A Blade, A Fang in the Night

Today is my fifth day of writing 1,000 words a day. It’s also been the hardest to get around to the task. Some of this is because I actually had work to do, which I certainly prioritize over my own projects. To do otherwise would be unethical. I’ve also been rather engrossed in a novel I’m reading. It’s a novel I’ve wanted to read for a while. Not this specific one, but the topic. It’s a variation of the fantasy assassin story. Much like Brent Weeks’ Night Angel trilogy, but with it’s own take and a female protagonist. I’ve been eager to find a novel in this vein with a heroine. It turns out it’s hard to find a strong heroine who doesn’t turn into a sap every time some glittering mope looks at her funny. I’m about ¾ of the way through the book and am only now encountering any potential romantic interest. I’m interested to see how she handles it, since her assignment is, one way or another, to ruin the man. There are a lot of possible roads. Hopefully none of them glitter.

This book, by the way, is free for Kindle only. It’s called Child of the Ghosts by someoneoranother. He also has another free novel called Demonsouled. So far I like this novel better.

I’m not sure why but I’m a big fan of novels that feature assassins as the protagonist. Maybe it’s the same dark fascination that we as a race have with vampires. Assassins are mysterious, deadly, creatures of darkness that let us walk in the shadows with them. Their morality is grey at best, black at worst. Yet so often in fiction they follow a personal code of ethics or honor. Perhaps that’s the crux of it for me. I don’t really believe in a black and white morality and while I don’t really believe in assassination as a means of solving problems, I enjoy reading about characters that exist outside the status quo of culture and form one of their own, even if they follow that path alone.

The autonomous, individual culture of these kinds of protagonists appeals to me because that is a distinct facet of my own personality. Note that I don’t refer to it as a counter-culture. Sticking my thumbs in my ears and wagging my tongue at the world isn’t the purpose. Individualism is. I hold to the beliefs that are important to me in spite of what the world urges me toward. An example can be found in something as small as not watching, nor owning, a television. It astounds many people that I am so disconnected from that which fills so much of their free time. As a result I’m rather out of touch with pop culture.

I have never regretted the points where I found myself standing on the sidelines watching the ‘civilized’ West go about their days. (Perhaps ‘domesticated’ West would be a more appropriate term.) Their choices often boggle my mind.

A woman I met recently is a prime example. She’s new to the area and just moved into her house. One of the first things she did was go out and buy a 55” TV, which I consider excessive, personally. I can think of much better things to spend that kind of money on. When I asked her what she spent on it, she responded, “What matters is that I saved $700.” I’m sorry, I beg to differ. Saving $700 when you spend a fuckload isn’t “saving anything”. Sales and rebates are mostly mind games anyway, to get you to buy when you might otherwise go home with all your money in your pocket. Just say no, consumer. Go home with your money.

Already being rather unimpressed with said person and her domesticated Westness, you can imagine my excitement when she decided to share with me the fact that she had held a “puppy shower” for her dog when she got it. I was also not as moved as she expected when she showed off the calendar that just arrived in the mail: it was made with pictures from the day she bought her new car. Who does that?

Not being a fan of rampant materialism, loathing the boob tube and otherwise having different values from the ‘average Joe’, it’s easy for me to be drawn to bold, dark characters who are as defined by their flaws as their heroics. It’s why my favorite protagonists are Lestat, a myriad cast of assassins and Ender. Even when their actions don’t shape the world around them, they transcend the bourgeoise. They move through the world as giants of personality, characters instead of caricatures and I can barely rip myself away from their stories.

Angelus

The following is the opening to one of the several projects I want accomplish with my writing. At this point, there are two novels, a TV show/comic, and at some point a book of poems. This is an excerpt from the TV show. I hadn’t actually thought of presenting it in comic form before, but it seems like a more than adequate presentation to me. I even have a friend who’s an artist who might want to work on it with me.

The show/comic is called Angelus, (working title). In the world of Angelus, when the Lucifer fell from Heaven, angels and man worked side by side. God recalled the angels to heaven to prevent further temptations, but some angels who loved their mortal counterparts chose to fall. They became mortal, but their divine heritage remained intact. They bred with mortals, and their children are the Angelus.

