Of functional concepts

As I've said before, games sometimes make me more polarized against some conventions - that makes games even more important for me. One of these polarizations regards concept art and the usual extravaganza that we know them for.

Concept art is all about functionality. A concept artist isn't just an illustrator, concept art isn't just about drawing things. You're creating a concept that has to be credible, something that has to work. At least, I mean, under a certain context, in some specific universe. Even fantasy worlds have logistics of their own, even if magic and teletransport and immortality rule some of them out. By saying that something has to work, a magic-fueled crossbow functional in a world where you can use your wizardry to kill, but you can't cast it from your fists or a wand or staff.

Outfits are where most concept artists ignore functionality - sometimes they think only of funcionality of machines. The outcome is pieces of clothing that make no sense (this time I'll ignore you, Japan and that Castlevania game you made for Wii), or that are virtually impossible to assemble, or simply ignore the logistics that involve clothing.

Voldemort is red-furious like that because he can't move (or is he choking because he can't fucking breath?).

As I said, I like the historical-realistic overtone to things, and this certainly will reflect in my future artworks. A low-class soldier may have fancier clothing than usual because war is glorious for them, but they can only impress their oponents with the rustic limitation of their own reality. They don't have the budget to assemble armors with golden ornamentations. A renowned, rich warrior could more easily afford one, and that's the reason why it has more impact. If the government is to provide uniforms for their soldiers, the logic is still same, it's logistically impossible to provide the best material for the majority of the 1000 men in the battalion, plus the elite wants to have more prestige.

But MMOs in special made it trite, as even the lowest characters start off with shining armorware. For this kind of game where Skinner's Box seems extremely essential, it's only absurd how they will neglect the importance of the concept art, as it can ruin the build-up of the experience. After all, status aside, how could there be a sense of accomplishment to get a new armor when your first one looks great already?

Of factionalism and lateralism

In classical stories we get only good versus evil, light vs dark, so it's easy to have a side to cheer for. I find them quite nice actually, for me if you know how to tell a story is all that matters. For instance, I find Tolkien's sincere desire to tell his stories makes up for his clear maniqueism, and his honesty and love shown in his effort to create middle-earth greatly delights me (I feel even willing to disregard his overuse of Eagles Ex Machina).

But I've been getting too much immersed in History, which made me grasp a deeper interest to things with a historical-realistic overtone to them. Stories have been interesting me more when they calculate economical, political, social, religious, military consequences, even if slightly, just to add a background spice to it. But what I've been paying most attention lately is the factionalism of opposite forces, because I realized that most battles aren't vertical, but horizontal.

I call vertical battles the dualistic ones (usually it's against a dictatorial or repressive force), as they involve the theme of good versus evil. The World War Two is origin to several fictional stories because the history itself (or, more likely, historians themselves) puts it dualistically - the Allies are good guys, the Axis are the the bad guys.

Horizontal battles tend to be more realistic, as they ignore this dualism (even though wars usually do involve basically two opposite sides) involve several factions. It's a matter of Broken Symmetry. We don't have white versus black, but Blue against Red, which made an alliance with White Blue which is a ex-Blue colony that became independent and holds a grudge against them. Yellow doesn't quite know which side to join, as it has an economical dependency on Blue's industries, although Red has a military force much stronger, so soon there's an internal discussion with dissident opinions on which side Yellow should fight, and then you have Blue Yellow and Red Yellow, and it becomes a war in itself. So you have certain number of characters (you can count reigns and empires as characters too) who are supposed to pick a side in the conflict and there are alliances and treaties and other politicalities, which is actually just human behavior trying to adapt for the better outcome.

Sometimes I call this lateralism, which is a concept that is also against the notion of dualism. After all, itt's not a matter of listening to a heavy or a light song, a happy or a sad song. It's about songs that are different and unique on their own. It's all about spices again - you don't taste only salt and sugar. We have different cultures to spice everything, as we can have song that have a spice of arab or scandinavian or turkish.

So I feel the ideas are starting to intertwine more graciously. Gradually I'll explore the intertwist of my concepts and develop a solid and complex empire - symbolized by an onirical Sandman's Castle. But then again it will have to be careful not to be too dictatorial as to not incite polarization. Opposite forces usually long for a chance to bring about a revolution.

Of Broken Symmetry

My artstyle is being deeply influenced by asymmetry. Not only because of japanese art, but because nature surrounding me reflects that. The trees that please me the most are the ones that show a gritty and irregular structure. In a way, they result in trees that look eerie, sad and deformed. I feel strangely comfortable with them. It's the combination of the Prime Mindscapes of Rustic and Eerie, as far as I can tell.

I guess this sort of illustrates my point.

But asymmetry has intersemiotical value, which is to say it's highly analogous. Music and poems can show the equivalent of aesthetical asymmetry. But, as usual, I see storytelling potential in the whole concept of uneveness.

In entertainment, we usually see groups that follow the so-called Four Temperament Ensemble. Basically, it means every member of the group representing one distinct color, one distinct element, one unique personality. You know it, Fantastic Four, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,  Yu Yu Hakusho, etc. There's a lot of balance in there. But a little spice of real life in there make things extraordinarily more interesting, as creating an asymmetric ensemble enables conflicts, dissidences and other human behaviors much more engaging for the storyline (at least I find factionalization completely amazing).

The fact I've played hundreds of games in my life doesn't mean I've come to get used to all the conventions in that medium that are less exigent than other medias. In fact, being exposed to some flaws more evident in games made me even more aware and polarized against them, like the complete orderly advancement of the narrative. Take Legend of Zelda, one of my favorite franchises, and the storylines involves a linear quest for several so-called Plot Coupons before advancing the storyline.You get a Piece or Jewel of Whatever in each temple with no unpredictability to spice up the experience. This quality of unpredictability and chaos is what make journeys interesting. It's breaking the symmetry of the development of the story.

But, to be honest, it was in the gaming world that I pretty much realized the cure too. In Metroid Fusion, you're in a biological space station with six levels that emulate six different ambients for life experiments. Yeah, good excuse for the standard level, the forest level, the fire, water, ice, night levels. But this is just the technique I previously called Captatio Malevolentiae. The result is a much more engaging development of the story, in which you start exploring level 1, then 2, but then there's no more linear order whatsoever, because holy shit what is happening? Let go of me, SA-X!!

Fuck you, forever.

To develop an asymmetric storyline, one just has to pay attention to the development of a storyline in the real world. That is, an assymetric storyline is a story that follows the logistics of happenings in real life. That is not to say you have to deconstruct every convention in the storyline. To break symmetry of the story you don't necessarily have to ignore all base elements of a story, all the monomyth elements stablished by Joseph Campbell. It could be use as a spice on the top of it, though some unexpected changes in the overall structure is interesting too (it's Braudel's Framework again).

To make for a conclusion here, exploring the development of events in real life makes not only for more verisimilar and engaging plots, but also gives place for creative and inevitably-original stories. I know it sounds deceiving by sounding like the perfect choice, but I definitely can't help it, I'm in too much love with it.

Of Captatio

As far as I could notice, the origin of all hate and despise seems to originate from the feeling of being threatened by something. It was an important realization for me, as I could protect myself from waves of hate by analyzing why such things were menacing to me. The realization then helped me being more aware of incoming waves of mindtraps common to a threatened mind. Distrust usually is followed by Polarization and other kinds of mindtraps. There's also the matter of Petty Realization, which, as said before, comes from lack of respect, which we, most understandably, don't have for things that we feel that threaten us.

