In today's foray of removing wall tacks holding artwork up on our apartment walls, two things are clear: 1) My index fingers really hurt and I should not have trimmed them the day before; 2) A tool will definitely be used when the rest of the art work comes down.
It's quite the odd feeling, moving to a new place, and one much nicer than past locations. Either way, we're both excited to set up our workshop and have a place in a much nicer neighborhood. It'll allow us to be at our creative best, relaxed, and with more room for the typical adulting habits. Our dog will definitely enjoy it and the ease it will put on his joints.
My thoughts at the moment dwell on said adulting, or rather the continued maturation one can and should experience even past their secondary schooling days (or past their higher learning days). One can go for long periods of time without so much as a challenge to their state of mind, yet suddenly be assaulted by a situation that takes them out of their complacency. It certainly says a lot about a person with how they handle it; do they back off, do they handle it with a neutral mindset, or do they overdo one aspect or one emotion, for good or for bad?
In whatever way they handle the shock to their system, the most important part is reflection and improvement. Measured improvement, of course, because to try and over-correct may have the opposite effect one intends. Not only must one learn, through trial and much error, how to approach a problem with maturity and grace, but also to approach future solutions with the same level of awareness.
Anyway, I'll be making my own coffee from now on and it's going to be damn delicious. Even with my pained fingernails.
-D
Sunday, February 25, 2018
Friday, February 23, 2018
Horror of All Kinds
What scares me?
Startling is different from scaring, though they are often quite close. Plenty startles me; such is the life of one who remains oblivious for the most part and with bad hearing compounding that.
I've discussed at length the different between fright/startling and something truly scary for me, so I will refrain from discussing it at the moment.
I only bring it up because I find myself appreciating indie horror games that, were I to have a PC instead of almost a Chromebook, I would gladly play. Watching Let's Play videos on Youtube are my vicarious viewing choice.
Apologies for keeping this short, as preparing to move to a new place is taking up most, if not all our free time.
Cheers,
-D
Startling is different from scaring, though they are often quite close. Plenty startles me; such is the life of one who remains oblivious for the most part and with bad hearing compounding that.
I've discussed at length the different between fright/startling and something truly scary for me, so I will refrain from discussing it at the moment.
I only bring it up because I find myself appreciating indie horror games that, were I to have a PC instead of almost a Chromebook, I would gladly play. Watching Let's Play videos on Youtube are my vicarious viewing choice.
Apologies for keeping this short, as preparing to move to a new place is taking up most, if not all our free time.
Cheers,
-D
Thursday, February 22, 2018
Solitude
(Been a while since I've played Skyrim. I should get back on that with a new character...)
This post is a mix of a journal entry and a legitimate question I would ask of my readers. While we are all different, and different things work for each of us, I would certainly appreciate your thoughts on this matter...
How does one find peace in solitude?
Fire away.
-D
This post is a mix of a journal entry and a legitimate question I would ask of my readers. While we are all different, and different things work for each of us, I would certainly appreciate your thoughts on this matter...
How does one find peace in solitude?
Fire away.
-D
Wednesday, February 21, 2018
Fiction: Estor's Caverns
Anthills.
Do you have anthills where you're from?
Imagine those, but made human-sized, and full of a gentle red glow.
Not the kind of red glow one would attribute to harsher, more sinister environments; the Caverns of Estor are like walking through a perpetual sunset. It's not just reds, it's oranges and yellows and everything in between, easy on the eyes and suggestive of wonders beyond comprehension in the deep recesses of the network. How they came to be I am unsure of and the numerous stories of the Caverns told in other lands are layers of paper one has to dig through to find any sort of source, and even those are questionable at best.
No matter, The Caverns are a sight to behold for any travelers that are welcomed into them. That's where Selumeth was born and raised.
He must have brought us to one of the caves used for waste disposal, because our shelter was haphazard, and so frustrating to navigate that I'd rather have slammed my head against the rocks to see stars instead of the environment we were staying in. Selumeth was consistently reassuring me that this was merely a waystation, but even those have standards.
to be continued...
Do you have anthills where you're from?
Imagine those, but made human-sized, and full of a gentle red glow.
Not the kind of red glow one would attribute to harsher, more sinister environments; the Caverns of Estor are like walking through a perpetual sunset. It's not just reds, it's oranges and yellows and everything in between, easy on the eyes and suggestive of wonders beyond comprehension in the deep recesses of the network. How they came to be I am unsure of and the numerous stories of the Caverns told in other lands are layers of paper one has to dig through to find any sort of source, and even those are questionable at best.
No matter, The Caverns are a sight to behold for any travelers that are welcomed into them. That's where Selumeth was born and raised.
He must have brought us to one of the caves used for waste disposal, because our shelter was haphazard, and so frustrating to navigate that I'd rather have slammed my head against the rocks to see stars instead of the environment we were staying in. Selumeth was consistently reassuring me that this was merely a waystation, but even those have standards.
to be continued...
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
Fantastic Beats and Where I Find Them
Hip-hop was always in the background of my youth, no matter how much alternative rock I listened to in my room and at school. I grew an appreciation for the instrumentals more than the vocal tracks, but I did have a lot of appreciation for West Coast Hip-Hop thanks to my brother. I grew to listen to A Tribe Called Quest and Busta after that, Abstract remains one of my top MCs along with Mos Def and Method Man (Wu Tang is beast, that's a given).