Angelus takes place in the contemporary era. The protagonist, Magnus King, is the last Angelus, the only child of two Angelus bloodlines. The rest have become so diluted that the divinity rarely, if ever, manifests. Magnus knows nothing of his ancestry, nor of the power that resides inside him. He is a student working on the thesis for his Master’s degree. His closest friends get dragged into his quest with him.

The seven Princes of Hell have a plan to open the Pearlescent Gates and bring war to Heaven. The gate can only be opened on Earth, by collecting and performing a ritual involving seven diamonds that were used to seal the gates in the first place. The demons already have possession of three of the diamonds and a searching for the other four. Magnus wears one as a family heirloom, one is lost and the locations of the other two are known by the forces of Heaven and Hell. (For now. I may change my mind.)

Magnus, as the only Angelus left, is the only being on the mortal plane with the power to stop them. God and the angels continue to follow their policy of non-intervention. (Guardian angels and minor miracles as exceptions to the rule.) The demons have targeted Magnus and intend to tie up loose ends before collecting the last of the diamonds. That he wears one is just a bonus, two birds with one stone and all.

As you’ll see in the first scene, Magnus’ guardian angel, Gabriella, chooses to fall to earth in order to protect him from physical danger. She pretends to be a foreign exchange student from Rome in order to get close to him. He is also joined by Jae Roberts, his best friend and potential romantic interest; Jenna Dubois, a twenty year old genius Southern Belle who wants to be his romantic interest; Jaxxon Morgan, another close friend, theatre major and life of the party; and later, Nathaniel Ryan, a 28 year old ex-pat living in a posh apartment in Paris. Ryan lives as much like Hemingway as possible and joins the group as a guide as they visit strange places in search of the diamonds.

What happens on that search, we’ll see in time.

Scene opens: A man with wings stand at the top of a hill over looking a hamlet of huts lit by cooking fires with his arm around the waist of a woman standing next to him. Together they watch seven stars fall together from the sky. A single tear falls from his eye as his wings dissipate into nothingness. He turns and smiles sadly into the eyes of the woman, then embraces and kisses her.

Narrator: At the dawn of the ancient world, God cast Lucifer and his brethren from Heaven and closed the Pearlescent Gates. Forced to choose between love for their mortal charges and an eternity separate from the human race they loved, some angels volunteered to fall for the love of mortal men and women. With the blessing of the Father and the charge to help protect humanity from the depravity of demons, these fallen angels lived as mortals did, married and bore children. Their children were half-human, half-divine. These children were known as Angelus.

Scene fades and opens on a 3/4 view of a modern city in springtime, at sunset, focused on a college campus with a lot of trees. Camera pans over city and campus while two voices discuss one man’s fate.

Gabriella’s voice: I can’t protect him from what’s coming if I’m here, Father.

Older man’s voice: You know the rules, my child. We are forbidden to interact with mortals.

Gabriella: He will die without our help!

Older man: Are you so certain?

Gabriella: He’s not a warrior. He doesn’t know what he is or what it means. He doesn’t even have faith to ward him from the danger.

Older man: Men die, my child. There will be others to guard.

Gabriella: -protesting- But this one is the last Angelus. If he dies, there will be no one else.

Older man: It is out of our hands, my daughter.

Gabriella: There must be something I can do! It hasn’t always been this way!

Older man: Careful, Gabriella. Your words shine dark with the light of the Morning Star.

Scene: Clouds begin to roll in over the town.

Gabriella: -sudden realization- I will do it. If that’s what it takes, I will do it.

Older man: This is highly irregular. No angel has left heaven since the Fall.

Gabriella: Desperate times, Father. Let me do this.

Older man: I don’t think this is the answer, my child. If you choose this path, you will never return. You will be mortal. You will age. You will die. You might be hit by a car tomorrow and your sacrifice be for naught.

Gabriella: It is worth the risk. I can’t let him go through this alone.

Older man: -pause- Then go, Gabriella. Go with my blessing and my sorrow. I will miss you, daughter.

Gabriella: And I will miss you, Father. Shall I go now?

