Blight

Every time I do turn to the things I call important and meaningful, I delude myself. Those books with theatrical endings, those movies with morals that manipulate me to tears, those songs with perfect righteous messages of truth, they are all hollow. Works of art, of course they are nothing. They cast a story, a conflict, a thought, and ideal as if it were so simple. Of course it seems meaningful when it is all one side. And of course, all my infatuation with perspectives makes the world seem full with meaning. It is just picking out paths that follow consistency down an infinite tunnel that disappears into the abyss. Those threads, I create. They are not there, I imagine them. I think they come together to make a wonderful picture. Of course they do by placing them and picking them out so carefully prejudiced. If, instead, you look at all of it, everything together, all you would know would be a mess of nothing on top of nothing on top of nothing. Everything blends, not into an orchestra, but into a pitiful destruction of all that might have been beautiful about it. And it takes all the good mixed into it along, crushing and dragging it down with the rest.

The sooner I give up on my laughable obsession with meaning and ideals the happier I'll be. No, not happier. I'm happier living such lies. But what contradiction. I seek truth, I tell myself, but want to turn away.

I should stop all of it. All of the useless searching and desire. I have enough, more than enough as it is. I am fortunate to have such a place in this world. And I should attend to it instead of wasting it. Do what other people do, indulge myself awhile in tangible pleasures. Feed the basic human needs. I have neglected them, told myself I didn't need them, tried to live apart. But I'll just ruin myself this way. I'm just a primal human and I should act it. Give myself pleasure by pandering, go ahead and seek attention, stop questioning, always be right, believe I am the center of everything, take whatever I want, mindlessness isn't bad, don't worry about honor, progress, or transcendence.

There is no reason to try my best. Just get by. There is no reason to act like love is anything more than a simple satisfaction of a selfish need. It is a waste of time and energy to seek higher pleasures. It's foolish and presumptuous to suppose that I can be better. I'm just more delusional. That doesn't make me any worse either. I'm just the same as everyone. Just the same. So why antagonize myself, why pretend that there is more and I'm some wonderful martyr seeking out truth. Isn't that exactly what your fanciful journey is about - avoiding the lies. Well you know what is definitely earthly and true. Why am I still looking instead of tending to it?

I should be doing all the things I know I should do. Not because they are more worthwhile, but because that is something that is tangible and planned out. Get those grades and points not because they matter, but because they will get me a comfortable life. It won't be one wrapped in epiphany (what a joke) and it won't be the most luxurious (I never wanted that) but it will be pleasant and that's the best this world has to offer.

What are ideals but things to make us feel better. I've seen how time after time morals and truths are presented as absolute, even when they are directly contradictory to other equally perfect ideals and truths. Yet I ignore that and believe them anyway? I might as well join up with religious fanatics, it would give me the same kind of fulfillment. No, these are the things that I decided not to enjoy. Arbitrarily, but it is so. So I will stick as close to the truth as possible. Not the idyllic kind, but the reliable kind.

Stop thinking. Just act. It has served you well, and will always. None of this turbulence that could cast me away at any time. None of this higher-order tinkering that could just mess something up. Just do enough to get by and close your eyes from the dazzling promises of "higher things." They don't exist, and even if they did, they could just as easily rend and raze you and all that you have carefully built.





////////

How much do I believe what I just said? A lot. Sometimes I wish I didn't think it or at least could laugh and ignore it. Instead it lives on inside of me, complete and smug that it is so impenetrable. It's buried and covered and surrounded by more worthwhile perspectives. It doesn't intrude much on how I think, except when I want it to. But it certainly exists, and a lot more undeniably than many of the other worldviews I prefer.
And, consistent with what I think is right, I preserve it despite how much I sometimes think it poison.

I can't say that I can give perfect letter to why is is wrong or at least why I don't believe it. But I don't, and I know I don't, and I hope I never do. What I know instead are beautiful wonderful things in this life. Some of them are ideals. Some of them are perspectives. Some of them are crystallized emotions and spiritual "epiphanies." And all of them make me who I am. They are found, collected, treasured, and made mine. They are the things that guide my life instead of that thing.
Still.
I live with the knowledge that haunts me.

Enterprise

I want poetry, I want salvation.


All day today, from the moment I woke up, and probably to the moment I sleep, I will have been doing. I woke up realizing I had three major assignments and a whole host of smaller things to take care of within the next three days' time. From then on, it was focus, productivity, or at least multitasking. Even when I stopped paying attention, I was reading more profitable material than I usual divert myself with. In short, I wish everyday were like this day instead of the nothing I usually engage in.... except....


It is a hollow wish. "I wish I were more productive. I wish I thought profoundly more often." Of course I wish these things, but there is a missing component. A why or a strength of mind or an emotion that is not behind this "desire" - in truth I cannot call it a desire because it is missing this critical component-I-cannot-name.

I do not feel proud, exhilarated, or successful despite how admirably I worked, dedicated, and accomplished my tasks. The same way I don't feel bad when I, rationally evaluating, have atrociously wasted my time. (I ought to think it is atrocious, but I definitely don't) One use is better than the other, but merely by default.

But now... now I am pensive. Absorbing all around me twofold. This is what I seek and desire. Not productivity or lack thereof, that is meaningless in comparison to the matter of how I engage in either.

However, I choose to go to be social and sacrifice this perfect profoundness I now possess. Because it is good for me, and this frame of mind will just have to wait for an unscheduled time.