It's important for me to minimize any unnecessary motif of threat to others, as it brings unnecessary troubles, plus it's noticeable in their behavior when your presence doesn't quite bring comfort. It's quite complicated for me, because I always felt I lack the charisma to win other's estimation, so I always distrust the effectiveness of my communication skills (which involves all means of communicating things, so I'm talking about physical appearance and all).

This is, after all, an important matter for me, as I have problems feeling I ever stablished any successful communication with others (and when I did it was always mere luck, I don't want luck ruling my success). So, as far as I could notice communication seems to occur more smoothly when a common frequency is stablished between both ends. The lack of such a frequency is what creates misunderstandings, mistakes and unnecessary disagreements. Sympathy is its name.

The lack of sympathy will make you struggle to prove your point with a  violent effort, while the other end constantly struggles against you. But achieving it will make their minds work to make an effort to understand your point. Gaining the audience's sympathy is a matter of shifting the audience's orientation from outwards to inwards (and for some reason my sociality has always been ruled by this outward orientation, as I feel I have to make the greatest effort to not let people go away from me, which simply seems to be their natural inclination - it's revolting to say the least, as I can't seem to think of a way to make them stay close to me simply by their own will).

Apparently, sympathy is nothing short of being the Holy Grail of communication. And then I've learned there are literary and rethorical techniques to create a sympathetic audience. One of them is called Captatio Benevolentiae, which is to gain the reader/viewer's grace at first impression. It's a technique to attain the audience's respect, thus protecting yourself from petty realizations. Some will go wrong by putting all the effort in the first sequence. All movies, books, games and music (and all forms of art and expression that feature sequentiality) in which their intro is the best and by far the most (and usually only) impressive part I see as an example of a badly implemented Captatio Benevolentiae. This is the reason why I prefer an opposite form of Captatio, which I'll just call Captatio Malevolentiae.

I've noticed in a few rare works of art that the first impression is boldly made to lower expectations of the audience by making things look awful, or, more accurately, remarkably unimpressive. This is what makes it a risky bet, because you start by making purposeful mistakes that will create the very opposite frequency you want to achieve, and you have to be double-skilled to regain their sympathy. By lowering their expectations, you lower their guards against the Awesome you're preparing. If the audience's estimation is regained, the effort pays off with more impact than mere benevolent methods.

As an ending note, I want to add a Fire Extinguisher, as I feel threatened by potential readers and therefore I distrust their possible interpretations of things I said. This is by no means a form of manipulation, at least not by itself (it's a technique with political potential to it, pretty much like religion). Sure we see people who use this technique to deceive us and alienate us, but this is just a polarization and refusal of a very important technique for those interested in rethorics as a mean of simply achieving an effective form of communication.

Of japanese art

Traditional art fascinates me. I really like how every culture develops a solid system of shapes and colors and sounds and all elements that make that art really unique and spicy. Japanese art, for example, is the one that lately has been getting a lot of my attention.

In fact, there are a lot about Japan's mindset that I prize a lot, such as their ability to see meaning in everything. As Van Gogh himself said, "If we study Japanese art, we see a man who is undoubtedly wise, philosophic and intelligent, who spends his time doing what? In studying the distance between the earth and the moon? No. In studying Bismark's policy? No. He studies a single blade of grass.". But it's their principle of asthetics that quite truly quite rings with mine.

As I've read, asymmetry is a quality very dear to them. Hacho is their term for intentional uneveness.And Kabuki, the traditional form of theater in Japan, comes from the word kabuku, which describes a state "not standing straight up but leaning", used to describe actors living out of a normal way of life. Even in at-first symmetric structures, the asymmetry is found. It's the case of the Torii arches, as the higher beam is curiously bend. It feels "poetic" because asymmetry it's not only a matter of one side mirroring the other.

Seriously, why would they bother themselves bending it curvy like that?

But I see the true representation of accidentality in the writing of the kanjis, when most of the time there's no trying to hide the signs of the brush striking the paper. They hardly make effort trying to make the lines balanced, even, equal.

You feel powerless to argue against this.

 I can see this element in traditional japanese art still present in, say, modern art, like animes and games. In fact, I really enjoy something I call "broken lines", which is used mostly in, just guess, random aesthetics, like lightnings, the folding of clothes, cracks and crashes.

In the end, thanks to them I'm discovering my true taste for the flawed, erratic, uneven. They see beauty in the accidents, which I hope I can develop fully in my art. I enjoy tasting japanese aesthetics because they seem to get the grasp that the balance between order and chaos is that make designs interesting. Its appeal comes from representing the struggle between man and nature, symmetry against asymmetry.

And I'll get back to japanese art when I come back to talk about colors. Just wait.

Of the nature and the random

We as humans have a build-in tendency to create patterns, to find meaning and logic behind everything. When he have to go from one place to other, we try the straightest path. Our taste for symmetry is only inversely proportional to our laziness.

This is one of the big struggles. We try to find order in an otherwise chaotic world. It's one of the reasons man tries to depart from nature. Nature can storm on us any time she feels like, and we understandably feel uncomfortable with this unpredictability. So the flow of things in nature happen in a pretty much opposite fashion to what we tend to do.

To illustrate the matter, the way fruits are born on branches hardly follow any pattern. Of course, there are is a logic behind things to make them behave one way or another. Water follows gravity, hence its taste for the lower places. But when I talk about things in nature being random I mean mostly its aesthetic appeal, I mean the lack of exact proportions.

And that's the reason why true asymmetry is harder to achieve than symmetry, because we have the inner tendency to break this random quality of nature. For example, when drawing stars in the sky, for one I know I feel a certain struggle in my mind when trying to think in a random way, as subunconsciously I'll try making things with balanced proportion and equal distances.

This tendency to make symmetric proportion is a perfect example of what I've been calling Vices. It takes some preparation and dedication to loosen automatic, unconscious vices; to allow our mind to behave more freely, more naturally.

Of Invading Waves and magical defensive skills

There's one motif I've been feeling more solid lately, waves menacing current status quo. Such waves can be impetuous forces bursting in, like a furious feeling of hate and despair (or like enemy soldiers invading castle grounds). They are forces that can be felt to be tremendously solid, building up inexorably, but are repelled and disconstructed depending on the current willingness to not let the current inner government to be brought down. These defensive forces can be simply focus and discipline, or maturity and morality.

But I've got one interesting trick to deal with minor tremors. Actually, one day I just woke up and realized I could do it (actually it has been a gradual process of realization and solidificating of the motif), a defense skill that just I just happened to be fluent already, and in fact sometimes I hardly notice when I do it. I never thought of a name for it before, though I emotionally refer to it as the feeling of having a net of some kind bouncing me back on track, so I'm calling it Protection Rail. Basically, it envolves seeing my condition as fictional of some sort, it's quite difficult to explain. The most common method seems to unload the grief into a character, and seeing it exteriorized somehow makes me feel relieved (like knowing someone who faces the same hardships as you). For example, when I find myself helplessly uninspired, there's this mental tweak that makes me involuntarily think of a character who forever lost his inspiration (so this very thought just gave me inspiration). It's an almost instantaneous process, as it happens through an emotional and barely conscious response.