Older man: There is no other time in this world. Farewell, child. -sadly-

Scene: -music plays- A woman falls head first through the night sky above a sea of clouds hiding the city. Her wings are tucked in as she falls and they begin to burn. She drops quickly into the clouds and it begins to storm, lightning cracks within the clouds as she passes through them, rain falling. Her wings turn to ash as she falls. As she reaches the ground there is a huge flash of lightning, blinding the camera. When the light fades, the woman sits naked, wingless with her arms around her knees, rocking and crying. She sits surrounded by puddles while the rain pours down. The scene goes black.

And a thousand words, goodnight.

-Morgan

Ramble On Ye Doggies

Contrary to appearances, I did not give up one day in to my newest effort. I spent a fair amount of time out and about doing some writing at a local wine/espresso bar on Saturday and got close enough to my 1,000 words for government work. Sunday I took off, which I intend to do weekly. The rules, which I failed to be clear enough about are as follows: 

-       I will write 1,000 words a day, six days a week.

-       I can write anything I want, in any form. Multiple forms for the same day are acceptable.

-       Preferably in one sitting, but not required. 

That’s it. Rules should be simple and clear. We can all see what happens when laws have laws governing how laws should be governed. It makes for terrible sentences, for one, and pretty crappy government as well. Not something I intend to rant about today, however. 

If you’re lucky, I’ll spend some time and type out my writing from Saturday. I talked about the play I was in the last couple weekends and, of course, incorporated a few segues. Perhaps someday my writing won’t have more of them than the Microsoft campus. Or maybe that will just be part of my voice, (much like my tendency to toss in parenthetical asides). If you can’t see what I did there, I highly recommend glasses. Or remedial literacy classes. I jest . . . Ok. Not really. 

Leaving my obsession with my own cleverness behind, I had a pretty good weekend. We had our final local performances of the first run of Separate Checks, a brand new play written and directed by a friend of mine from high school. We had a lot of local acclaim for the work and we’re going to travel with it a bit. We’re shooting for the “stars”. Or at least more theatres in the surrounding area. We have a weekend booked in a small town north of here and if that goes well, we’ll start heading south toward bigger pastures. Yee ha, get down little doggy, get down.  

. . . Don’t ask. 

We went out after our performances, to a place that’s both “hoighty and toighty” on Friday night and out to one of the local dives on Saturday for our cast party. I didn’t drink on Friday. I haven’t been drinking as much in general the last couple of weeks. I’ve only had a few beers a week instead of half a bottle of wine (or more) just about every night. It’s part of my anti-gut initiative. Not to mention that even with cheap wine, that adds up pretty fast and -all- my vices are like that. I like wine and coffee. Paired up, that’s a lot of money I pour down my throat and literally piss away. I’d really like my wallet to be fatter and my belly trimmer. I weigh more now than I ever have. Plenty of it is muscle. Plenty of it is a half-inch to inch thick layer of bleh. The most I’ve seen on the scale is 183, but that’s thirty pounds more than I weighed when I graduated high school and 15-20 more than I want.

A note about that, however. The scale is a terrible invention. I don’t like them and in all honesty, I don’t actually care what my weight is. If I weighed 183 and looked like Adonis or Hercules, I’d be content. Scratch Hercules. I imagine Adonis toned and not steroid-chiseled. That’s the look that I would prefer.

Back to the weekend. We had a day of spring on Sunday! After getting up and heading to a local coffee shop for a mocha and a breakfast burrito while I settled in to re-read Heinlein’sGlory Road, I filled up a few spare moments with Kingdom’s of Amalur before hitting the theatre to watch Disney’s John Carter. If you’ve read Heinlein, you know that he drew plenty of inspiration from Burrough’s stories of Barsoom. Glory Road refers to Dejah Thoris, Princess of Mars within the first 20-40 pages. While I’ve known the names and source since my childhood, I hadn’t read any of the books until this fall. I remedied that and started looking forward to the movie. Apparently it was a flop but I might actually buy it when it’s available on DVD. (Yes, I still buy DVDs.) I really enjoyed the movie, it was a lot of fun and while it was the standard “based, loosely, on the books” it still had a lot of the important elements. The romance was even toned down some, I think.