//////



Today I felt the most like who I think I am, or who I used to be, or who I normally am, whatever,
I don't know anymore.
That.... simple state of action, all logical but unthinking. I was doing my work because I had to do my work. It made sense, it was right, there was nothing to think about, just do it because it is required. I call it practicality, when I refer to this... just... obviously right actions that I do without qualm or reflection. And then when I got distracted during the day a bit, it was just good and nothing fantastic nor terrible. And when I started to feel like doing something meaningful, I did, but it was more fanciful then serious or thoughtful. And the conversation I had that night about interesting, serious topics with some acquaintances was just that.
Interesting.

That was it.

I came back to spend most all the evening catching up and preparing for tomorrow after wasting some time being lazy. I worked, listening to Imogen Heap and it reminded me strongly of how I like it now in the same way as I liked it back when I first heard it. And then the lyrics started to play in my mind,

It's not meant to be like this, not what I planned at all, I don't want to feel like this, Yeah,
No it's not meant to be like this, not what I planned at all,
I don't want to feel like this, so that makes it all your fault. 

Inside out, upside-down twisting beside myself,
Stop that now; you're as close as it gets without touching me,
Oh no, don't make it harder than it already is,
Mmm, I feel a weakness coming on. 

That's the way it was with me. Life was pleasant and I knew my place in it. But it was also vacant and I didn't need anything more than just acting for practical reasons and trusting that that would be what was best. That was what life was about, right? Doing what was obviously right and getting ahead while you could so you could coast through any problems that might arise.

Getting the chance to store up chances and good fortune so that you can call upon it any time you wanted or needed. That was what life was about. And life was good.

And tonight I don't think I can call upon much to contradict that. Except I still have a small part of me that wants more. And now I feed that part instead of tucking it away.
I don't just smile vacantly at my reflective thoughts, pleased but placid. Now I draw them out and mark them and interpret them. I write dissertations and investigations. I feel pangs of poetry in certain thoughts that hang in the air. And I work myself up over desires that I can't fulfill perfectly because of a conflict between reason and sentiment.

So I was so virtuous today. And yet, how soulless compared to the days I buried myself in musing and inclination.

And still I know how terrible it would have been if I had spoken those words of sparking purport. How much I would have strayed from being practical and taking care of things I need and have to take care of. How much danger and harm I would have started towards doing myself.

But still, it can only to be said ill that I am here, now, typing these parched words instead of trying to sift the deluge of thought and catalyst and vitality and sincerity that proliferates when I summon the thoughts forth.



////////

And yet. Yet now that I have returned to sound judgement and practicality and my old self. While that other part of me exists, the one that whispers this isn't all there is to life. There is another part of me that whispers, "yes it is." For all of your passion and truth, it is but fantasy. A land of pretend for the sake of a teenage mind, sick with irrationality and seeking for something that isn't there and never will be. Pretend. Not profoundness. All of that struggle is for lies. Oh it's fine to keep going along that dead-end path, but it will only run out eventually. All of that passion and care and inspiration is falsehood born of a fevered mind. You'll come around eventually. You'll forget that silly game and leave behind your childish wonder.

(Nooo nooo noo, don't let it be true, don't fall for a vacant life, don't go back to never touching anything, never being touched by anything. Somebody, something, stop me)







TL;DR

*frustrated* It's not /fair./ I want to /talk./ I want to /think./ But all today I had things to attend to. And now I have to sleep. Because those are things that are /normal/ and /necessary/ and why can't the other things be just as important. I mean they are (and more so?) but they don't get the same free ride.... It's so unfair I can't even think about this because it's late. I'm not tired, but I have to go to sleep. *frustratedfrustrated*



And this practical necessity. It will never end.

Prepare. For what?

A Difference of Existence

How am I so different that I think 

if people knew how I thought, 

they would become hostile ---- ?

I think caring more about ideals than the present moment's impression makes me seem like an shortsighted zealot to others. I think finding purpose only in intellectual pursuits makes me seem inhuman and dangerously naive to others. I think letting on that I am truly indifferent on social acceptance labels me as a sociopath. I think thinking of emotions as undesirable makes others think I'm unstable and immoral. I think taking everything seriously would make me aberrant and ostracized because of the basic disconnect and misunderstanding. I think if everyone knew how I analyzed and reasoned everything it would make them think I'm unemotional and robotic.

Thinking death isn't inherently bad, emotion isn't inherently good, art isn't inherently valuable, sex/drugs are neither moral nor immoral, nothing is completely evil or good, sadness is to be cherished, to hate is always wrong, trying is more important than being right, happiness is not inherently valuable, science/math is thrilling.... that I hold ideals so highly, adhere to them despite conventions, don't have regrets.... makes me estranged. That other people do not agree, chills me. That I ask "why" is one of the things most important; but when it isn't considered irrelevant, it is considered dangerous, misleading and corruptive.

I'm aware most people would just be bewildered at me and then proceed to not care, but that is almost as bad.

So I go about, knowing that I fundamentally can't communicate what and why I think/believe/act/care and knowing that if I tried, I would appear to others as strange and better discounted, or a twisted creature masquerading as human.

This would seem to come some from my family acting/believing they aren't normal socially. Except it's beyond that. Instead, I believe I can get along with others as much as I want and even better if I wanted to any more than I do. No, this is about how I don't share (even the same type of!) thoughts, reasons, beliefs, emotions, ideals. In short, I do not have in common everything that I think makes me "me," with anyone. I like to learn and mimic and imagine others' sets of fundamental worldviews, but I keep finding that there is nothing fundamental to them. Importance and cares vary, are arbitrary, or unconsidered. I could accept it if they were unknown or developing or even just... missed.



