Now, before you ask any more questions in your head, this post is not motivated by any political event or person or anything of that sort. I am not writing this in response to anything.
I am writing this because I feel I need to write this. Continue reading
Lesser known fact about me: I adore card games. From Cards Against Humanity to Magic: The Gathering, I love using little cardboard rectangles (often worth a lot of money) to win in contests of skill and wit.
Obviously. Continue reading
I used to be able to push myself to five in the morning, every single day. I did this for months, always hating it, always wishing I did not have to be up that late. But, behold, that was what always happened.
It’s still happening, and it is my own fault. I’ve probably (but I’m not sure) mentioned this before on the blog, but I subscribe to a thing I call “The Dailies.” They are activities that I must accomplish, no matter how sleepy I am, no matter what, within a cycle of me being awake. Continue reading
I gave up a while ago in the best way possible. I gave up on trying to be something I am not, in a lot of ways. This is a random example, but, for a long time, people always told me to change my hairstyle (and before you imagine it as some funky mohawk or something, it’s just that I have a very generic haircut), and, well, I know myself: I don’t do well with maintaining complex hairstyles. I have on two occasions attempted to wear some expensive haircut and then let it fall apart in days—because applying copious amounts of jell and parting it “just so” is not something I care about. Continue reading
What is with me and during my walks finding random animals? I cannot count how many times I’ve run into stray dogs, wild cats, bunnies, possums, and raccoons. Then there was that time with the baby bird…
But, never has it taught me a lesson before. One that is still forming in my head. Because, today, while walking, I spotted a turtle, shelled up in the road. A big one. Like, I am not talking something you’d see in a zoo as a novelty, but the thing was easily the same size as a small child, pre-toddler age. And, fortunately for me and the turtle, there were no cars nearby, coming or going. Continue reading
I am shaking while writing this. This may be too far, but, I almost feel like it’s my responsibility to talk about it. Art is supposed to build up people, or at least make them see something that might change them inside—and in the modern world, it is almost selfish to be a creator and not share my…issues.
Told by many this is not a good idea: fuck it.
Oh God, fuck it.
I’m 22 and I’ve never had a girlfriend. Continue reading
I’ve gone over before that I HATE platitudes. This is for several reasons, including how they are not at all helpful, in the slightest, when I hear them. But, with that said, some of them are so egregious, some phrases and common sayings so irritating, that I felt the need to bitch about them on the internet.
“You can do it!”
Okay, so, being supportive is nice, and good, and all that is swell—but clichés are clichés. Statements and sentences that come straight out of a hokey anime, or child-friendly animated movie, infuriate me because I feel like I am getting a robot quoting a film.
“I’m sure you’ll find someone.” Continue reading
I didn’t much enjoy the book Ready Player One. It was…fine…I guess. It did give me a fun idea.
I am going to treat myself like an avatar in a game and list off my usual items and traits.
And, yes, I am doing this because it’s a good way to combine self-deprecating humor and ego-stroking, how’d you guess?
Here we go. Continue reading
So, when writing became my job, I had to ask: “then what’s my hobby?” Well, though I am a big fan of Hearthstone and I obviously read a ton and watch many shows—when I have time to do so—if I had to pick something I consider a hobby, it would be cooking.
To not die of hunger, I must cook food anyway—or eat out at restaurants all the time, but, if that were only the case, I would not make it as complex as I do. If I was only doing it for the sake of not being a withered husk of hunger, I would not put the level of thought and effort into the foods I make. Continue reading
To tell you the truth, I never meant to be a horror writer. Everyone knew me as the sci-fi guy; that’s where I began. But, somewhere, along the way, this became the artistic avenue I connected to the most.
I say, whenever possible, “I am a horror writer.” Because I want that to stick. I want people to get what that means, even if I am not sure, myself, what I mean.
I’ve talked, at length, about my want for and to create dark stories. I do not fully understand my proclivity, but I know it has affected me. At some point, after I’d spent a good deal of time trying to come up with horror concepts, and studying other instances of it, it became clinical. Continue reading
I have bad days, sometimes. We all do. And, when I do, I try to—I don’t know—channel it toward something, at the very least. Turn sadness into anger, turn frustration into motion, somehow. It helps I walk a lot, it gives me an outlet (you really can outrun certain problems, believe it or not) but, ultimately, what makes me happy is making other people happy.
An inspiring speech, oddly, works wonders for the sake of my own morale. So, well, let’s go do such a thing, even if I’m distracted and riled up from a day that did not go as I planned. Continue reading
I’m guessing some would recommend I don’t write about this, but, well, you all know I’m eccentric as it is—so, fuck it. Writers already have the stigma of being a weird bunch, but you’ve heard, likely, all the usual shenanigans—so, I’m doing you one better.
Not just researching murder methods, talking to people who they make up, or being totally willing to do dangerous/stupid things for the sake of a story: nah, I’ve got a set of much more unique quirks.
And it involves words and language. Continue reading
Somehow, I always forget I have hay fever. I’m not sure how it slips my mind because it fucking sucks, but, recently I went outside and then sneezed—then sneezed again. And again. That was when I remembered. Ain’t allergy season fun? Continue reading
I like to automate. When I hit a problem with timing or effort, the question becomes: “Can I automate that? Can I make technology do that for me?” I am a transhumanist: it’s not odd I think that way, but what is funny is how often the answer is a resounding YES to those questions.
I guess the world is catching up to the proposed futures of the past. Smart plugs make my light turn on by my schedule. My scale records my weight for me. If I can make something give alerts or similar when events occur, then I am all for it.
Now, you might call me lazy. You might call me spoiled. You’re right on the first one, possibly right on the second. After all, I am a white male, cis-gendered, heterosexual living in America (also a little left-leaning, if you could not tell from that tongue twister), so I get access to some of the best stuff in the world—and I can get it delivered to my door.
And that’s spoiled.
That’s lazy. Continue reading
The last post that was not a piece of fiction from me was a tad on the depressing side, so, I figured I’d spin the mood around and deliver something happy while I sort out my shit.
Because, even if I talk like it is, complain, the world is not all darkness and fire—neither is it unicorns and the first bite of an apple on a summer evening as the sun goes down—but there are moments, even if they are fleeting, where one can raise their hands to the sky and say “this, this is the meaning of it all. Right here. Right now.” Continue reading