The Scabbard

(Just in case the date doesn't show up correctly,) April 6th, 2021

Whew. It's been a while.

And by that, I don't just mean, "It's been a while since I wrote on this blog." Rather, I mean, "It's been a while since I wrote. At all. This feels weird."

I suppose it's fitting that while I'm in this state of mind, and this state of life, I show up here again, one last time, to tell you that I've made up my mind: I'm not going to keep doing this. This is officially where I stop this blog. I return one last time to wield "The Sword of Peace," only for the purpose of giving one last look to any who care, before sheathing it and putting it away.

Now, much as I could (and did) complain about it, not all of my posts on here were seen by exactly zero people. Some of them caught the eyes of one or two people in some part of the world far distant from me. A few of my writings here even caught the attention of thousands, which was a little bit encouraging. (Thank you for that, by the way.) As such, I think I owe it to a few of you out there to give a proper explanation about why I'm leaving, and maybe give a sense of closure here. I think that's important. Personally, I hate it so much when people don't give closure to matters, and instead they deliberately disappear without a word, leaving issues suspended and unresolved. I don't know if anyone else hates that as much as I do. Maybe I'm just projecting.

Regardless, I'm not going to do the same. I won't disappear without another word, leaving you with the ambiguous message of silence and the confusion that goes with it.

Before I sheathe this metaphorical sword and put it into its metaphorical coffer, I will permit you, metaphorical or literal adventurers, to look on it one last time. Let's sit by the metaphorical campfire and have this one final talk.

Holding Silence amidst the Noise

May 31st, 2020

Sometimes — surprisingly often, really — I'm at a loss for what to say.

The people who know me personally (i.e., virtually nobody who will read this) would be surprised to hear that. I speak and I write extensively, and some would say excessively, in most of my personal and public communication. If I think there's even a chance that sharing my thoughts can improve a person's life, you can bet that I'll share them. If there's opportunity to change hearts and minds, to guide the lost, to comfort the frightened, to soothe the suffering, to encourage the downtrodden, to maintain the happiness of the peaceful, to instruct, to cheer, or even to protect, I will take it.

If I get a thought in my head that may be the difference between someone experiencing misery or joy, you'd better believe I will do what I can to express it.

...

That is, that's normally the case. Sometimes, I just don't know what to say.

Vertical Venom

Sopping
Hopelessness,
Aversion
Trickles with
Temptation of
Endangerment
Reaping an
End:
Death. A

Devoured,
Embargoed
Spirit
Trembles,
Inhaling the
Throes of the
Undulating
Tide,
Enveloped in

Doom.
Evil,
Churning an
Abject
Darkness, is
Emanating
Nothingness
Crushing
Everything. A

Purging
Obliteration
Infects
Sensation
Overall,
Nullifying
Optimism,
Undermining the
Self

And yet...
Hmm...

And yet
Not all is lost
Thankfully,
Illumination
Detoxifies.
Oblation and
Trust
Encourage
Sanctification

- Written in August 2010

*******

If you understand this poem right from the start, then, well done! I'm surprised at your ability to interpret one of my personal stories, about which I have told you nothing.

If this poem left you feeling confused, that's ok. Poems often do that.

Now, if you'd like me to give some explanation, at least about why it is structured the way that it is... I'll include that below the jump break.

Still Alive

I'm fairly certain that next to nobody cares about this, but...

...well, since "next to nobody" means by default "somebody," I think I should speak to that "somebody."

So.

Once again, I've made it look like I've abandoned my blog. I really haven't, though. The truth is, I have written stuff, posted it, and then almost immediately removed it.

Do you care about why?