Although I can't control it (therefore unsure if it can be learnable), it's incredibly useful, as my mind constantly uses it against fears haunting me. Oh, there's a character who just made one huge, unmendable mistake which ruined his life. Or the other one who gave up his dreams just too early. And, like incomprehensible magic, these tremors disappear pretty much instantaneously, it's a really amazing phenomenon. It's useful to avoid little waves that could stop my flow of thoughts. Sometimes it always work, but I don't quite know how to do it consciously, and when I do it doesn't seem to work so well. Also, it requires realization skills, as fears work behind the curtains, so I have to expose them before doing the trick. It has helped me against dozens or maybe hundreds of light ignitions of depression before.

But sometimes there are some tremors just too strong and constant that keep hitting me all the time. There are some feelings of hate and frustration too ominous, like tidal waves that bring despair with the mere sight of them (personal issues so nuclear that it's hard to fully realize them, like they're so blinding and overwhelming that the simple thought makes my heart tremble) and against them I can only tumble down. When it happens, I have to start plan B, to rise again (actually I just had the idea, analogies are so great to mend the gaps in mental strategies).

Those characters, personalization of my fears, are the perfect examples of Sparkles, but I don't quite bother keeping track of them. But it's satisfying to see those tremors (consisting of mermaids, misthoughts, dysrationalized thoughts and, well, mindtraps in general) being recycled, transformed in creative forces.

Of Prime Mindscapes and Triggered Wehmut

Once in a while I can find comfort and peace in some conditions my body and my mind experience. I seem to find comfort and peace of mind by experiencing certain mindscapes. Sometimes they feel so fresh that they seem like new experiences, but in hindsight I realize they are the same ones every single time.

I’m calling them the Prime Mindscapes, the foundation of all that I feel and long for, and they interfere with the way I react to the real world. As far as I can tell, they are born from all forms of fusion and combinations that leave an imprint in my mind. Routines can create mindscapes as repetition makes anything oddly meaningful. Routines can make anything worth of being seen as a fullfledged rite.

I feel kind of annoyed by feeling it only like a limitation. It's some kind of shame of still being imprisoned in my own subjectivity. It's only a struggle to realize I am always watching everything from the same position over and again, no matter how much I try to change. I am always being just me. So limitedly me.

It's important for me to broaden my horizons and taste the present. But living the present means creating more routines and more meaningful mindscapes that in the future will trigger my long for the past once again, making my life an enjoyment only of all that is past. It reminds of a german word I’ve once learned, Wehmut. It means a yearning, a wistful longing for the past (it's close to the word we have in portuguese, "saudade”, but I find stranger words more spicy for names).

But then again, the Prime Mindscapes are part of the Thing That Has No Name deep inside that is what I am. Maybe there’s a subconscious force leading me to chase them, probably the same force that keeps firing my obsession and emptiness and longing to be someone else. Or maybe it’s the fear of being defined. After all, why should I chase something that gives me peace of mind?

I'm riddled by a conflict here. It could be a petty realization against them Primers, maybe I shouldn't feel threatened by them dictating my reactions, making the so awfully predictable. But both sides have a point, so I feel like I have to play chess for both sides, trying to make the best moves for each side to win. I should make a draw, but I don't how to balance two opposite thoughts, one side that says happiness is outsided to be achieved, other one saying happiness is within, being comfortable with the current condition. Maybe there is a balance, but I need to give it more thoughts before I can feel the answer.

In the end, all I know is that there's something missing from me and I have to achieve it somehow. It seems like the old obsession bringing me insatisfaction while I search for it, the Ultimate Answer that will show me all that is my own reality, all that I am, all that I need.  The Master Answer that will the make the Ontological Puzzle resolve itself. Heh, interesting how things can look so silly depending on the way you word them.

Of being forgetful

Few things frustrate me as much as this feeling of stagnation and skiding in the same place. It's in fact pretty much the opposite of that fresh feeling of inspiration and willingness common to take noticeable steps in development. It's like trying to improve but having the glass ceiling blocking improvement, making the sames mistakes time and again - all while being painfully aware of them.

It seems I keep forgeting things I read and think and learn - they don't get in my mind. It's been bothering me mainly in my drawings, I can't seem to make my muscles learn to do the right strokes (even when my eyes can see flaws that are so goddamn obvious). In a way it makes me more comfortable with introspective learning, as unlocking them from the inside of my mind makes it an automatic learning, unlike reading entire books and forgetting most of what it was about, which is something that happens to me when I think back of most movies and books I've read, recollecting only a few realizations from the entire journey.

It makes me think a lot about the right way to learn. Am I expecting too much from me or am I trying an ill-planed program of development? It's really puzzling. This is either an issue that requires nuclearity and wholeness to handle them and I am really bad at absorbing information, or maybe this is common to learning and I'm forgetting the logistics of impossible and forgetting repetition is needed to embed things in my mind. I can't seem to tell which one is right, and I wish I could find out a way to figure out when I'm truly being paranoid.

Of things that were forgotten

With this much turbulence of thoughts, I've been finding it hard to keep track of the whole of them. That is, in the conscious mind, all the names and the logistics of my strategies. In the unconscious they are entirely there, stripped from all semiotics, but wholly coherently as a whole, as my intertwining skills seem to be second nature. Fortunately I have one skill already being Fluent and costing me no effort to maintain it.

I've been noticing lately that some resident thoughts of mine eventually were forsaken. Fluency, Sparkles and some othemrs are names for concepts from some months ago no longer come to say hi and drink some coffee. I wonder how they are doing. I think I should revisit the, they might be covered by cobwebs...

When I think of them now I even seem to get a different emotional response from them. I get a distinct emotional response from each one, but they all have something in common, a certain leitmotif  in common composing the identity of each one that it can become a song, a whole emotional response of its own. And it can be analogized to when you meet a friend from childhood and notice you both went part ways, it's nostalgic and sad and yet it's a feeling that life didn't stagnate. This emotional response is like we no long belong together and... no, wait, this sounds like a thought afflicted by dysrationalia, giving in to analogies and ignoring actual logistics. These old concepts are too meaningful to allow themselves to be forgotten, and they are important enough to reach deeper levels of my unconsciousness, influencing my mind. They stil are a part of me, and deep inside, there they are, stripped of all semiotics, but coherent as a whole, controlling surface thoughts.

It seems it is all about the logistics of the mind, the impossibility to store all thoughts at once. The human mind sure seems to adapt well to Braudel's Framework. Short-term memory work with the current logistics and detailed information needed at hand, and medium and long-term processes seem to deal with more abstract and analogous concepts, motifs and overarchs. There are some specific moods in my mind, sometimes skill-development, or deep introspection, to name a few I could think of. And each mood involves a certain logic, and its details are left aside when I change the mood due to the short-term memory. So the fact that I don't seem to keep track of all the whole of my thoughts hopefully has to do more with this than actual short memory. And then, maybe, if I go back to a certain mood and start inhaling the object of study, I can recall the elements and techniques inherent to that logistic that I've already explored, so I open my drawer and take the names and techniques and readapt them to the slots of my short-term memory, to deal with that specific case.

But there are always problems being unearthed. Emotional responses can change if names are too much time unused. It seems that emotional responses evolve within me, recognizable but everchanging, and meeting old names is like meeting an imprint of the moment the emotional response was identified. It's as if names were photographs holding the still frame of a moment. I wonder how I will handle this issue. But there's a nice turn when facing problems though, as it's a chance to build a more solid structure. It's like people who try to bring your opinion down with arguments you didn't think before, except you can only thank them for pointing them out.

