Loss and Gain...

So, with thing settling down, and spring finally here, I've been moving back into my training, and I've noticed some weird things.

Chief among them: training kids makes you soft.

Not in a physical sense, but in a mental sense.  You start to worry about every attack you make.  Children are fragile creatures, and you start doing things like:

Helping people fall gently.
Not using bodyweight to imoblize people.
Not using powerful techniques to break holds.
... giving advice in the middle of a match.

It's hard to make the adjustment back into "fight" mode, especially in friendly bouts.  You let shots go by, you hold back, you wait for moments to establish dominance and teach a lesson, instead of giving the fight you're supposed to.  It's sort of... saddening.

Once you were a monster, people feared when you moved... now you're more the kitten.

In all truth, however, it really only makes you scarier, if you can find and use it. But to start this example off, here are some things I've "lost":

Movement: I used to leap and jump more, while I still can, I just... don't.
Force: I don't hit as hard as I used to, whether intentionally or not, I just don't.
Violent Instinct: I don't press pain as much, I tend to back off quickly the moment someone is in trouble.
Rage: This is the one I miss the most... I used to have a hell of a Rage when I needed.  Be it strength, needed adrenaline, the will to force in an attack through, or just the pure explosiveness that used to describe how I fought.

But, since there is rarely ever loss without gain, I have sort of manifested new things, and I like it:

Grace: I traded my fast, running and jumping, for a creepy sort of grace that even shocks me sometimes.  I move effortlessly out of the way of big things, I can roll with a blow like water, and I move through things, rather than over them.
Intention: I tend to throw less attacks, but they hit more.  I don't jab, I don't fake-out, I just move in and take what's mine.
Clarity: this is entirely the kids; I burn slower now.  Fights are easier to read, and though my reactions have been gentle, they've been effective.
Determination: I tend to care less now about resistance.  Not in a way to move through it, I just don't get riled up about it.  "Hole in my face?  Huh... oh right, that happened."  While I was always calm, it's drivable now.  But it does lack the ability to spike when I need it.

Things still in Limbo:
"The need to bring someone down": I used to want to stand above someone, to crush them into little bits.  When it didn't happen the way I wanted... that's what Rage was for.

Strength: I'm not sure if I am (fight wise) as physically strong as I used to be.  I'm stronger, yes, but I've yet to really feel it in a fight.

Rage: While I've gained calm and direction, I still feel the rage-y goodness inside of me, just looking for the exit.  It wants out, sure, but I sort of wonder if my days of "shit gets real mode" are over.

To clarify the Rage for those who've never fought me: I used to fight normal and happy, and then, when pressed to where I couldn't function... I exploded.  Lifted and threw a 250lbs man who had me flat pinned, backflipped over a kid and threw him in an armbar on the way, and some other things that just could only be done when I threw down the meta-physical gauntlet of "Fuck this noise". 

I miss that.

Why I missed Zelda...

I have a massive thing for Zelda... the games, not the princess.  Was a bigger fan of Malon anyway.

I've played every style of RPG out there in the world today, and I realized something today: why I missed the Zelda series so badly.  I've played so many games, and some have been good (hey there new Assassin's Creed), some have been great (Skyrim... ) and some have hurt me to play them (go stand in the corner Crysis 2).  The main thing I hate about some games... has started to bleed into other games that I like...

Mainly, the lack of life.

Zelda mastered this in the days when most games required you to tape down the Right arrow button to play them.  The very first Zelda was an open world concept game.  That was it: no glowing trail, no missions, no huge areas of the map locked away like a roller coaster to a gnome.

"Sorry, but you must be this much of a hero before you can look at the water physics."

Zelda handed you the world, and said "Yeah, this is it... there's more, to be sure, but there's only one way to get there... exploration."  If you wanted to find things, you had to explore. There would be clues, and a sort of order to how you needed to do things, but life is like that.  But you could at any point in time just wander off like an adventurous kitten in search of new things, and you were encouraged to do so.  In a time when having an area that served no purpose to the main plot of the game took up valuable space, Zelda games put them there because "you might want to see what's in this tiny corner of the map."

Skyrim is like that, the world is huge, and detailed, to the point where it's almost daunting to step outside your door in the game.  You might want to go to a quest point, move this story mission along... but somewhere along fighting/fleeing a dragon and crashing into a bandit hideout and discovering that they're secretly trying to resurect the dead to use in a march on the city... you've stumbled upon adventure.  That was the whole point of turning on the game: adventure.

Too many games lack adventure, in place of it they put a race to the finish. If I'm told "the game really opens up once you hit this level..." I just keep moving on past it.  Why should I have to wait for adventure?  It's why I'm not a fan of level based games as much.  I like two types of RPGs, ones that hand you the world and say "Go..." and ones that sit you down, and prep your mind for a ride.  There might not be much deviating from their story, but it's a hell of a story. 

JRPGs tend to lose me in this bit, since they're all about a giant sprawling world... and they get side tracked in weird places. 

This is where MMO's have lost it for me, they've become a race to the finish.  I recently popped back onto WoW to see the new stuff, and realized that people were already bitching that "there was NO ENDGAME!!!", you know, besides the massive four sectioned raid or whatever.  A giant temple where you fought gods, and there was no endgame.  Listen, I'm going to say this now, and I hope it echoes hard enough for the world to hear:

Endgame is fucking stupid.