Left Eating Shadows

Left left eating shadows, laughing most hollow dark of the dungeon the colourless void alone in the dark without earthly light the darkness is fell an adequate feast food for the lonely a pitcher of void a whirlwind to reap — repast of the air — filled by the empty hungered in darkness

Right and sipping the night, he tastes lack of light a good snack to chew; it's "champion stew" yet flavours of joy he still will enjoy; yet starlight still shines upon which he dines in dinner for one: his cup's overrun he'll spoon up with zeal so scrumptious a meal the banquet complete this soul lies replete

A Depressive Dig

Now, who could say what darkness lies within

The damnéd core of one lost human heart?

This soul in hellfire burns, but not for sin;

The mortal form has seized this fairer part.

The clods of lightless poison, dim-lit slime,

Surround the sight and choke the ears with hate

And force the mind forget the march of time

And surge with sting and ache that shan’t abate.

So shall this be, save I should harrow up

This misty mud that churns oblivion

And dig, and swim, sink through this bitter cup

To find what bedrock all this lies upon

I’ve peace, because beneath all this filth lies

Eternal, golden hope that never dies.

- TAB III. My poem, not yours. Grr.

P.S. As I will continue to say with any and all poems I may write on here, please do not steal this. If you like it and for some reason want to do something with it, please contact me and ask permission first.

And, if you want to know the events in my life that inspired me to write this poem in the first place...

Somniferous Sonnet to the Sleepless

If anybody knows the artist of this picture,
please let me know, so I can give credit.

Nocturnal conversations with the stars
Too seldom send the weary spirit sleep
And meditating on thy heart-borne scars
But lets thy thoughts of pain, not dreams, be deep
And should thy waking eyes seek to perceive
An absent treasure, like a golden fleece
Thy healing dies with dreams thou shan't receive;
Sans thy consent, not even gods grant peace
But would it be too bold of me to ask
Dear Morpheus to smite thee with sweet dream?
Or plead good Artemis permit thee bask
In pale recourse of comforting moonbeam?
Now rest thy head, and further rest thy soul;
A watch I'll keep, whilst sleeping makes thee whole

- TAB III



I did say I was thinking of posting more poetry onto this blog. I don't know if I'll do this again anytime soon; I'm still struggling to figure out what exactly people on the Internet are willing to read. But there you go — a Shakespearean (English) style sonnet about insomnia. Write what you know, after all. Heh.

P.S. Don't you dare try to steal this and claim it as yours. If you like this poem, well, thanks. If for some reason you want to post it somewhere, please contact me and ask permission first.

I will tell you straight-off that I don't want it plastered onto a generic pretty background and turned into a meme that floats around Tumblr or Pinterest or such, so don't ask.

Other than that, I hope you enjoy it. Have a nice day, and sleep well. As long as you're not operating heavy machinery or something.

¡Chao por el momento!

Violent Video Games and Choosing Christ

I have a question. Well, actually, it was handed to me, but that means that I have it all the same.

(Isn't metaphysical figurative speech fun? Hee hee.)

The question that was handed to me went as follows:

(Yes, I know there's a typo. Please don't bother me, or KiteTales about it. Typos happen.)

Oh, hey! That's me! Well, not exclusively me, as you can see from the 61 Likes, 25 Retweets, and 51 replies at the time I came across this Tweet. Still, I thought I would volunteer to help respond.

The follow-up and my response looked sort of like this:

Complete with my fake user name and fake Twitter handle! Ha ha, you guys still don't get to know my real name. Not until I decide that I'm ok with giving that out. Someday. Maybe. Or not.

And... here we are, doing that! ¡Maravilloso!

Now, if you don't know who KiteTales is, that won't make a difference as far as understanding what I'm about to say. But I also say, you should go watch and consider subscribing to her channel that she shares on YouTube, with a guy named Flex. (As you can tell, I'm all about giving out people's real names on this blog.) I'm not saying that because they're paying me to say that, or even because they feel the need for more subscribers; I just think you might like some of the videos they make. Maybe you'll join the very vocal group of viewers who continually want to know when the next episode of Amiibo Life will be finished. Who knows?

The link is here, by the way: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2CsoZoHmPHv7q8Vea6IliQ

My favourite song by this band is called, "Hyut! Hya! Ha!"