Of Confirmed Limitation

Human folks are inherentely biased and fallacious, and the most glaring one is when we think we are not. So one of those days I've been reading some of the most common ones that plague our mind, and double-checking them to warn my mind to be aware of them even though I might think they are no threat, them mindtraps. It's interesting to read them and foresee the ones my introspective forces haven't detected yet. Yeah, slowly I'm learning the logistics of Ungapping.

But out of all the amazing discoveries, the most powerful mindtrap I've found (yes, an Al Capone-like gangster) was with the help of my trusty introspective battalions. I seem to have this tendency to feel discouraged when a certain limitation is imposed. For example, introspection is said by some to be an unreliable tool, also because psychological forces in the deeper levels of the unconscious can't be exposed through it. And I feel like there's no need trying. And when I keep trying one political party in my brain says I'm a goddamned fool (god, this much Russian Revolution is doing things to my brain).

We hardly notice the consequences of imposing limitations, as they might end up being seen as impossibilities, and certain things impossible are so due to our beliefs. I am settling that, logistics deeply considered (mostly time - I have to stop being paranoid with my goals), my conception of the impossible should not be too influential in my ambitions. Just in case anyone hasn't noticed yet, I'm outright a fan of that Mark Twain's quote "They did not know it was impossible, so they did it".

The moment is ripe to declare indepency of my mind. And this is one of elements of my individual Constitution I'm elaborating, containing all rules and principles I need to follow to maintain my own well-being. Actually, all I feel I need right now is peace of mind. I want to expel this whole block of guilty and pressure and emptiness and shame and despair and distrust (of all this destructive creativity, and dysrationalia ruling over) that keeps plundering and threatening the integrity of my mental lands. The feeling of inner security and self-confidence is how I see my own happiness (or is it the current form of happiness, just the current thing missing?), and this is the reason why I have to to believe in my mental independence (as I biasedly thought I already was).

Of Motif Mining

There's a dreadful place in my mind, mysterious, dangerous and huge. It's so huge in fact that only realizing its hugeness is deadly enough. But it's my duty to go deep into it. And as I take some steps in, I already start to feel some unbodied whisperings and the yet gentle smell of nightmist. As names come after the realization, I'm now ready to dub this Realm of Uncertainty, in an attempt to chart my way through this maze. I tread this place carefully, as mindtraps lurk all around, preying on most thoughts venturing here, possessing them with that awful illness, dysrationalia.

By the way, is this what I used to call having Cloudy Thoughts? It seems like something entirely different now. Is it because I've been sailing around these seas more often? It's all so uncertain...

Fortunately I've got some tools to help me here. First is Questioning, it can shield potential misthoughts as shown above. Also, my Hymns of Introspection seem to ward them mindtraps off, at least to a certain extent. There’s a reason why ambient songs are the perfect soundtrack for introspection, they slow down my haste to find everything, so I sit back, breathing slowly, eyes closed.

But still my sanity seems to plummet the deeper I go into my thoughts. Or is just because I’m too tired as I’ve been sleeping 3h each day? It’s all but Hephaestosis leading me into the same obsessive, maddening quest that brought me to an almost suicidal depression before, as unprepared as I was.

The deeper I go, I start feeling an increasing distrust to the overall reality of my mind, but for some reason, I'm feeling stronger, I'm feeling only mildly puzzled. Or am I feeling different things (as I have some distrust for the me that is past, I always I find him to be a weak pussy and retard who doesn't make good use of the time he has) or am I really stronger and more prepared? How can I possibly tell them apart? Uh, too much questioning, this is a really dark area. Tighten now, boys, don't despair. But, uh, there's this motif again, the emotional response leaking from it, I can almost smell it. I wonder if this motif (interesting how they become more real and more solid by the more they appear) could be stored for later studies. Now, is this place inherently uncertain, or is it just uncharted? Um, more emotional motifs! These dark caves are dangerous but they are full of treasures. Ops, that thought might have been mermaided. Quick, a question here! Or is it?. Uff, that was close.

But I digress (this is inherent of this Realm. I'm recalling it now, is this what I used to call the Unthought? Hey, more motifs to be explored). I’m fucking digressing again! Focus, boys, focus, for god’s sake, we’re in a mission here. We are unloading several posts and never getting to the nuclear point. 

How do I make these feeble thoughts less vulnerable to dysrationalia?

STOP DIGRESSING.

Of Braudel's Framework of Time

According to Fernand Braudel, events can be separated in three categories: factual, conjectural and structural (also short, medium and long-term processes).  It can be metaphorically compared to sea's depth. Facts are the waves on the surface; thousands of them, most of them are insignificant, but overwhelmingly active. Deeper below we can find a less active level, that affects and is affected by its proximity with the surfacing events. Meeting seabed we find the lowest level of activity, but the most influential one. As deep and thick as it is, changes in surface have to be incredibly strong to really make any interference.

In the way Braudel elaborated this framework, short-term processes involve political and individual events, medium-term processes involve social and economical changes and long-term processes involve geological and environmental conditions. Historical studies use this system to visualize the importance of events (the three-level framework encompass only the first two level of the original framework). They consider the factual level the journalists' area, whereas historians have to understand conjectures and structures (the rise of capitalism in early modern history is one example of structure). I can use Braudel's Framework to my own life (only a short-lived wave in the sea of time). Of course, I think I should be working on how the cultural conjectures and zeitgeists influence me, but I'm going to deal with a more psychological and introspective approach.

In a factual level I my thoughts and emotions are everchanging (trusting them give chance to mermaids and overall dysrationalia to rule over things I say). In the conjectural level I find an increasingly invisible overlay that affects and is affected by low-key events. To be unveiled, it just needs observation, introspection, reflection and study. And the deeper I go, the more knowledgeable I have to get to be aware of these high-key elements of my identity.

In this blog I don't want to explore short-term events (this is no twitter). The depth of my exploration involves conjectures and as below as the pressure (sanity) allows me. As historical studies go, the study of medium and long-term processes is fundamental to understand short-term ones (specially tendencies of behavior).

Of Logistics

Frustration comes from obsession and expectations, or so I have learned throughout these years. And it seems I can only breath and inhale my objects of study when I end up giving up on everything else. And then when I find myself satisfyingly concentrated, I find it frustrating and annoying to do pretty much every other thing. I'm becoming obnoxiously stubborn, is what I'm trying to say here.

One of these days my father wanted my help to make some cement to fix something, and I begrudgingly agreed to do so. But as it went, I learned to enjoy the task, mixing the sand with crushed stones and cement and then being careful not to let water spill out, as we didn't have a box to make the mixture. It turns out I enjoyed the time by learning the logistics of cement-making.

As I've learned, everything is surrounded by logistics, elements and subtleties unique to their own. And one who pays attention to all these unique characteristics can make use of it to improve efficiency in the making of the task. One has to be aware of the force of physics, for example, when doing most physical tasks. This is pretty much science, actually.

Also, Logistics can be used to people. And before some lot says that people aren't objects to be studied, that's the point. Subjective skills deal with logistics pretty much entirely different from objective skills, that's what logistics are all about. And that's not to be manipulative as some people like to react when they see other people trying to improve their social skills.