No progress, no improvement, no goals, ignorance, irrationality, external validation, aesthetic values, emotional judgments, current religious values, no consistency, no permanent ideals, no reasons for existing, no importance of understanding, no permanent values for right and wrong, and no desire to find out what makes anything, true real, or the definition of ... anything. And even when pressed, there is no feeling of discomfort at these omissions. Sometimes there is just mild curiosity, sometimes there is pure dismissal, other times it is distrust or belittlement, but worst of all, I am the one in the wrong for caring.

Trying to do better is optional and not fundamental to just... living.

So that is accurate, but leaves out how I care.

I am the only one that wants to be whole, in a world of ever-shifting fragments. Calling them "Fragments" makes it sound disturbing, but it is not at all. In fact they are delightful and enticing. They only become frightening when I realize they are hallucinations. Constantly. Everywhere. Forever. Without a source, cause, or reason.
They cannot be avoided, and mock me with their presence.
I search for something to hold on to, to climb, to create, to see...and I can feel myself. But each time I polish something to where I am surprised and pleased, I notice I have chips and smudges I didn't see before.
I play with the apparitions and ignore their calls to never stop looking away from their shimmering color. I go back to working at my porcelain limbs, but it is a forlorn task. And I can't escape the suspicion that there is no way for me to tell if I appear like a flurry of sounds and color to everyone else too, and have only fooled myself into thinking I am made of solid glass prisms.


......
One of my ideals is that I reason, question, and correct everything, including what and who I am. Yet, my ideals also demand that I always adhere to them, so to discover flaws in the very foundation and framework for who I am, is troubling to say the least. Besides that, there is the problem of if I can even meaningfully validate, question, or think about such fundamental axioms that define who I am.

And still, I have left out perhaps the most important part of the picture. All of this, while true, ignores my intrinsic, instinctual rejection of even the thought of being understood completely.

A little history:
It used to be, for me, that .... everyone is alone. It's the way life is, that we do the best we can with what we know... What we know of the world around us, of the people around us. You just do what you can, acting alone, because that is all you can work with. Trying to force in things existing beyond and between us results in distorted beliefs like ghosts, gods, and glory. One of the reasons truth is valuable is because it is permanent, unlike everything else. The only reason emotions, passions and ambitions have value are because they are attempts to reach beyond ourselves or motivation to understand truth and reality and what is and what makes things be. We all have the same shared reality, but we all are different in how we apprehend, approach, and deal with it. We are all individual, in every sense of the word. We think individually, act individually, want different things, and communicate on different levels. Art then, only serves as a way to record one's own section of reality in a better way than other mediums or methods. Works of art are inscrutable, just as we are basically inscrutable to one another.

And then a lot of that changed. I started to think that even the basic, incommunicable things that we experience might be shared, taught, and communicated with some luck. I thought that art wasn't just a personal task, but a message replete with meanings that could be teased and discerned. I thought that maybe we shared a fundamental desire and dream as human beings. I thought that philosophy might actually examine and begin to give some answers that everyone could agree upon, even if the answers were only what the questions were. I thought of society not as something that existed by requirement for allotting needs, but as something that could improve the lives of each of it's members many-fold their abilities individually.

And I found myself riddled with flaws I didn't know were there and abilities and cares and sentiments I didn't know I had.

I like the way I think. I wish other people thought like me. So what is it about the idea of someone else knowing how I think that is shudder-inducing?

If someone knew my thoughts, they could hurt me. They could manipulate me. There would be nothing to stop them from destroying me. My mind is all I have. If the world turned upside down tomorrow, I would still be who I am because I would still have my thoughts, my cares, and my values. If everything stopped making sense and became irrational and meaningless, then, even though I would be crushed with confusion and chaos, I would have something to rely on. Some place to begin putting the pieces back together. I would not go insane.
My mind is both the only thing that I can control and count on, but it is also the only thing that links me to the outside and lets me do, think, apprehend beauty, truth, meaning. But if someone knew me, really understood how I think, they could rip my ideals to shreds, tear down the framework from which I can think, act, and exist within. If I lose myself, then I might become everything that is wrong. It isn't like I would become evil, but... everything I understand, know, care about .... everything that makes life worth living could be taken from me. And I might not even know it was happening. Everything could become meaningless. Not in the "universe contains no meaning sense" but in that I couldn't notice what meaning was in front of me, nor would I be able to create or imagine meaning of any kind. If I can't count on having my own mind, then yes, yes all my values, everything I know, count on, believe could be destroyed and everything I fear, hate and think is wrong could become true.

While I've been shedding the security of leading a life that was founded in the unchanging geology of practicality, I am astonished at how ideals, emotions and spirituality can enrich and shed new kaleidoscopes of experience. But they are new and infantile and I cannot be sure they won't turn on me. I don't fully know what they are. While my practicality is perhaps the only thing dependable, it is shallow compared to ideals.The pillars I build upon are not things I can do without. I can question them, but only just. If I lose them, if they were subverted damaged or dismantled, then I don't know what will happen to me.

I'd have wrong values. I'd have no purpose. I don't know what I would be. I'd stop being me. I might not notice, I might not care, but to me, now, that is worse than death. To have no control, to hate myself, to not know I was so wrong. I guess it wouldn't matter, I would have stopped existing, at least in what I perceive to be "I." If I stopped being, thinking, as I do now, then the "I" now would be gone.


