10 posts tagged “thoughts”

This is one of those posts where I write because I feel like writing, not because I actually have something to say. I'm not quite sure why I bother to make these public; they're essentially a warm-up that I do, sort of like writing calisthenics, before I tackle my novel manuscript or a short story... just a way to get my fingers moving and my voice working and everything flowing especially since it's been a little while since I got any work done.

That still doesn't explain why I feel the need to share this utterly mundane and uninteresting rambling with you. I imagine if I thought about it long enough, I could ascribe some nonsensical reason to the behavior; off the top of my head, I'm going to go with pure narcissism, which is the fuel for about fifty percent of the Internet's content, anyway. Seriously, stop and think about it for a moment. Think about everything that you've placed on the Internet, all of the content that you've created. Not content that you've consumed, not things you've perused or enjoyed, but things that you've actually inserted into the greater series of tubes that is the Intertron. How much of it are pictures of you or the people around you? How much of your written material is dialogue about your life, shared with your friends? Perhaps I should ask this question a different; of everything that you've ever put up online, public or private, for whatever reason, how much of it is not about you?

This is not to imply that such a perspective is wrong. The reality is that this is a tool for facilitating communication between people. It's not a repository for artistic endeavor, any more than my phone is meant to be. But it never fails to amuse me (and I'm just as guilty of this as any individual) that so much of our social cyber-construction is built to carve little niches of ourselves, to put as much or as little of ourselves out there in the digital world. If you think about it, we're all vying for a little quasi-immortality (a phrase, incidentally, that amuses as much as "most unique"). Long after you've moved on, there are relics of your history floating around on the Internet, buried just below the surface, waiting to be unearthed with a little digging. These bits of data, these pieces left in the wake of your interest long after you've moved on will remain forever, as long as there exists a server to hold them. And it's always interesting to see how your little relics and artifacts can reappear, sometimes when you don't even expect it (and sometimes that's not a good thing).

For example, back when I was developing fledgling html skills, I made a series of websites on various free services, starting at a place called Express Pages before moving to Fortune City to Geocities and eventually, to Angelfire. At least one of those Angelfire pages is still up and active, because apparently, it's considered the primary resource for information on the drow god Vhaeraun on Wikipedia. Seriously, click the link and scroll down to the external links: "Citadel of the Mask Lord" was a website I put up years and years ago and then promptly forgot about. I'm not the one that found it and cited it for Wikipedia; I've actually never submitted anything to Wikipedia, ever, which rolls into the whole thing about all of my content online being about me.

Just something to think about.

I will admit, this is totally cheesy, but it's the truth. There's a Chinese fortune that I got out of a cookie once that I keep in my wallet. It says, very simply, "Killing time murders opportunity." Which is really more advice than fortune telling.

I just want to take this moment and reflect how one event, no matter how irritating it might be, can lead directly to something wonderful and exciting, if you have but the willingness to follow the path and the courage to act before you second guess yourself to inaction.

I happened upon this article at Digg while trying to decide what to spend my hour of free time working on. I highly suggest you break from whatever it is you are doing (which I guess would be reading my blog) and read it, as it describes a very interesting problem I've been dealing with lately in regards to my inability to focus on tasks as much as I feel I should be able to do.

I think this is true of all creative people, and probably anybody who has any sort of hobby or passion that calls for attention and focus: there is a moment where your mind makes a leap, and suddenly, you're into the work itself, experiencing life in a flow of thought and direction, a state where time has no meaning until something, perhaps a cell phone or a distant car door slamming shut finally breaks your trance, and you look down at the clock only to realize that it is now two hours later.

I live for those moments, or at least I used to, and I really think that it's time I worked towards experiencing them once again. Not only is it productive (I get a lot done when I'm not glancing at my email or at Twitter), it's also incredibly cathartic.

I feeling like talking about myself today for a little while.

Been spending a lot of my gaming leisure time with that new Riddick game for the 360. It's surprisingly good (much as the previous one was,) although the difficulty level has made me call into question my abilities as a gamer, which led to an interesting late night discussion with Zach about the evolution of video games in general and the shift of focus from gameplay to narrative.

Now, let me be clear about one thing; this observation is tinted entirely by my particularly preference in games and seeing as how I have only a vague familiarity with certain genres (sports and racing are good examples), perhaps my thesis is flawed due to a small sample size.

Anyway, it seems to me that the general shift of what a video game "is" has moved from challenge to narrative, as in, the answer to the question of "what makes games fun" has evolved. Originally, the intent was "beat the game." I remember when beating a game, finishing a game, completing a game, all of those various was of describing one's triumph in the virtual space was, in and of itself the highest of achievements. That was because there was no narrative, no compelling story as we would identify with today to provoke advancement; the lure was to overcome the obstacle, move to the next level, defeat the next guy.

Compare that to Mass Effect, easily my favorite game of this generation, and what stands out now is not the fact that I "beat it." In fact, whether or not I would beat it was never even a question, and the completion of missions was largely inconsequential for the sake of the challenge itself. The driving force, the "fun factor," as it were, was invested wholly in the enjoyment of an interactive story, the act of partaking in the spectacle of the game's storyline, scenery and characterization.

Basically, what I'm saying is that when I was 10, I was playing games to them. At 22, I'm playing games to finish the story, to find out what happens. This, to me, is a clear and definitive answer to the question of whether or not games can be considered art, on the level of books or movies. The very fact that the reason I am playing them has changed should be answer enough.

