Blog Post #20: Deep Thoughts (Part 2)

I've been doing Morning Pages. From The Artist's Way. My older sister is leading a Discord server in the 12 weeks detailed in the book. I haven't read the book, nor done much related to it, but I did start writing three pages of anything most mornings. Let's begin. I can't change the past. So I can't make myself have gotten up earlier today. What I can do is provide positive reinforcement for the beginnings. I got up around noon today, and instead of reinforcing bad behavior by feeling badly about it, I started my morning routine. I stretched, I meditated, now I'm writing. When I'm done writing, I'll read. I haven't checked my phone. I haven't listened to anything at all. I wish that I could've seen the sunrise. But the sun will rise tomorrow, and every day after. The farmer's daughter was named Angelise. Were she and her father in the Epilogue? They must've been. But do people have children in the Epilogue? How could that be? Or perhaps, the farmer, his daughter, and the tragedy that befell them occurred in the Mortal Realm, and the response to the tragedy was so potent that the Epilogue responded, creating a champion of vengeance to try and right the wrong. And Angelise would then be in the Epilogue, because that's where dead people go. So Sir Babbage is roaming the realm, searching for the culprits— but the plot twist is that he might encounter the living spirit of Angelise, alive now in this fantastical realm. Or he might hear of a hexling bearing her description- long before encountering her. Once he hears of her, the quest could be trying to find her. I like that. How can I make the “smear” of alla prima affect the "image" captured? That is going to be the biggest challenge, I believe. Sangamore. There's a street called that near Oly's dorm building. It stuck in my head for days after first seeing it; I did not write it down— I just couldn't seem to forget it. My memory's been markedly better recently. I think it's because I've been prioritizing my focusing power, and training my memory by forcing myself to; I often hold ideas in my head for a time before writing them down. I'm excited to play No Rest for the Wicked. It has an intriguing stylized art style that I'm considering replicating for Pareidolia: Unbound. Not super painterly, but similar. And the shadows and hues are exaggerated, but not overly done. Also, the environments are verdant and varied, and no procedural generation is used— which isn't really necessary, but it's a nice philosophy to use; every pixel is created by hand, which is a level of craftsmanship that I appreciate. I'm going to record most of Macbeth's lines today. I still need to read them. I also need to do the House texturing assignment. It's late. I need to rewatch the part of that lecture from over a month ago, to figure out an easier way to create tiling textures. I'm also going to make more Bitchin sauce. I got soy sauce, which should add that extra touch that liquid aminos lacked. I'm going to start with one bag of almonds, so that I have the second to add per necessity— regarding the flavor and texture. It's almost 1pm. I want to write something. In Writer's Camp, we wrote freestyle for 15 minutes at the start of each day. I didn't have trouble with it, back then. I just need to train myself to do that again. I get to play Baker Gyld again tomorrow. I set a copy of Wanderer's Guide to Dromknost atop my dice bag. I'm going to gift it to Liz. I really hope that No Rest for the Wicked isn't too challenging. It does say in the description that it's a “precision combat” game. It has a different perspective than what I've been playing. Still 3rd person, but zoomed out and from above, at an angle. I'm going to play a melee build. I think that'll be easier with that perspective. In FPS games and, even, closer perspective 3rd person games, I tend to play ranged builds. I struggle especially doing melee in FPS games. But the perspective of No Rest is reminiscent of that game that I played as a child whenever we had to go to Best Buy or Staples. I would camp out in the computer section for the duration, and grind through level after level of dungeons of this game, the title of which I forget. It was kind of a hack n slash. I really do want to catch up in Texturing. But I fear that it will take a few more assignments. This current assignment is about creating textures in Substance Designer, a node-based program that absolutely baffles me. How do you create the shapes that eventually form the basis for the texture? It's ridiculous. I introduced myself as Mori at Ninja Warrior training this past week. As I was leaving, Coach Eric said, "Bye Mori!" and I felt an odd expression— surprise, or shock?— cross my face, before realizing that he was talking to me. I wish that I had introduced myself as Moribund, but I feared that it would be too strange. As if I tend to care about being perceived as strange. Τ. 3/18/2025 Finding Mason was always supposed to be a backup, to guide me to who I was— in the event that I received another serious brain injury, and forgot myself. But that presupposes that I know who I am. But I've spent the past ten years developing my social skills. And that practice was ultimately other-oriented. It was all about making myself someone that everyone could love. It wasn't about making myself someone that I could love. What would I be like if I had spent those ten years developing me. I recorded a voice memo recently in a new voice, saying that, ultimately, there's a sharp difference between Being Loved and Being Worthy of Love. And often, they're mutually exclusive. I talked about how if my dad drastically altered who he was, so that we could love him— I still wouldn't love him. Because no one should have to change who they are at their core to be loved. And that that change would be desperate; it'd be about feeling not good enough. Not everyone is worthy of everyone's love. But the people who are worthy of my love— and the people who will come to know the Me That Loves Me— are the ones who are. I'm not sure if that makes