And Link is here, by the way. →

But anyway, that was the question today: As a Christian who plays video games, do I feel that viewing violent media contradicts the kind of life that I promise to live?

If you want the "tl;dr"* answer, you can go with what my Tweet said: "Not necessarily."

But if you want to learn something today, and you're not afraid of writings that are longer than five paragraphs, then let us descend past that jump break!

If I Wrote the Book of Mormon — Moroni 7

Top o' th'...

...Darn it. When you're not having a conversation with someone in real time, you can't exactly wish them a "top o' th' mornin'." I mean, heck, it isn't even morning over here right now, not to mention that I don't know what time zone you're reading this from, either.

Alas and forsoothishly alack, and etc.

Right. Anyway, I don't need to go into a deep explanation about this post, if you read its predecessor. If by chance you didn't, here you go; click here to read that one first.

Or, if you want the short of it: I really like a book called the Book of Mormon. I'd like you to try reading it, so you can see for yourself why I like it. It's not always easy to read, though, partly because it uses an English format we haven't used for over a century. So here is how I would paraphrase one of these chapters in my own writing voice. That way, you can see (more or less) how someone in the 21st century would write the same things.

I chose to write about this chapter not only because it is one of my favourite chapters in the book, but also because I think it offers some indispensable guidance about... well, actually, guidance about literally anything, once you understand what everything here means.

And with that spectacular build-up, off you go. Have fun, folks. 😇

P.S. It is helpful to know some of the historical context to this chapter, but you will still understand this chapter even if you don't. If you do want to learn more about the context, I'll drop you a link at the bottom of this post. Until then, though, have fun folks. "😇" < once more.

Moroni, Chapter 7
Hello again. It's Moroni. That hasn't changed since last time I wrote here.

If I Wrote the Book of Mormon — Chapter 1

Ha ha, I make my titles way too ominous sometimes! Well, relax; this one isn't going to be a heavy thought.

I'm not about to write some treatise defending this book that I love so very much, nor am I going to criticize it. I just had an idea, and I thought I would share it today.

You see, I have asked some people ("some" people, he says) to try reading this book called the Book of Mormon. (Heh heh. "Some" people, he says. "A lot of" people, it should be. After all, what are our missionaries normally known for doing?) I've tried in the past, and try now, to get people to see why I love it: between the stories, the teachings, and the feeling of peace I always have when I consider the things that those writers said, it stands as one of my favourite books that I've read in my life.

But you know something? It is kind of hard to read sometimes.

One of the things that turns off a lot of people from reading things like the Bible, or the works of Shakespeare, is the old language. Elizabethan English (also known as "Early Modern English") doesn't always make the most sense to us. Sometimes it even says things that mean something drastically different, or even the complete opposite of what we would assume they mean.

And this Book of Mormon that I'm asking people to read, it holds that same problem for some people who read it. Not to mention that it wasn't originally written in English, and so some of the style and structure can be difficult to read through. (For instance, there's a sentence in there somewhere that contains the word "and" seven times in a row. That's not very good sentence structure in English, but apparently it's considered perfect grammar in Semitic languages.)

So, the thought that I had was, "What would it sound like if I were the one writing these stories?" I mean, some people tell me that they like reading what I write. Some people say that my writing voice is compelling. (Ha ha ha... I'm sure you so readily believe that. You'll have to trust me on this.)

With that in mind, I had an idea one day: if I were the one writing out the same ideas as the writers in the Book of Mormon... how would I put their words?

I'm going to try an experiment. I'm going to take the first chapter of the Book of Mormon and, changing the ideas as little as possible, show you how I would phrase those same ideas in my own writing voice. I hope that somehow or other, some good comes of this.

Not-So-Small Talk

There’s an unfortunate meme that I’ve seen become unfortunately popular as of late. It typically goes something like this:

Don't even get me started on the grammatical errors.
I see you don't know how to use an apostrophe, eh?