Do I have so little self confidence and self understanding that I think someone could do that to me? I don't know. I don't know myself completely. I don't know which values would trump the others. I don't know the reason for many things I do find so important. I'm not infallible. I can only begin to fathom, begin to speculate on who I am now. Beyond that, if someone changed who I was, (or changed how I change who I am).... I can't trust myself. I could not trust myself. Once my core values fell. Once my reason was sabotaged even for a moment, then everything that built upon that would unwind. I'd say you can't sabotage reason except everyone around me doesn't even notice how much they lack and violate it. So either I am cut of a different cloth, or I am a few steps from a slide into nothingness. Nothingness that I wouldn't even notice I was in, nor would I have any reason to climb out of.

One Chance

If you have not, you must play it.
It isn't long, but you should set aside as much time as you need to complete it.
It is free, it is contemplative, it is shocking, it is sad, it will haunt you.
It is worth your time.

http://www.newgrounds.com/portal/view/555181
>


As I started to play it, I suspected it was what it appeared to be, but I was not at all sure. After all, it would be incredibly unusual for me to come across such a thing. As I always do, I tried to see every corner and every object, person, and scrap of information, but this time it was in conflict with the growing certainty that what I did could be a one way trip. So I didn’t take up a women’s offer to enjoy ourselves.

I dreaded what I felt sure would happen. Our discovery would go wrong. I saw the planes fly overheard with a fear just beneath the surface of existence. Shortly after, it was confirmed. So then there was the choice left – the world was ending. Should I try to save it? Should I enjoy what time I had left? Should I care for the people I could? Or should I care for the world? Those questions were asked and cast aside because there was really only one questioned that mattered. What was right, what mattered?

So I went to work.

Each day, I tried to find out if there was something else, something I was missing. And each day things were frighteningly the same. While everything fell apart around me, I did the only thing I could do: go on. My wife became hysterical and lost her mind. She was a wreck, merely pieces of someone who had once been. My child was worried, neglected, and constantly on the precipice of finding out exactly what was happening. My colleagues were dropping like flies, losing hope and losing themselves to the apocalypse. And what of me? I might very well spend my last days on earth in a pursuit that would go nowhere.

My wife killed herself and my only thought was, “I hope my child didn’t see any of it.” That night we slept in a cursed house. Me fearing that something horrendous would happen. The scientists coming in a mob, an insane intruder, and monsters of every kind haunted me.

As each day passed, I knew what I was doing was the only real option, but on the last day I faltered. Shouldn’t I spend this last moment with my child? Silence. Then, hesitantly, but firmly the answer returned. No. What was right now was right all along. What mattered was the effort, the striving, the attempt. What mattered, even if it was hopeless, and I was the only one left to try, was that I do everything I could. Even if I knew 100% it would end in failure, it mattered above all else, literally above all else, that I do everything I possibly could to fight and to recover what was left. So I turned my back on my child.

She ended up coming with me. She waited by the door, slowly turning an ashen grey as I lost myself in formulas. In an impossible turn of events I succeeded. I had a cure. With nothing left, but my small triumph and a little time, I took my child to the park and we spent our last moments there. Alone in a dead world. Maybe it was kinder that she wouldn’t survive to see the aftermath. It was certainly a mountain of unknown, fear, and desperation that faced me now. I was probably one of a handful in the entire world left. Maybe the only one left. Still. Those last moments were beautiful, and I was so grateful to have a chance to enjoy them. And … what can the living do, but go on living? [ErgoProxy]

The Affliction of the Heart

I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath. I want to be an empath.

Practical, Ideal, Emotional, Spiritual.

I think of myself as a practical person and what I mean by that is "someone nearly entirely guided by facts, concrete reality, logic, and goals for living a simple predictable life." Thinking practically: I want a good house, some enjoyable hobbies a reliable income, an interesting job, free time, friends, good health and that's it. Therefore I spend my time getting those things and jealously protect my ability to get them. Being practical gets paired with planning ahead more than engaging in the moment, but it is perfectly viable in both time schemes. Being concerned with mundane necessities and just looking for normal satisfaction is being practical.

Apart from being practical I have incredibly strong ideals. They guide me and I do not violate them. I just don't. (Neglect, yeah. Violate. No.)

Learning is absolutely the most important thing above all else; the most noble pursuit on this earth. Life, in and of itself, is inherently valuable. Committing wrong is virtually unthinkable. Existence is beautiful. Social status is completely meaningless except as a means to an end. Beauty is the understanding and appreciation that makes life worth living - where there is one there is the other. Human beings are no more special than the rest of the molecules. We are animals with an incredible trait - intelligence which is inherently valuable. Death is not bad except in the context of loss of intelligence.

There are many types of intelligence and each is valuable. Perspectives are a part of reality and a tool in our "intelligence toolkit" Essentially they are our keys to the universe. Preparing for life involves not losing the chance to acquire any critical components for living life. Basic needs as well as things like knowledge, access to more knowledge, physical and mental stability. Though if you lose sight of the important goals in life themselves, it defeats the purpose. You basically have already lost life, though you have the potential to gain it back. Emotion is a distraction, merely valuable insomuch as it indicates how to balance oneself.

How I balance ideals and practicality is that, despite how high I place the importance of ideals, they are delicacies and practicality comes first. Always.

