TPA 28

I'm excited today. Lets see if I can get to two thousand words today. Yesterday was weird. I went into work and I saw this ad for this show called "Vox Machina." It's a DnD show based off the Critical Roll podcast. To be fair, I don't care for DnD all that much. And I thought that maybe if I watched a show about the game, that it would spark my interest. If anything, it's managed to turn me off even more. The series is crude and silly and while I don't mind that kind of brash humor, I was expecting something a little more...smarter than what I got. The trailer made the show appear clever but in reality it's just not what I expected. I thought it would be grotesque for sure but I hoped there would have been a little more thought put into it. Like Baldur's Gate 3 but for frat boys. Instead I got more of the frat rather than the Gate. Baldur's Gate has a lot more "class" than Vox Machina. I have to say that the show has made me rethink my thoughts on RTF. It's important to have a balance to the powers the characters have and an emphasis on teamwork when it comes to this type of story telling. Even if R is the hero he can't do it all by himself. It also has made me think about the distribution of powers and abilities. I think back to one of my favorite manga, Naruto, and how the protagonist has a "get out of jail free card." Naruto has a demonic monster made of chakra, the power source for the series, which lets him over power most of his problems. While I prefer heros who can out think their situation, it's common in Japanese lore for the hero to be powerful enough to endure something. Despite this flaw, the story must have caught the eye of some fans, myself included. The amount of fanfiction out there that's just about Naruto eclipses all other genres and other stories on the fanfiction sites. I've even got a few favorites that I revisit. The idea of being a loser, being an outcast for something out of your control. The idea of being alone in life and in school is something that resonated with me. It must have resonated with others. All I have to do is improve on the formula of loneliness that Naruto established for me and add in the light-heartedness that Final Fantasy 9 put into me.

In other news, my dad found this tablet that might have some of my old stories on it. When I first starting writing, I had all these ideas that were hard to pull out. Instead of agonizing over how hard it was to write, I decided to put down the first idea that cropped up in my head. My first story was about RTF where my protagonist met an assassin. My protagonist is a thief which makes them shadow siblings since they both work in the shadows but for different reasons. This clash of philosophy is a lot worse than I'm making it out to be. It's only five hundred words long and is told from the pov of the assassin. Back then, I didn't really know my protagonist so I danced around him. I didn't want to ruin him, so I "ruined" the people around him. I think the idea of this meet up came from Elder Scrolls: Skyrim. In the game you can join the thief and assassin guild and the two eventually have a small connection. The thief guild provides the assassins with some supplies after they are obliterated and retreat to a new location. But enough about that game. I haven't played it since the PS3 era. 

Today I offered my friend my couch to sleep on. He had sent me a text that he couldn't wait for our meeting on the weekend. I sensed something was wrong and asked him about it. He said his aunt found out that her daughter had cancer and had ripped into him, taking out the stress on him. He needed a break, and he does love staring at my ceiling. So I invited him to come over early. I don't know how long he'll stay but I think he needs this peace. He doesn't have his own home. In fact, he lives with his aunt, the one that ripped into him, after his mother wouldn't stop bothering him. His mom has her own mental struggles but according to my friend, her new doctors don't understand what she needs in her medicine. So now she's off the deep end and he had to move out. 

I should mention what happened yesterday. I was building my pill minder when I automatically took my day time pills. These pills keep me awake and I was about to sleep. I had it all in my head. I told myself "I'll take the night pills once I'm done making the two minders." Instead, I took the day ones. I almost put my fingers down my throat. I called my folks to ask for advice but they were asleep. I decided that I would power through and try to get some sleep. I took the night pills and went to bed thinking that this would be one of my worst nights of sleep. Instead it was one of my best. I slept with almost no interuptions or sudden wake ups. What happened? Were my prayers answered or was the melatonin stronger than the day pills? Either way, I woke up at seven and started writing this blog. I'm surprised but I think this is a good thing. Maybe I should take it again if I can't sleep. Aparently my day pills help me focus on sleeping.

I'll write more in a bit. I need a nap. 

I'm back. I just had a meeting with my new therapist. I can count three people who I see to help my mental state. The psychiatrist whom I see once every three months and the two therapists I see once a week. The therapists don't know about each other because they each do different things and telling them would just be rude. The new therapist is encouraging me to write down my feelings as a form of therapy. Today, she listend to my list of complaints about life and myself and asked me to write a letter to her or to someone like myself and respond to the things that I've been saying and give them support and an answer. How would I respond to someone younger than me who hated themselves? I told my therapist that I would likely tell them to give up. I'm not into giving myself therapy. I know that I beat myself up but I can't imagine looking at myself and saying something nice into the mirror. I need to get better before I can love myself. My therapist complimented me for that. She said that it shows that I'm ambitious. She compared me to those people who are too lazy to work. Is that really a thing? Is there people who live off the land or something? I don't care about myself enough to really give this some thought. I'd rather be improving myself, writting more words per day and getting stuff done. I need to level up, it's in my gamer blood.

