Dulcinea (Day 55)

Every day I wake up and think "there isn't possibly anything I could write about today." And yet, I somehow always manage to think of something else, perhaps at the last minute. It makes me wonder if maybe my supposed lack of creativity is a result of laziness more than anything else. Yes, there are other factors, but simply putting forth the effort to produce content seems to be the most important thing to do. I've written more in the past few days than I have in years and it feels pretty good.

I have a lot of ideas for where I want to take the story, and I think I'll take a stab at just about all of them. I want this to be a really fluid process where I overwhelm my narrative with ideas, and then slowly tone it down until I end up with the essence of what I want. I'll probably end up cutting out characters and subplots for the final product--or maybe not. Who knows? Anything could happen at this stage.

I'm at a very fragile stage of my life right now. If I'm not careful I could really lose my head. It's good that I have at least one positive thing to focus on right now, even if I'm not getting any tangible benefit from it. I don't have an audience right now, which is something I really crave--but I can't focus on that, either. Above all else, I have to produce content even when the only person I'm doing it for is myself. Feedback would be great but ultimately isn't required.

One thing I'd really like to start doing again is drawing. I was drawing constantly as a teenager and even though I was never really that good at it, I really enjoyed doing it. As long as I'm opening up avenues of self-expression, I might as well fall back on an old favorite. I have a drawing tablet (for the computer) but it seems pretty awkward to use; the sensitivity seems off. I'll lift the stylus and it'll continue tracking my movements sometimes. It makes it difficult to draw anything, especially with the sketchy, imprecise way that I draw. One of these days I think I'll order a new one, but purchasing anything right now is pretty much out of the question as I am hilariously poor and unemployed. But, one day.

Neogenesis (Day 54)

Even though he was nearing the bottom, he attempted to maintain as slow a pace as possible. His numerous aches and pains were reminder enough of the price of carelessness. He positioned himself awkwardly as he edged his way down the slope, careful not to jostle his wounded lower back. His progress was steady, but even when the ground was well with his sight, he did not quicken his pace.Only a few moments later, he reached the bottom without incident and struggled to a standing position on solid ground for the first time in what seemed like years. The fog had begun to dissipate, but he still couldn't see terribly far away.

The trees were sparse here, but still effective in obscuring what might be the most effective path. Judging by the sloshing noise his footsteps were making, there was some standing water but no streams in sight. The air was still, but noticeably chilly on his bare flesh. He entertained the possibility of going back to find his cloak, but the idea was ludicrous. Scaling the valley wall would be a monumental task in itself, and retracing his steps even more difficult considering most of his journey had been made in utter darkness.

He realized suddenly that all he had to look forward to after making his way across this valley was scaling the other side. He grunted in distaste; he'd really gotten in over his head. He was going to die here out in the middle of the wilderness and no one would ever find him. It was no less than he deserved, of course, but he still felt a pang of despair at the thought. He was a young man. He'd not accomplished anything worthwhile in his life. How anticlimactic that he would do something so awful and run away from it. That would be his legacy. Running away from his mistake and dying alone.

Worse yet, the man was growing hungrier by the moment. It was a dark and powerful hunger that was all too familiar. He didn't need food--at least, not yet. No, he was hungry for something darker, more sinister. He felt that cold, sickly chill underneath his flesh that heralded the coming of his blood boiling over. With all now lost to him, he wondered if there was any real harm in giving in to that urge, releasing the dark power with him. Ignoring its call had so far brought him nothing but pain and despair. Maybe it was time to move past that. Maybe it was time to give in and let that sickly feeling suffuse him and dictate his path. What else could he do? Lay down in the damp grass and wait for death to take him? No, that wasn't going to happen.

He kept walking, his mind a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts. He quickened his pace. These were exactly the kind of thoughts that he'd feared would invade his conscience. As soon as he had stopped moving they had returned with more fervor than ever. The part of him that was still in control wanted nothing more than to banish those thoughts forever, to move past them and make up for what they had made him do. You only did what you had dreamed of doing for years. Do not pretend that you had no control. He didn't stop. The truth was excruciating, but it changed nothing. He would not hurt those close to him again.

Strung Up from the Sky (Day 53)

The air was thick with the scent of moist bark and dewy morning. Judging by the bright light now assaulting his senses, the young man had somehow managed to fall asleep on a tree trunk jutting out of a valley wall. Now that there was light to see by, he could finally get a better idea of where he was. As he had guessed, he'd been descending his way into a valley; he was very close to the bottom but the steep slope would make the remainder of the journey a dangerous one. He coughed pitifully, his lungs aching with the effort. He wasn't looking forward to what was ahead of him.

He craned his neck to see the aftermath of his fall the night before. Unsurprisingly, there were broken branches, patches of grass missing, and drying mud thrown in every direction. He looked down at his limbs to find mud covering his arms, chest, and legs, his filthy clothing torn and tattered. He winced at the multitude of scratches and gashes crisscrossing his form, some still caked with dried blood. He shifted his position experimentally, gasping at the sharp stab of pain in his lower back. He recalled now that he'd slammed rather painfully into a rock on the way down. Reaching down to touch the wound, his fingertips came back wet with fresh blood. He grimaced; he knew he'd have to do something about that.

Sighing in resignation, the man pulled off his stiff brown shirt, ignoring the pulses of pain from his lower back. He'd have to put some pressure on the wound so it would stop bleeding. He certainly didn't have access to any bandages or tools of any sort. He'd made no preparations for this little trip; in fact, it had been very spontaneous, but so far it didn't feel like much of an adventure. But he didn't deserve that. His brother was an adventurer and he'd always felt like he might one day follow in his footsteps, despite never really measuring up to him. The young man felt a pang of guilt as he considered what his brother might think of him now.

With some effort he managed to tear his shirt into one length of cloth which he wrapped tightly around his torso as many times as he could. It was painful, but he knew it was necessary to get the wound to heal. He shifted on the tree trunk again so he could support himself with the still moist wall of the valley and shivered as a chilly breeze tickled his now exposed flesh. He made an attempt to brush off some of the mud and caked on blood, wringing out his still-damp mane of tangled hair to clean himself. There wasn't much else he could do until he found a source of water. He hoped there would be a stream or pond in the valley below. He realized again that he was, as far as he knew, miles away from civilization.

The young man knew how to hunt, of course, but with as little preparation as he had made for this journey, he'd have to improvise. He imagined that springing out and tackling his prey would yield little success, especially in his current state. He very much doubted he could wrestle a squirrel, much less a deer or larger game. Unfortunately for the man, the Lakara Wood wasn't densely populated with animal life, either. Granted, he was far beyond areas he'd explored before but he had very little idea what he might be looking for. Still, there was time to worry about this later. Though hungry, he was far from starving. For now, he decided to concentrate on the difficult task of making his way further down into the valley.

Although the morning fog was thick, he could just make out the bottom--which, to his delight, was not a pit of spikes. He scooted his way out a little further onto the tree trunk and struggled to his feet, doing his best to ignore the dull pain emanating from his lower back. He took the time to carefully stretch his limbs and attempt to soothe his aching muscles, which were stiff, stressed from his mad dash and ensuing fall. Once he felt he was suitably prepared, he crouched down on the tree trunk and swung a leg experimentally over the side, gingerly stepping onto the steep slope below. With great care, he slid off the tree trunk and onto the slope, positioning his feet in such a way that he was completely supported. He wasn't about to repeat his mistake from the night before.

A Delicate Sense of Balance (Day 52)

What was it that kept him moving? Was there some hope in the corner of his mind that he might be able to make up for what he'd done? No, it wasn't that. But still, he kept moving. Maybe he was waiting for an answer to materialize, to guide him on his quest. What a quest this was, he thought, running away from a fatal mistake. He was refusing to face what he'd done, perhaps only delaying the inevitable. It was foolish to believe that he could keep running forever. He could travel the breadth of the world and his past would still find its way inexorably back to him. Of this much, at least, he was certain.

The man was roused from his inner thoughts when he skidded through a patch of muddied ground, falling unceremoniously onto his behind. He'd reached an area of the woods that was beginning to slope downwards. He found it difficult to get his bearings due to the extremely low visibility, but he guessed he was approaching a valley. He would have to tread carefully or he'd find himself tumbling down a hill in short order. The rain showed no sign of letting up but he was skeptical about the safety of continuing. However, if ever there was a time to throw caution to the wind, it would be now. He made a shrugging gesture to no one in particular and carefully inched forward without getting to his feet.

Inching along through the wet grass and mud, he pondered for a moment that he must look ridiculous. Fortunately (for more reasons than one) there was no one around to pass judgment. He was making slow progress and his appendages were aching terribly. He wanted to stop again, but didn't look forward to staring into space left with nothing but his thoughts. Despite his exhaustion sleep wasn't going to be an option anytime soon. The dark clouds, unseen above, were pouring down rain angrily, as if in outright defiance of the man's wishes. He considered very seriously shaking his fist at the heavens but thought better of it almost immediately. He didn't fear the reprisal of the gods; he just didn't want to expend the energy required to curse them.

The young man, bedraggled and wet to the bone, made his way further down the slope, the effort taxing his muscles even more. Although not in poor physical form, he couldn't recall ever taxing himself to this degree before in his life. He'd always been assured that difficult physical trials were good for the soul and the body, but the man, now miserably cold and weary, felt he could forfeit whatever benefits such a trial might provide. He'd been making his way farther down into what he had guessed was a valley for a few minutes now, and the slope was only steepening. His muscles were groaning in protest but now that he'd committed to it he couldn't imagine going back up. It was becoming more difficult to even stop himself from tumbling wildly down the rest of the way into who knows where. As far as he knew, he was scooting himself down into a pit full of spikes. 