But I'm no longer the marionette I used to be, made of practicality and with strings of ideals suspending me. I used to have a small streak of spirituality and all my strong emotions essentially percolated from my ideals.

Yes, I smiled and laughed and was happy with my friends, but the emotions I valued (value) were the times I felt overwhelming sadness, usually from movies although occasionally from other ideas. Every time it was because it was inextricably tied to an ideal, a symbol. Because that is what makes me cry. So I valued that. That beautiful duality of ideals and emotion.

Not only then. When I would cry for my own problems, I could never feel dismay that I was upset. I treasured each moment I sobbed into my pillow. This was sadness, this was emotion, this was caring, this was beautiful. Not the physicality of it, but the way the ideas, emotions, and even physical nature all tied together as one. How could people want to stop feeling sad, to really stop feeling sorrow? How could people wish they could stop feeling? Why can't I be an empath. I want to take that meaning from them, if they want to be rid of it. Ease their pain and feel it's staggering reality course through me. Every time I would feel grief, for what ever reason, it was overwhelming meaning. I wanted to hold on to it and I would wish fervently to be able to steal it from those who only wanted to be rid of it.

That piercing desire is still as strong as ever. But now it is not the only emotion. Joy, wonder, awe. They all used to happen to me, but they were... soft and dull before. Something mildly appreciated. Now they are salient, savored and cherished and come from many different sources. And there are more of them. Loneliness,chaotic, fear, enchantment, bliss, misery, frenzy, passion, affection, love.

Emotion used to be something extra, useless, and to be controlled and manipulated.

Now I'm trying to conjure what emotions I do have, to focus and appreciate them for what they are. Not just as indicators to be noted and stifled, but for what they are. I draw them out and try to feel how they swirl, intermingle, eddy, and flow. I still am uncertain how much value they have, but sometimes I notice that they have much to offer. Other times I am convinced they are as I first thought: false and shallow except for times they come from ideals clashing.

And my spirituality. Instead of something to be stifled, it was an amusing toy. Oh, I took it completely seriously, reading signs from the way objects lay about the house, deciding my course of action based on the divinely inspired place my glance would fall. Simultaneously I would completely believe there was a supernatural power and acknowledge it was entirely my own self creating these fantasies. There was my personal God(s) involved in these spontaneous rituals. He/she/it knew he/she/it was imaginary, but didn't give a care, he/she/it was still exactly what he/she/it was, regardless of not existing. That and I used these moment as a method of interpreting my own unconscious. I would interpret the signs, which must mean that that is how I wanted to interpret them, so then I was off without a second thought. It wasn't like these decisions need to be based on logic anyway, I just need to come to some kind of decision.

And I liked that about myself, and was pleased. I do wonder now, if I can't encourage this side of myself too, and let my spiritual side have a little more reign to exist and interpret and find fictional meaning in the world around me. I seize on an object, imbue it with an idea and make it a larger-than-life symbolism. I fully acknowledge that it's false and my own doing. But it's beautiful, I can meditate on the abstract of things and it does get a lens into my subconscious which suggests meaning I wouldn't otherwise notice. It certainly has given me some strong moments, even if they weren't as meaningful as true reflection, they were certainly interesting and more meaningful than practical pursuits.



In other news: That means the acronym is PIES. Delightful.

Gender in Videogames

Don't groan. This isn't about who's right and who's wrong and how terrible one side is for being ignorant/idiotic/extreme/attention seeking. Or the other side for being ignorant/idiotic/extreme/attention seeking.

I saw a forum post. Some unintentionally brilliant fellow asked, how were women portrayed in the last two games you played? Overwhelmingly the responses were: equally portrayed with a smattering of "no women" "gender insignificant" (for simple games) So overwhelmingly that there were only one or two other responses among hundreds. A couple were "legitimate sexism in the game" (Saints Row 2, Bayonetta) but one or two said this "All girls have miniskirts - ugh, not equal" (GuildWars 2) and "Scantily clad, but chosen for abilities anyway" (League of Legends)

Said Forum: The-Roles-Females-Play-in-The-Last-Two-Games-Youve-Played

Let me just copy some of the responses since I have no idea how long that thread will be around.

On this website I see quite often people who say women are generally represented badly in gaming, so my question is: How are female characters treated in the last two games you played? 1. Counter-Strike: Global Offensive, No females in the game. 2.Smite, In this game females are just as powerful as male characters.

1. Star Ocean: The Last Hope Depends on the level you get them to, but all the characters have their own strengths and weaknesses anyway. So technically anyone can be weaker, equal to, or stronger than anyone else. 2. Spec Ops: The Line There are female civilians, I believe with one being tortured to get another character to talk. However, there are male civilians and a male is also tortured as well I believe.

Dragon Age Origins: Pretty much equal in everything, with multiple, powerful female characters. Dungeons of Dredmor: Only difference is the sprite (but she still has huge eyebrows). Yeah, seems pretty equal.

Pokemon Crystal: As fair as you can really be Blood: Gender doesn't really come into that game...

1. Dragon Quest 4 DS remake. The main character of the 2nd chapter is female. Ironically she is physically stronger than my other 2 male party members. 2. Final Fantasy 13. Grinding adamantoise using Vanielle to cast death. Wouldn't be possible without her in the party.

Persona 4: Females are strong and each of the main female characters defies female stereotypes in their own way. Guild Wars 2: Can't really say as I haven't had much time with the game yet. The leader of the Sylvari is female as far as I can tell so there's that.