When I left the theatre I had to take off my pea coat. I don’t honestly remember the last time that happened. The sun was warm on my face and what had been a fierce wind in the morning had calmed to a light breeze. I had nothing to do outside, but I knew I wanted to be there. I was inspired by the movie and my knowledge of the books and started to sing a new song as I walked to my car. The afternoon found me downtown in an quiet, empty park where the farmer’s market is usually held, laying against the curl of a decorative brick wall playing my guitar and writing “Dejah Thoris,” (working title).

It’s still a work in progress. So far it goes like this:

Princess, are you waiting there on Mars
watching from the stars
I’m on my way to you
I’ll leave the world behind for you

Dejah, are you looking for a hero
when everything seems lost
I’m looking for a cause
I’ll leave the world behind for you

The chord progression for the repeated line is giving me nightmares. I exaggerate, but I can’t find chords to fit what I’m singing that also fit the chords I’m already playing. It may be worth noting that my songs tend to be simple and the chords in this particular song are more variations on a theme than distinct chords. I’m also trying out a plucking pattern that is difficult for me to play and sing at the same time. This is pretty standard for me, most of my improvements in my playing have come from writing songs that I can’t physically play at first. If you’re a music person, the chords so far are Cmaj7 with my pinky on the B string, 3^rd fret; C, and Cmaj7. I’m open to suggestions.

In spite of that minor frustration, it was good afternoon, marred only by the approach of a guy who looked like he was inclined to mug people in dark alleys who asked me for change to help out with the fact that he’s two months behind on rent. All I had was a guitar pick, so I couldn’t have helped had I wanted to. (Nor did I particularly believe him, but that’s neither here nor there.)

The rest of the evening was fun too. Instead of playing 4e D&D, since our session was cancelled, three of us sat around and broke out the old Magic cards and played til midnight. I had a good time.

All in all, a good evening. Now I just have to look forward to a slow week. I’ve got three days booked, but free time on tonight and Friday. After weeks of rehearsals and performances I’m already feeling a little antsy. I’m already looking forward to taking part in the upcoming auditions for Music Man and playing whatever part I’m given. I know the woman who runs the production company wants me to have a bigger part this time around, but that’s up to the director. I don’t mind small parts that much, really. Less stress, less to memorize and there’s always a chance to steal the show. But a lead role would be fun. A new experience, for certain. And I’ve never had a stage kiss. I’m nervous for that first one!

One good thing about this project. I can work on my endings. I’m terrible at ending things. Whether it’s telling an anecdote to friends or writing a journal entry, it’s tough for me. I always feel like there’s a giant AND? sitting at the end right by his buddy, awkward silence.

Oh well. The End.

And a thousand words, goodnight.

-m0rg4n

More or Less

As I mentioned in a previous post, Ray Bradbury talks about writing a thousand words a day for three years, no matter if you write a masterpiece or a piece of garbage that makes it to the trash without it ever passing the eyes of another human being. After this period, you may finally be a decent writer. The words have been on my mind since I read them and it’s something I want to do. I may as well start today. That was not verbatim.

I don’t have any particular goal for what I’m going to write. It may be prose or poetry. I may spill out scenes from the various fictions floating around inside my head. As my reader, you may have to suffer through the times I write experimental garbage, wax philosophical or, even worse, wax political. You may choose to run screaming and slam the door behind you. That’s okay. It’s right over there.

If you decide to stick around, I’m hoping you’ll help hold me to this bold declaration. Put your finger in my face and while wagging it say, “Morgan, I don’t care if you don’t sleep til 2am, write my thousand words, damn it. After all, if Scheherazade could tell stories for 1001 evenings just to save her pretty neck, (and those of all the young women in her city, woman deserves some credit), then I certainly can make an effort. Especially if I want to achieve one of those top three goals of mine: immortality.

While I admit that I enjoy being a show off to a certain extent, it always surprises me when, in spite of my tenacity in declaring I want to be immortal, no one ever asks me why or how. (The show off thing is another conversation altogether. Yes, I do, but as one person once put it, I just like to play.) I really do want to be immortal. Since it’s unlikely that Lestat is ever going to stop by for a visit, (if one of the Cullen family shows, they can go fuck themselves. I refuse to glitter for eternity), I’ve decided that barring some unlikely medical miracle that reverses aging and allows mankind to expand its life indefinitely, there’s only two ways of going about this. Both are classically Shakespearean, in fact. Immortality is a constant theme in his sonnets and that’s the kind of immortality I’m aiming for. 