Concerning himself with wild fantasies of his grisly fate was oddly comforting for reasons that the young man couldn't even begin to explain. As hopeless as he felt, he didn't really want to die. Still, there was something amusing about investing so much time into carefully sliding down an incline only to end up in a pit of spikes in the middle of a deserted woodland. The absurdity of it distracted him from the lightning shocks of pain arcing through his nervous system. He tried to laugh but all that escaped was a pitiful rain-soaked sputter. He suddenly realized that he was probably going to die soon, which for some reason was also funny. In the back of his mind he was horrified but he couldn't stop himself from erupting into a fit of laughter punctuated with violent, watery coughs.

His laughter, though therapeutic, had less beneficial effects on his quest to carefully slide into a pit of spikes. Or rather, it accelerated his progress to a terrifying degree. He found himself tumbling suddenly, completely losing control. He gasped in pain as his lower back connected with the sharp end of a rock and he twisted around painfully, planting his forehead in some mud while still sliding. He thrust out his arm, frantically trying to find something to hold onto, but only found a handful of grass, which came free in his hand. Realistically he hadn't been falling for long, but his journey to the bottom stretched out to eternity in the man's mind. 

There was a flash of bright white light and he came to a sudden, terrifying stop. Reflexively, he reached out to confront whatever fearsome opponent had assaulted him but only found wet bark and moss at his fingertips. Stars swimming in his field of vision, the man violently evacuated the contents of his stomach on the grassy expanse below him. Though divorced from his senses for the moment, he had enough foresight to cling desperately to the sturdy tree trunk that he now realized was his savior. Despite his exhaustion and pain, he managed to pull himself up to a seated position and came to rest against the now extremely steep valley wall. He couldn't quite make out the tree that was now his temporary home but he thanked whatever gods were listening that he now had time to rest. The spikes could wait.

Stone to Wake a Serpent (Day 51)

I like the idea of throwing up really unedited writing excerpts on this blog. Later I can paste them together in a word document and prune through it for errors and trim out stuff I don't like. I'm getting a lot better about just writing and getting my ideas onto the paper instead of relentlessly self-editing as I go. My results may be imperfect but its infinitely better than writing nothing at all. I can always go through multiple iterations until I'm satisfied with what I end up with. Just writing the 1500 words that comprise my three recent writing entries is more than I've written in years. I'm proud that I'm doing anything at all, honestly.

Sometimes I feel like the only way I can write without driving myself crazy is to just hurtle into it haphazardly, immediately banishing my previous words from my mind. It's the only way I can write without giving in to my own criticism. I'm learning that if I want to get to a satisfying place, I have to start out with something that isn't satisfying. I've never been able to deal with that before. It's a hard thing to learn. It's inevitable though, when you spend so many years not exercising your creative muscles that they atrophy a little. Just gotta keep flexing them.

I'm not really sure where I'm taking this story. I have to be careful about thinking about it too much because if I get bogged down in analysis its going to ruin it for me. It will suddenly feel like it's not good enough and I'll lose the urge to continue. Right now I just need to focus on cranking out more content, more exposition. I have to tell more of the story. I have to meet new characters, write more dialogue, write down my characters' thoughts. If it ends up being something that I hadn't planned, great. Let's see what we can do with that and branch out from there. This is a story I wrote and rewrote a lot when I was younger. There are a lot of aspects of that story that I like but there's a lot that definitely won't resurface. I may end up completely recreating that character into something different. I want to create a fleshed-out, flawed, human character.

Still, now is not the time to start sweating the details. "Oh, you should have told the reader the character's name by now. Your character's whining too much. Your character doesn't have a clear motivation." Those are things I can worry about later. I know my character's motivations and I know his name. I don't think they need to be revealed so early on... and I don't want to move things too quickly, either. I want to spend some time in the woods, in the rain, and really revel in the misery and surreality of it.

In the past I always felt like I needed to write up a huge backstory of the world my characters lived in to get a sense of how to write the story. I don't think I want to do that this time. Is "making it up as you go along" really that bad a thing? Look at Breaking Bad. It's one of, if not the best, television series of all time. They had a general framework for how they wanted the series to go but for the most part it was not planned in advance. But here we are, a few days from the final episode, and we're hurtling toward a thrilling conclusion. It's thrilling not only for the audience but I imagine for the writers as well. It was a natural evolution for their character but it was a journey of discovery from them as well. Is that self-indulgent? I'm not sure I mind either way.

Geography (Day 50)

How much longer could this go on? Realistically, the man knew he was rushing to his death. He hadn't stopped to voice the possibility until now but he knew that's what he wanted. The thought was a shameful one but he could not fathom how else he could atone for his mistakes. He'd known what kind of terrible things he was capable of and he'd worked hard to control it. It wasn't an accident. He'd intentionally committed a great crime. No matter the circumstances there could be no justification for that.

It was cowardice that propelled him forward. He was running from his punishment, running from judgment. No one would understand what he was. The man wasn't sure he understood it himself. What he knew without question was that he had learned how to control it, how to harness it, even though he'd forbidden himself from ever using it in front of others. Sometimes, though. . .he felt it bubbling beneath the surface, like it was struggling to break free. It manifested itself with real physical pain, like his skin was on fire. When he felt like that, he found it difficult to resist it's insistent call.

But it was no excuse. He had control. He could have ignored the call and quashed it like he always did. As terrible as he felt about it, he knew that he'd done something he'd wanted to do for a long time. He realized now that he was an evil person; it stood to reason that the best thing he could do to make up for his actions was to eliminate the man responsible. Would the people back home even understand what happened? They'd know he was gone and they'd understand that a vile act had been committed, but. . .there was a lot the people back home didn't know.

The man didn't know what else to do so he kept walking. He was far too tired and the visibility was too low to increase the pace. He had no illusions that he'd be able to fall asleep again in this torrential rainstorm, either. A part of him hoped he would reach the edge of the woods soon, but he acknowledged that it might be better if he never made it. It would be so much easier if the forces of nature made this decision for him as he was evidently too cowardly to take matters into his own hands.

You Can't Go Home Again (Day 49)

The darkness was swirling around him. The wait for his eyes to adjust was interminable. He was still moving, but his pace had slowed considerably. He was covered in bruises and scratches and the adrenaline built up in his system was beginning to slowly drain away, replaced by a terrible weariness. His breaths came in shallow and ragged gasps. He had traveled so far already, but he felt no relief. He was sure he could never run far enough away. Even if he could see the woods around him he knew he wouldn't recognize his surroundings. He'd never gone this far before--not even close.

He began to hear the crickets chirping and the calls of owls. These sounds had been there for hours but only now were they coming into focus. Drenched in ice cold sweat, he began to shiver. Soon, he fell to his knees less than gracefully, landing in a pile of damp leaves. There was the hint of rain in the air. The man didn't relish the thought of getting caught in a rainstorm, but there had been little time for forethought in his situation. If he could only find a small cave or ditch he might be relatively comfortable for the night. But he was bitterly tired and lacked the strength or will to move from the spot. As his vision blurred, he was aware that he would not be awake for much longer.

--

Bleary-eyed and still exhausted, the man was stirred from his rest by an insistent thunderclap. He let out a muted groan and struggled to push himself to his feet, discarding his heavy and sodden cloak. Pushing his mop of tangled, matted red hair to the side, he stumbled forward a few paces, grimacing at the waves of pain emanating from his exhausted muscles. He had little idea how long he'd managed to rest; the sky was still dark but considering the state of the weather there was little he could infer from that. Rest was out of the question now, but his pace would certainly be slow and miserable if he chose to continue. 

The young man cast his gaze skyward, struggling to make out any details. He could see nothing, but he did draw some small comfort from the feel of the cold rainwater on his filthy face. He rubbed away some of grime and rinsed his hands with the rainwater, subsequently running his fingers through his tangled hair. With his cloak now discarded, his hair had gotten quite wet. It was plastered to his scalp now, just slightly tickling the lower part of his neck. He thought for a moment that he'd need to find some way to cut it. Maybe he could find a sharp rock. He grimaced at the thought.

"I. . .don't know what I'm doing." The words were drowned out by the roar of the rainwater crashing down from the tops of the trees. The words sounded foreign to the man, like they were coming from another's throat. How long had it been since he'd spoken aloud? He recalled screaming himself hoarse before he'd set out into the woods. And then silence. He'd not dared speak, or think, until he'd reached his destination. Was this it? Was this his destination out here in the middle of the woods, miles away from those who knew him? He was alone and he'd told no one he'd gone. Still, it wouldn't take a great deal of critical thinking to figure out why he'd left.

He'd done something that could not be undone. He'd made a mistake that could not be rectified. Maybe he only had one choice left.

The Book of Right-On (Day 48)

I've been playing a lot of Disgaea 4 recently. There's something really therapeutic about all the games in this series because they're very lighthearted and the gameplay is about grinding. The goal is to get all of your characters as ridiculously powerful as possible and unlock new abilities and skills. With enough diligence, you can upgrade just about every aspect of a character, like their damage, health, movement range, passive abilities, and number of counter attacks. There's a ton of classes to unlock and you can even reincarnate characters into new classes and class tiers. This can be done multiple times; you start over at level 1 but retain abilities previously learned. You can create characters with abilities from other classes in this way.

The storyline and characters are pretty cool (and humorous) but it's not the primary focus. I do appreciate that the game doesn't take itself very seriously, though. A lot of the item names and descriptions are hilarious, as they have been since the first game of the series. The characters are funny too, but sometimes it seems like the writers were trying a bit too hard. I'm pretty tired of hearing about Valvatorez's adoration for sardines. His fervor is less than subtle. Still, most of the time the humor hits the mark and the gameplay is what's keeping me interested. I just want to get to the point where I'm ridiculously strong and can take on level 9000 superbeasts.