I just single handedly killed Caesar and his guards with my female character in Fallout New Vegas. The Legion. Declares woman as useless, and are treated like property. Gets destroyed by a woman. I love it :D The second game is Skyrim, in which women seem represented rather well :D

LoL: Plenty of female characters who can be as powerful as the males depending on the skill of the player. Minecraft: None.

Guild Wars 2: Playable and equal to male characters. Hard to make them not pretty when playing Human or Norn though. Can't remember the game before that, it's been a while since I played anything since Guild Wars 2, so I'll go with what I'll play next: New Vegas. Again, playable, mostly equal, and a fair amount of good female NPCs.

Wild ARMs 2: We have a fairly typical Squishy Mage (though there's a male Squishy Mage (even squishier, in fact) to balance her out). But we've also got a badass cyborg bounty hunter who is hands-doown the best non-main-character melee fighter in the game, and a weird vampire girl who's sot of a Blue Mage with decent physical strength. The party's equally divided between males and females if you've recruited Marivel. Chrono Cross: Interesting array of female playable characters, including a mad scientist, a mermaid, a thief, a jester, a dancer, a cavegirl, an annoying kid, and others I haven't even seen.

Skyrim: Males and females are pretty much equal in the game universe and the MC can be either male or female. League of legends: Pretty much the same as any MOBA, has strong female characters who are represented equally but some of their attire is a bit.......yeah......

Borderlands: One of the four main characters is a female, and the single most powerful playable character in the game (in fact, miles ahead of the other three). Other than that females are enemies, mad scientists, bosses, and a couple of kick-ass allies. Counter Strike GO: No women here.

KotOR: Bastilla, Mission and Juhani (potentiall also Revan though it isn't cannon, sadly for Carth). Bastilla and Mission are enjoyable companions (showing a complete oposite end of the personality spectrum), Juhani is pretty bland (Wookiepedia does claim that about half of her intended dialogue written never made it into the game) but credit to her for being the first lesbian I encountered in the Star Wars universe. As for importance to the plot well Mission and Juhani importance is mostly focused around the time they are introduced but Bastilla is one of the main driving forces behind the plot. LoL: The dress code that some of the female characters abide by is...well certainly well aware of what the primary demographic is, but at the end of the day the reason that any champion gets played is for their viability or enjoyability and in that case there is no significant difference.

Devil May Cry 3: One woman in the game who, while kinda badass, doesn't do anything that Dante couldn't have done three times faster, except have a boss fight that is both annoying and awesome at the same time (I mean, the battle is fun and all, but how the hell does a normal human with very little training dodge bullets by rolling?) Devil May Cry 4: Three women in the game. One exists purely to look pretty while wearing not a lot and to mess everything up simply because she found it funny. One is there to extort money from Dante and give tiny rewards whenever he does something huge for her. And one is there to sing and get kidnapped.

Battlefield 3: There's one woman in the US military, and she's a pilot. I find this unrealistic and offensive. Guild Wars 2: There's a lot of women and they all wear mini skirts. I find this unrealistic and offensive. Any questions?

Persona 4 -They feel human, like every other character in the game. The four female main characters will fight with the male half of the cast and they kick as much ass as the guys. Plus, Chie is one of the best characters in the game. 'Dat Galactic Punt... Animal Crossing DS -Well, it's Animal Crossing. No characters (Male or Female) really have any redeeming factors or do anything important. Except for that bastard Tom Nook.

1. Dead Space So a dead girlfriend and a undercover government operative 2.Saint's Row 2 Ummm... yah

League of Legends--lots of powerful females like Leona, Ashe, Sivir, Irelia, Sona, and Ezreal asciiVANIA--You're a letter in the alphabet... no genders at all

Lego Batman 2: probably under-represented a little bit, two of the most useful female characters (Supergirl, Black Canary) are much harder to acquire than their male counterparts (Superman and Man-Bat). Beat Hazard: N/A Bayonetta: Whole can of worms. I'm on the side of positive portrayal, but that's hardly unanimous.

1.Dead space The women in that is a engineer and the only person in that game who is sane. 2.Bioshock The women are pretty much equal to men read they run around trying to kill you. Except for the one that has something to do with the little sisters. On a side note I just realized how many of my games have only three people who say anything of consequence.

Guild Wars 2 - strong female NPC's (protagonists and antagonists) all around, they were obviously aiming for 50/50. Battlefield 3 - No females here.

Soulstorm There is an entire army made up of women in power armor that literally use fire to kill everything. Warriors Orochi 3 I'd make a comment about some of the women wearing outfits that are impractical for going into battle, except a lot of the men aren't much better.

After the double post about Guildwars and LoL and beginning reading expecting only to find "discriminated, discriminated, discriminated" I understood better why women are so objectified, stereotyped and generally ill-portrayed. Guys don't notice or care about how women appear, are treated, or behave when it comes to worth and equality. To them what matters is what they do and are capable of doing. Your worth comes from your utility and there is no inequality left after that. Anyone can get put down, what matters is your own ability. Besides, in a perfect world everyone would be beautiful and show off, so what's the problem? In short, guys think girls are shown equally! Why? Because they are just as powerful!

Girls define worth more about how they appear, how they behave, and act. Not as much what they contribute. They see women as weak for giving in to wearing revealing clothes and strong for not relying on appearances. Girls return that it can be social weakness, even if they are beautiful especially paired with the other women's social cues in games. Women completely ignore power as an indicator of equality and worth and instead notice their social position, posturing, and appearance (treatment) Basically how they appear and are seen in this fantasy world (and ours,) socially speaking.

