It has been a very long time. I am not certain why I bothered creating the blogs (The World Goes La-Li-La and Imperiled Xanadu). I look back on them and their content and feel more than a bit of melancholy. I cannot help but draw them into a metaphor of my life.
It goes nowhere.
Do not worry, I am not writing a post about all my sorrows and how my life sucks. I know that I am well off in comparison to others in a comparable situation. I cannot help wondering, though, what the point of it is.
I look at what we are taught as children to accomplish in life - graduate from school, get a job, marry and raise a family. We work until we retire and then we hang around doing various things until we die. This has never satisfied me. Such a life sounds so... plebian. It is my fault for living in the science-fiction and fantasy books that I read. I expect too much from Life.
What is the point? What is the meaning?
Did I make a difference? Will anyone remember me - the books I liked to read, the music that is so dear to my soul, the silly hobbies I dabbled in, the way I look with the setting horizon behind me, my inability to comprehend most jokes, the memories that haunted me? Everything that I am - will even one person recall? And not just any person on the street, but the few whose opinion actually matters to me.
My greatest fear is not clowns, snakes, or spiders. I do not fear death. My greatest fear is a living death, trapped by the minutiae of corporeal life only to be released into non-existance. There must be something more. I believe there is something more. I have to believe, I have to hope because it is the one thing that keeps me going even if I am only running in place. My twin and I came into Earth together and the very idea of being separated is Wrong. We are two individuals and yet are one. I must believe that we may be together forever.
Otherwise, what is the point?
In other news, the Autobot War Council forum has closed. The next version of Heavy Metal War, HMW v2, is launching soon, and the AWC must upgrade as well in order to stay relevant and competitive. The new website will be a fresh slate. All the topics of old are deleted. Gone are the RPs (the role-playing) threads with their wonderful stories, the great Hall of Discussion, and missed most of all will be the AWC Energon Pub. The Pub was the place to do as you desired: role-play or be yourself, to brag about your success in the missions or arena, to get drunk and start a wild and hilarious fight, to reach out to people who live all over the world. Just to give an example, here is what I wrote when I introduced myself to the denizens of the Energon Pub.
Context: A (non-serious) fight between Optimal Optimus, Blaster_6267, Traks, Devast8or and a few unlucky bystanders - Silver Wind received the brunt, but Relictor, Snoball and Revimus got it too - had pretty much wrapped up. (The Mods only tolerate mock fights for a few pages and then lock the thread if it doesn't stop.) Traks got the last act in with attaching a box to Optimal Optimus that made OO think he was a dog. :D ...and then OO started it up again only to be promptly shut down by The Mafia (subgroup). XD
The Maximal had seen carnage in intimate detail over the years of fighting in the War. Fuel and other fluids gushing out, internals sparking and spilling out from ghastly wounds. Light in the enemy's optics flickering in the obvious struggle against/denial of the oncoming terminal shut-down. Armor being leeched of color. Finally, the stillness replacing the throes of pain, anger, and/or despair. But this conflict was on different scale altogether.
She looked at her hands and saw that they were trembling. She looked back up and gazed at the scene before her. The no real harm done to each other only served to heighten the sense of carnage, strangely. She pondered further. It was in fun, and between friends, yet beneath it she could see the power the older commanders had, the pure damage they and their subordinates could inflict if they chose to. Her experience and battle prowess were as nothing in comparison.
No wonder her sister had regaled her with a plethora of stories, bemoaning the calamitous events of barroom brawls and Mafia hits - or hits gone awry - and the resulting damage to the furniture, pieces of which she always had to clean up.
Her red monoptic blinked and she shook herself. Once more she was over-analyzing the entire situation and unduly unnerving herself. Perhaps she should simply introduce herself to them as adherence to basic courtesy required.
Ransom withdrew from the safety and comfort of the shadows. She carefully made her way to the table where the others sat, sidestepping the motionless cassettes and barking Optimal Optimus. As final courtesy before introducing herself, she retracted her battle-mask.
She spoke when the conversation reached a break. "May I be allowed to introduce myself, sirs?" She bowed. "I am the commander of the Shadren, Ransom." The femme added, "I am here legally this time, sir," directed at devast8or.*
* I had visited the Pub previously by my ninja stealth. In that story, Devast8or wanted to "introduce" me to his freakingly over-powered weapon because I was not an AWC member. ^_^U
It goes nowhere.