Shakespeare is my inspiration for many reasons. First, he achieved my goal, whether he was planning on doing so or not. Second, he managed to immortalize those he loved as well. Third, whether his friend ever acted on his advice or not, Shakespeare told him repetitively to get it on and have a family. Which is another of my goals. I’m a little further down the writing road than I am the family road, but I plan to knock them both out while my feet are still glued firmly to the surface of this hunk of rock of ours. As they say, where there’s a Will, there’s a way. In the meantime, I’ll keep my day job.

(Pun courtesy of the Bard.)

It is not the lack of ideas or inspiration that has kept me from heading up this Sisyphean hill to this point. The rock is heavy and I’m all too fond of letting myself sleep the days away. A constant battle of wills with my lack of motivation has previously wedged itself tight on the uphill side of the slope. In the past, I spent most of my time trying to shove the rock over the wedge. I think, perhaps, I might try just removing it this time around and get this rock n rolling. No need to tip a hat to Shakespeare for that one. 

On to more random topics, just to fill space and use up words. It turns out that I’m more comfortable around the 500 word mark, after which I find myself staring at the screen and mopping up puddles of drool from my desk. That’s okay though. As the Zen Buddhist’s say, I have to keep a Beginner’s Mind. I’ve just started on this journey and the only way I’m going to open enough pathways in my mind to make 1,000 words spill out like water from a broken dam is to start digging. Creativity, much as anything else, is a muscle and it is no easier to use than any other muscle is when you first make an effort.

I recognize that I’m not exactly starting from scratch. I do have a degree in creative writing and hundreds of poems and a series of song lyrics that I haven’t bothered to count. In spite of this, I most certainly consider myself a beginner. I may not suck, but my masterpiece is buried deep down there somewhere and I’ve not even started to uncover it. This is going to be an almost archaeological process. One inch down at a time over a significant area. I’m in no hurry. I know it’s there somewhere and I’m young yet. I may not be Christopher Paolini, but I’m also not letting anyone other than Neil Gaiman write the screenplay based on my novel. (Shh. . . let me dream.) As the song goes, “Ti-i-i-ime is on my side, yes it is.” I could, of course, die tomorrow, but hey, shit happens.

So here I go. I’m off, the starting gun has fired. I’m on a journey to find my voice, improve my writing, become a writer, write a novel, write, write, write, write. Alf laylah wa laylah, (a thousand and one nights). A thousand tiny stories each with their own meaning a day. A trial, a tribulation and a chance to sink my hands deep into the stuff of my self and draw it out, dripping from my fingers in large gooey chunks. A thousand words a day to cut and polish the facets of this diamond in the rough. I may be hidden in thick casing of kimberlite today, but damnit, there’s a fuckton of gems in there somewhere. If you’re nice to me, I may let you have one.

And a thousand words, goodnight.

-m0rg4n

Blog Review: Zen Habits

Whenever I run across someone in a rut or someone talking about making changes in their lives, I always want to recommend Zen Habits to them. Zen Habits is a blog about simplifying, building good habits and enjoying life. It’s written by Leo Babauta, and chronicles his story as he changed his life in a variety of ways. His blog featured on Time Magazine’s list of top 25 blogs to read.

Leo went from an overweight man living the standard office-driven, object-driven American lifestyle to a fit, healthy, happy man who makes a living doing something he loves and is passionate about. Mostly that’s writing e-books and inspiring others to change their lives through his words and online workshops.

One of my favorite of Leo’s posts is Breathe. It begins simply. “Breathe,” he writes. “Breathing can transform your life.” It goes on to give seven examples of when you stop and take some time to breathe. I keep a print out of it pinned up next to my computer at work to keep it on my mind.

Leo has something for everyone. Whether it’s building habits, getting fit, getting rid of the clutter that fills our lives, following our passions, paying off debt or simply being in the moment, Zen Habits can touch your life and inspire you as it has, as the blog reports, over “230,000 sexy readers.”