Hmm. You know, I was going to talk about some other stuff, movies and books that have been on my mind, as well as my experience with sharing my writing, but I think I'll hold off on that for now. Although I guess I didn't really do a good job of tying in this whole monologue with "I was playing Dark Athena this week," amusingly enough. Basically, the game is hard, like, really hard, and it made me think about the last time I actually played a hard game that made me fight a boss 30 times before I figured out the "trick." So, there's that.

I have a grip of projects churning around in my mind right now. For those unfamiliar with that particular terminology, that means I have a bunch.

It's always really, really exciting when you have ideas that are so interesting and exciting that you literally cannot think about anything else until you write them down. Many people do not really have a grasp of how hard it can be to write at times, even though it's those difficult times that distinguish you as a writer; the very act of working through the dry spells, the despair, the anxiety are what make you a member of this strange, neurotic little club.

So when you do get an idea that's fun and fresh and will literally keep you up at night with thoughts of writing it all down, well, damn. That's exciting. It won't last long enough for me to get used to it, but it's fun while it lasts.

-Matt

I feel like I'm waiting for something, but I do not know what it is.

This article had me thinking this morning. I recommend that you read it and spend some time, as I did, pondering the mysteries of the human brain, consciousness and the nature of thoughts.

Been thinking about moving my little blog to a different site so I can have a fresh start; this is a ritual I have repeated a few times in the past when I feel that the mental clutter of my current blog has built up to a critical mass. I'll let you know if I decide to move suddenly.

So, podcasts. I'm a big fan of them; I have my little collection of shows that I listen to and it's great.

But lately I've been thinking, because I sometimes do that, what it would be like to try recording my own. I have two ideas in particular. The first would be a "Thoughts of a Writer" type recording, inspired by the Diary of a Cartoonist podcast done by Scott Johnson, who also hosts two of my other favorite shows, incidentally.

The other idea would just involve grabbing whichever of my friends has the best back-and-forth conversations that demonstrate our incisive wit and seeing what develops.

Hmm.

This is fascinating to me and I felt compelled to capture it.

Try to imagine what you life was like, exactly one year ago to the day.

I cannot speak for the rest of you, of course, but it really does put into perspective the ebb and flow of my life's course. One year ago today, I was concerned that I'd lost my ability to feel emotions; that in dedicating myself to a long-distance relationship with a girlfriend studying abroad, I taught myself how to shut down, in order to cope with the anxiety and fear of being betrayed.

Which ended up happening anyway.

Hard to believe that was just a year ago. It feels like another life time.

Hard to believe it's been almost a year since the fire.

These are the moments that make me wish I updated this blog more often, that I was able to be more consistent with preserving my thoughts and memories. It isn't because I think I have anything worth saying (even though, as I said in my last post, I consider myself to be very interesting) but because being able to see the raw thoughts of my previous self, years past, allows me a glimpse at the larger picture of life and the overall fleeting nature of most problems.

After all, a year ago, I thought I was incapable of feeling emotions.

Today, I'm just having luck getting a good date.

Which really doesn't make my life seem nearly as bad, when I consider what lies in my wake.

Back to work.

Spent most of the day lying in bed watching Law and Order, even though I told myself I'd get write to work on that damn English essay that's going to both drive me to alcoholism and give me an ulcer. I did work on it, a little bit, although I didn't do what I'd call any actual writing; mostly I just tore through my sources ripping out pieces of texts that look like they might make useful quotes. I'm hoping that if I do that long enough, a viable essay will emerge. Hopefully, it'll emerge quickly... the damn thing is due on Monday. Which reminds me of the fact that there's another essay, also due on Monday, that I haven't even looked at. Shit. I fucking hate this.

Anyway, during one of my lectures, I started free writing random thoughts as they came to me, and today, I decided to construct a poem out of them. Felt good to vent my frustrations like that, even though the poem isn't about university bullshit or irritating exams. Maybe it's just the rum talking, but I'm actually pretty happy with the poem, which is why I'm posting it here, for you to enjoy. Also, it will help mask the fact that I still haven't written the final (hopefully) chapter of "Darkened Veil." I know there are some people out there waiting for that, and I promise, once I get this essay shit out of the way, I'll get back to work on that story. It's just kind of hard to be relaxed and creative writing now with this deadline shit looming over me.

-Draxle
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“Of Thoughts and Chains”
By: Matt Ciarvella

The Words
we write
are not words we think
because those things, those thoughts
are dangerous
evil
forbidden chainless beasts of an old times frontier,
the last wilderness
the final dragon.

Except
that’s not really true
is it?
Thoughts have been chained these past few ages
bound to smirking pundits and
truthless realities, a market of phobic lies
packaged up in plastic hair
brought to you LIVE AND ON THE SCENE!

Today
thoughts are slaves to the fear
the fear that maybe just maybe they might turn into words
and then, the horror of horrors,
that somebody might
hear you
and
judge you
and then you die beneath the weight that
you are what you think and
those thoughts of yours
trite hateful wrong myopic greedy stupid things
wrought of a
little baby god fearing love gun racist insanity
and
you aren’t
any of those things
are you?

You are
what you think and
to write what you are
is to provoke immortal merchants,
challenge unearned dominions
incite them all against you
incite them to hang you on the butcher’s hook to be
weighed, measured, deemed canner grade meat
nothing more
bereft of worthy purpose
empty of meaning
a void of all but evil thoughts.

You are what you
think and write and say and believe
and they will all of them seek
forever onward
to judge you down.

If you let them.