Of Capital People

 Those highly influential forces are very dangerous when hiding behind thalassic curtains. I have to uncover them, and understand thoroughly all these emotions and drives that move me. For instance, why do I seek the people I seek.

It's clear to me we all seek people who have life in them. We just have different assumptions on what having life means. I like those who have life around them, wherever they are. Whether it's intelligence or curiosity, their presence is vital to me, and I feel attracted to them, intellectually, or romantically sometimes as well.

It's like growing up in a place where people are all emptyheaded and, I'll be polite here, just plainly uninteresting with boring talk about beer and football and cars and women, and then you meet people with Ideas, and they seem to be aware of the big world beyond. They talk about international politics, music, science and world history. They might live in a very little town or a faroff house, but their presence and knowledge makes up for that. The opposite doesn't work for me.

And I like myself being like this, and it's a nice protection against solitude. It's also one of the factors that determine the way I string my life into the innerverse. It's one of these Gravity things that keep a rivalry between Ilium and Lazuria.

Of a slow march to death

What scares me about time isn't just how relentless it is when bringing us to death, it's how we start literally feeling it closer. In our weak bones, stiff muscles. It seems to exist simply to deter us from neglecting this inexorable fate, but to force us to acknowledge and face constantly that we are already dying.

I hate feeling the death coming closer to my body through the agency of time. It sounds so rude to say such a thing, but then I can't really tell if this is right or wrong to be said, but there it goes: aging is a disease that can't be healed. We get weaker and everything starts malfunctioning. We lose power and energy. We get trapped in sad, boring routines in order to treat our health well.

And the dreadful part of it all is that we adapt. We get used to living to it. We adapt to this condition. And that's not beautiful or reassuring. On the contrary, it's scary. We forget what we used to have. In order to survive, we supress memories of great experiences from the past.

We die, little by little, day by day. Each day when we get to read one less page, we're already tired. Each day we learn one less thing for being too worried about others things. We become less sentient, we become more like zombies. It's like slowly drowsing away, without noticing our belongings and traits taken from us, one by one.

Of Trygve's Roar

 Since his return, I've been paying attention to him, this Trygve guy. It's a power that I was sort of able to reclaim, and then I have been trying to understand him again so I could get better at summoning him. Or finding him again when he is going to get lost again in the woods.

Some of these traits of his essence I was aware before, and some I learned right when he came back. But then there seems always be some other unperceived notions to this strange, mysterious and always surprising character, and it's the essence of unsheltered courage.

That's about how to deal with life, how to adapt to it. Somehow turning the refuse down and accepting it makes the pain much less affecting. So if life gives you heat, bring it in. When you have scorching cold, open your chest towards it. Be willing to accept with open arms what is given to bring you down.

When life roars at you, you roar back.

Of Lifeframes (Zombie Period)

 There are siderooms full of unfinished and unexplored projects I've initiated through the existence of this blog. One of them I barely touched after I got the first woven thread was this one about Lifeframes. There I called it the Goldilocks period of life, when everything is so sweet and we keep routines we love to remember as an unchronological stream.

This new one, similar in several aspects to Goldilocks, is more of a downer. I call it the Zombie period. It's when our life is just going in an automatic mode. Day after day, we aren't driven by any passions. We just get out of bed, do our deeds, head back home, hang around something until time is up to go sleep again.

This is the result of a lack of motivation, a lack of reason to live. No self-steem to feel worthy of being passionate. Being passionate, we constantly are being taught, leads to suffering. This moment in life seems to usually happen after we fall from some metaphorical ladders, and is constant in stages of depression.

It feels like being trapped in the Samsara, so it's a terrible fate for someone to be living in this routine. Imagine lingering in this doomed state for years. Imagine that a good chunk of the world population live through this for most of their lives...

Of Pavlovian detour of judgement

 Wondering about life is one weird exercise. There are some strange twisting points in there, when things reveal themselves in queer manners. It's hard to explain but, for instance, there are certain moments when I notice that there these things that we assume we know about life are so far how others tell them to be. But them we get on the battlefield, and we see several more stuff we can't understand how no one ever told us about.

One of these things I'm learning by myself is about how life tries to push us away from ourselves. And it's made so by some complex conditioning combinations that lead us to close our tolerance towards some stuff and locking ourselves from others, all because by several reasons we can feel threatened by the world around us.