You may have heard of the 100 things challenge, in which Leo went through everything he personally owned that wasn’t a necessity or belonged to the family and got rid of the excess. Since that first challenge he’s gone to 50 things and further, but he’d be the first say that what you get rid of is up to you. You can be as strict or loose as you want. A thing can be individual items, items in a category or both. (I, for example, consider my books and clothes categories.) The point is to free yourself from materialism. Read the blog for more details if you’re interested.

If you do head over there to check it out, in the very simple fashion that is Zen Habits you can find a convenient link that says, “Start Here.” With this link’s guidance, you can find the articles that most interest you and, if you’re like me, get lost in Leo’s easygoing tone and comfortable candor. If you have a free moment, give it a try. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. 

Skyrim Review. Caution: Spoilers and an F-bomb

I feel like shit this morning. I woke up with a headache and it transformed into general mehness and nausea. The edge is coming off after taking three ibuprofen but now things are just fuzzy instead of miserable. Fun.

I played Skyrim all weekend and I’m not certain that it deserves the 9.5 out of ten most critics have been giving it. I think an 8 would be more appropriate. It is a good game, and I enjoy the time I’ve put into it, but at the end of the day, I still feel like I’m playing an improved Oblivion. Skyrim is simply a natural progression of an engine and story. The history is rich and in depth and I enjoy the factions and events I recognize from Oblivion.

My first character was an Imperial thief/assassin, more or less the same character I played in Elder Scrolls VI. I completed the first quest of the “main” storyline and proceeded to wander around looking for the Thieves’ Guild and Dark Brotherhood storyline. (In three play throughs of Oblivion, I never did anything except become the Archmage, the Grey Fox and the Hand of Sithis. Each time.) At Adept difficulty, killing most things with a bow was a hassle, a time consuming event of firing a shot or two and running and hiding til the mobs decided I must have been a figment of their imagination. (I shoot magic arrows from the darkness!) I took to sneaking more often than I killed or running through when discovered until I reached a door. I suppose that’s what a thief would do. The ending of the Thieves’ Guild line was anti-climactic and I should have just kept the Skeleton Key. My new character will.

Before I go on to the new hero of Skyrim (“hero,” Shadowmere is totally worth murdering half the continent for), I want to approach the two underworld plots. Barring the details, they’re the same. Each was once a powerful group now plagued by problems. Through my actions, I brought them back to a historical position of power. In both plots, the current head of the guild betrayed my character and the void I left through their destruction was mine to fill. (This also serves to bring you to power as Archmage, by the way). It’s a little redundant and I fully expect to experience the same rite of passage to fill the already vacant position as the leader of the Companions. Personally, I’d settle for a position of respect underneath one of the leaders for once. Otherwise, may as well just make me Emperor of Tamriel as well, since I assassinated him I see no reason why I shouldn’t usurp the throne. (Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if this happened anyway, the way things are shaping up.)

After twenty plus hours I started a new character. He’s a little more streamlined than my thief, (perhaps one of the issues with my thief character, too many points spread out instead of saving them for perks later). I created a High Elf mage, and after getting my Unrelenting Force shout, I went straight for the title of Archmage. I also turned down the difficulty after a few hours. As many reviewers have commented, magic is fun. I’ve focused in Conjuration and Destruction. I have a bad habit of not using my glyph spells, though I discovered the fire glyph is a great way to assassinate nasty old women who torture children. Did I leave that on the floor? Oh, I’m sorry about that, I should really pick up after myself.

Short of slitting someone’s throat with a sneaking dagger kill, one-shotting weaker targets with the Ice Spike spell is probably one of the most rewarding deaths you can deal. Draugr, bandit or silly mage, it’s satisfying to see their crumpled bodies with a giant icicle still buried in their flesh. I wish the forensic team luck figuring out where the murder weapon went. Fireballs and lightning bolts would be more satisfying if the corpses would smolder or twitch. No, I’m not normally this twisted, it’s just a game.

Conjuration, while immensely useful and macabre fun, needs improvement. My Flame Atronach ends up half a mile away while in the meantime I’m facing down a horde of draugr. This is inconvenient and I don’t really want to use my mana to summon another one at this point. I have similar issues with zombies. Particularly when it stands five feet away while an ice mage is face. . . uh. . . melting my toon or some bandit with a great sword is trying to find a hole in my heavy armor. Battlemage for the win.