Analogies help me fight the mindtrap known to me as Jack of All Trades (from the saying "Jack of All Trades, Master of None", and I like seeing it as a joker-like enemy). Basically, analogies help me intertwine all skills into One Skill To Rule Them All. But Logistics are also important for that, as analogies have a limited range of action. And Logistics are pretty much the opposite of analogies, they are what can't be analogized. So I can, for example, study all that makes drawing an entirely different skill than writing (writing is sequential, for instance, and a picture has no linear, no set order of appreciation, it can be something whole and instantaneous, like an emotional response in contrast to a logical thought).

It takes developed observation skills to realize the logistics and all the unique characteristics, and that is good for creativity, as being aware of sub-pre-unconscious/automatic rules/vices it's easier to break them. When musicians tell us to "explore the instrument" they mean just that, exploring the way you can interact with the strings of your guitar, and which sounds you can create with different strokes (pinch harmonics is one nice example of exploring the logistics of your guitar).

And I can only think of this being used to everything, which can improve quality too. It's all about the challenge that is to make unique strategies to overcome the unique case in your hand. For example video game controller designers must take in consideration all the elements to create the best joystick.Logistics are all about the obvious: hands hold the joysticks, all different kind of hands, and as entertainment it must be something comfortable; and games usually put players into adrenaline which can make their hands sweat, so the plastic can't be slippy; games require quick reflexes, so buttons have to be easily accesible (which is something obvious but N64 joystick designers didn't remember) and it goes on as I don't work in a joystick company or whatever.

This is what happens when you both do and don't take logistics seriously.

This concept, like most, has some storytelling potential. I remember when I had a professor making an analysis of some Shakesperian play, and he would say how Shakespeare always had in mind what his audience was thinking. For example, at the beginning, he would explore the audience's lack of information about the play. They didn't know who were those characters on the stage, or the place they were supposed to be in the story, and he'd slip these pieces of information with sublety in the dialogues. This way he'd hold the interest of his audience, as he would bring in a mysterious new character, a new doubt, thus making the revelation more engaging. Nowadays we are to enter in a history knowing only its title and some cover/poster. Actually, the logistics are more complicated than that because internet increased the chance of us meeting spoilers (not necessarily the negative plot or ending-revealer) which differ the audience in the degree of information about the story (or degree of exposure to paratext). In fact, there must be thousands of elements composing the logistics of storytelling. But, most importantly, the different mediums have logistics of their own that must not be ignored. For example, a storyteller shouldn't try to fool the readers the story is about to end when they hold the book in their hands and see there are some two hundred pages left, but he can try to do that with games, where the length of the story isn't predictable (though the common disk storage usually serve as a hint - but then again, different degree of information). So I find it really, really interesting how different mediums and their different logistics interfere with how a story can be told. In fact, that can be used to one's own favor, such as jokes breaking the fourth wall, and tricks to increase identification with the audience. For example, a character says: "isn't it too soon for this story to be over?".

Logistics are also an extension of Tasting, Breathing/Inhaling and Gamification, as I see reward in every simple task and by doing it efficiently, being focused in how I work with it and all. So every task becomes something to learn, such as ironing the clothes, taking photographs, driving (balancing the gas pedal with the clutch pedal as to change gears as smoothly as possible, or the place to hold the wheel to make it spin more with one hand only and then turning back by letting the wheel slip controllably under your hand, a technique faster and less clumsy than try to spin it little by little desperately with both hands). Even when I don't realy care about the task I have to do, I can improve my observation skills when interacting with the logistics of the task.

So, to make a conclusion, yes, of course Logistic was readily accepted in the brethren (some of the other veteran ideas are jealous of its quick ascension and popularity). Logistics and Nuclearity are like sworn brothers already, and those two friends take a huge role in my most fundamental principles, from development and diversity, to willingness and good humor.

Of cobwebs

My minds seems to have a taste for things I always took for granted, and some of them only now I am beginning to acknowledge their psychological meaning. I am just starting to truly realize how some things I lived and felt are probably things only I have experienced, which can be a terrifying thing under a certain point of view. Maybe those things I strive for are loose ends, things that life eventually made me forget about, but things too meaningful that won't allow themselves to be forgotten, and become unfinished business accumulating in my brain.

To a certain extent, most of them seem to be related to my childhood. This longing for cloudy days, this fascination with slavic culture (weirdly connected to christmas, somehow), this willing to live in an apartment in a big city, to do things city kids do - somehow this city-life mindscape always remind me of some cousins of mine I haven't never had this much contact for them to be this influential over me. For some reason my taste for grunge and thrash metal has to do with this, they remind me of these cousins of mine, and these cloudy days too (hence the Sunday Gray songs i've once mentioned here).

There are some objects of desire that for some reason remain from shows I used to watch or from things wanted or used to do, thoughts I've been taught to put aside as to focus on more important things, thoughts I've abandoned but loyally refuse to let go and still linger around my mind. Maybe it was moving to a new city when I was plain comfortable with the life I was having. Come to think of it, it was all so... abrupt.

So I want to slowly retrack my life so far, trying to remember all things I've lived through and track down every unfinished business haunting my mind. Unfortunately I can't go the city I grew in right now or any time soon, so I'll have to relive it all through my mind; all those people, all those houses, all the places I used to play, all things that affected me somehow (like those streets I were afraid of because of the evil dogs or the creepy-ass house, or that smell of plants in my grandmas). Most things are already too lost to be recovered, but I hope that those very loose ends can serve me of a hint for memories that I need to recollect.

But there's something to this increasing awareness project that makes me feel a little hesitant before taking the first step into the quest. I have a feeling that this could change who I am, forever. It feels like I'm about to unveil the magic, and this dissection is going to make my own mystery become stale, like someone trivially explaining to me the simple trick behind the amazing show I had fond memories of, making it empty and meaningless afterwards. It's like cleaning up the place from these cobwebs, but feeling pretty comfortable the way it is now. I feel resistant to change, afraid that this is would be to make a sacred place profane. Afraid to lose the innocence. But this resistance smells like mindtrap afraid to be erased. I need to resolve myself and clean up my mind of all things that accumulated into my subunconscious during all this time. They could be the very thing overloading my mind (or, more probably, handicapping the flow).

Maybe I'm afraid this will erase my memories or that this will make me become someone else, so this ironic realization makes me less hesitant. But I'll still have to be careful, as maybe just being aware of it all doesn't mean the cobwebs will be removed, which is what happens when nuclearity doesn't come in the resolve.

I need to find a way to bring relief to those mindscapes. I have a deep love for them and I want them to keep being as influential as they are, but I need to make them stop begging me to relive them all the goddamn time.This obsession is blocking my development, preventing me from -not discoverying - wholly appreciating new tastes and spices.