What I am trying to say is that apparently innocence can leave us wiser in reasoning. By scarring ourselves through life, we get so easily biased by all associations we make towards things that we become grumpy old fellas, with rancorous assumptions and being obnoxiously opnionated.

We can't, however, remain innocent through life, for we won't meet life. But we can't let ourselves be scarred by everything, and let wounds to get deep enough to damage our natural opinions about some matter to be stained by an external agent, and start hating a group of people for the sake of one person, or generalize a whole genre of experiences due to one bad experience. We can't let our judgement on the world suffer such detours.

Of solipsistic abandon

 No one ever wishes to feel lonely. Solitude is something entirely else. I like being in solitude with my emotions. But when I feel there's no other to whom I can relate those feelings, this is what makes me feel pretty miserably lonely.

I feel I am the only one having difficulties, doubts and insecurities. I hate when people don't admit facing difficulty, or opening their troubles to me. Even when they are so... lonely. They get so annoyed when I am suffering with a brokenheart or any other frustration, that I think they never felt it themselves. It seems only I feel emotions.

Here comes one big thalassic island coming to surface. Those very boiled down emotions that I have that are hard to express, as complex as they are, so forgive me if I am not really able to explain it minutely. But god, it makes feel less empathy towards others, it makes me feel they don't feel the world or sit around it with wonderings like mine. So much they don't express their struggle or their humanity, I naturally start not being able to see it. I see them as empty wanderers.

I don't usually make a lot of stupid things because of that, because I know how it works so I don't trust my feelings. No, the worst consequence is that I feel that it is unnatural to go through these hardships. I feel it is my fault if it's hard for me. I feel it is my fault something doesn't seem to happen.

Strange then it becomes to me, unwillingly belonging to a solipsistic isolation, when I see things that I feel just mine being expressed by others. Strange when dreams and fears of mine are shown by others. Depending on the circumstances, I can feel either relief or... jealousy. It's a delicate issue to me.

Of lost trance powers

Though I am feeling safe and, in a way, whole again, one thing I wasn't still able to claim back. I had powers that are now gone. Still gone. This is, clearly, what I used to call the Trances. I knew I had to understand what made them happen, and my sad fate is that I lost it before I could really understand.

I get sparkles of it sometimes, but it's just so faint. I don't know how my mojo worked for trances to happen as they used to, but sure they were utmost essential to creation of content. I don't know if it's the weariness of the journey, or the pressure of life out there squashing my peace and sensitivity, or if I am changing into something else, someone else. Not evolving, or changing it for a new self with new perks, I am afraid. Maybe it was a finite resource, like fossil oil running short and dry.

In the hero's journey, this would be the frame of the story when characters must fight on without their special weapon. We managed to get here with the aid of this powerful ally, now you've got to prove you can go on by yourself, or be strong enough to resist attacks without it. So where did it go, or why was it taken, I don't know. It's just not here and there's a feeling of powerlessness trying to conquer me, but I won't bend down.

My belief that I had been hanging around too much with people, trying to understand their amazing solving skills and their social skills. Is it really that trances don't coexist with a developed social life? Well, I've been having little time for me to dig in and lay baits with my introspective incursions. If that's that, I can just relearn it again, or find new reserves. If it was just a momentary consequence, a fortunate side effect of the nerd and isolate life I have been living, absorbing and learning and absorbing and internalizing everything to a point where I just exploded them thoughts out of me, I just need to remake these steps. Movies, books, music, games, thousands of them. Artists to inspire me, landscapes to sooth me. All alone if I must to.

But... and the doors that social network have opened for me? I have to decide what is most important to me in this moment.

Of creative block

 It took me some time in my life, but I started finally made sense of all my ramblings and saw a common theme through it all. I like the creation, the instinctive composition, the inventive distortion, the evolving fluidity. I'd like to understand how the popping of a new idea happens, and what are the circumstances involved.

But I keep talking about it and I want to be creative myself. I try to show myself creative through these exercises, but recently I am feeling ashamed about how I fail to meet those standards. Even to keep up with ideas I used to have, I can't create content like I used to do.

When asking some friends how do they get to be creative, they see nothing to be talked about, for everything is just handled to them. There's just no struggle for them. They've got no trances of absurd geniality where they can seem to enter a bonus stage and harvest as many ideas as they can. Strange. It seems to happen only to me.

I wonder if it's just a passing phase, or if this is not my thing. I feel like giving up with the frustration that it is the ridiculous balance between effort and time invested and ideas, creations and products squeezed out. I have to find out somehow. And reverse the results if negative.