I'm hoping to finish the main game within the next week or so, and then hopefully get back to Baldur's Gate II, which I've really been neglecting lately. It's such an amazing game but I think I've managed to burn myself out on the Infinity Engine. I shouldn't have tried to play Icewind Dale. It's not a bad game either, but it's definitely a step back from BGII. I think I've been shying away from games that are heavily narrative in nature--I just played through the entirety of Shadows of Amn at the same time as playing Katawa Shoujo. To follow that up, I played Digital: A Love Story and the oddly-titled sorry babe, but it just ain't your story. That's three visual novels and a heavily plot-driven RPG, so it's no wonder I'm a little burned out. I'll get back to Throne of Bhaal at some point. I really don't want it to wither away in my backlog again.

I'm in a state of mind right now where I'm not in the mood for immersing myself in a storyline. Right now I just want to destroy some enemies. After I'm finished with Disgaea 4, I'm sure I'll be burned out on that kind of gameplay again and want to switch over. If I'm not ready for Throne of Bhaal, then I guess I'll try to play something else. Something always seems to fall into my lap--or I pick up an old forgotten game to play. Story-heavy games are definitely a lot easier to write about, but I'm just not feeling it right now.

We're goin' in. We're going down. (Day 47)

Spoilers for Breaking Bad most likely follow.

I don't think I've ever been as invested in a television series as I am with Breaking Bad right now. There's only one episode remaining and I am awaiting it eagerly. Everything is more than likely going to end in a ridiculously messy way. So many TV series pull their punches when it comes to conflict and do not follow things to their logical conclusions. Breaking Bad proves beyond all else that there are consequences for our actions. There will be no deus ex machina to save us at the last moment.

Last week's episode, "Ozymandias," was one of the best episodes of any series I've ever seen. Every performance was incredibly intense and spot-on. Hank's last conversation with Walt in the desert. Walt's despair and anger as he insisted that he tried to save Hank's life and that they were still a family. The ensuing struggle with the knife. The intense phone call Walt made to cast doubt on Skyler's guilt. There were too many memorable moments to count. It was such a good episode that I can't wait to watch it again when I rewatch the entire series. It's emotionally draining to do so, but it's just so damn good that I can't help it.

Tonight's episode, while comparatively low-key, was still excellent, and featured one of my favorite Aaron Paul performances. It was like I could see his heart breaking on screen. Both Jesse and Walt have gone through a lot, but Jesse's punishments have been so much more severe--and he's still basically just a kid that got in over his head. Walt is smart but even he couldn't have foreseen just how deep he would have dragged himself. He grew arrogant and became obsessed with not only providing for his family, but building an empire, becoming Gus's better. In the end, I predict he will have nothing and he will die alone for his mistakes, dragging Jesse along with him.

Breaking Bad will not end well for anyone. Walt's family may eventually be able to move on, but the legacy of his mistakes will cast a pall over their lives. I can't wait to see how everyone's story ends.

Altaraxia (Day 46)

This is a pretty familiar feeling, of going through each day in a haze, dimly aware of my situation but doing little else but sitting in front of a computer and sleeping. I'm depressed, but I'm not miserable. I feel like I don't care enough to be miserable, which is worse in a way. How many more days until I snap myself out of it and start getting things done again? I no longer feel the urge to reach out to others and be social. I just want to draw in on myself and sleep. I don't want others to see me like this even though I vaguely wish I could l wake up and feel determined again.

It's funny how quickly I can lose myself like this. I'm weak-willed, I guess. Just a couple of weeks ago I was making plans. I wanted to go back to school. I was exercising, felt excited about this writing project and what I could accomplish in the future. Now it feels like a chore. I have little enough to write about, even when I'm just treating it as therapy. Getting my feelings out there doesn't help as much as it did before because it doesn't change anything. I'm still here in Kentucky living with my mother. I'm single, unemployed, and completely unable to take care of myself. I'm drifting away and barely trying to stay afloat.

I'm going to keep up this writing exercise, even though the quality of my writing slips every day. It's a routine and the only one that I have left. I need to cling to it. I feel that its important that I at least have some kind of obligation, self-imposed or not. Maybe I'll find some inspiration from it yet. It has been helpful in the past, maybe it will be once again.

Autonomy Lost (Day 45)

I think I'd like to go ahead and get this entry out of the way, because there's a good chance I'll miss the opportunity if I don't fall asleep really soon. I'd like to stay up for a few more hours and watch day 4 of the LoL world championship. There's something about watching these professional games that is comforting to me. I think I just really like the idea of video games becoming a legitimate competitive sport. Instead of a test of athleticism, we have a test of mental acuity, reflexes, and strategy. It attracts a diverse set of people from all over the world of varying body types and dispositions. It's really cool to see all the different kinds of players.

On the other hand, I feel like I've devoted far too much time to League of Legends over the years. Since my ex's brother introduced me to the game about three years ago, I've played it just about every day since, with some longish breaks now and then. I've acquired an immense amount of game knowledge but my mechanical skills are pretty lacking. It's pretty frustrating that I'm not particularly skilled at the game despite having played thousands of matches. I can play every champion at a decent skill level but I can't put out results as consistently as I'd like.

It's a time sink, though. All the time I've devoted to the game is taking away from other things I could be doing--not that I'd be doing much else productive, but I could at least be making progress in games that I can actually finish. I feel a sense of accomplishment when I beat a game that LoL is rarely able to duplicate. It's so easy to just log on and play, but there's no rewarding sense of progression for me. In fact, ranked play is extremely stressful and puts me in a bad mood. The game has an extremely negative effect on my attitude sometimes, which is why I've been taking breaks more often recently.

I doubt I'll stop playing it for good, at least not while Riot is churning out new content. I'm too weak-willed not to continue investing time into something I've already invested so much into. I've spent an embarrassing amount of money on optional skins for the champions, too. I emailed Riot Support to find out exactly how much money I'd spent over the three years I've been playing the game and let's just say I don't wish to repeat that number here.

City of Echoes (Day 44)

I didn't write an entry before passing out last night and I woke up at 3 AM. I guess I'll have to write two entries over the course of this day.

I can feel myself falling backward again and there's an odd sort of comfort associated with it. It's a sinister sort of comfort because it's the warm embrace of laziness. I'm unemployed and running out of money fast, but it's so easy for me to just sit back and play video games, watch Netflix, and otherwise spend my free time doing nothing. I haven't given up yet, but I feel so dangerously close.

What kind of job is appropriate for me? Is it just an issue of manning up and taking things seriously? Am I not trying hard enough? I have historically handled responsibility poorly. I work well when I am under direct supervision and being told what to do, but when its my job to handle things myself, I put forth a suboptimal performance. I managed to keep a job at Walmart for four years and I have no idea how. This has always been a problem for me. To be perfectly honest, my resignation was at least partially provoked by my fear that I might be fired, although my unhappiness was a large factor as well.

I'm just not where a 25-year-old should be in life. I'm incapable of taking care of myself and I lack the kind of everyday skills that most people have. I'm smart, but that's pretty much all I have going for me. I don't have the kind of qualifications I need to succeed in the workplace, I guess. What kind of job am I suited for? I like to write but when faced with deadlines and the responsibility to perform on my own, I tend to choke. That's not even a good way to make money.

Physical labor would probably be good for me. I worked at a Coke warehouse for one night and it absolutely destroyed me. It was a 12 hour shift and I could barely get through it. I think that if I'd prepared for it, exercised a little and worked on my endurance, I could have been able to bear it. It would have been really tough and I would have been miserable, but I would have made a lot of money and lost a lot of weight. I can't imagine I would have kept the job for long, but it would have been good for me in a lot of ways. But I choked. I gave in to despair and slunk to my knees. I wasn't ready for it, that's true, but did I really put forth the kind of effort I needed to?

I've been inactive for far too long. I'm sedentary. I'm like an astronaut whose muscles have atrophied. It's hard for me to handle really basic physical tasks without getting winded. Working at Family Dollar for two months (and running at night for a few weeks) did wonders for my endurance. Being on my feet all day is no longer a big deal, but I can already feel myself slipping into the same old routines of sitting in front of my computer all day. Even if I'm not working, I should be trying to get outside and exercise at least every other day or so.

I haven't reached much of a conclusion here, but it's important that I think about it. Too often in the past I've blanked my mind and refused to confront my problems. I don't want to go back to that. I don't want to go back to those endless lonely days that seem to stretch on into infinity. I have to dig myself out of this somehow. I felt like I was getting so close but I'm sliding back down again.

The warmth of the daytime seemed like a dream now. (Day 43)

Sometimes you find an album that's so addictive that you find it difficult to stop listening to it. You're worried that you're going to get burned out, but at the same time, everything else seems inadequate in comparison. The feeling passes eventually, but for that period of time, you feel like you've found exactly what you need in life. My current musical obsession is an independent release called *Subsume* by Cloudkicker. Evidently this guy sequences the drums and records all of the guitar and bass himself. The album is instrumentally sparse, but still very layered. It's pretty much exactly the kind of music that I look for--it's atmospheric, heavy, rhythmically varied, and feels... nostalgic.

There's a lot of folks that will tell you that guitar-driven music is going out of style and that in the future, electronics will take the forefront. Of course, in many ways it already has. Pop music tends to have its roots in dance, hip hop, and other forms of electronic music these days, but there's still plenty of guitar music out there, even in mainstream music. I love a lot of different kinds of music, but for me, nothing will ever resonate with me as much as the guitar. It has such a range of emotive tones to draw on, and every guitar/amp combo is different. Distorted guitars just push this button in my psyche that makes me want to nod my head.