So who's right? Both. I think women are lacking in dimension still, but I didn't realize how far they had come and how right guys are that it matters a lot that they are already just as powerful as the guys in videogames.

Physics Astonishment

Today the universe made me cry tears of awe.


Maybe it was a combination of finally getting a good sleep. Maybe going to an atheistic meeting where people were actually rational and excited to be alive. Maybe emailing my family and realizing I am happier away from home. Maybe finally reaching out to other people on the internet. Maybe believing I should actually figure out who I am. Maybe from not enjoying the classes I am taking. Maybe slowly readjusting to the new situation. And who knows what else is going on that contributed. I could add to this list for ages...


It started like this: I decided to try and pay attention in physics, and the teacher was actually going over something interesting. Relativity and time travel. I knew most all of it actually, but every step had me grinning and guessing where he was going with it. I have read and talked about and watched kind of a lot of information on it by now, right down to the lightspeed wormhole time machine. And the teacher kept saying, "and this is real, it's been tested, and we know it's true. It's crazy, but this is real." So of course I was in a lighthearted mood. He even played a corny song in the middle about love being like the speed of light, constant and the universe rearranges itself to accommodate it. I felt like taking it more seriously than I normally would. (or less seriously?) And while the rest of the class laughed appreciatively, I watched the teacher who kept his emotions blank while joking about it. And I genuinely looked at the idea and realized how much of a neat thing light is, and how crazy it is the way the world literally rearranges (from our human emotional-changing-perspective-feeling) itself to accommodate it. And of course how love does some of that rearranging our view of the world too.

But it was the end of class when suddenly it got real. The professor ended the lecture with the simple statements that "People really write papers on this stuff. They publish discussions on time travel, relativity, what would happen, what we can do" etc. etc. etc.

I have no idea what happened to me, but suddenly I was crying. I didn't know what was happening to me. I didn't know where it was coming from, I always know where it comes from, the emotion and the beauty there, triggering it. But this time it just happened before I knew what was going on. It didn't make any sense and it was real and I (((

slightly terrified, frenzied and in the back of my mind trying to figure out of there is some way to check if I'm deranged

))) absolutely had to think and take it in because whatever it was, it was wonderful. But I was in a crowded classroom with students all around me. Class was out, but I couldn't just stop and really appreciate. So half-blinded with emotion I struggled to think and to get out of the classroom and to grok. I was afraid it would disappear, but it lingered and took shape, although roughly because I couldn't focus.

It was pure passion and love. For the universe, for my muni, condensed to a single iota. That wonder, that awe, that crazy insane truth and amusement and excitement. That caring that desire to grok and to love, to share, while believing ......... seeing it can be true.

And around it hundreds of other shimmering links and ideas. How much I care about physics and understanding what makes everything exist. How much philosophy draws me and ecology does not. How much I care about passion and yet know so much easier how to be practical. How much I ought to admire those that follow that particular passion, (muni) as well as anyone who follows any passion. Anyone who catches on to a piece of a piece of that incredible mind-twisting reality. How much I do and don't do this. How much I actually am able to appreciate and be emotional about such dazzling truths of life, and yet how much I avoid it in favor of practicality, and completely downplay emotion. (((

Emotion was, for the longest time, an enemy. It still is, in part, while I now also see it is a thing of real good.

)))

What on earth am I doing in ecology (???!) when it is philosophy and physics where I find ideas that bring me to my knees in wonder. Of course I am no good at math and would struggle to achieve much in it, but why do I even consider that to matter in comparison to that. Miracles of the literal variety.

I can't answer why passion should play second fiddle to practicality, and I'm slowly giving it a larger and larger role in my life. I know that practicality matters, but I can't find any intrinsic value in it. It has no place next to the shining ideals that guide my life, yet it dominates how I act. (Let alone how much I act neither out of ideals nor practicality.)



It was incredible and a revelation of sorts. It gives me hope that I can instill in myself and become better at having them. I realize better how following my passion/love/emotion are directions to unlatching more passion/love/wonder. And I could envision..... what I would (could, will) be... "truer" and follow what matters. Both within myself and externally to others too.

It's not just a dream. It's not yet able to survive as a goal, but at least it is very much a strengthening hope.







I hate to stick this at the bottom, but it has no place to go and I think it should be said: I need to take a close look at how I think of emotion, ideals, spirituality, myself. It keeps coming up over and over and it defines myself more than I like to admit. Which is why I need to actually address it.....

No More.

Oversimplification is now my personal enemy.

It used to be a cute pet peeve, turned into an obnoxious teenager, and has now matured into a putrid debauchery.

I thought it was just a phase, but now I know it is a scourge. I thought, naively, that it served a purpose. It inspired debate, it promoted speedy progress, it multiplied and spread conversation.

But whatever good it serves, it has clobbered and flooded and filthed. Everywhere I look I see more and more oversimplification. More of it and greater extents. It's devolved into a race to see who can oversimplify the most, in a mad scramble to yell the loudest to reach the ears of the nonexistent listeners. Nothing gets done when you trumpet something so simplified that it has lost any scrap of meaning. It is a road to nowhere if all discussion is in a permanent disconnect with ideas so simplified, so extreme, and people so unyielding or deaf that no one is even able to talk about the same concepts and ideas.

