That Is Enough
Sometimes, I try to understand certain things on the internet. It's like trying to fit my brain inside a thimble. It just hurts.
Also, sometimes, video-games are just way awesome — especially the first hour.
For my birthday, I got Middle Earth: Shadow of Mordor. It. Was. EPIC. Literally: it began in the middle, there was travel through the underworld, there was intervention of the [gods], invocation of a sort of muse. It was the whole package.
Now I want to play a game about robots. A game about cyborgs maybe. I want there to be customizable equipment. Ever play Earthsiege? That's a long time ago. I miss it. Is that weird? I miss the game. I miss the game like somebody might miss a song or a sandwich.
As you progressed through the game (it's a long-gone, old game), you got different chassis onto which you could equip various weapons and auxiliary components. Early on, you'd want to use ballistic weapons, weapons with limited bullets, because it'd cause less damage to enemy HERCs (as the machines were called), and you could salvage more scrap. Later, when you were a machine-slaying badass, you could equip plasma weapons that would just obliterate HERCs.
I love customizing things. I hate the fake customization where customization is really just a list of items you have to buy as you level up: linear, compulsory, flavorless.
Earthsiege had a marvelous system for customization. The Borderlands series has some charming customizable flare.
Meh.
Sooooo...
Nevermind. I was going to talk about tea.
I don't really have much to say. I stay up too late. I often wake up too late. Strangely enough, I'm slowly becoming more productive.
I should just write my book and be done with it, but I'm stuck at what to do with the village that's been left behind. Jeremy has no idea what he's doing. Everybody else is kinda milling about, trying to slap some sort of rescue mission together. I guess they feel how I feel (although they feel it far more intensely): directionless, discouraged, fatalistic. Well, I feel directionless; they feel discouraged and fatalistic. It's a pretty good setting maybe? Apparently, there's some kind of traitor, but there's nothing anybody can really do about it at the moment. It's a clogged up mess. Werbel's stuck underneath the psychotic whims of Chirrratka. Allison has caught the attention of the librarian. I have no idea what the heck Alabaster is doing. Jesse! I haven't seen him since pretty much the beginning. Brind is turning bad, but I have no idea who's influencing him. He's been a bit of a crabby-pants, but I'm not sure who or what is going to turn him.
Bling, blang, boom. I don't know what to do with that lot.
More tea...
Technically, it's not tea. It's really just sugar-water, but I like it, so there. It's Wawa peach iced tea. The closest hint to peach in the ingredients is "natural flavor."
Not exactly convincing.
Here's to cancer-inducing sugar-water!
Ohhhh-merica.
I haven't written a poem in a long time. I should write a poem. I need a fresh prompt though. I need something...something...unique? Challenging? Lighthearted?
Cancer, cancer, stay away.
Come again another day.
If you want my cells this way,
At least don't do it through peach té.
A bit morbid maybe?
Rainbows, rainbows, stay today.
Send the skittles every way.
...
I had some great rhymes, but it probably would have offended somebody.
Just so you know, I think everybody is stupid. I'm stupid too – don't you worry – but I'm stupid in a far posher way, so that makes me less stupid. Hah! Logic. How you like them apples?
Sometimes, I use words that I don't understand so that I can sound more mnemonic.
Is plaid really all that bad,
Or should stripes be the types that we choose?
And you can't hardly afforduroy corduroy.
So what are you thoughts on polka dots?
I wonder what potassium sorbate does to my body.
It probably makes it a little bit shoddy.
The FDA's like all la-ti-doddy,
So were gonna die and get rotty.
I think they're getting better!
A meniscus is just like a discus –
Except a little bit wetter.
It's the curve in the top of the water...
I think they're getting worse.
I once wrote a pretty amazing poem about Megan while I was sitting right next to her. I also wrote a pretty amazing guitar song in a similar situation. Actually, I'm not so sure about the poem. I've written a lot for her, but I'm not sure which one was written just next to her. However, the guitar song is called Starfire! She walked down the wedding aisle to that song! To my song! I've never thought about it thoroughly, but I'm seriously proud of that! For some reason, it never struck me properly, but that's actually a really cool thing!
I probably shouldn't try to write a poem on my blog. I don't know how many/few people read it, but it still makes me feel put on the spot.
Maybe my brain is just mush. I haven't felt broodingly witty lately. I don't know if I ever have, but it sounded sexy.
DUDE! Have you ever been married? It's the worst! And the best! I once coined the phrase, "It's everything I could have dreamed and everything I could have dreaded." I stand by that.
However, more recently, I realized it's the worst because it brings my flaws to the surface, and it's the best because I'm still accepted and loved despite them.
UGH.
It's work, and I'm weak.
Moving on.