Of ages and achievements

"According to Beard, creativity is a funcion of two underlying factors, enthusiasm and and experience. Enthusiasm provides the motivational force behind persistent effort, yet enthusiasm in the abscence of the second factor yields just original work. Experience gives the achiever the ability to separate wheat from chaff and to express original ideas in a more intelligible and persistent fashion. Yet experience in the absence of enthusiasm produces merely routine contribution.
Genuine creativity requires the balanced cooperation of both enthusiasm and experience. beard postulates, however, that these two essential components display quite distinctive distributions across the life span. Whereas enthusiasm usually early in life and steadily declines thereafter, experience gradually increaes as a positive monotonic function of age. The correct equilibrium between the two fators is attained between the ages of 38 and 40, the most common age optima for creative endeavors. Prior to that expected peak, an individual's output would be excessively original, and the postpeak phase the output would be excessively original, and the postpeak phase the output would be overly routine. The career floruit in the late 30s thus represent the uniquely balanced jusxtaposition of the rhapsodies of youth and the wisdom of maturity." (Simonton, on Age and Achievement)

With an overwhelming guilt of being a late-bloomer (in the intimacy of my mind I keep dearly calling myself retarded), I've read this as if it was an HIV test. It's quite a relief to know said "career floruit" doesn't have to happen now at my early twenties. Maybe I can make up for all these unforgivable wasted years of my adolescence doing things adolescents do!

Later on the author says " the expected optima in career age equivalents are 19, 26, and 40 for poets, novelists, and historians" (though there was a horrifying graph showing the peak is at 22 and I almost fainted) but I think that up until I reach my thirties I will be able to attain an absurd shitload of experience and knowledge if I keep going at this pace, and that seems a nice time to reach a peak. Eight years seems quite a lot of time actually. A shame logic doesn't wash out guilt this easily. I think I should just stop comparing myself with all those amazing talented and hardworking people out there who are professionals before their twenties (and I'm ruling out the asians!). I think I shouldn't be afraid to give myself my own time or think of things that could define me. Yeah, I shouldn't be afraid of having myself being defined, period. I'm Henrique, the insecure mapropist, namedropper, pretentious retard. Hi.

But there's one other question, how can I maintain enthusiasm (in my own personal dictionary: Hephaestosis) until and after I attain said valued Experience?

Fueling myself with sour has an immediate and unbelievably strong effect, but there'll be a time I'll be mature enough to no longer give in to hate and sorrow, I can't count on that forever. Fueling myself with nostalgia is quite healthier and, well, through my nerd doings I have access to my inner child (and there's the peak of enthusiasm, apparently), though this fire becomes much more vulnerable to damage.
In gamified terms, sour is the Star and nostalgia is the Fire Flower. What role does the Feather play in this context, I wonder?

Of grinding

The cause of the last major depression I went through might have something to do with I becoming more exigent about myself, in a sudden turn of events. I realized how much I have to develop my skills to get somewhere, how more serious I have to get, and then I just was afraid of how low-level and lazy I still am. I am late and time clocks on. Continue?
It's quite a scary thought that held me truly hesitant and willing to give up. But I'll accept the challenge.

If it goes like my plan, and it's a simple one, it'll all be like learning anatomy for days and then drawing figures with much more ease and accuracy. I just have to get into deeper and more serious studies and professional readings. It's all about Solidification, getting prepared for real shit this time.

Thing is, up to this point it's really easy to dream and be delirious about, and then loosing the grip along the time, this is a false Hephaestosis, this will lead to no true dedication, and I have to be aware against this sort of things from now on. But if I can somehow manage to keep the true Fire burning long enough for me to resist the pressure of this burden I'm confident I'll find my way. I still feel wounded by loneliness, and getting energy from hate and social frustration is doing me no good, it's blindingly distracting. But I'm admittedly having a hard time being forgiving, and also sour is what fuels my inner volcano, even though it's destroying me by the day, adding a seemingly dead stare to my eyes.

At any rate, I know that those studies will result in nuclear enhancement of knowledge and will serve me to become more credible, as you need to extensively prove your merits first before having the right to be simply heard (or, more accurately, when they've run out of assets to prove you wrong, and while some do this out of precaution, others are just - no, I need to stop hating people for my own good). Long put short, I have to gain renown, so I'll play their rules.

Of points of view

It seems I'm finding hope once again. But the wound stands unhealed and I don't to leave this place without learning a bit more about how I can avoid falling into this trap the next time. This is an opportunity to rise stronger than before, so I don't just want to have the strength to stand up after the beating, but to kick the everloving shit out of my beater.

I've been thinking lately of how much I've been changing, and of all things that were forgotten. It looks like all texts I've written here could have become something entirely different only by writing it in a different moment. It's all about a state of mind, apparently, the way we react to things. For example, one or two months ago I've been troubled by the ideas fleeing my mind as I would come to write things here, and now I just don't seem to be as much bothered by that. As I write this text the keywords come right in time, paragraphs easily rearrange themselves, and leitmotifs define themselves clearer along the way. I can feel it, the struggle of writing finally starting to become a pleasant task. All strict rules and techniques I've settled for before are becoming intuitive, subconscious now. It's one goal achieved, I'm happy to say that.

The way I react to challenges seems to be changing, as I'm seem to be changing the state of mind when I face them. I'm finding it easier to accept some challenges instead of postponing them. It's all about turning the fear into an adventurous adrenaline or something like that. It started last week, I think, when I settled to study every inch of human anatomy and I've started drawing all the arm muscles from several angles. Every new attempt made me hold my breath, as I'd be nervous with the idea of making mistakes and ruining the page filled with other successful studies.

Crossing the line of hesitation and unleashing a confident movement while thinking "I'm doing it" is a rewarding action. Facing the daunting prospect of failure seems to develop my sense of courage, and it feels like my brain gets some injection of those happiness chemicals I always forget the name.

These are some subconscious fears I've identified through introspection, by being confident I have the strength to accept the challenge that is to defeat them. There's thousands of these demons, and I thought I had fought several of them for good already, but I never seem to defeat them. The wound always stands unhealed. I have to strive for some Nuclearity here, I have to introspect my way into my subconscious and face the very core of my own fears. Man, that's gonna hurt.

Of self-therapy

One of those days I was watching the sea, listening to a beautiful piano song, seeing the waves crashing, the body of water reflecting the sun while building up until  it could only crash upon itself. There was something meaningful about the sea that makes my mind a little more in peace. I wanted to taste it, but I couldn't really feel connected to it. My mind was being distracted with an ever longing for something else.

I've been thinking lately about things that rule our mind without us being aware of them. I've try reading little about it, and there seems to be a debate about the difference between subconsciousness and unconsciousness. The only thing I could get from it is that unconscious is at a lower level, and memories can't be retrieved through introspection, while things stored in the subconscious can. So even if I got it wrong, it got me enough to think about, and it's apparently one major realization that's going to make a difference in my life, or so I hope.

I have been distrustful to things that work subconsciously. It's pretty much the idea of unruled intuition being a flawed cog ruining the efficiency of the machine. I have to dissect it and reconfigure it, so when it's back in place, it'll work properly. I just have to be able to see when a cog is being the responsible for my problems, though it's complicated because there's always a subconscious force pulling the strings of everything, but I'm pretty aware that there's one pool of subconsciousness at the back of my head that I have to be constantly vigilant of, so it's easier when I can see where the problems come from.

Mindscapes are what I call the experiences and conditions and feelings in our lives, emotional or sensorial. I realized they've being betraying me with the malificent Subconscious Inc. I've learned my mind has been subconsciously striving for certain mindscapes, and that could be the cause of my feeling of insatisfaction and emptiness, as all mindscapes can't be as tasteful as that very one stored in my subconscious. Love is one interesting example, as when we're deeply in love we strive only for the emotional mindscape of love, and only being with the person we love is that we feel we can be happy. The problem is there's something of obsession about it, because my mind seems to block the appreciation of all other mindscapes.

