Magic

Watch closely now, I can make your life pass before your eyes. On the count of reality...

It occured to me today, an effect that consumerism has had on people. This is probably old news to some, but it may be worth the read to others.

In a world where everything is fake, every toy you buy is plastic and made by someone else, probably not lasting more then a few weeks before it's old and garbage.
In a world where everyone is fake, with people trying to be exactly who they're not.

Boys trying to be men, strong, attractive, like a peacock, strutting around with it's tail in the air. Except the tail is an ignorant attitude towards women (or men), and a general air of self satisfaction. They do it because it's what the television, mainly commercials, tells them to.

Girls trying to grow up and be hot, be the one who gets all the guys, be the one who drinks (and has people buy her drinks) and parties all the time while still striving for the plastic, fake hollywood look.

Alcohol being consumed in vast amounts simply because it's easy. It takes you out of reality for a while. A few hours of sweet ignorance in which nothing really matters, and it's all a little surreal.

"I'm not like that!" I hear you cry. Chances are you're almost as fake. I know I am.

Many of us live in a world of computer games, unreal worlds that exist only because people have created them to do so. We spend hours staring at a screen, sitting almost completely still, just as I'm doing now, writing this.

Ask yourself, when was the last time you went for a walk for no reason? Not to get fit, or to meet people, just for the joy of walking?

We've replaced our world with a fake one, a world created out of a twisted, greedy minds full of makeup and body spray that can make you 100% more attractive. Full of monitors and keyboards, television screens and chairs that you spend hours in, just letting your mind melt.

People are at an all time low when it comes to personal happiness and fullfillment. Why? Because true fullfillment isn't found in a computer, or a television program. It's found in our contact with nature.

I'm a hypocrit for typing this. I live my life in a world created by someone else, but there is still time to change.

One day perhaps everyone understands.
One day perhaps we see the error of our ways.
One day, when death catches up to you, and you look back on your life, will you see something you're proud of? Or will you see that you were too busy escaping from life to live it?

One...
Two...
Reality.

Writing

Reading is one of my favorite passtimes, and just recently I decided to have a go at writing. Now I'm not sure how other people write, but I have to assume that most people have an idea of what's going to happen next.

I think it's more fun to not know.

Obviously you need some idea of what events are going to happen, but page to page, I think it's a whole lot more fun to not know exactly what's going to happen. It makes it far more interesting and gives you a reason to write more.

Some might argue that you shouldn't need to have a reason to write more, but sometimes it's hard to bring out what you're thinking, and this provides some motivation.

This method also helps you get more in contact with the characters, since you don't know what's about to happen, you have to make the characters react as they would. It's a bit of a challenge that way, but something fun to try.

Every Story Has A Beginning

Citelia is a city. There is no denying this. It has a keep, a palace, outer and inner walls and throngs of buildings in between. It has a big double gate, always guarded, and soldiers patrolling throughout. People who saw the city for the first time usually said things like:

“Now that’s what a city should be!”

“You see the size of it?”

“Please stop treading on my toe.”

“A masterpiece of modern thingy.”

There was only one problem: Citelia didn’t like being a city.

Perhaps I should explain. When the site for Citelia was being chosen, there had been a disagreement between builders and designers. The builders had wanted a nice simple site, something in the mountains, maybe by the sea. You know; a respectable place for a city.

The designers would have none of it.

They were the dreamy type of people who could usually be found curled up under a tree reading about someone who spent his time going by trails in forests that hadn’t been properly cobbled and that not many others would go due to the high volume of Gnats, Mosquitoes and Mosquats¹. In short, they were a bunch of hopeless romantics. They insisted that the city be built in a more romantic place, the center of an enchanted forest.

The argument had raged for days until finally the builders agreed that they would build the city there as long as the designers would promise not to sing anymore songs about how great and romantic it was going to be.

The problem with cutting down a solid percentage of an enchanted forest to build a city is that a whole lot of leftover magic with no idea what the hell to do with itself is hanging around. It built up in the construction site, and when the last brick was laid, a consciousness appeared in the city.

For a moment, let’s assume that reincarnation is what happens after we die. Now try to imagine this: You’ve just finished up a fun life as a mosquat, having bitten many of those artistic jerks on their path less traveled by, and you reincarnate to find yourself a massive stone construction, unable to move or do anything about all the weird creatures wandering all over you. It would be the equivalent of waking up and discovering some of the more naughty biological orifices have suddenly become anthills.

This would make any sentient creature with orifices² permanently uncomfortable and moody as it did Citelia, so Citelia would occasionally crumble this, crack that or drop a few of those in a half-hearted attempt to get the creatures to stop living there. They didn’t of course, it just added to the spice of life.

This story, contrary to what the introduction may have implied is not about this city. It does however explain something very important that is about to happen to a certain unlucky thief, plying his trade in the midst of a dark, moonlit night...

1 Think Muscrat that buzzes, flies, and has a rampant thirst for blood.

2 There are two specific species without orifices, neither are very happy with their lot anyways.

Begin

Imagine complete nothingness.
A darkness so dark it makes pitch black seem like midday in the middle of the desert.

Now picture a massive sphere of water, gorgeous blue, starting off somewhat light, but getting darker and darker the closer to the center you get. In some places, waves swirl around the outside of the sphere, creating crashing, violent waters; while in others, absolute peace and calm resides.

Fish live in these waters, strange fish of all different sizes and colors, some bright, displaying all the brilliant colors imaginable (and some that aren't), while others are plain, sinking into the background of the waters. Some speed by with incredible intensity, shooting through the waves at breakneck speeds, exploding out of the surface in a fantastic display of agility. Others prefer to glide gently along, not bothering about impressing but instead choosing to remain safely anonymous. Many travel in schools, depending upon each other to create a sense of one being instead of many, while others choose the solo route, carefree and happy to just play in the waters.

These are the idea fish.

They live in the spherical ocean that is my mind.

Perhaps it is best to stay on the surface, look at all the beautiful fish.
Perhaps it is best to stay away from the center, where everything gets dark, and the unknown abounds.
Perhaps it is best to let you choose.

Swim as you will.