Sheesh, barely thirteen hundred words and I've got barely half an hour left to write. You know what I wanted to do today? I wanted to play games that would inspire me. That's what I want to do. Get inspired. Look, I've got the time so I'll do one chapter of Gleipnir and that should be enough for the day. Then I have to go to work. It always seems to me that there's this hump I can't get over for the two thousand words. Maybe it's too much or maybe I don't have the stamina. I mean, King writes six pages a day and Brandon Sanderson does a lot more. When do I get to have a taste of that? Instead I'm reading stories that are at the same level I'm at and yet I can't seem to get over the hump. You know what this reminds me of? There was this game called "Overwatch" that I played extensively. I played that game almost every day for about two years despite the soon fall of Blizzard. Now that I think about it "Overwatch" was my first Blizzard game. But I would always be ranked silver, or maybe it was gold. There were several levels above that and I was content with playing with these people at the same level, but I never got better. Is that what awaits me here? I'll always be at this mediocre level that will never receive validiction or prosperity? Am I doomed to watch the Stephen King's of the world pass me by as I slum it in the lower realms of writing? God, what a horrible fate. I fear that I'll always be where I'm at forever. God I'm so mad at myself. Am I that desperate for validation and attention that I have to give up everything else to get there? What am I even doing on this blog that no one reads? It's pathetic. Sheesh now that I'm in this spiral, I don't want to write. I just want to produce something that will get some great recognition. Is that too much God?

Times up, I need to go to work. At least I got another three hundred words in so I guess that helps. Today, I think I'll be listening to Brandon Sanderson. Maybe that will help. 

Good God people are idiots. I went to my folks place to get some chores in and I come back and decide "You know what? I should get my mail." What I get is approval for medicade but my stamps are still up in the air. Even though I spent an hour on the phone trying to get someone to help me and they swore, they SWORE to me that my stamps were approved. And I get a letter today telling me they're not. What is with these idiots who don't know how to read? I'm going to have to call them AGAIN and work on getting this resolved or I'll lose food stamps forever and starve to death. It's not all bad, I could lose some weight. These idiots have deprived me of food for the last time. If this doesn't work out, I'm going to their offices with a gun. I'm not kidding these people are stupid. I wanted to sit down here and write some more but I guess I can't do that. God doesn't care. If he did, I'd be at a better paying job with the retard benefits that I deserve. Those disability benefits that I need, that I NEED TO HAVE! But now I have to waste more of my time on these fools who can't read a document. I'm tired of this. No one can fix this, not me, not my mom, not God because he doesn't care. No one cares. 

I have to wonder, what's the point. Another friend asked me if I wanted to play today. I said no. How could I feel joy at a time when God has abandoned me. My parents raised me wrong. They gave me the wrong genes. No matter how much I cry to that void in the sky there's no answer. There never was one. People who believe there is a caring god live in a bubble. They think that there is some plan or some kind of destiny and really it's just luck. No matter how hard I try, I can't get over the hump of mediocre writing. I should resign myself to this fate. To comfort myself I bought a game that I already own. I bought it because the graphics on the PC were crap and I'm not playing that kind of game on my laptop. Whatever joy there is in writing doesn't help me. Instead it binds me. I remember reading how Franz Kafka burned most of his works because he thought he was a failure. I thought that it was a shame a while ago, now I get it. What's the point if you think your work is crap? I get it now. I read that after Kafka died he rose to post-mortem fame. Is that what's out there for me? I have to live in poverty my whole life? Where's the joy in my heart? I hate got so much. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate my parents who can't do anything. I'm still that little boy who thinks that his parents can do anything. I can't depend on them. They'll just fail me again. And again. And again. I've decided to give up on god and my parents. They can't help me anymore. 

I've been listening to King to torture and comfort myself. His words are so smoothe but it's a poisonous balm on my soul. It itches. If I listen for too long I'll start to cry. Not out of fear or sadness but just the knowledge that I'll never reach that level. He has this way with words that I just can't pick up on. It infuriates me that I can't learn this, this way that he writes. The same powerful way other writers write and pick up on these clever turns of phrases that elude me. 

Know what I've been thinking about? I've been thinking if I could break my neck if I jumped off my second story room. It would be instant and easy. I wouldn't have to think anymore. Or suffer. Or cry.