sense— or would make sense— to anyone except me. But I know it. And a large part of this Morning Page practice is in developing that Me That Loves Me. Because if I know one thing about Who I Am, it's that creativity matters to me. And Morning Pages will help develop my creativity. It's also about losing my creative filter. It's about writing what's on my mind, when it's on my mind, because creativity is all about the moment; it's all about the Self. No one can create what another Self creates. I'm not saying that “no one can create what another person creates”— because that's done all the time. But what a Self creates? Well, you can't imitate that. Or rather, you can imitate it, but you can't replicate it. Because a Self is individualistic. There's that old adage of modern art: someone skeptical sees a dot and a line painted on a blank canvas, and says, "I could've done that, but this piece is worth a thousand bucks." But yes, they could imitate it; they could make it— but could they make it matter? Could they make it matter to themself? Could they imbue the meaning of the original artist into it? Obviously, no. I have this philosophy that if I knew everything about a songwriter— everything about their life— I could predict the next song that they write— every line; every word. It's the same thing about how you could unravel the depth of the universe from just one cell. Everything about how the universe works, you could infer the rest of life. But, A) it'd be impossible to know everything about anyone— it'd take an entire life just to study that, in real time, and B) you'd have to know everything about the universe just to predict that one song. Because even if you knew all of the personal details about a songwriter, you'd never be able to predict the external stimulus— the inspiration— that makes them write that next line. You can tell the entirety of the universe from just one cell, but you can't tell one line from 99% of the universe. Because creativity is not about the Self, not really. Creativity is about how the world influences the Self. I'd thought about being ready for a relationship. I'd thought that I'd never be ready. I'd started my current relationship, and, about a week in, I entered a depressive episode. It wasn't related; that just happens to me pretty regularly. Like clockwork. And in that episode, I thought— “I'm unfit to be in a relationship." But, like clockwork, that bell will chime regularly throughout my life. So I will never be “fit" for a relationship. Not with that mindset. I'd thought that I needed to see lots of people to “find myself." I'd thought that I needed to see the entire world, and that limiting myself to just one person was unrealistic. But I really can find myself through singular dedication. It's breadth versus depth. But not even that; because just because I'm in a relationship with one person, that's not my relationship with the world. I am not one relationship. I am not one person. I am not one blade of grass, rustling in the wind. I am that singular cell that can describe the entirety of the universe just from its laws of physics. I started introducing myself as "Moribund”, “Mori” if you're feeling familiar. Some people respect it— remember it— some people call me “Mason” still. I'm fine with that. I think that I'm still trying to "find Mason", even going by “Moribund.” I'm trying on this new pair of identity jeans, seeing if they fit, because the legs underneath? Well, they matter more than the fiber arts that clad them. But who is Mason? I'm still trying to figure that out. “Still”, as if I haven't just started. In reality, I have just started. It's the "Mason" that is the legs beneath those identity jeans. “Identity" is, in essence, performative. Who we are changes with each person who perceives us. And “us”? That's an external perception, as well. But, I believe, that there's something to be said about dedication to the craft. Weaving those jeans, harvesting the cotton— pricking my thumb on the sharp stalk of the plant— immersion is the way to go. Whenever I write a D&D campaign, I do everything. I write the plot, I write the homebrew mechanics that create the characters, I do the voices, I manually craft the 3D battle maps, and the world that houses them. And in doing everything, I am, therefore, prepared for anything. When I say that I “write the plot", I outline the external factors that will influence the Player Characters. That I know so much about the motivations of the NPCs, that I am prepared to pivot their actions in response to the PCs' actions. It's not railroading; it's worldbuilding the nation through which the railroad runs. Now, how do I immerse myself in "Finding Mason"? I think a majority share is similar to building those NPCs. That I need to know the world first, and then the motivations. Motivations of how the globe turns. How the sun shines. In this analogy, am I an NPC or a PC? Am I a DM? Is it more empowering to be a PC or a DM? Is it about being empowered? Who has Player Agency? Val recently released a video on that subject, and how the GM taboo of seizing Player Agency might not be black and white. It might not always be wrong. Because if the GM portrays the response of your Player Character in a way that is true to that character, that's still consistent with the Player's will. About that. I have a Player, Nathan, who developed a semi-religious order called "The Sun's Will" for our Oulde World oneshot. It's crazy, because Nathan related “will” to the two primary meanings of the word— motivation and an endowment— and based the origin myth of the order to that— saying that the sun endowed the order with the purpose and the power. But what's actually crazy about that, is that I had written in my commonplace journal, months ago, that dichotomy of “will”. And Nathan came in, and used it. I hadn't shared that note with anyone. I wonder if writing a will for myself could empower me. Could I endow myself with certain boons, and feel the sacred duty of carrying them forward? Could I move forward with my life, having received those boons,