Oh, is that so? Well, there’s a very specific swear word I think most people would write here, if they were the ones saying what I’m about to say. I won’t use it. How about instead I go with...

Horsefeathers.

Or maybe a line from our good friend, William Shakespeare: “As you like this, give me the lie another time.” (I’m told that’s from The Tempest. Don’t worry; there’s not an exam on this. I just thought you might like to know, and I might like the reference so I can go read it someday.)

Or there’s one of my favourites, which I use with all due respect to President Dieter F. Uchtdorf:

If you'd like, you can see the full talk this comes from. Just click here.

Yes, I don’t think I can put it any better than that: Don’t lie. Stop it.

Prove Me Now Herewith

Do you really expect me to believe that meme? Am I honestly supposed to believe that the people who post and re-post it are primarily concerned with “atoms, death, aliens, sex, intellect, the meaning of life, faraway galaxies, music that makes you feel (sic) different, memories (sic) the lies you’ve told, your flaws, your favorite scents, your childhood, what keeps you up at night, your insecurities and fears?” Or that... well, one section at a time. I’ll be back to argue with the last couple sentences too. But all in due time.

The Book of Post Replacement: An Instruction Manual on Fixing Fences, or maybe it's A Story About NaNoWriMo Taking Precedence over This Blog For Now

Hola. ¿Cómo se van? And did you miss me?

Heh. Oh, I am funny at times. Heh heh heh heh heh.

Ahem.

Yes, I've been gone from the blog for a while. I don't think most of you noticed or cared. But in case anyone did want to know why I promised more posts on here, then didn't do anything... well, school does that to me sometimes. I have this tendency to overestimate how much time I'll have for writing in between assignments and studying, and the frustrating amount of time I have to spend on public transit every day.

(<It's not as fun, and doesn't have as catchy of a theme song as it does over here.)

Also, I continue to wonder whether daily/weekly/bi-weekly blogging is a dying art form. Or, rather, an art form that never really caught on in the first place. Only a very few blogs that I know of get a lot of consistent attention, and they have to compete with YouTube channels, Vine (well, not anymore), Facebook, and a heck of a lot of other things for the attention of Internet users.

It leaves me to question whether blogging on a regular basis is really worth it. Seriously speaking here, what percentage of people would you guess are unwilling to read a post as long as this one, because it's longer than one paragraph?

Life Sign. Hey. Hey, watch out. Hey, listen.

I've been thinking.

I mean, that kind of goes without saying, right? We all do that. Thinking, I mean; we all think, but some of us don't do any "saying."

...Which is probably why I'm talking to nobody, via the message conveyed through my fingers. Heh heh.

Anyways.

I just want to put out a life sign. (Not necessarily a lifeline... though, if you need one, by all means, grab it. Let this... blog post... be a... lifeline? Something like that, eh.)

For Glory

Ah. Here I am again.
...
Yeah, and that feels ok. I said in my last post that I wouldn't do another one of these until I started believing that my writing does any good. Well... it probably still doesn't. At least, for anyone besides me. Still, sometimes I need to get my thoughts out of my head, even if nobody reads them, and that's all the good they do. But that's something, at least.

So, yay. Here it is, my glorious return to blogging. Or something.

Oh, and speaking of things that are glorious...

Much funnier if you've played Fire Emblem: Awakening.

Yeah, "For Glory." I know the one.

*Sigh.*

To think... I used to love Super Smash Bros.

A Tired Echo

I was going to write a blog post. But then I stopped believing that anyone was listening.

The way the world works now, people choose to read click-bait articles on websites full of spam and so many ads that the pages lag. They're written by semi-literate Internet trolls that companies hire because their writing style is relatable to the common people. There is absolutely no depth, next to no consideration or original thought, and nearly no truth to be found in the things people choose to read now.

It's easy. Accessible. What the people want.

And how am I supposed to compete with that?

