The Wait

Waiting. Always waiting…

I hate waiting.

I’ve waited all my life; it’s all I’ve done. Waiting to grow up. Waiting to get my degree. Waiting for my career to start. Waiting to find that special someone. Waiting for, well, life to actually begin for me. Why is that? Why is it that I’ve known people who aren’t waiting, have never waited…

When will we get The Defenders, dammit?!

That isn’t what this is about.

Perhaps I should be grateful for the Wait. It gives me time to think. But I feel trapped, fidgety, anxious. Lonely. Too many unknowns, not enough data. The unknown makes me uneasy. I suppose that makes me normal.

Normal, like the Wait, is so boring.

Sup, peeps! Just thought I’d let you know I’m not dead yet. I’ve been hard at work or hardly working the past what feels like forever but was actually just a couple of months. I will likely need another semester to wrap this degree up, and so you get to hear me bitch about it more. I’ve got some entries in the works, but I’ve been stressed over trying to finish my paper by the end of the semester and so I haven’t worked on much else. Now that that is probably screwed over, I may take some time to do my side bullshit. Time will tell. In the meantime, here’s a ferret and a cat.

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Direction

This is supposedly my last semester of my Master’s degree and thus ever as I will never be convinced to go for a PhD. I may some day take a class in my spare time to help me world-build or just for the fun of it, but I’ll never be a full time student again. Assuming I finish all my work this semester. The task seems so daunting, I really don’t like thinking about it, and yet I can’t escape it either. Every day I look at what I’ve accomplished and what still lies ahead of me and almost pee a little.

And the further down this path of engineering I go, the more I realize I think I chose the wrong way and that the crossroads is so far behind me it would be better to keep trucking on in the vain hope that maybe there’s an intersection up ahead. But the metaphorical road is probably actually an illusion, knowing me, and I’m just wearing blinders. Perhaps there is no road at all, the direction completely up to me where I can go. Who crafted those blinders? Society? My parents? Me? And what would I do with that freedom, if I was aware of its existence? I know what I want to do in life, but getting there and succeeding in it are different matters. And thus the road, or maybe the blinders. It gives me a direction, at the very least, and a promise of a reward which may prove empty but is there nonetheless.

I just want that goddamn carrot and to get away from the whip cracking over my ass.

Featured Image from Death to The Stock Photo’s Patrick Chin

For those of you who may actually be interested in the various topics of which I’ve been writing, I apologize that I haven’t produced much of anything lately. I have recently started on a new writing project in my spare time during which I would normally be writing for this blog. Additionally, I’ve been concerned with moving to a new apartment, working on my Master’s project, and the new semester starting. You may hear even less of me, but I do plan on continuing my work on Shadowbreeze. I hope to have an update on my writing project, but I can’t say much at the moment and I wouldn’t want to spoil anything. 😉

Be assured, I haven’t forgotten you.

The Witcher: A Half-Assed Review for an Older Game

I just finished The Witcher, and here are some of my thoughts on it. First of all, I realize that I started playing it long after the third and most recent game came out, so I know it’s a little outdated. That said, I played the first Neverwinter Nights just before playing Witcher, and one of my favorite facets going into it was seeing all the mechanical similarities that they shared since Witcher runs off of basically the grandchild of the Neverwinter Nights’ engine. And knowing that this game was released about a year after the Elder Scrolls: Oblivion, I still think the graphics looked amazing. There was some goofiness as creatures in the distance moved around jitterly, but most graphical and mechanical flaws were minor and things that, unfortunately, can still be found in modern games.

The first chapter was great, not too long, interesting enough, and provided the setting; I thought I was going to thoroughly enjoy this game. And then the second and third and fourth chapters happened. The rest of the game dragged on until the fifth chapter; by the fourth, I felt like the game was more work than fun, and I didn’t even get satisfaction after completing said work. Kill these things, go here and talk to these people. Now run clear across the map back where you were to collect these items. Thankfully, a little bit of teleportation was offered to the player about midway or I think I would have given up.

The fifth chapter was better than the first, so the game was like a shit sandwich where the shit part is draggy and work. I don’t play video games to work. I work so that I can get money to play video games. To anyone who has an abundance of patience, I would recommend playing through the first Witcher game as it was most definitely fun and made up for the bad parts, but if you don’t have patience, don’t bother as you will lose interest and would have wasted your time. And don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed killing monsters and banging broads, and I’m glad I pushed through to finishing the game. But god damn, am I even more glad to be done and moving on.

Useless

Whenever someone I know goes through something, I don’t know what to say or do to help. I feel useless and shitty, and shittier for feeling shitty even though I’m not going through what they are. But what am I supposed to do? I ask, and they say, “There’s nothing you can do.” It’s impossible to tell if they mean that or if they are just too uncomfortable asking me to do whatever would help, whether that be because they don’t feel close enough to me to be able to ask or because they’re too proud and stubborn. And I have a LOT of stubborn people in my life, some of them even somehow proud of their stubbornness.

So I mentally shrug to myself and say what can one do. What else can I do?