Another thing that really resonates with me is heavy repetition. Some of my favorite pieces of music are built from simple riffs repeated many times with other elements slowly layered over them. It reminds me a little bit of jazz, where you begin with a simple motif and gradually expand on it in a linear fashion. That kind of stuff tickles my fancy a lot more than choruses and refrains. I dig jazz a lot, but even it doesn't get under my skin like heavier music does. 

Oran Mor (Day 42)

This was written on 9/17/13 when I had no internet access, to be uploaded whenever I got it back.

I really like the concept of visual novels, because I’m really interested in all the different ways a story can be told. We have film, theatre, video games, and even music that can tell a story, but I’m confident there are dozens of other ways it can be done. Collaborative storytelling is a thing, too, through the use of roleplay. I used to do stuff like that all the time. Even though I was a pretty poor writer, I felt like the experience was really engrossing. Having the input of others when you tackle a story is a unique experience. They might see things in characters that hadn’t occurred to you, flesh them out in ways that you wouldn’t have considered.

Visual novels tell a story that in some cases can be all but predetermined. In others, the outcome will depend heavily upon the player’s interaction. In some cases you will be responsible for making decisions for a fleshed out character with its own personality and motivations—in others, you will essentially be roleplaying as the protagonist. You insert yourself into the story. I’ve always preferred games in which you’re not expected to fill the protagonist’s shoes. I enjoy escapism, but even if I’m responsible for making the protagonist’s decisions, I’d prefer to see that character go through a story arc based on those decisions—instead of just imagining how I’d react in his situation. It’s the same for RPGs, too. I’ve always felt more disconnected from RPGs that have a silent protagonist, even if I’m otherwise a huge fan of the game.

I haven’t played very many visual novels at all, but I find them really immersive and engrossing when done correctly. The Persona series (at least 3 and 4), I now realize, has some elements of the genre hybridized with more traditional RPG gameplay. Despite both games having a silent protagonist, I was really intrigued by the interactions between the characters in these games. After completing both, I really craved more of that kind of gameplay. The RPG elements, dungeon crawling, and the tough but strategic battle system were all really strong aspects of the game, but what I missed most after I’d finished them were the Social Links and the day-to-day happenings of the plot. I enjoyed learning more about Junpei in Persona 3, and the protagonist’s relationship with his surrogate family (Nanako and Dojima) in Persona 4.

Visual novels are basically like Persona with all the extra gameplay removed and even more emphasis put on the relationships between characters. A lot of them evidently emphasize sex pretty heavily, but I haven’t played any of those; it’s not really what I’m interested in. There are precious few titles in the genre available in English, but I’d definitely like to play more. Some websites even characterize the Phoenix Wright series as visual novels, but I think they’re pretty textbook examples of modern point-and-click adventure games, although they are really excellent titles that sort of scratch a similar itch.

I want to play a really archetypical visual novel that is both popular and critically acclaimed. Even if it is overtly sexual, it’s interesting to examine what kinds of games people are responding to. I know some of the big names are available in English, but I think they’re fan translated. I have to wonder how faithful a translation they have considering how important the narrative is in the genre. I’ll have to investigate further.

Pneumonic (Day 41)

Anxiety is a funny thing. It's often irrational and completely unfounded, but its still there, causing very real pain and discomfort. I find it interesting that just being anxious about something can make you feel physically ill, can make your stomach feel as if its tied in knots. Emotions can be pretty powerful. In the past I strove to be relentlessly logical, unwilling to allow emotions to gain a foothold on my physical state. It worked in some ways, but it also made it really difficult for me to form genuine relationships with other people, which was just depriving me of my happiness. It wasn't worth it.

I'm much more emotionally expressive than ever before, but the situation I'm in isn't exactly conducive to it. I don't have many opportunities to socialize with other people and I have a lot of problems I still haven't managed to resolve. I've felt a lot of anxiety over the past few days because I had a very real suspicious that I was going to be let go from my job. Turns out I was right and I'm unemployed now. My anxiety is gone but it would be inaccurate to say relief has taken its place. I'm disappointed in myself because I feel like I have the same issues I've had for years. I'm just not sure how to move forward from this. I'm lazy and find it difficult to work without direct supervision.

I've been trying to change. I started running every night, but even that eventually fell apart. I think I'll probably start again since I have no job to go to. I need to make sure that I maintain some level of activity so that I don't repeat my past mistakes. When I first started at this most recent job, my feet hurt terribly just about every day. It was starting to get a lot better, but it's a moot point now. Hopefully once I get another job it won't be an issue, because I'll be accustomed to being active on a regular basis. That's all I can do for now. I'll apply to jobs, hope I get something, and try my hardest. Giving in to despair is the worst thing I can do right now. It's what I've done over and over in the past and I'm not going to do it this time. I have to change.

You could laugh forever but never end up happy. (Day 40)

Tonight's episode of Breaking Bad was soul-crushing. There's only two more episodes left until it's over, and I can't wait to find out how it concludes. I don't think I'll really delve into how I feel about the series as a whole until it's done. I've contemplated discussing the episodes as they come out on this blog but for some reason it never felt right to do so. I don't feel qualified to analyze them on a competent level because it's difficult for me to look at the big picture. I leave that up to others; I read a lot of analysis and form my opinions based on that. Meanwhile, I have a purely emotional reaction to the story as it develops. 

With the way my mind works, I don't spend a lot of time worrying about things like continuity and symbolism--though I love reading about them from other viewers who approach it that way. I've learned a lot more about the usage of foreshadowing, symbolism, and other elements of the plot from browsing r/breakingbad and I feel like that's enriched my experience. This is one of the first TV series that I've followed on a weekly basis. I've always been more of a binge-watcher. I watched Lost, Dexter, Six Feet Under, and many many sitcoms in marathon sessions, so I've never really been privy to what it's like to be in suspense having to wait a week for a new episode to air. Granted, I did have that experience after the conclusion of season 4 of Dexter, but what awaited me there was ultimately pretty disappointing.

I think I'll feel like something's missing once Breaking Bad is gone. I'd like to find something to fill that void, at least temporarily. The internet holds The Wire in pretty high esteem so I suppose I should try to check that out pretty soon. I've been meaning to watch it for a long time but I never really got around to it. The Sopranos is another highly-acclaimed series that I have some small exposure to, but I was never able to get into it that much. I might give it another chance one of these days if I'm in the mood for it. 

Speaking of Dexter, it's hard not to compare it to Breaking Bad. They came out within two years of each other and both deal with criminals who attempt to hide their crimes from friends and family members. In Dexter's case, his crime is murder, but if his extensive vetting methods are to be believed, he only goes after "bad guys." He has this primal urge to kill but ostensibly a strong moral compass--so he harnesses his urges for good. That's how his father taught him to control his darkness, after all. For Walt, his crime is manufacturing and distributing extremely pure methamphetamine. Money's tight with the White family and Walt believes he'll be gone soon due to being diagnosed with lung cancer. He commits what he feels is a necessary evil to support his family.

In its heyday, Dexter was quite good, although not entirely without flaws. It asked some pretty compelling moral questions. Dexter is a killer, but he only goes after those that have fallen through the cracks of the criminal justice system. Still, is killing ever an effective solution to such a problem? Is he only using these victims' status as criminals as an excuse to sate his bloodlust? As Dexter's bodycount rises and more and more diabolical serial killers terrorize the city of Miami, the viewer's suspension of disbelief is stretched to the breaking point. I think Dexter should have ended in season 4, and honestly I could take or leave season 3.

Comparatively, Breaking Bad functions as a much more cohesive unit. Despite the ending not being planned in advance (or so I've read), everything in the plot seems to work together. Characters change and develop over time. The status quo is challenged and episodes are very seldom irrelevant to overarching plot. There is heavy use of foreshadowing and symbolism. Much is implied without being outright stated, unlike Dexter with its incredibly heavy use of voiceover and "ghost" characters that function as Dexter's foils. Over the course of five seasons, Breaking Bad more and more seemed like it was marching toward a conclusion. In the case of Dexter, there is very much the sense of prolonging the inevitable. In season 2, Dexter was very close to being caught. That should have indicated that the series was heading toward an end, but unfortunately it was only just beginning.

Heat Death Infinity Splitter (Day 39)

The young man took a moment to regard his surroundings. There was a bitterly cold chill in the air, only worsened by the breeze rustling the brittle leaves. The trees in the area were skeletal and oddly menacing despite their familiarity, their gnarled limbs reaching out as if to confront some invisible foe. He wasn't far from home but in many ways he felt further than ever. Thought he'd spent countless hours exploring the woods near his home, he'd never weaved his way in between the trees with such urgency before. He felt the beginnings of a dull ache developing in his calves. He hadn't stopped in a very long time and had no intention of doing so anytime soon. He drew his worn cloak tightly around him and pushed through strands of trees into the wood's depths, taking care to avoid the brambles.

The last vestiges of the afternoon sun could be seen peeking through the slender trees. It would be dark soon and the man would have to stop. He knew this but he dreaded it immensely. As soon as he stopped moving he knew that his suppressed thoughts would creep back into the forefront of his mind. He doubted sleep would come easily. There was still so much to be concerned about, so much that he was not ready to face. It was far easier to push himself through the trees, now paying little mind to the small rips and tears in the fabric of his clothing. He moved with purpose, but even he wasn't sure of his destination.