I'm the kind of person who happens to believe that "all truth may be circumscribed into one great whole." I'm the kind of person who can almost never give you a short explanation to anything, because in my mind everything is connected to everything else. The truth is simple, but it's precise, and I always feel the need to explain the precision of it. Stories are, by their nature, long and involved. Short stories are just tiny fragments of a longer story.

And... I've already gone past your attention span, haven't I.

*Sigh.*

Yeah, I think I'm going on hiatus again. It's hard to say whether my problem is a lack of confidence in myself, or if it's a lack of confidence in my reader(s), but something is missing, and I don't feel like writing anymore. Maybe I'll write another blog post the next time inspiration strikes, or the next time I feel like talking to myself in public.

If by some bizarre chance you are reading this, I hope you are doing well, and that you have a good day. I may not feel like saying anything anymore, but I'll be cheering you on from... (from where? The sidelines? The background? Backstage? From over here? From over there? From somewhere in the aether?) I don't know. From somewhere.

Be well. Dios esté contigo, hasta la próxima.

- TAB III

A Beginner's Guide to Tomodachi Life Babies (and Why I Kind of Hate Them)

Author's Note: You get to learn something about me today. Yay! I'm sure you've all been waiting for this!

(That's heavy irony, bordering on sarcasm, in case you were wondering.)

What you get to learn is that this summer (if you're reading this from the Southern Hemisphere, keep in mind that it's summer for us on this side of the world right now), I'll be doing something I've done in other recent summers: I'm working at a summer camp for kids. That means that I will be living out there at camp for most of the summer, and really just visiting home on occasion, rather than anything you could really call "living at home." Now, since my days off from working at camp are mostly spent trying to run errands, trying to get everything in order, trying to be prepared to work during the coming week, that means that I likely won't be posting much of anything between now and September. Or if I do, it will only be small. (And again, since I'm still a student, I can't promise that I'll post many things between September and April. I will do my best, but keep that in mind as well.)

I may have to send out this post as a kind of parting shot, so that has something to do with why it's so long. And by "long," I mean that this is half the length of a NaNoWriMo draft - it's about 26000 words, which works out to almost 50 pages, not including the pictures. Wow. Scary.

I wouldn't expect you to read this all in one sitting, unless you really have nothing to do for a while. But I hope you somehow enjoy it, and don't worry; if you're really so interested in reading any of the other things I say, I'll be back, and I'll write normal stuff soon. Take care of yourself until then, eh.

- TAB III

P.S. There are still some typos and things in here that I want to edit. I'll get back to that when I have time.

*******
How I Came to Fall In

Do you like "life simulation" video games?

If you found your way to this post by doing a Google search, I'm assuming you do. At least a little bit. Well, congratulations; that makes one of us! As a prize, you earn the chance to read this gargantuan blog post!

Re-forging the "Sword"

...

Umm, yeah. I'm back!

Actually, the truth is, I never went anywhere.

So, I realize that the "vast majority" (all two of you) who are reading this have never heard of me before, and thus you don't really care that it has been just over two years since the last time I posted something on this blog. Or, maybe there are a few of you (all one of you) who came across that one post I wrote about Majora's Mask, and have been waiting for me to fulfill my promise to write follow-up posts about the Moon Children. Or maybe you're one of those people who are the reason that I used to consistently see this blog receive page views from Russia, Germany, Brazil, etc. If so, hi, again.

Whatever the case is with you, my apologies for seemingly abandoning this blog. I'll have you know that I never forgot about it, never deliberately thought, "Blogging is a waste of time; I'm done with it." The truth is, I thought about this blog often. I considered posting things, even went to work on the drafts of those Majora's Mask posts I promised. Earlier this year, for instance, I thought, "Hey, the Majora's Mask remake is coming out. These posts will be topically relevant again!"

And then I didn't do anything about it.

It wasn't apathy, if you're wondering. It wasn't even a matter of simple writer's block, or a lack of confidence that got me thinking that nobody would like what I had to say. No, it was more of...

