Remains of a Human Psyche

Are we returned?

2007-11-07T20:46:00.000-08:00

So, after some matter of fiasco, I have finally regained control over this blog. However!! Through the fiasco, I had created another blog, in which I became much more active, and reconstituted my mission entirely. Although the two ideas are rather similar, should they be kept separate? Should the trivial pursuits of an individual be kept with the aesthetic writings of an artist? Or are they one in the same?

Well, in any case, I don't believe I will be posting much longer in this blog until this fiasco is settled once and for all. Perhaps the next time this page is updated, both blogs will be under the same reign (hopefully mine). For this I can only hope.

Okie...

2007-10-21T23:32:00.000-07:00

...Dokie. Unexpected? Why, that would be a word for it, maybe. If by unexpected, you meant I had been looking for you for maybe a year and some months and maybe worried a bit at the thought of your demise but it turns out you're doing well and in fact living on without people like me, then yes, unexpected would be the word to describe it.

The famed creator of Dokuro seems to have resurfaced, and, by the looks of it, not too long ago. I suppose it's my own damn fault for not reading the journals, but I know better now. I have no one to blame but myself for not keeping up, so increases my joy at finding her.

Unfortunately, though I had much respect for her as a fellow artist, someone to look up to, even, though how little I'd known her, I'm not all to agreed toward the name 'DokieStudioz.' Dokuro sounded perfectly menacing, but Dokie is far less powerful, to say the least. Perhaps this shows a change in personality that went unnoticed by me?

Ah, so returned is the subject matter: social ineptitude. It was an obstacle many people overcome at least once in their lifetimes, and for a sad few, more often than necessary. Personally, I fight the problem that may arise from such ineptitudes, though I must admit, I much prefer to not be involved in such matters. You, on the other hand, may find it hypocritical of me to label the necessary interaction between humans as 'below me,' but that, you must admit, is merely your opinion. Circumventing such problems is my own way of living, such is the dealing of convenient untruths which suit one's own purpose.

After all, what is virtue, but what suits most everyone's needs? Philanthropy? Altruism? Feel-good-isms? Even if there is no physical gain, one always does things for their own psyche. It's human nature—nay, all nature, to focus first on one's own needs...after all, who else will?

If that was all to be said, just what was the point of all this?
That and more to be answered next week, if I feel like it.

['nite]

It's been too long...and will always be too long.

2007-10-18T19:28:00.000-07:00

I was writing this earlier and had to shut down my computer because it was overheating, so I lost what I was writing...bah, aren't I clever? I made sure I didn't lose the other data I was submitting to a website, but this was the one I forgot. Ah, but isn't it rather martyr-ish of me to rescue information to be submitted to others, but not myself?
Wait! I've found it. Lucky? Or perhaps...it's the hands of man which have crafted man's own fate?

Every week, every day...nay, every moment seems to pass with such speed that one can barely manage to breathe meaning into it, and yet to move forward, onward, toward what one wants most, is always but an eternity away. This is natural, of course, but all in all a peculiar phenomenon.

Maybe we can figure it out with enough thinkage, but I believe I have every right to be lazy at the moment.

Really, though, the most peculiar thing has happened: I've been putting off work for a while (which includes creating reference material for in-universe terms for the story), but recently, just recently, I've been getting so much work done...it's rather frightening. Uh, but maybe not that much work, but progress, yes. Progress has been made, however immeasurable to the unforeseeable ending.

What I have to blame for my sudden blessing of progress is the introduction of a rather addictive beta MMO. Much like how 'all work and no play makes John a dull boy,' variation to one's routine, whether it be video games, watching television, or any other form of entertainment, gives one's mind rest from the deliberate task of mental work, just as sleep gives the body rest.

Speaking of blessings, there is something like potionmaking in the aforementioned MMO, where players can make potions for healing, regeneration, or resistance. Every potion recipe calls for 'Tough Meat,' except for the potion called Bless, which uses 'Tender Meat.' Curious, how a fluid which aids you should be largely solid proteins.

Today's quote is brought to you by the letter Omicron, and the symbols Varia and Oxia:
"ὸ__ό"

[END TRANSMISSION]

So, what is there to do to-night?

2007-10-10T21:58:00.000-07:00

There is something rather irksome about our hopeless education system. If you've any sense (or at least have the sense to listen to one with said sense), please do not get education in [California] if you have any choice about it. I'd be more than thrilled to take education elsewhere, but there is the infinite problem of insufficient funds.

So there is number two on list of things being irksome: the continuous and rather plentiful problem of there never being enough of anything. Not enough money, not enough food or water, not even enough sleep. Oho, but, Dirges, you are dwindling away your night posting blogs, are you not? Ah, but this is for the greater good: after my inevitable demise (for I have made many enemies over my short lifetime), this may be the only record of my achievements, or lack thereof. At the very least, it will be a record of my philosophy (or lack thereof).

But to-day was not like other days. I ate my fill of chicken stew, and drank till my belly was pleasantly distended, however rare an occasion I may do that. Perhaps it also became difficult to breathe, but I cared not. The inconsistent menu of the school has been, at the least, a frustrating and confusing experience, and physically brutal at the most. To get by, one had to circumvent the problem entirely, which often meant going sixteen-plus hours without sustenance. How responsible is the school for this? The top bureaucrat, our dear principle, would dictate otherwise.

On that note, how responsible is it to shut off drinking fountains, leave bathrooms in slovenly conditions, and, in addition to that, have a monopoly on the school's bottled water? It would be my greatest pleasure to contract some ailment resulting from these terrible conditions, but, sadly enough, my endurance for such conditions are too high to be thwarted so easily.

Being the second journal I've written to-night, it seems rather shorter, especially since the number of personal subject I allow myself to post has shrunken considerably. The entire idea of complaining bores me, except when one complains as beautifully as I do, which is then magnificent. If one believes in the philosophy, "One should not complain unless one acts to change," I have merely this: my hands are tied behind my back, my ankles bound together, but there is no veil over my eyes and no gag in my mouth. Seeing and telling is my only way of change.