Do not worry, I am not writing a post about all my sorrows and how my life sucks. I know that I am well off in comparison to others in a comparable situation. I cannot help wondering, though, what the point of it is.
I look at what we are taught as children to accomplish in life - graduate from school, get a job, marry and raise a family. We work until we retire and then we hang around doing various things until we die. This has never satisfied me. Such a life sounds so... plebian. It is my fault for living in the science-fiction and fantasy books that I read. I expect too much from Life.
What is the point? What is the meaning?
Did I make a difference? Will anyone remember me - the books I liked to read, the music that is so dear to my soul, the silly hobbies I dabbled in, the way I look with the setting horizon behind me, my inability to comprehend most jokes, the memories that haunted me? Everything that I am - will even one person recall? And not just any person on the street, but the few whose opinion actually matters to me.
My greatest fear is not clowns, snakes, or spiders. I do not fear death. My greatest fear is a living death, trapped by the minutiae of corporeal life only to be released into non-existance. There must be something more. I believe there is something more. I have to believe, I have to hope because it is the one thing that keeps me going even if I am only running in place. My twin and I came into Earth together and the very idea of being separated is Wrong. We are two individuals and yet are one. I must believe that we may be together forever.
Otherwise, what is the point?
In other news, the Autobot War Council forum has closed. The next version of Heavy Metal War, HMW v2, is launching soon, and the AWC must upgrade as well in order to stay relevant and competitive. The new website will be a fresh slate. All the topics of old are deleted. Gone are the RPs (the role-playing) threads with their wonderful stories, the great Hall of Discussion, and missed most of all will be the AWC Energon Pub. The Pub was the place to do as you desired: role-play or be yourself, to brag about your success in the missions or arena, to get drunk and start a wild and hilarious fight, to reach out to people who live all over the world. Just to give an example, here is what I wrote when I introduced myself to the denizens of the Energon Pub.
Context: A (non-serious) fight between Optimal Optimus, Blaster_6267, Traks, Devast8or and a few unlucky bystanders - Silver Wind received the brunt, but Relictor, Snoball and Revimus got it too - had pretty much wrapped up. (The Mods only tolerate mock fights for a few pages and then lock the thread if it doesn't stop.) Traks got the last act in with attaching a box to Optimal Optimus that made OO think he was a dog. :D ...and then OO started it up again only to be promptly shut down by The Mafia (subgroup). XD
The Maximal had seen carnage in intimate detail over the years of fighting in the War. Fuel and other fluids gushing out, internals sparking and spilling out from ghastly wounds. Light in the enemy's optics flickering in the obvious struggle against/denial of the oncoming terminal shut-down. Armor being leeched of color. Finally, the stillness replacing the throes of pain, anger, and/or despair. But this conflict was on different scale altogether.
She looked at her hands and saw that they were trembling. She looked back up and gazed at the scene before her. The no real harm done to each other only served to heighten the sense of carnage, strangely. She pondered further. It was in fun, and between friends, yet beneath it she could see the power the older commanders had, the pure damage they and their subordinates could inflict if they chose to. Her experience and battle prowess were as nothing in comparison.
No wonder her sister had regaled her with a plethora of stories, bemoaning the calamitous events of barroom brawls and Mafia hits - or hits gone awry - and the resulting damage to the furniture, pieces of which she always had to clean up.
Her red monoptic blinked and she shook herself. Once more she was over-analyzing the entire situation and unduly unnerving herself. Perhaps she should simply introduce herself to them as adherence to basic courtesy required.
Ransom withdrew from the safety and comfort of the shadows. She carefully made her way to the table where the others sat, sidestepping the motionless cassettes and barking Optimal Optimus. As final courtesy before introducing herself, she retracted her battle-mask.
She spoke when the conversation reached a break. "May I be allowed to introduce myself, sirs?" She bowed. "I am the commander of the Shadren, Ransom." The femme added, "I am here legally this time, sir," directed at devast8or.*
* I had visited the Pub previously by my ninja stealth. In that story, Devast8or wanted to "introduce" me to his freakingly over-powered weapon because I was not an AWC member. ^_^U
Labels: angst commitment sadness life meaning philosophy Autobot HMW
posted by Morncreek | 10:34 PM
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