Admittedly, with this change, I’ve not spent nearly the hundred hours the big time reviewers have and I look forward to having had a little more experience with more powerful spells and summons. The one time I used a firestorm scroll on a horde of enemies was immensely satisfying.

One other point of contention before I close. Is that a horse or a Hum V? My thief can’t climb some of these rock faces and Shadowmere or any other horse I’ve stolen just heads right up with a little wiggling on my part. It’s quite possibly the most unrealistic part of the physics in Skyrim. Don’t get me wrong, I abuse it mercilessly, but it disappoints me. In a fairly well-built fantasy world in which I can easily suspend my disbelief, I have a hard time with an equine that could climb the Matterhorn without ropes or a helicopter.

Skyrim is still a really good game. If I change my mind later and decide it’s great, I’ll let you know. For now, it’s just not quite there. Bethesda’s finest work has its moments, but it has its drawbacks too. (Let’s not talk about the glitches.) I highly recommend playing it, especially on the PC if you have one good enough. I’ll take the control a keyboard and mouse allows over the limits of a console controller any day of the week. I give Skyrim a solid 8 out of 10 and look forward to many, many more hours conquering the world.

A final note, for those gamers who think Bethesda should add a war between the werewolves and vampires: FUCK YOU.

On Christianity & Morals

I’ve been thinking about Christianity and how much it irritates me again. There are rumors of real Christians out there, but I still don’t know that I know any. I still feel as though as soon as someone picks up the cross, they turn into a self-righteous, judgemental ass. Because, in spite of what that book they so readily defend says, they seem to think that belief in their God gives them the right to pass judgement and, even worse, define what is moral and immoral. That’s just downright frightening.

Morality should not be bought and paid for by promises of an afterlife. It shouldn’t be founded on tales of bloodshed and murder. It shouldn’t be symbolized by the execution of a man. I’ve experienced the “morality” of some of these people. I’ve listened to a teenage girl from a very religious family adamantly support the idea that tolerance is wrong. Her church and her parents had taught her that all Muslims are evil. She believed they should all be deported from America. I listened to her sister, who I briefly dated, tell me stories of the abuses of her oh-so-righteous father. Yet these were good, church-going Christians.

I realize that they’re not all like that. There are critical aspects of their teachings that are wonderful, common sense morality. Let’s look at a big one: thou shalt not kill. This is a great start and would be even better if the so-called religious would stop sending other people to do their killing for them. I’m sorry, but the degree of separation doesn’t keep their hands clean. Let me tell you, I didn’t lose faith in Obama when his plans didn’t work out. I lost faith when he started celebrating the deaths of our enemies. Death should never be celebrated. Even a wake is a celebration of life. The only time killing is ok is when you must kill or be killed.

The best of the ten commandments can be summed up fairly easily: don’t kill, steal, lie or cheat. They’re summed up even better by the Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would have done unto you. Which is terribly similar to the Wiccan Rede: An it harm none, do as you will.

The Golden Rule shows up many times in the Bible, notably in Matthew 7:12 when Jesus says, “Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets.” and Luke 6:31 when he says, “And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise.” So, this being the case, I’d love to hear a few more Christian excuses as to why they will not support basic human rights like gay marriage. Not only is this a ridiculous issue, it shouldn’t be an issue. Gay marriage isn’t a matter of morality or legality and attempting to use a Christian moral structure to deny these people their right to live and love as they will is, according to Jesus F. Christ, denying yourself that right as well. Homosexuality is not a crime, and if it is, barring rape, it’s none of your business. If you’re Christian, that judgement is your God’s to make, not yours. The Christian role in dealing with homosexuality, really, any group they believe God doesn’t approve of, is to love them anyway. Or at least leave well enough alone. If you’re going to be smug and self-righteous about your belief that someone else is going to hell, keep it to yourself.

While we’re talking about hell and God and heaven and angels and immaculate conception, let’s take a look at what that implies. It implies you believe in the supernatural. That in the world you live in it is possible for some being to magically create the world. The universe. As in, abracadabra and POOF Harry Potter creates life. If you or me or anyone else for that matter went around claiming that we found a magic lamp and a genie granted us the ability to walk on water or make bread and fish multiply on a whim, we’d be branded delusional and carted off to the nearest insane asylum. It’s as if religion exists to channel our crazy just enough that we can go about normal lives. In the world we live in, surrounded by technology and scientific fact and discoveries that are constantly giving us a better definition of how it all works, why is there still a need or room for this crutch? It’s insane. Literally.