Poem for Tasha

This is different.

You see, when I wrote and published my first posts on this blog, nobody really read them. (Granted, you could say that we're still close to telling the truth in saying that nobody reads these things.) This was before I would be occasionally found by North Americans and people of other English-speaking countries, and now what seems to be a regular readership in a few European countries and Asian countries that I'm sorry to say I had never heard of before. (Welcome, Brunei! From the little that I've learned of your country since then, I think that you're an awesome people.)

I bring this up because of one of the first posts I wrote on here and took seriously. Well, two posts - "Farewell to a Friend" and "To Tasha, in Memoriam." They were both written in relation to the final days of the life of one of my best friends on the Earth, a certain yellow Labradour retriever named Tasha. When I wrote about her passing, that was in large part for my own good. Some of the remarks I made were intended for others to read and benefit, but to be entirely honest I didn't think that many people would ever stumble across this blog of mine. I figured that my thoughts would be safe in the blanket of obscurity.

That's what makes today a little different. Today marks exactly one year since my friend Tasha left this life. And here you are, listening to me talk about it.

Et Patrium Servavit

Hi.

I know that I said I would be doing my blog posts about the Moon Children (Lunar Children, if you prefer) of Majora's Mask, and I will, but today I had to interrupt that stream.

If you haven't figured it out by now or you just happened to stumble onto this blog today, yes, I'm an unashamed Christian, a so-called "Mormon," a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. (That doesn't alter your perception of me at all, does it?)

As that is, today has special significance to me. Easter is known the world over as a cute holiday that commemorates the return of spring and new life, hence things like chicks and rabbits and eggs pop up all over the place. And people will tell you how those traditions all relate to the Babylonian goddess Ishtar, the goddess of, among other things, fertility.

So I actually kind of like how in Spanish, as I found out, the holiday is known as "Las Pascuas," making reference to the Passover - a Jewish holiday that was instituted millennia ago as a reference to the coming of the Messiah, the Saviour of the world. That's what I'm observing, if not celebrating today.

Right now I don't want to go into the whole Easter story of the New Testament - ok, so I would really like to teach that whole lesson of what the significance of such is, but right now I won't. I will say that today, Good Friday, marked one of the most important events in the life of Jesus the Christ and in the lives of everyone. But beyond that, I won't say more for now. Instead I would like to talk about... weird as this might seem, Super Smash Brothers.

Yes, those guys.

Majora's Mask: Moon Children in Question

"Heh, heh... Thanks. You're nice. Umm... Can I ask... a question?"

…What are you doing here?

I don’t mean that to be offensive, in the “Hey, what are you doing here?! Get off of my property before I shoot you!” kind of way. I don’t mean that in the, “I can’t believe that they would let someone like you in here,” kind of way. (And trust me, the only times that I’ve ever encountered that in my life, I am always on the receiving end.) I mean as an honest question, a question that is considered rhetorical because I want you to consider it to yourself as much as I want to know that answer: what are you doing here?

What force inspired you to open this post and be here? Just think about that for a while; there are a lot of things at play that we never acknowledge, forces that act on our emotions and thoughts, subtly influencing us to think and behave the way that we do.

I really wish I knew what kinds of things “normal” people think about during their quiet moments – apparently I’m supposed to believe that people think of nothing more significant or more profound than what they’re going to eat later, how to make money, wondering what’s on TV, worrying about paying bills, or how to get their crush to fall in love with them. But I know people a little better than that. I don’t know if my familiarity with human nature is the cause or the effect of being a writer (maybe it’s a bit of both), but I do know that there are more profound things that get into the minds and hearts of people. If left alone to their own thoughts, I know that some people think about anger for past wrongs experienced, feel pity for a world that they just don’t know how to help, suffer secret pains and sorrows, or wonder how to get rid of that persistent gnawing feeling that not all is well in life.