Maybe if he pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion he would be able to sink into a dreamless sleep. Still, that would not erase what he had done. There was nothing he could do to make amends for his mistake. The man dared not think on it further. He struggled to blank his mind, to focus only on the task ahead of him. Despite his mounting weariness, he redoubled his pace. A particularly sharp branch opened a gash in his forearm but he did not slow. He welcomed the pain as it distracted him from his thoughts. His lungs were burning but he still refused to stop. He longed for it all to end. There would be no redemption for what he had done, but he lacked the courage to take matters into his own hands.

Soon he would ventured into territory that he'd never explored before. Scenery that the man barely recognized rushed past him in a blur. It wasn't explicitly forbidden to venture past the Lakara Wood but heavily discouraged. Dark tales concerning the fates of those who wandered into the Coramni Plains had circulated for as long as the man could remember, but none of that mattered now. He'd never believed those stories and even if they were true, it wasn't important anymore. Regardless of what waited for him beyond the wood, it could not be more fearsome than what he'd left behind.

309 (Day 38)

This new Russian Circles track features vocals from Chelsea Wolfe and sounds amazing. It's probably the only part of the album that includes vocals and may serve as the "ballad," so it's tough to say if its indicative of the overall quality. Still, I'm excited because I like the direction they've been taking lately. In the past, Russian Circles was flashy and bombastic with tracks like "Death Rides a Horse" from their debut. Their most recent release, Empros, is much, much darker and atmospheric. Another track from the new album, "Deficit" is positively grimy in its theme and production, but ultimately extremely listenable. If most of the album sounds like this, then I'm definitely on board.

I'm considering checking out some of Chelsea Wolfe's work because Wikipedia makes her sound pretty interesting. Admittedly, the name of her newest album (Pain is Beauty) puts me off a bit, but its unwise to judge a book by its cover. Or an album by its cover, I guess. Lately I've been really in the mood to discover good new music but it doesn't always just fall into your lap. Rosetta's new release, The Anaesthete is really good. It's the first thing I've heard from them since Wake/Lift many years back. I liked it but I felt like it was a little inconsistent, despite "Red in Tooth and Claw" being an amazing track.

Rosetta is one of only a few post-rock inflected metal bands with harsh, screamed vocals. Isis and Cult of Luna are another two common examples. I really enjoy the juxtaposition, but I can understand how including harsh vocals in your work could be polarizing. Sometimes the kind of person that enjoys spacy, atmospheric music isn't the same kind of person that enjoys screaming in their music. Still, Isis is probably my favorite band ever (and their early work is incredibly heavy anyway) and I love Cult of Luna too. I'm glad Rosetta has a super solid release out now, though I'll admit I haven't checked out several of their more recent albums.

Grimpeur (Day 37)

Sometimes I feel like it's this incredible burden just to live in my own skin for a day. When I'm home alone it's not as bad and I can sort of forget about who I am. When I'm surrounded by other people it's a lot harder to obfuscate. I am keenly, painfully aware of my various imperfections. On good days, I'll have the mindset that if there are things about me I don't like, I should strive to change them. On bad (or neutral) days I'm just generally intensely uncomfortable. It's disconcerting, because ideally I shouldn't give a shit about this kind of thing. I mean sure, I should want to improve myself, but wallowing in misery isn't going to help anything.

I'm an optimist in theory but sometimes its pretty hard for me to stick to my guns. I can get demoralized pretty easily. Right now I'm exhausted and everything is cast in a more sickly light than usual. I wish I could feel motivated and ready to take on the day more often. It's a really exhilarating feeling. I'm not going to run tonight and that's okay. I'm not going to agonize over it; I'm tired and sleep-deprived so it's not a big deal. I'll run tomorrow and I'll feel better. Tonight I'm just going to relax.

My last few entries were pretty solid, so I think it's okay if I throw in a short one like this every once in awhile. I'm proud that I'm keeping it up at all and I've written some really good stuff. Tomorrow I'll be rested and have a clearer head.

Hodoku / Compassion (Day 36)

I've been thinking a lot about how much I enjoy coming up with ideas for RPGs. When I was several years younger, I wrote down a lot of these ideas and went into pretty extreme detail. I wrote about classes, interaction with environment, some small details about the setting and plot, and crammed as many ideas as I could think of into a massive folder. I made charts, drew maps (in MS Paint, no less) and even wrote out some branching dialogue paths, ala Baldur's Gate. My idea was to fuse elements of western RPGs (branching dialogue, character customization, emphasis on storytelling) with elements of Japanese strategy RPGs like Final Fantasy Tactics and Tactics Ogre. I still love the idea, but all of the files associated with it are lost now.

I'm not a programmer and I don't have any money, so what point is there to putting forth so much effort to document these ideas I have? I don't have the means to make such a thing happen. For some reason, I still love the idea of coming up with character classes, abilities, and mechanics for a video game. D&D is completely playable with pen and paper, so why can't my game be the same way? There are tons of games out there that use D&D-inspired rules to base their mechanics on. Maybe I could make my game playable with pen and paper (or through text as the case may be) and then many years down the line I could look at my options.

My ideal RPG would include a lot of different things. I've thought about what I would include for many years, and perhaps most importantly, what I would omit. Turn-based strategy RPGs are definitely my favorite kind of game if done properly, but no title has ever aligned with my preferences completely. Disgaea requires too much grinding and doesn't have enough variety in character classes. It has a lot of interesting gameplay elements but overall doesn't hit the mark with me. Fire Emblem handles its characters in just about my favorite way, but it is pretty lacking in character customization. Furthermore, there's too much reliance on RNG, not only for critical hits and dodging, but for stat increases as well. If you're unlucky, you might end up leveling up without a single stat increase!

Final Fantasy Tactics does a lot of things right. It allows you to combine skills from several different classes to tailor your characters to your needs. Many of the classes have a large variety of interesting skills at their disposal, but some are actually pretty uninspired. Archers have a series of boring Charge skills that are variants of each other, whereas Lancers' only active skills involve jumping further and higher. Still, combining elements of various different classes to create your perfect character was always a fulfilling experience and I would definitely include a similar system in my ideal RPG.

Another strategy RPG I drew influence from was Tactics Ogre: The Knight of Lodis. It's one of the few titles I've seen where terrain plays a part. Sure, a lot of strategy RPGs will impart small bonuses based on what kind of terrain you were standing on, but this game took it a bit further. When it was raining, the water level would rise and that would affect things like evasion, accuracy, etc. I thought that was a cool idea so I started thinking about what other effects terrain could have. I played a little-known game called Bahamut Lagoon in which you could do things like poison or freeze water, and that would affect enemy units in that area. Maybe you could cast a lightning spell that would effect anyone in the water, or you could burn down bridges, knock over trees to obstruct paths. Some of these elements are present in Western strategy RPGs, I'm sure.

One of these days I'm going to start writing this stuff down again. I'm not sure what my purpose will be, but it's really fun to think about.

Ryu / Tradition (Day 35)

There's an adage about depression that's been floating around for as long as I can remember. "There will be good days and there will be bad days." Sometimes the bad days make you forget that you've made any progress at all. You feel bad for what seems like no reason. Maybe there is no reason or maybe there are so many reasons that you can't internalize them. I know that this is the third night in a row that I've skipped my run and I feel guilty. I did some conciliatory pushups but they did little to comfort me. It's not only that, though. There's been a lot on my mind, recently. I have very little job stability (which is troubling since it was so difficult for me to find something in the first place) and my future's really uncertain. In the past this was never that big of a deal because I was living on autopilot and I didn't really care. Now, I'm more concerned about my well-being and I want desperately to improve myself... which is why it's so troubling when I don't want to get out of bed.

I have made progress, though. Instead of lying in bed until the seasons change, I get up. Eventually. I acknowledged that I wasn't feeling well but I made no attempt to wallow in the depression or feel sorry for myself. I wanted to feel better and approach the day with the same kind of determination as I did only a week before. The adage is true, though. There are bad days and sometimes you can't do anything about them. I skipped the last two nights of running and felt really guilty about that. At the same time, I was filling with unimaginable dread at the prospect of going out again. It's late, I thought. It's dark and although it's not hot outside, the patented Kentucky humidity is just as miserable as ever.

But those are excuses. I haven't felt well today, but that doesn't mean I can't make an effort to pull myself out of it. I can't make myself happy through sheer force of will, but I can get out of bed, I can do some pushups, and I can go on a run. I don't have to push myself as hard as I usually do, but I have to do something. So I did. I was in the middle of typing up this entry lamenting the fact that I'd skipped my run for the third time in a row, but as soon as I typed it, I realized something. It's not too late. It's never too dark to run and walk down the road in front of my house. It was an excuse, and a flimsy one considering how many times I've done just that. So I ran for a little bit, and I walked for awhile. I came back and I showered, and I feel better. I'm not ecstatic, but I'm better than I was before. It's so important that I just put forth some kind of effort instead of throwing up my hands and sinking into bed. I'm better than that.

I want nothing more than to be healthy and fit, and yeah, I'll admit it, to look good. But it's probably even more important that I'm in good mental health. I have a lot of unresolved issues that have built up over years and years of refusing to cope with them. I can't fix them all at once or truthfully fix them at all, but it's important that I learn how to come to terms with them. On the good days it feels like I'm almost there and on the bad days I'm woefully far away, but as long as I can move the midpoint between them a little closer, I'll know I'm making progress.

All Points Below (Day 34)

One thing I've always liked in RPGs is the concept of critical hits. It feels impactful and good when it happens, although I've never much liked overuse of random number generators in these games. I like the concept of a critical hit but I don't like randomness much at all. What's the solution? Surely you can't have critical hits (or dodging, accuracy, %chance spell effects) without using RNG. In Dungeons & Dragons, all of these random effects are decided by dice rolls. Generally when one rolls a 20, you'll get a critical hit. That's a little more interesting than a computerized number generator but it's still not quite what I'm looking for.