Of honest disentitlement

 I like things fair. Just like I don't enjoy underestimation, I don't appreciate much overestimation either. I often assume people consider me some sort of autist idiot, which is kind of true, but some come to me with a strange acknowledgement of some skills of mine. It feels fishy even if it's good to feel that I have some prestige, but I don't like how it's given to me. I feel most credits I get I don't really deserve.

I don't consider myself intelligent or bearer of any great talent. Yet, people insist so, which is very unfair to them. Why do they get impressed by my ordinary deeds when there's much more impressive accomplishments out there, oftenly achiedved by themselves?

I find it highly unfair that people consider me blessed with intelligence. Really, just because I know the meaning of enantiodromia, distopia and I know how to use irony correctly? Or because english or know some precise historical date or eventually by luck my drawings look good? What about people who handle real world problems and got quick and efficient sollutions for these problems? What about people who are effectively communicative and get great friendships? Those people can enjoy life and they have figured out the safe way through it. I am particularly stupid in these matters, I stumble around like I am blind fool, so I value these abilities immensely.

I consider myself a fraud, because people think I know so much, and I know nothing. I am highly selective about things I show, and this seems to convice people (or then they convince me to be convinced). I don't even know if that's would be a socreatean sign of intelligence, but I don't care, I don't feel worthy of that. The things I know aren't of much use. They don't bring people warmth or ease their hunger. These skills don't even help me out in the first place.

I wonder if what I call ordinary is extraordinary to them. But it makes no sense, I am much left behind in most things, in very basically ordinary things, like cleaning the house or using the ATM. There's something strangely fishy about their judgement. It just doesn't weigh out well, and sometimes I get paranoid about that.

Checkpoint #32

November turned my own foundations upside down. All judged, questioned, at stake. I needed time to understand all this cluttered confusion, like one of those glasses, with several liquids naturally separated in perfect layers due to their different density, that gets shaken and slowly gets them restabilized and separated again. What are my motivations? What I seek in life? What even is my identity? All that I am, is that enough maturity to be in a romantic relationship? Am I enough to be a functional member of this society? Do I have enough to be a person?

And I found myself trying to be what I am not. Trying to be more than what I can be. One part of me was too desperate to change, the other one too proud to change, but in the end I just unable to anyway. Be it a glad or sad thing, I'm back on track. I just hope there has been a good lesson learned in my heart to be worth the trouble, but I'm feeling more comfortable now, and that makes me a better person too, more amiable and friendly. Just don't step on my wounded toe.

After all, there's no hurrying things ahead of their time. I had plenty of things written for this month, but suddenly life twists around and most of what I had written doesn't make sense anymore. I was reading the checkpoint text I had ready from some ten days ago and it felt half-year old already. I think this saturday and sunday alone I got three (almost four) of my major abscission issues resolved, and I'm feeling so good about myself in this moment right now. It's almost unbelievable. Having such a light chest now so sudden. So good.

Wasn't able to write much, that's still hard for me to try writing as much as I used to, and I can't even say I had any idea at all, for I was too troubled with these abscission ghosts haunting me. I can't even say I had all these demons captured like I hint in the texts, but I think almost everything is in there. No wonder, for the texts this month are almost entirely about me opening my heart, and I wouldn't even recommend anyone to read them.

Except that, at the last minute I had a great idea, and as I've managed to chain the texts in order to make my usual story, when I saw it I decided to tell a stringed story about Ilium and Raseri and Vesta and their friends. Somehow the way I had it first chained before layering the characters, it was all ready for that. I quite enjoyed that, making those texts to be encounters with the abscission demons. I was in need to create something like that (is one of the three abscission issues). I wish I could work more on it, though. There are enough loose ends to craft an interesting, closed-in-itself plot from these events from november.

That would be something I am proud of, but I usually feel like awarding some specific idea as it's my tradition. So I have something to be mentioned here. Finally I had the 7^th version of the flames ready, now with astounding seventy-eight gems (!), and I'm enjoying what I called the trilogy of quartz. These Carbon/Coal/Calcium gems are some that have been in my mind for some months now, and I finally got them out of my mind, and I glad how they came out like this. Oh, the Chrysalis was interesting too, I long to see its future implications.

Now, another month is over, and I'll see what I can arrange for december, the very last month of this very strange year of 2013. I have an idea already, I just hope I can work it out.