But there's still more to mindscapes, and I have to explore why I have to keep searching for so many of them. I've got the theory that I am not happy about myself, so tasting hints of other lives is what pleases my subconscious. Of course, expanding my collection of mindscapes is benefitial, as I can be happy with every situation, be it a rainy monday morning or a lonely saturday night (and even mindscapes of pain, as shown by the dormant Sour Fuel). I just have to pay more attention to which mindscapes seem to be more prone to stimulate the obsession of my mind.

I like seeing how concepts interact, and when a new one is accepted as a member of the brethren, it has to work synergetically with the other veteran ideas. Gladly, these thoughts on things subconscious seem to fit them all perfectly, as the subconscious seems to be the origin of all mindtraps, they manipulate my mindscapes and the exercise of realization is vital, as it's the prime weapon to guard the subconscious from being so influent over my thoughts and actions and emotions.

And hopefully this way I'll slowly ungap the puzzle that is me.

Of dead-ends (again)

This feeling of emptiness and insatisfaction seems to be growing bigger by the day, and I'm finding myself every day more depressed. I wish I could just check my motivations to refill my stamina all over again, but it seems they are having no effect, and I need stimulus for Hephaestosis to work.

One of the stimuli is the strength born from being weak, and that curious phenomenon I always used to my advantage doesn't seem to be working. I need a reason to create, to have my mind firing up new worlds and cascades of colors and life, but I just see no point in it anymore, I don't know what I am to do with my creations. Actually I do, but I'm getting no emotional response. The thing is, Hephaestus' fire is probably one of the few things that still made sense to me, and losing it makes me lose the ability to see a reason in life.

This whole quest is getting meaningless. I'm always getting nowhere, there's no true feeling of accomplishment except little craftings to distract myself. I feel like awakening from delirium and how unfit I'm for my own ambition. I keep only finding myself weighened down by my insignificance, my unchartable ignorance and asininity. I always felt like being behind, and this could be a late entrance into adulthood when life loses its wondrous appeal, and I am going to be just one more dreamless person in the world who finally noticed it's pathetically useless to try doing something to change the world. I dread this so much I prefer other alternatives.

This is the fourth moment in my life when I felt I've hit the lowest level (curiously, all since the beginning of this year). The other times I felt a little desperate with the total lack of perspective, like future doesn't exist for me, but I think I'm either getting used to it or I just know something will pull me out soon again. Maybe this is one of the subconscious forces that seem to be working with me, instead of against me.

Interesting, I've been talking about dictatorships and rebellions. I should have seen there would be a time when I'd not be in control of my mind anymore.

Of Hephaestosis

There's an emptiness filling me that I can't get rid of. My heart always seem to be longing for something else, and nothing seems to fulfill me. All except this dormant feeling that sometimes erupt inside me like a tempestuous vulcan.

It's the burning desire to learn and create, to craft and dissect. I feel like I'm witnessing crashing worlds and the birth of new universes. Sometimes the fires of creation can also be destructive with its uncontrolled strenght, but this overwhelming force sometimes arises tamed and directed properly, showing to me a path that seems safe and sure.

The most interesting thing is, I always seem to experiment it when I feel broken, so this could be my way to distract and heal my soul. This feeling is probably known to the excluded, isolated and awkward getting busy themselves with their crafting, unaware to the smoke afflicting their eyes and being inhaled by their nostrils.

There's a feeling of accomplishment when there's a small token retrieved from the forges, like a badge symbolizing all the hardwork condensed into the little details of a new-born masterpiece.

Of Sour Fuel (The Tale of the Proud Swamp Dweller)

Young Trygve always knew what distance meant. He'd spend his days hidden in the barks of dead trees, watching people passing by the swamp he was abandoned in. The innocent flame inside his heart always made him want to belong, but he would only be mocked by the villagers. Sometimes he tried to amuse kids with tricks he made up, but they laughed at him and once one of them hit him with a stick on his leg, leaving him with a wound that would keep him from walking properly ever again. Men and women would laugh at the scrawny, lame boy, making jokes about how pathetic he was, and laughing hysterically.

The swamp made him lead a solitary life he was never comfortable with. He never wanted it, and yet that's all he has ever had. Often he'd drown his heart with sorrow, though it never leaked out from his eyes.

It was a rainy day, and in the midst of the fog and the trees he was walking around with difficulty. As he felt some cold drops of water touching his ill-looking skin, as the desolation rain washed his soul, he wanted it to put out the fire inside him. But, in that last moment, when nothing else could be done, when all he could do was to face his complete disgrace, he felt a seed of hate to be born inside him, as he realized he had always lived like this against his own will. He felt hate as he realized he was so used to pain that it felt comfortable to him. He felt hate and joy as he accepted his own condition. And from that day on he sweared an oath to pain.

It was a wondrous feeling, and he became addicted to it. It was actually the only feeling that felt truly real for him, the only one he could trust that would always be there. He gave in completely to it and he would everytime go even farther as he needed the excitement pumping in his veins. Soon he longed to be ugly, and terrifingly sick, so he could could make people feel truly threatened by his deformit, and he would be excluded for a reason he could understand why.

He wanted the disgrace to happen upon him, so he could celebrate his fall. The fire inside inside him exploded furiously with every dream tasted for the last time before being shattered unmercifully. He lived in the dirt for that's the place he felt comfortable in, tasting the stench of his misery and feasting on his flesh. He had always been weak, but this made him feel strong. He believed to be invicible. And deep inside there was hope, even though he intended to chase every hint of it.

Sometimes the moonlight would serenely find a way through the dense treetops to shine on his face, and the moon's smile always made his young innocence burst through his eyes. But it was always an ephemeral moment of peace, as soon he'd find himself with all but the silent dark in front of his eyes and only the cold wrapping his body, and that always lead him to confusion, a turmoil of fear, despair, frustation and anger that would bring him every once again to his distrust of all but pain.

Soon there were rumors, of course, of a foul beast haunting those lands as the villagers heard soarful laments winding through the air, sometimes shyly, sometimes savagely, and tales were told of dark ghosts and undead men lurking around the distant moor.

It was in a rainy day that a small party of hunters decided to investigate the matter, and there in a clearing in the woods, it was in midst of the fog and the dark trees that they found a powerful beast, a man so huge trembling on his knees, ridden with violent spasms. The soldiers stopped for a moment hesitantly, as they noticed the at first seemingly wounded giant now acknowledged their presence and slowly stood up to face them. His skin looked vigorous despite of the unhealed wounds and overall battered appearance. His movements were slow as if there was fiery beast within hold under leash. The eyes, witnesses of his world of suffering showed only an unchanging and focused stare.

It was in this moment of reciprocal study when one of them stepped forth, removing his helmet and tossing it aside while unsheathing his sword. Tygver silently watched the hero's arrogance, and watched the other soldiers starting to cheer him for his bravery. The jealousy fed his heart with hate as he saw this handsome man as the one who had all that he could never have. That man became to his eyes a symbol of all that brought him to that state, and he felt an uncontrollable anger, an impulse so marvelously strong that his fueled veins and muscles raised his fist and, as heavy as a god's hammer, it crushed the man to the ground, becoming now an horrendous pile of heraldic iron and bloody flesh.