I had an idea at work today and I'd like to talk about it even though I'm not a programmer and likely will never have the resources to put such a system into play. I'm very interested in theoretical game design; when I was much younger I spent hours drawing up plans and writing down ideas for this kind of thing. I knew it would never go anywhere but it was really fun to think about. The working title for my idea is Critical Energy, named for critical hits. The basic idea is that you gain 10 critical energy per turn and once you reach 100 you can perform a critical hit. This is very simple on the surface, but my mind was swirling with ideas about unique ways it could be implemented.

Imagine all the ways critical energy could interact with statistics, items, and spells. Let's assume for a moment that spells cannot critically strike--what purpose then does critical energy serve for spellcaster archetypes? Well, spells tend to have a lot of random effects attached to them. Let's say a certain spell has a 50% chance to blind and costs 10 mana. It's instant, but it may not work. It feels really good when the spell succeeds and pretty bad when it doesn't. Unfortunately, there was no interaction on your end that decided whether or not the spell would succeed or fail. You rolled the dice and you won or lost. What if instead the spell used critical energy? It still costs 10 mana, but also requires, let's say, 50 critical energy. The randomness is gone and the spell succeeds every time providing you spend the required amount of energy.

Suppose having to save up 50 of your energy seems needlessly limiting for such a low impact spell. Maybe you'd rather cast it without using energy and rely on your 50% chance to get the job done. I could see how that could create an interesting gameplay experience, but I don't think that's the route I would take. Numbers would need tuning of course, but there are a lot of factors at play here. Maybe it only costs 25 energy to insure the spell is successful, but as a caveat, your opponent has the option to pay 50 of their energy to block the spell? Suppose also that you're not allowed to see how much energy your opponents possess and that 50 energy will insure the spell succeeds every time. This restores some of the "luck" factor without relying on RNG.

I could see critical energy underlying a lot of important gameplay mechanics in this hypothetical RPG. Dodging, parrying, and blocking are other mechanics that often rely on RNG. Give the player the option to use critical energy to dodge attacks and they have to make a choice. Should they use their energy defensively or offensively? Maybe dodging results in no damage sustained but costs a full 100 energy, whereas parrying costs 75 but only works against physical attacks. Blocking only costs 50 but instead of negating damage, reduces it to 1/4th its original value and requires an equipped shield.

If you only gain 10 energy a turn, I can see a lot of these mechanics rarely coming into play. However, that's just a base value. One could only assume that skills, equipment, and statistics could augment that value. For example, a warrior class could have a skill called Valiant Strike. It deals 120% normal damage and increases critical energy by 30 (in addition to the 10 gained that turn); this energy could then be saved for use later or used to dodge/parry/block an attack on the enemy turn. Maybe especially high Agility values could impart bonuses to starting energy or energy generation. There are a lot of possibilities and I really like the idea of it.

Only Skin (Day 33)

I stayed up until noon finishing up Baldur's Gate II: Shadows of Amn and Katawa Shoujo. I'm not sure why I didn't just have the discipline to go to sleep, but there it is. I still need to get through the BGII expansion, but Katawa Shoujo is 100% completed. I think I'll be playing Icewind Dale for at least a little while before I continue on through Throne of Bhaal.

Like I mentioned in a previous entry, I'd never played (or is the proper terminology read?) a visual novel before. I've played games with heavy emphasis on romantic relationships (Catherine, Persona 3, and Persona 4 spring to mind) but never a game where romance was the defining aspect. I wasn't sure what to expect going into it, but I figured it would be pretty harmless to give Katawa Shoujo a shot and in the end I'm really glad I did.

The game uses a typical anime art style like traditional Japanese visual novels, although as far as I understand the developers of this particular title were mostly American. It was a collaborative effort over the course of five years stemming from an interesting premise. Although there are tons of anime, manga, and probably games as well that deal with high school relationships, I'm not aware of any that deal with the disabled, and especially not any that treat them with as much respect as Katawa Shoujo does. 

Hisao Nakai is an average high school student until he collapses during a conversation with his soon-to-be girlfriend. He discovers later that he'd had a heart attack due to an undiagnosed cardiac arrythmia and spends around a year in a hospital bed because of it. He undergoes heart surgery that leaves permanent scarring on his chest. Hisao is dismayed to find that his lifestyle will forever have to change. He'll have to keep his activity very light and even then his life expectancy is in doubt. Even more depressing is that he's being transferred to a school for the disabled, leaving his girlfriend Iwanoko and his other friends behind.

Depending on which task the player chooses to take, Hisao can gain a new lease on life. He'll make different friends and make different decisions, possibly even resulting in his own death or serious injury. The relationships that you have the option of pursuing each have long, winding plots that reveal a lot of details about the girl in question, her friends, her family, and her personality. I felt that Emi, Rin, and Lilly's paths were especially well-written, but even Shizune and Hanako's stories had aspects that resonated with me.

Emi is determined to succeed at all odds despite having lost her legs in a car accident. She's runs track on prosthetics every day, never letting her disability hold her back. Despite being cheerful and upbeat, she has a hard time letting people in. Her closest friend at Yamaku is Rin, a very strange and interesting girl who has no arms. Evidently there were officials at the school that felt like the two would be able to help each other; Emi assists Rin with getting dressed in the mornings but it's not clear what Rin provides for her other than companionship. She is an artist that paints with her feet and has extreme difficulty expressing herself through words--not that that stops her from trying.

Lilly is a tall, serene half-Scottish girl who is at the center of a lot of social circles and a class representative. She is blind and relies on her very shy friend Hanako, who has severe burns on one half of her body. They have a symbiotic relationship. Lilly is Hanako's only real friend and treats her as a sort of maternal figure. Any social situations Hanako is introduced require Lilly's encouragement and support. It's reasonable to assume that Lilly keeping Hanako so close is preventing her from breaking out of her shell.

Shizune is the surly, deaf head of the student council. Although she cannot speak, she is never without her best friend Misha, who is very fluent in sign language and functions as an interpreter. Shizune is competitive and analytical, while Misha is bubbly and cheerful, which makes Shizune's words coming out of Misha's mouth seem at odds with her personality. Despite the superficial differences between them, they are very good friends and seem to have a lot in common. Hisao is unable to pursue a relationship with Misha, but she's still a very important part of Shizune's storyline, where Hisao will have to learn sign language.

I was disappointed when I finally finished Katawa Shoujo, as I grew pretty attached to the characters. The writing was sometimes inconsistent and the art occasionally sloppy, but I can forgive these flaws due to the really poignant storytelling. If I were to rank the paths in order of quality, I think I would go with Lilly > Emi > Rin > Shizune > Hanako, although Rin's was definitely the best in terms of interactivity, with Shizune's being the worst.

The Nearing Grave (Day 32)

I'm glad that music is a part of my life. That I can listen to certain pieces of music and have my emotions affected positively is a really profound thing. I've never been able to look at paintings or other kinds of artwork and really have an emotional reaction to it, at least not in the same way. I can appreciate artwork and aesthetics in general, and I agree that they are important--but its never going to move me to react. I might enjoy a painting or drawing a lot and even think its amazing, but I can't imagine ever looking at a painting and getting a cold chill. With music, it happens to me pretty frequently.

I think with films I can get a little closer. I can be affected emotionally and sometimes I'll get that feeling of ascension--like I've experienced something on a deeper level. However, I think the score plays a huge part in how I react in these situations. I enjoyed There Will Be Blood, but the screechy, minimalist score left me a little cold. As such, I felt it was a great movie but it didn't provoke that deeper feeling in me. Films like Magnolia, Inception, and even Requiem for a Dream hit me in the gut a bit more not just because they're good but because the score plays such an important role.

In a lot of ways I navigate my life by feel instead of logic. It's really strange for me to say that because for years and years I insisted on the exact opposite. I prided myself on being logical in most situations and being able to defuse conflicts (in my mind, at least) because of it. At the time I listened to a lot of music that was really technically proficient but lacking in emotion. I think it was a pretty appropriate mirror for my personality, honestly. I won't say that part of me is completely gone because there are a lot of aspects to my personality, some of which don't necessarily fit together. I'm like one of those puzzles with no edges and extra pieces.

Suffice to say, though, these songs are on my mind at the moment and can induce cold chills if I'm the right mindset:

Long Distance Calling - "The Nearing Grave"

Isis - "Carry" (can remember many night drives listening to this)

Jesu - "Transfigure"

Joanna Newsom - "Only Skin" (especially at "that's an awfully real gun")

Just Another Illustration (Day 31)

I'm going to talk some more about my time in Austin pretty soon, but I need some time to recharge and collect my thoughts. I don't know if its all the running or not, but I've been pretty tired recently despite getting an extremely decent amount of sleep last night. I know I at least have the next two days off so I'll have some time to just relax and write.

I've been listening to three albums a lot lately, all of which are pretty damn good. Two are by bands I have no previous experience with and the third by a group I've been following for some time now. The first two were discovered via r/postrock, a subreddit I subscribed to recently. They are Cognoscere by North End, a cacophonous instrumental math-rock outfit that reminds me a lot of Toe, but with all the melancholy drained and replaced by joy; and Heights by Damascus, another instrumental group with a bit more dynamic range. I think they must be relatively little-known because I downloaded their albums from Bandcamp and paid $2 apiece for them. Still, both albums are surprisingly good.

