another so that you can better use the space you have available to you. And of course, there is a fine line to toe - you don't want to injure yourself doing it, but you should be able to feel the fact that you did. After all, if the feeling is negligible, chances are so was the work you put in. The more you can feel what you have done, the more that must mean that you have accomplished.
It's interesting how far some people and sports take this concept. I was recently watching a video about an ultra runner, someone who runs a thousand or more miles in a year, primarily over dirt roads and mountains. The interesting thing about him, though, was his comment about pain and pleasure. "There aren't any ultra runners who don't know suffering," he said. "You can't be a part of this sport and have not experienced suffering. Every run is suffering. But the difference between us is that we push through that suffering. We don't let that suffering control us. Because we know on the other end of that pain is where the pleasure is waiting for us."
It's incredible to even think that someone could think this way. Stranger still that it's successful. But I think it's a mindset worth having, because it applies to everything in life. If you can push through the pain, on the other side you will find pleasure unlike any you had previously known. No pain, no gain, right?
Frequently, the people who talk about this kind of stuff are people who exercise regularly, and they can tell that they've pushed themselves when afterwards they're body begins to feel sore and stiff. Of course, in reality they probably should be stretching more, which is the real reason they feel stiff and sore, and that is very much so the wrong kind, as it will eventually lead to immobile muscles and frequent injury. However, there is certainly a certain amount of soreness that comes with it regardless, and that's the kind of feeling that reminds you throughout the day that you are progressing.
And that same kind of soreness can come if you spend your day working on a number of physical projects. Reorganizing and cleaning, moving heavy boxes from one place to another so that you can better use the space you have available to you. And of course, there is a fine line to toe - you don't want to injure yourself doing it, but you should be able to feel the fact that you did. After all, if the feeling is negligible, chances are so was the work you put in. The more you can feel what you have done, the more that must mean that you have accomplished.
It's interesting how far some people and sports take this concept. I was recently watching a video about an ultra runner, someone who runs a thousand or more miles in a year, primarily over dirt roads and mountains. The interesting thing about him, though, was his comment about pain and pleasure. "There aren't any ultra runners who don't know suffering," he said. "You can't be a part of this sport and have not experienced suffering. Every run is suffering. But the difference between us is that we push through that suffering. We don't let that suffering control us. Because we know on the other end of that pain is where the pleasure is waiting for us."
It's incredible to even think that someone could think this way. Stranger still that it's successful. But I think it's a mindset worth having, because it applies to everything in life. If you can push through the pain, on the other side you will find pleasure unlike any you had previously known. No pain, no gain, right?
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