It's a climax, yes, it puts a cap on the personal story you were fighting through... that's it.  It's not "more adventure" because "more adventure" isn't an End at all... it's an adventure.  People in MMOs tend to race to Endgame, and then get bored, because they missed 90% of the game so they could see the end.  We've all played with that one person who doesn't read the story, they just skip cutscenes and dialogue to get to the part where they murder things... and then they complain the game lacked substance.

If you ever find yourself ignoring what the writers painstakingly scripted out in the story that you're playing so that you can get to the end faster... you may want to reevaluate why you even play games and don't just watch the final fight on Youtube.

Point of the Day: playing a game is not about getting to the end quickly, unless it involves race cars.  Sometimes it's best to play a game that has no end, because the end is the part you'll always fear.

I tend to fearfully wonder just how much more there can be to a story when I'm approaching the final battle, and I get nervious to see if I've done enough of the world.  I wanted to be told a story, not an ending.

Not living for the weekend...

I think the hardest part I've had with adjusting to the move out to Vermont, is dealing with the crippling boredom.  This place likely has all sorts of things to do, I'm just not able to do them.  Whether it's money, time, the required toys, or even just the knowledge of where these things are, I'm just on the outside of all the fun.

I spend each week as thus:

Monday through Friday: Up a dawn, go to work, get home at 4pm.  Do the dishes, clean up the house a bit, maybe start a game or something.  Shannon comes home, we sit at the computer until she goes to bed, then I may or may not go to bed and sleep.

Saturday: Up, take out the trash/catbox, do dishes, and am usually given the weekend chores: clean this room/build this.  On occasion, we might go out shopping (which is seriously, my highlight of some days).  Usually it's because she needs something, or we're out of food.

Sunday: Same as Saturday, minus the trash.  Although Shannon goes to bed earlier on Sunday, because she has work in the morning.

This is my life up here... no where on that list is "go see something new" or "find out about someplace in Vermont", not even "use those free movie tickets you've had for five months."

My wife says that if I'm bored, I could go outside and clean up the yard, while she plants things. 

I don't want to go outside and clean, I don't like gardening.  In fact gardening in general is one of my least favorite things.  Growing crops? Awesome.  Growing enough crops to feed us once or twice? Not so awesome.  She can have a garden, and once I get the help that was offered, I'll build the garden bed for her, but I'm not a gardener.

Every so often we go out with her friends from Vermont, or we go out with her friends from NH.  We've yet to ever make plans for my friends, despite the fact that my friends do different things than "get drunk, drive in a circle for hours, break something and be sexist."  My friends don't ask if I can bring my married friend so they can pretend they have a chance with her for five hours.

I'm bored, I spend my days wandering my house, moving little things around.  I swear this is how serial killers are born, that or the most boring people imaginable.  I used to have stories, things that I did that people found hard to believe. 

I climbed mountains, fought in battles, trained fighters, visited crazy and interesting places, traveled to places that few had ever seen.  I took six hour trips to see something.  My world was huge and filled with wonder and adventure...

... now my world is five rooms and a job where I stand in a box for hours. 

I haven't seen the night sky from the forest in months.  Nor the way water freezes in on a mountain river.  I've not seen a challenge beyond summoning up the energy to pick up my shoes.  The battle of my life rages on, but I'm no longer there, I'm somewhere else.

I feel I used to be so much more.

I have no memory of this place...

So, note to self: leave witty "testing a time machine" post before being gone for months. 

Note for the Note: not leaving one might lead people to think you're the Doctor.

But yes, all of my rambling aside, I've remembered to actually put things in here.  It's been a long couple of months, longer still if you're me.  So, without further ado...


T. L. Hart, the Return!

Ramblings no longer aside:  here's what's happened to me and mine in the past few months...

I moved to Vermont with the missus.  It's a hell of an adjustment.  I don't think it's possible to fully iterate that point.  It's a whole different culture, one that seems to be made up of country boys and chauvinists.  It has been frustrating, complicated, and annoying, to say the least.

I was hired by King Arthur Flour, a nice company.

I published The Iron Rose, and will probably publish the second part in the next few days.  Lots of other books have been written in place of this blog.

I was fired from King Arthur Flour... I was seasonal, and they fire 90% (not a made up number) of their seasonal staff.

I was hired to do BARS program testing, basically driving to places, and being yelled at.  It was not fun, but it helped write the Villain book.

I was hired by Vermed, to make things.

I was "let go" from Vermed, because they no longer required me to make things.

I was hired by King Arthur Flour, because they wanted me to come back for the busy season.

I am off this week from King Arthur Flour... because the busy season is coming to a close.

I've got some prospects for minor work here and there, but nothing big... I've had four jobs since my last blog... yeah, that happened.


Currently North Korea is threatening nuclear war, because apparently they forgot "no one likes you, and America literally invented nuclear warfare".

My friend Hannigan beat the system and has his son, and has henceforth earned the rank of "smart."

My laptop has fucktified itself... so my writing has taken a hit.

I've yet to forge a lasting friendship up here, and I spend many of my days in solitude.

But I did manage to find the painting that started it all... the painting that inspired me to write the Iron Rose... it's here.

The imagery of cats in it, sort of shaped my mind to Rose going from an forest girl, to a version of the race from a different book.  That girl on the far right, the one in the dress.  The young girl looking at the viewer like she knows something everyone does not, that she's somehow part of them, yet more.  She's not quite there, not quite what she's going to be, but you can see she's on her way. 

She has a shy, almost coy look about her, with a refined by somewhat wild look about her.  More than a girl, but not yet a woman.  It was what made me want to start Rose off at that age.

So, all it not lost, I'll soon have the next book out, and I'll have all manner of things to talk about in the coming months.

Awesome.