Cognoscere is really catchy and listenable for an album described as post-rock. There isn't much in the way of slow buildups and dramatic crescendos, although rhythmically it's incredibly varied. Like Toe, a lot of emphasis is put on percussion, but in this case it isn't at the expense of the guitarwork, which is responsible for a lot of frenetic riffing and loud rhythms. The album is short but sweet, which I find is a really admirable trait in modern music. I enjoy being able to listen through an album without being exhausted by it, which is so often the case in this genre in particular.

Heights is a bit of a different beast; it's definitely more on the metal end of the spectrum but at the same time its much more of a classic example of post-rock. There are buildups and there are releases, like in the first track, which opens with a plaintive piano melody before giving way to drums and pretty guitar melodies. There is that sense of moving forward as more layers and melodies are added into the mix. It coalesces into a lovely cheerful track until progressing into big distorted guitars, busy drum fills and chaotic leads. The rest of the track and the album continues to ebb and flow, like most examples of the genre. I find it difficult to describe in a satisfying way because you could apply these descriptors to pretty much any post-rock/metal album... but Heights stands out from a lot of other releases I've heard by being memorable, and how do you quantify memorability?

The third album is The Flood Inside by Long Distance Calling, their fourth release since 2007. I've been listening to this band since Avoid the Light came out in 2009 and I really dig them. They stand out to me because they have a lot of really excellent riffs and they're not afraid to rock out. Some groups in this genre will lose my attention with atmospheric noodling, but Long Distance Calling never goes that route. While their tracks tend to be quite long, they also tend to be loud, melodic, and fun to listen to. They've also featured vocals intermittently over the years. "The Nearing Grave," featuring Jonas Renske of Katatonia, is one of my favorites of theirs.

The Flood Inside is their first release to feature a full-time vocalist. He's no one notable as far as I know, though he's evidently a member of a few German bands I'd never heard of. His vocals feature on three of the album's nine tracks (of which four have vocals), so it's not a huge paradigm shift for the band by any means. His vocal performance is growing on me as I give the album more listens. I was initially unimpressed and dismissed him as a generic traditional metal vocalist, but I think I was probably wrong. I'm still not convinced the tracks he contributes to were necessary candidates for vocals, but he did a serviceable job.

The track that really sticks out for me is "Welcome Change," which features a guest vocalist who my research has revealed to be... Petter Carlsen? I was almost positive that was a female singer, but hey, I've been wrong before. Regardless of the vocalist's gender, the track stands out as the most memorable and melodic track on the album. Overall, I think I still prefer Avoid the Light as an album, but it's probably better than 2011's self-titled, which featured a track rendered unlistenable by its awful grungy vocalist. (Turns out he was one of the many frontmen for Anthrax. Go figure.)

Come to Light (Day 30)

Thirty days of continuous writing is a pretty good accomplishment for me. Sure, there have been a few days here and there where I phoned it in and didn't write anything substantial, but if you look at this experiment as a whole so far, it's been very successful. I've even opened up and written about some personal stuff. Admittedly it's easier to do when I realize there aren't many folks reading, but I think it still counts that I'm putting it out there.

I'm starting to disassociate writing with anxiety and I'm starting to shed that fear of not being accepted. What I'm saying is genuine, so I can't worry about whether or not people aren't buying it. It's personal and from the heart. I'm passionate about a lot of silly things. I love video games and will discuss them at length. It's liberating to just write about that stuff without worrying about being longwinded or wordy. I just say what I want to say and it feels nice.

That haze that so often clouds my thoughts isn't gone. It's still there and still strikes with a vengeance when the time is right--like now, while I'm exhausted from work and lack of sleep. But when I'm awake and rested? I'm thinking and expressing myself better than ever before. It's so much easier to write about what I feel and have the words that end up on the page accurately represent that. In the past my words would just come out in a jumbled, stilted mess that obscured my meaning for no good reason.

And I feel like I have a lot more to say on so many things. I have stronger opinions. I think they were always there, but when you continually refuse to express your thoughts, your critical thinking skills wither away. My brain turned to mush and I feel like I'm going through this process to reshape it into something recognizable. I'm waking up and becoming more self-aware every day. Sometimes it's not a pleasant thing, but I strongly believe its necessary to get where I want to go. I'm not cool with being complacent anymore.

Regardless of what happens from now on, I'm much more confident about my future. One of the little goals I've been pursuing lately is to avoid saying I'm going to do something without following up on it. If I say I'm going to do something or that I want to do something, I at least have to give it a reasonable attempt. I said I wanted to go on night runs, and I've been doing that just about every night since. I'm going to start setting a lot more goals for myself over the coming months. I'm going to become a new me, and that's a little scary, but necessary to insure that I dig myself out of this rut.

Want for Nothing (Day 29)

I spent four months in Austin, Texas. I spent a lot of my quiet time trying to figure out exactly how this had all happened. I remembered packing up all of my possessions, selling my drum set, and clambering into a tiny vehicle with a couple of my best friends. I was worried at the time that I was making a mistake, but I was also pretty excited. I was finally leaving Kentucky, possibly for good. I knew my living situation wasn't going to be permanent, but I imagined getting a job and saving money, making some friends and moving in with someone else sometime down the road.

Margaret wasn't the first online friend I'd met in person, but she was pretty close. Only a month or two beforehand, I'd met two friends I played League of Legends with. We hung out for a few days and it was actually a really cool experience. Maybe that's why I wasn't apprehensive about the situation. When I met her in person, there wasn't a great deal about her that surprised me. She seemed pretty much just like she portrayed herself to be online, aside from being a little grumpy from all the driving she'd done. They were in Illinois for a Harry Potter convention and that's where my friends Scott and Ben drove me to meet up with her and her friend Maya.

It was surreal climbing into their vehicle with all of the stuff I'd brought from home. How well did I know her? I was meeting her friend Maya for the first time and Margaret for the first time in person. It didn't feel weird, but part of me was filled with anxiety. What did she think of me? Was she repulsed by me now that she'd seen me in person? A bit of my self-loathing crept in, especially since she was being so quiet. I knew that they'd already been on the road for some time so it was natural for her to be under some stress due to fatigue.

Fortunately, Maya was super upbeat and put my mind at ease. We chatted about a few things. Apparently she was really into webcomics and had been to a few conventions where she'd met some artists. I thought that was really cool because I'd never gotten to do anything like that and would love to if I had the chance. She was really easy to talk to and gave me hope that I'd be able to make friends in Austin. Still, the drive was long and mostly uneventful, with only music from some Harry Potter musical and occasional conversation to break the silence.

One thing that I learned from the trip down there is that Arkansas is a really depressing state. Everything is oppressively flat and gray, and it seems like all the main roads in the state are incredibly bumpy. I could be entirely wrong but every time I've gone through it my mood has taken a nose dive. That whole state just gives off an aura of unease that I can't completely describe. The drive through Arkansas seemed to take longer than just about any other part of the trip, though we were actually in Texas for at least 6 hours before we made it to Austin itself.

Honestly, it would have been a lot scarier for me to just pick up and leave home like that if I felt like I had anything important to leave behind. A lot of my friends had moved away. Scott was leaving to go to school in Idaho, Josh had moved to Florida, and Ben... he was still relatively close, but far enough for a broke guy whose car no longer ran. As for my family... I didn't really get along with them. Especially in recent years, our relationship has been strained. It's more my fault than theirs. Being holed up and hopeless in your mother's home isn't exactly conducive to strengthening family relationships, at least not for me. I was ashamed of myself, and I didn't want them to know what I was going through.

I thought that running away was the solution. I thought that I'd feel much better about myself in a new place where I was surrounded by different kinds of people that didn't know me. I felt like I could make new first impressions and reinvent myself, becoming the kind of person I'd always wanted to be. As it turns out, things were never that simple. One's mood and outlook are on some level a product of their environment, but attitude is much more important. I'm the only person that can change me; I'm glad I'm finally learning that.

Welcome Change (Day 28)

So there I was, months and months into a job search that already felt like it was never going to end. I knew my heart wasn't in it. I had quit my last job (while with my ex) because of how miserable it made me. It wasn't smart but in the short term it was overwhelmingly satisfying. Of course that didn't last and I came to realize I'd made a pretty poor decision. Things worsened between us as my ex came to realize that I had no drive or ambition in life, and she left. I was numb to it for some time, but of course that's one every ineffective way we've all tried to deal with grief and hopelessness.

For some time, I pretended I was fine. I knew even then that I was in denial, but even when I admitted to myself the kind of loss I felt, it didn't make me feel better about it. I thought that being in a relationship made me miserable. In some ways it was stressful, but the truth behind my depression was actually really simple. I was unhappy with myself. Being with someone so driven and motivated only exacerbated my feelings of self-loathing. It wasn't that I didn't want to do anything with my life. I did, and I still do. At the time I had no concept of what it took to get where I needed to be, and to be honest I'm still working on that every day.

So I was morose and rarely left the house. I was virtually penniless, living sparsely off my tax return check and leeching off my mother. I wanted out and even contemplated a few things I'm ashamed of. I would wake up in the middle of the night after sleeping for twelve hours at a time and wonder what possible reason I had to get out of bed. Eventually I would, and I'd spend my time on the internet or playing games. I didn't get the same kind of enjoyment out of it as I used to. I remembered being engrossed in games and longed for that feeling. It might have been a great time to start reading again, to wallow in escapism. It didn't occur to me.