Lately, I've been sifting through trip hop tracks and instrumentals; Massive Attack and Rob Dougan pop up the most. The chill beats calm me and do help me to write (and even weight lift, in a strange way). As of this moment, a mix of jazz and hip hop streams through my headset.
I cannot recommend trip-hop beats enough. They're both meditative and motivating for the mind. They push a steady river of creativity through the pathways in my brain until three minutes turns into three hours without realization.
Lately, I've been sifting through trip hop tracks and instrumentals; Massive Attack and Rob Dougan pop up the most. The chill beats calm me and do help me to write (and even weight lift, in a strange way). As of this moment, a mix of jazz and hip hop streams through my headset.
I cannot recommend trip-hop beats enough. They're both meditative and motivating for the mind. They push a steady river of creativity through the pathways in my brain until three minutes turns into three hours without realization.
* * * * *
I still have a craving for instrument playing here and there. Particularly the violin, as I have only played the cello and trying something like the violin appeals to me. I blame Sherlock. Damn that great show.
Perhaps one day, I'll explore a drum kit to a further extent than I have in the past. As stated above, beats appeal to me and creating them would be a fun thing to try out on a kit.
That's all for now. It's been a busy day of work and adulting and my head must rest and continue to absorb the aural smoothness.
-D
Monday, February 19, 2018
Fiction: The World of Estor
(this and any future creative writings will be labeled as "Fiction" in the title. I do encourage readers to not take these to heart as my personal thoughts, which will be titled normally. these are merely exercises to stoke the fires of my creativity once again, so regard any potential controversial writings as fictional)
It was with a hesitant heart that I ventured into Estor. That not usually my style, since I tend to jump into things with as much regard for my well-being as some dogs would have for their stomach's well-being. For a guy like me to feel any sort of hesitance means something. I could be rating my self-importance higher than others, but I'm about as humble a guy as they come. So very humble, the most humble even!
Either way, Estor's mountainous environment left me with double the chills, inside and out. The borloff coat was barely thick enough for me to still feel my arms and digits. Their fur is the best, better than their attitude that's for sure. My guide, Selumeth, felt it was a good purchase at the border village; his near toothless grin was a puzzle, almost literally, when trying to decipher whether i was being scammed or not. The damned thing was expensive, but I didn't know whether it was better that I felt the cold or instead just let my arms go numb from it at this point.
What to say about Estor? Cold, pointy, and full of surprises. Thick fog held in front of us at about 100 paces. Even my hand was hazy being in front of my face. The brief glimpses of the fog, when it passed, presented a valley of sparse trees and brief patches of forest. Say what you will about the forests in Estor, but at least they offered a measure of shelter. Selumeth's comforting recommendation of caves along the Estor pass did little to comfort me; sharp stones in my back are not exactly comparable to the gaudy hostels in my hometown of Craiis. I'm spoiled, what can I say?
Selumeth stopped us after what felt like days on the path to direct our traveling party to a nearby cave. Anticipating the worst, I went along with it to humor him.
I hate being right.
to be continued...
Verbal Gumdrops
A miserable archer. No wonder I connected with Hawkeye so much beyond the hearing issues.
I don't think, however, that should be the case from now on. Writing has been on the backburner for ages and now that I have both the mental and creative energy to commit myself to becoming once again a digital scribe, I must persist. For me.
The written word has always been a consistent form of therapy for me, no matter how sporadic my writings and verbal gumdrops have been over the years. Even while painting, I always went back to writing eventually. I wrote while I was in capoeira. I wrote when I was in college, in high school, in damn near every single moment of my life...I wrote. As I write now, I'm experiencing a new position, a different life than what I've lead before, and new experiences that are at times learned lessons and other times blissful completeness.
My notebook entries, which I will post eventually, are ones that are deeply personal and will likely be edited for privacy reasons. For now, I shall keep these posts as original content, hopefully delving back into the creative flow that I once and still carry with me. Worlds lay within my imagination once again, extensive landscapes of thought yearning to be observed, recorded, pondered upon.
I do hope you readers stick with me. I find motivation to write in emotional circumstances and from there I find myself at my most creative. It would be wise to write on the calm days as well, so I entreat you all to motivate me when I haven't written on this blog. It will help immensely.
Cheers,
-D
I don't think, however, that should be the case from now on. Writing has been on the backburner for ages and now that I have both the mental and creative energy to commit myself to becoming once again a digital scribe, I must persist. For me.
The written word has always been a consistent form of therapy for me, no matter how sporadic my writings and verbal gumdrops have been over the years. Even while painting, I always went back to writing eventually. I wrote while I was in capoeira. I wrote when I was in college, in high school, in damn near every single moment of my life...I wrote. As I write now, I'm experiencing a new position, a different life than what I've lead before, and new experiences that are at times learned lessons and other times blissful completeness.
My notebook entries, which I will post eventually, are ones that are deeply personal and will likely be edited for privacy reasons. For now, I shall keep these posts as original content, hopefully delving back into the creative flow that I once and still carry with me. Worlds lay within my imagination once again, extensive landscapes of thought yearning to be observed, recorded, pondered upon.
I do hope you readers stick with me. I find motivation to write in emotional circumstances and from there I find myself at my most creative. It would be wise to write on the calm days as well, so I entreat you all to motivate me when I haven't written on this blog. It will help immensely.
Cheers,
-D
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