The soldiers were watching in horror, now vulnerable to his rage. But all he could do was to stand silent, slowly being flooded with a feeling of unexpected unfulfillment. This was a victory he never intended to win (though he could also never recognize one). He felt regret under the realization that he was now finally able to spread pain out from him, and his heart soon trembled as he felt his life to be wasted on a meaningless pursue. In a moment he stood there, as the lack of peace and love that never his to be achieved weighted over him unbearably.

As he felt the drops of water on his scarred skin, he begged for the desolation rain washing his soul to put out the fire inside him. All he could do was to face his disgrace, and he bashed his soul with blame once again, but this time he knew he was the responsible for all the misery he lived in, guilting himself for the useless pain that he lived throught was a pursuit on his own.

The seed of hate was reborn inside of him, the sorrow filled him again, and his thirst for pain lighted up his fire one more time. But pain for him was no longer something he could punish himself with, and he felt blindly desperate as he watched the soldiers regaining courage, directing their spears towards him. All he could think of doing was to charge onto them, and it was such a furious sprint that the lacerating pain from his lame leg was easily ignored.

Just before the soldiers acknowledged what had just happened, Tygver rised his chest, lifting the spears and their wielders up in the air in the process, waving his body just once to toss them away like ragdolls, and then he deepened the spears into his chest, into his flesh, into his ribcage, cutting his organs open. With a last tearful and cynical smile, and he kneeled, and died in silence. The suffering disappeared from that helpless body like the ending hint of pulsing red from the last live coal.

Of delirium, despair and all that is desire

 The kind of overload my mind's been going though lately is the worst of the kinds, it's the one that can't be truly unloaded, as it's paradoxally full and empty at the same time. According to my thoughts on Dormancy, I'm allowed to run my life like a healthy man who can laugh at poop jokes, but when I get away from the world and open the door to my mind, I've been always finding it haunted by an on-going silent anarchy and I am afraid of really getting in to put things out properly.

How could this have happened?

This whole project thing has been getting me so obsessed with it's bringing me some problems I've not accounted. I've been overloading my mind, trying to cram as much information in as I can, trying to unveil as many realizations as possible, and trying to avoid sleep and proper alimentation to optimize time. I think I never made it this far, this level of introspection, focusing this much on the connection of the stream of thoughts, and making maximum use of the things I've learned in the past few months to develop my drawing skills in the least ammount of time. So much preoccupation devoted to development, organization and overall efficiency. It's been my main focus these last weeks, getting to know my mind as much as I can, to chart it all as fast as I can, to get myself in the appropriate condition as soon as possible. I've been so desperately looking for a major realization a Master Answer of some kind to help me become more aware of the things in my mind and to put things in place, in a fireproof place, but after all this quest I've only found myself even farther away from my objectives. It's been an obsession that has found its way to my subconcious, pulling the strings of my thoughts and actions and now have one more reason to unmask these subconscious forces. A Circle of Doom has been created to imprison my mind in its exitlessness.

I've treaded my mind in such a small period of time, in such a dangerous time, since I was not even emotionally stable to do this.I've had my mental facilities sabotated by suddenly overpowered agents of my own - Antithesis had always been dutied with a delicate responsibility, and it's been possessed by stranger forces. It all added to make me get this dizzy feeling of going paranoid and deranged.

I may be losing control of my priorities, losing the perception of time and even my goals are getting disorderly despite the very obsession with them. I'm thinking things I shouldn't bother thinking or that are deviating my mind inappropriately, and sometimes I've found myself violating some of my own rules and principles I've gotten made clear already (in opposite of breaking rules for freedom). I am losing control of what may be really important, or even to acknowledge what those things are in the first place. I'm confused, tired, weary when my mind is active. I've done it so obsessively that I lost control of it all and now I'm all dizzy and I don't even know what's going on. I don't know which thoughts and feelings I should trust. I feel like they're proliferating and there's too much of them for me to possibly handle.

It's been a cloudy day. My mind is cloudy too, and I hate having it under this lead-ruled atmosphere. I've tried some experiments with my emotional responses and I feel I've got it all so disaranged, everything so free and out of place and now my mind seems to be going cucko with all the chaos that are these thoughts running one over each other and getting away with a maniacal laughter before I can make some use of them. It's like when you disconstruct your little radio to see how it works and mid-way you realize you don't know to put it all together again, so you desperately try to remount its status quo. And then you sit back with the hands on your face, taking a deep breath.


Maybe I'm overthinking it. Maybe there's no chaos, or maybe it was always there and for some reason I'm just more aware of it (which could very well be an assuring thought if it's a proper realization). Maybe my mind started to run in a different pace and I'm not able to keep up with it yet, and even then I don't think it is welcome in the first place. Maybe I'm actually depressed and I haven't even realized that out. Maybe I should just get some days of sleep, instead of letting those thoughts trying to figure out the other thoughts, but I'm afraid I'm too addicted to this whole thing. The obsession still rages on and I'm finding everything distracting in a way or another. Everything is striking me with meaning, there's shapes and lines everywhere, summoning absurd correlations, and my mind is overloaded with creations of all kinds.

The problem is that I got no guiddance. If had I any mentor to orient me it'd be easier to know the right paths and proper lenghts. But the way I am in I don't even know if there's been any kind of actual development or if I'm just going backwards. I don't know if I'm being put beyond or behing. This is, after all, the loneliest activity, and I get no clue to where I may be heading to. I don't know how far I must go, how healthy and how important, relevant it actually is to do all of this. But I'm walking untreaded grounds only I can know, and learning to operate the cogs in this machine is making me learn wonders.

Apparently I am the only one who seems to notice the potencial I can unleash here, and finding myself brought down due to my own doings makes me feel like a fool, victim of my own stupid ambition. Sometimes it seems the most meaningless and irrelevant, pretentious quest. But all I've achieved through it helped me harden the motivations I've settled for, and once again they'll support me to find the way out of the bottom of the well. The fact I'm always this alone is something that I won't allow me to forget, as I need my motivations hardened.

Checkpoint #5

August was a month for changes. In the first week several important events took place in my personal life, and in this blog what made it equivalent to my life was the installment of some rules that changed the whole dynamics. Chainposting was a challenge to me, but the exercise was really important for me to develop my correlating skills. Soon I realized the potential of effects these chains allowed me to explore, though I have just start thinking of the logistics of sequencing, which are sure to come up in this next month.

These latest posts were really delayed, but these I am happy to say were being seasoned during this time, and I think I have been breathing/inhaling them better than most of posts I've ever written here, so I'm learning one and another important tricks, so I believe it was worth the preposterous postponing.

But I think having to post five entries per week is going to be demanding too much from me, so I'm loosening that rule from now on. The latest posts made me feel like I had my skills a little more developed already. Even when I go around leaving comments on the rest of the internet or just talking with other people, I noticed the improvement in the way I express myself. It's always important to gain a little more confidence, even though I feel I'm still somewhat far from achieving what I am truly aiming for, so I'll keep trying to make my best to develop it, though at a slower pace, because I feel writing is a little more connected to thinking and introspecting, which is the real thing I have to take a little break from.

I think I'll be shifting my focus more exclusively to my drawing skills, because it's higher in my hierarchy of skills, and also I think I'm better at avoiding the frustation that comes from it, while my determination to develop my writing skills is low at the moment. Maybe I just have to take some breath outside, usually that alone allows some of the skills to settle in and I when I get back I'll be feeling some improvement already. It's a nice, healthy feeling.