During these months I played a lot of League of Legends. It was my only form of social interaction since a lot of my friends played. We would communicate via a voice chat program and coordinate our strategies. It was more than that, though. We talked and sort of "hung out" as much as you can do so online. It made me feel a little better. The best days for me were when I'd just play all day and win a lot while having fun with my friends. Some of them lived nearby, but most were scattered around the country. I've had a lot of online friends over the years but I invariably lose touch with them. Now that I think about it, that's not a rule exclusive to online friends. I lose touch with most friends I make. Is that just a fact of life or a testament to my poor social skills?

One of my League of Legends comrades and a personal friend eventually did something stupid. He hurt himself, but he survived. It shook me pretty badly, but it made me realize that despite my seemingly neverending depression, I could never get to the point where that seemed like it was a legitimate option. What he had done scared me, but it also gave me hope in a way. After his failed attempt, he wanted to live. I realized I wanted to live too, but I was still clueless about how to make my life feel like it was worth living.

I've learned over the years that opportunities very rarely fall in your lap. When they do, you need to take advantage of them. When a very old online friend called me up one day and asked me to be her roommate, I immediately and impulsively accepted. I was looking for a way out of self-imposed house arrest. Going someplace new, regardless of where it was, seemed like an amazing idea. I wanted to meet new people and broaden my horizons. Even though I had been moping around the house for months, I had hope that there was something out there for me. I wasn't so far gone that I wasn't going to jump right on top of the chance to get out of Kentucky, even if it was only for a little while. Secretly, I imagined I'd be gone for good. It turned out I would be back sooner than I'd hoped.

None Shall Pass (Day 27)

I awaken to the sound of heavy rain drumming against my bedroom window. I'm disappointed for a moment that my plans to run tonight have been ruined, but I wonder if maybe it's for the best. I've read that it's a good idea to take occasional breaks to give your body time to repair itself. I must admit that my limbs ache with the remembrance of the past several nights. As long as I resume my work tomorrow night, it won't hurt to take a night to rest, I think.

Despite my best efforts to stay awake as long as possible today, I did eventually drift off, explaining why I'm awake just now in the evening. It's a gradual process to repair my sleep schedule and I consider for a moment that my work is probably in vain. I've never had an easy time sleeping on demand, even though I'm very often exhausted when I lie down. A lot of things contribute to my difficulty sleeping--there's anxiety, lack of adherence to routine, and I wouldn't be surprised to learn if poor diet was a factor as well. Perhaps most of all, I don't associate my bedroom with sleeping. It's a place where I spend most of my time. It's where I write, where I play games, and in a lot of ways, where I grew up.

How strange it is to be confined to this room after so many years. If I were in a more pessimistic mood, I would consider my current state a pretty harsh failure. My high school graduation is many years behind me and I've still only attended a handful of college semesters with no real direction. Despite my renewed lease on life, I still can't afford to go back to school, nor can I afford to start over somewhere new. I feel very strongly that this place is holding me back and that I'm running out of time, as young as I might be. It is tempting to wallow in depression as I have so often done before, but I'm really trying to make the best out of a bad situation. I'm trying my hardest to make myself a better person so I can be happy with me. When I'm happy with myself, I feel like I can accomplish so much more.

Still, it's hard to move on when this place where I grew up is saturated with so many memories. Despite going through a series of makeovers, its still the place where I spent months living with two of my high school friends. They were both in really bad situations at the time and I felt like I had no choice in the matter. My relationship with my mother was such that I didn't even ask her if I had permission for something like that. It was a stressful time that strained my relationship with my two friends. There was so little room that I slept in a sleeping bag. I wasn't long out of high school and unemployed, so I felt like this was the least I could do for my friends who both worked at a tough factory job. I can't say it was ever fun to be woken up at 7 in the morning by them rapping on the door after getting off 12-hour shifts.

This room is the place where I spent countless late nights playing Rock Band with good friends. At the time, I was beginning to open up and break out of my shell. I had been working a really physical job at Walmart for a few months, and I'd lost a noticeable amount of weight. I felt a lot better about myself and was extroverted enough to sing at the top of my lungs at these little social gatherings. I wasn't great, mind you, but I really enjoyed doing it. I didn't mind if my singing wasn't the greatest because that wasn't the point. Even though my job was often miserable, I was a lot happier in general because I felt like I was progressing in life. Having friends to hang out with is such an undervalued thing too and I took it for granted. 

Maybe most importantly, this room is where I hung out and eventually lived with my ex-girlfriend. For the longest time, we lived together at a house she rented from her parents. When she asked me to move in, I was ecstatic. It really felt like progress to me, and it was wonderful to finally get out on my own. I was a little apprehensive, but I knew it was going to be okay because I thought she was wonderful and we got along incredibly well. At the best of times, I felt almost content. My depression was still there, lingering ominously beneath the surface. I know now that no matter how well things are going, the depression still lingers. It's something you can never truly quash. You have to learn how to live with it and experience it in a non-destructive way.

My ex hated the house we shared together. I felt her standards were impossibly high, but she had that right. She was ambitious. She knew what she wanted from life and wouldn't dare be complacent in the meantime. She contrasted those aspects of me in what I thought was a pleasing way. We had a lot of discussions about our future. She wanted to know what I really wanted to do with my life. She was already well into her career path and I was lagging behind. It was a major source of anxiety for her, especially since it was quite obvious she wanted to get on with her life. She wanted marriage, kids, and a guy with a career. I wanted none of these things, except for a vague aspiration for a career with no clear idea how to get there.

So it was that we ended up moving back into my old bedroom together. She and her family had put the house up for sale and my ex figured it would be silly to live there in the meantime. I was miserable with the idea. I felt like I'd made so much progress by moving out of my mother's house, and here I was again confined to that place I'd spend so many lazy, listless nights. Alone, and hopeless. I tried to explain how I felt but she dismissed my concerns. She never understood how much I lived in the present. I felt like I was going to be here forever. What was worse that I could tell we were drifting apart. We didn't talk as much. We had more awkward silences. She buried herself in watching anime and television while I played computer games. 

She was disappointed in me. I didn't have the drive or the ambition she was looking for in a mate. We'd been together for so long but I still hadn't changed. She wanted to help me become that kind of person, but she'd come to realize that I was the only one that had the power to do that. At the time, I didn't know how to become that person. I was in love and wanted nothing more than to stay with her, but I couldn't be what she needed to be, so she left. I didn't yell at her nor even betray the slightest hint of emotion when she looked me in the eye and told me it was over. What I did say was possibly even more hurtful both to her and myself. "That's probably for the best."

Just like that, she was out of my life. I thought about how awful that was. We couldn't even be friends anymore no matter how much I wanted that. I'd spent years with this person as a part of my life and now she was gone. Naturally, it felt like a piece of myself was gone too. Our relationship at the end was not a happy one, but I felt no relief that it was over. I remembered the good times most of all, and miss them to this day. I will admit we were very different people with different outlooks on life. The level of effort required to maintain a relationship like that over the long term is gargantuan. When you click with someone and feel like you belong, though, it's heartbreaking to have that taken away from you. I think in the back of my head, regardless of how well things go for me in the future, I will always miss her. I will always miss what we had and what it could have been.

I spent a lot of long days in this room after that. I was unemployed and miserable with my life. It was a dark time for me and I feel like it stretched on forever. I was halfheartedly looking for jobs but in some ways I felt like I didn't even want one. It was easier for me to throw myself down on the bed and waste away. I didn't want to exist anymore. What little motivation I had acquired over the past two years evaporated and then I was back to square one. Just like it was back in 2008, I was depressed and hopeless, with no idea how to get out of my predicament. I knew that if I got a job it wouldn't magically make me happy. I felt like I could never be happy in this room that had so many negative memories attached to it. 

When I received a call from an old online friend who said she needed a roommate, I impulsively accepted. Of course, she lived halfway across the country and I was unemployed and completely broke, but she seemed entirely confident that these weren't significant obstacles. 

Tune in next time for Zack's Increasingly and Creepily Personal Blog Entries for the conclusion to this tale!

1,000 Deaths (Day 26)

My walk tonight was tougher than usual! I took off at a brisk jog and stopped when I felt like my lungs couldn't take it anymore. I was probably out of breath for the next half a mile, at least. I still ended up walking about three miles, which is pretty satisfactory for now. I think doing this every night is really starting to get to me. I may have to work out some kind of break day where I do something else (like lift weights) or I could just walk a bit of a shorter distance on certain days and work my way back up.

After browsing a couple of weightloss subreddits, I've come to the conclusion that I really should be counting calories in some way. It's something I've done many times over the years, and in at least one case it worked out really well. I ended up losing about 30 pounds, but gained it all back pretty quickly when I decided that food was my best friend. I really like food. I can't imagine being happy with a situation where I deprive myself of good food just because I'm counting calories. It seems more reasonable to just control my portions and not eat out that often. Still, if I'm not making some kind of record of it then its really easy to cheat without really thinking about it.

Honestly, I need to buy less "lazy" food. I have this bad habit of buying a bunch of frozen burritos and just eating nothing but burritos for two days. Same for brats or even sandwich meat. I should go out and buy some actual ingredients that I can cook some food with. I need to be less lazy and more motivated in general, so that seems like a pretty good step in the right direction (along with these blog entries and the exercise). I was kind of thinking about trying out tofu. I've had it before and really liked it--and it seems like you can put it in just about anything. It could take the place of eggs or beef which are already pretty versatile in dishes.

I need to drink more water as well. I'm so reliant on caffeine to get through the day that I end up skipping water a lot. I tried to cut out caffeine completely a couple months ago and actually managed to succeed--until I got a job and starting getting less and less sleep. I felt like I had to turn to caffeine again to cope and now here I am dependent on it again. I don't feel like it's something I can make a priority right now, but it still wouldn't be a big deal to just drink more water than I am now without exactly cutting out caffeine.