I like simplification. I like taking a complex idea, picking a piece and then dealing with that small piece at a time. That is simplification. This daft oversimplification done in pure intent to avoid talking about ideas, to avoid having any sort of grounds to even begin talking about it, is horrifyingly delusional. All communication grinds to a halt and all that is left to do is howl gibberish or leave.

If your castle can't stand up, you improve it or build a new one. Don't move over to a boulder and then scream and jeer when no one wants to fight you for it. Or worse yet, scream and jeer and fight over it anyway.







In case you are rolling your eyes and thinking, "you just don't get it, my political party is merely misrepresented." I'm not talking about just politics. It is religion. It is games/movies/tv shows. It is environmentalism. It is every single subject, conversation, discussion. Online. In person. About facts, about opinions. It is a rampant social plague. Maybe it is because we don't think we want understanding, we think we want agreement, ego, power, I don't pretend to know. It might have even always been this way, I DON'T KNOW. But I know that it is sickening.

Leaves

Sometimes I can't help but think, for all the world, I am the only one to see it(')s splendor true(ly). I can't look at anything and not wonder at it. I can't not think of all the things it came from, all the possibilities unrealized, and all the realities it inhabits from the fundamental to the imagined. From the abstract to the direct sensations. The multitude of expressions it inspires and all the subjective ways I know. A room, a square foot of ground, a sentence. All unfolding leaves of lexicons of meanings. How can anyone walk this existence and not be completely snared by such astounding and ever-twisting ropes of reality? But instead I find myself awash in a glittering sky with no bottom. I see that I've cast myself too far astray, so let me pull the threads into a pattern spun for you.

I can't pick anything and see it in a single way. Something can never be just "a chair" or a "scrap of paper" or "a footstep." Surely everyone thinks of an objects present purpose an order of magnitude more sharply, but that doesn't remove all the side realities. The very definition of what something is, is rife with qualifications of context, audience, simplicity, and perception.

A chair; as in the barest, most abstract dictionary qualifications? A chair as in anything used for that purpose? A chair today or the epitome of a chair a few millennia ago? If you mean the reality of that chair, here, now.... then should we be thinking of it in the context of someone else in the room, or an elderly Asian man who has lost his sight? Is it for its aesthetics? Alone or in conjunction with its surroundings? As an architect? Photographer? Painter, sketch artist, or game designer? How are they different and the same, anyway?

Historically, chemically, philosophically, politically, socially, satirically. Anyone can single out the qualities to emphasize or camouflage, sort out the tangle, and summon-assemble a custom existence. That is the nature of reality or perception. Everything is locked up within the single object and activated by thought-alchemy. And as with any alchemy, you can't control the reaction entirely, nor can you prevent it from completion.

Of course I delight in it. Darting through pieces of meanings like a swallow twisting and arcing after gnats. (but why is no one else playing with me at this game? And if not joining me, then at least acknowledging the sport? Surely, surely, no one lives in one dimension? Oh and what would that even be like? )

Sometimes it is a mystical talent all my own to spin such realities out of a single artifact, and other times it is purely the nature of the human mind to make predictions, amplifications and extricate patterns. But whatever the case, there are many perspectives where there is infinite wonder for me to watch unraveling. Or maybe I mean coiling.


Oh won't you see, oh don't you see.
How wonderful the world can be.
How every little mystery
is out there just for us to free.

That every second of passing time
From now to then, is your's and mine
That every moment is sublime
And there is all of it to find

Shrouded

I get the feeling that no matter who I am with, I have a shroud over me. Some thin gauze, that makes other people ignore me a little. Not out of anger or shame or fear, but out of pure uncertainty of what to do about me. A small avoidance that returns even after it has been cast off time and time again. I have a couple of close friends that come close to having evaporated it entirely, and indeed it is a thin thing to begin with.

Still, I doubt I am ever free of it.
I think it is there and only now have I given it direct note.

From whence does it come?
Perhaps from my stoicism. Perhaps from my secrets. Perhaps from my quiet. Perhaps from a perceived mysteriousness.

It serves a purpose as well. That shroud becomes a sought-after tapestry when others have secrets of their own. They come close to me, whispering their thoughts and hoping to have a piece of their own to wrap up in. I am grateful to share. I try to impart what comfort, wisdom, hope, and satisfaction, I can. But then we both separate and return to as before. Me with my shroud, and they with nothing but a few threads linking us.




...... they are glad they can return to ignoring me. That I will keep their furtive knowledge under my folds, where no one will find them. Again, my shroud serves a gentle, worthy purpose.
I am happy to be used. That I could make a difference for the better. I understand why they act this way, and I accept their never-to-be-given apologies of helplessness.
It has to be this way, behind my shroud. But it leaves me lonely.





And it makes me sad, but I can't help but feel, that despite it all, they still carry a false smile. I am glad that my own smiles, however weak and frail, are true.





-------------////////////////-------------




I cannot decide if I dislike the way things are. It seems only bad that there would be such a netting over me, but I can only think of good things, despite the ideal of walking free. It leaves me interesting, protected, and different. I can use it to help others. Perhaps it even leaves me free-er to have no hard-mask-facade, when I have such a mantle.


The good thing, then, that I would gain, would be finally connecting with everyone else. Having no shroud between us. Stop being ignored, stop making other's uncertain of how to act, stop being cut off.

But would it only make it so I am only closer to their plastic masks? And then, with no shroud for them to take it off behind....