In fact, science has brought us to an era in which Christianity (and other deity based religions) are completely unnecessary. Quite honestly, it’s been unnecessary since the founding of Buddhism but now we have a secular methodology that has similar approaches without the religious trappings. There is a science of human well-being and it’s been empirically proven to fulfill the needs that have so long been the domain of religion. Jung said human spirituality was a built in part of our psyche, but I think if he were here now he would change his mind. What he recognized was our need to lead fully-realized lives. The path to that is out there. It’s just slightly more difficult to achieve.

That’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? Christianity is EASY. It’s so easy to stand ignorantly behind faith and tell the scientific community that the Big Bang theory is a silly view of creation. Well, the first problem with that is it ISN’T a creation theory. It’s an expanding universe theory. What this brings us to is critical thinking. Religion protects people from the terrible effort that is using their brains. While there are most certainly intelligent religious people, studies have shown that there is a direct link between religion and brain health. If you don’t have to think, question or learn, you aren’t using your brain. Much like any other part of your body, if you don’t use it, your capabilities degrade and your health degrades. For fun and non-profit, one might say that religion is obesity for the brain.

Let’s talk about how Christianity is the Borg of religion. When in it’s infancy, the Church followed the example of Rome and assimilated EVERYTHING. Rather than making those pagans stop celebrating that obnoxious winter solstice holiday, the Christians suddenly decided it was a convenient time to celebrate the birth of their deity’s mortal incarnation. His conception sounds remarkably like any number tales of Zeus coming down and playing around with mortal women. (We won’t mention the probability that Mary was LYING, either.) There are a lot of books on the origins of Christian mythology and I recommend starting with Thomas’ Paine’s The Age of Reason if you’re interested.

I could go on and on and on. Really though, I’d be more than willing to leave Christianity to its happy little delusion if its people would start having a little more respect for the rest of us. I’m not interested in forcing someone to believe or not believe. I would simply appreciate it if as a group Christians would stop treating non-Christians, non-theists, gays and any other group they’ve chosen to impose their flawed immorality on as second-class citizens. Where is the love and respect your God supposedly teaches? What right do you have to deny people life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness?

As I wrote earlier, morality should not have to be bought and paid for. Not to mention that it’s clear that the Christian system of morality doesn’t work. First, let’s make the easiest point: 81% of incoming inmates in American jails are Christian. (If you want a comparison .02% are atheist, but I’m not here to defend atheism.) What that statistic means is that 81% of all prison inmates have most likely in some way broken one of the commandments they were raised to respect. Their Christian upbringing somehow failed to create good, God-abiding citizens who loved their neighbors and did unto others as they would have others do unto them. The promise of heaven and the threat of hell just weren’t enough to keep these people on the right path.

Science, again, has an explanation for this. It’s all about human motivation and we know for a fact that offering rewards for good behavior and punishment for poor behavior ISN’T a successful method for motivating people. In fact, it’s been shown in experiments done all over the world that when offered a reward for any non-formulaic activity, people will perform worse than if they’re not offered one. (Which explains a lot about the atrocities performed in the name of God, if you ask me.) Morality, indeed, is quite non-formulaic. In the end, it turns out the best way to motivate people is through intrinsic motivation. People must do something because it gives them a sense of mastery, autonomy and purpose. Therefore, being a moral person is something that should be done because it is the right thing to do. Being a good person is its own reward. No system of ethics is good in which morality is not intrinsic.

This is why I find myself irritated by Christianity once again. I expect more of a congregation that follows a messiah who preached love for your neighbors. There’s a beautiful message in the Bible, if Christ’s followers would just stop fishing with a bucket. I’m irritated because I’m disappointed. Disappointed in people who can’t or won’t think for themselves, people who think that belief in an amorphous entity is a reason to judge others as good or bad and disappointed that these people are so capable of extracting the worst parts of their belief and acting upon them instead of embracing the ones that would let them welcome anyone and everyone with open arms.