Who pleads on behalf of the healthy? The Make-a-Wish Foundation has done and continues to do some miraculous work. There are so many dreams out there that feel snuffed by sickness. I know one lady who got to Make a Wish. Paige now-Omartian got to record a CD of her music, her singing. She had, fought, and overcame cancer. Now, she does way too many useful things for me to summarize, but I especially want to mention that she's published a few books (totally jealous!). The Make-a-Wish Foundation made one of her wishes come true.
I harbor 0 resentment, but I do wonder if there's any organization out there that grants the wishes of medically healthy people with broken hearts. I had a broken heart once; it is the time during which I now refer to myself as Dark Nathan. I wonder if anyone speaks for those who have voices but too little heart for words.
The world is too big, and I am too small. But I want to serve. I don't need to be the title of some grand story, but I would like to play my part. I haven't felt especially useful lately. Utility is not the only good, however. Am I beautiful? I am clothed in Christ's beauty, and that is enough.
Also, sometimes, video-games are just way awesome — especially the first hour.
For my birthday, I got Middle Earth: Shadow of Mordor. It. Was. EPIC. Literally: it began in the middle, there was travel through the underworld, there was intervention of the [gods], invocation of a sort of muse. It was the whole package.
Now I want to play a game about robots. A game about cyborgs maybe. I want there to be customizable equipment. Ever play Earthsiege? That's a long time ago. I miss it. Is that weird? I miss the game. I miss the game like somebody might miss a song or a sandwich.
As you progressed through the game (it's a long-gone, old game), you got different chassis onto which you could equip various weapons and auxiliary components. Early on, you'd want to use ballistic weapons, weapons with limited bullets, because it'd cause less damage to enemy HERCs (as the machines were called), and you could salvage more scrap. Later, when you were a machine-slaying badass, you could equip plasma weapons that would just obliterate HERCs.
I love customizing things. I hate the fake customization where customization is really just a list of items you have to buy as you level up: linear, compulsory, flavorless.
Earthsiege had a marvelous system for customization. The Borderlands series has some charming customizable flare.
Meh.
Sooooo...
Nevermind. I was going to talk about tea.
I don't really have much to say. I stay up too late. I often wake up too late. Strangely enough, I'm slowly becoming more productive.
I should just write my book and be done with it, but I'm stuck at what to do with the village that's been left behind. Jeremy has no idea what he's doing. Everybody else is kinda milling about, trying to slap some sort of rescue mission together. I guess they feel how I feel (although they feel it far more intensely): directionless, discouraged, fatalistic. Well, I feel directionless; they feel discouraged and fatalistic. It's a pretty good setting maybe? Apparently, there's some kind of traitor, but there's nothing anybody can really do about it at the moment. It's a clogged up mess. Werbel's stuck underneath the psychotic whims of Chirrratka. Allison has caught the attention of the librarian. I have no idea what the heck Alabaster is doing. Jesse! I haven't seen him since pretty much the beginning. Brind is turning bad, but I have no idea who's influencing him. He's been a bit of a crabby-pants, but I'm not sure who or what is going to turn him.
Bling, blang, boom. I don't know what to do with that lot.
More tea...
Technically, it's not tea. It's really just sugar-water, but I like it, so there. It's Wawa peach iced tea. The closest hint to peach in the ingredients is "natural flavor."
Not exactly convincing.
Here's to cancer-inducing sugar-water!
Ohhhh-merica.
I haven't written a poem in a long time. I should write a poem. I need a fresh prompt though. I need something...something...unique? Challenging? Lighthearted?
Cancer, cancer, stay away.
Come again another day.
If you want my cells this way,
At least don't do it through peach té.
A bit morbid maybe?
Rainbows, rainbows, stay today.
Send the skittles every way.
...
I had some great rhymes, but it probably would have offended somebody.
Just so you know, I think everybody is stupid. I'm stupid too – don't you worry – but I'm stupid in a far posher way, so that makes me less stupid. Hah! Logic. How you like them apples?
Sometimes, I use words that I don't understand so that I can sound more mnemonic.
Is plaid really all that bad,
Or should stripes be the types that we choose?
And you can't hardly afforduroy corduroy.
So what are you thoughts on polka dots?
I wonder what potassium sorbate does to my body.
It probably makes it a little bit shoddy.
The FDA's like all la-ti-doddy,
So were gonna die and get rotty.
I think they're getting better!
A meniscus is just like a discus –
Except a little bit wetter.
It's the curve in the top of the water...
I think they're getting worse.
I once wrote a pretty amazing poem about Megan while I was sitting right next to her. I also wrote a pretty amazing guitar song in a similar situation. Actually, I'm not so sure about the poem. I've written a lot for her, but I'm not sure which one was written just next to her. However, the guitar song is called Starfire! She walked down the wedding aisle to that song! To my song! I've never thought about it thoroughly, but I'm seriously proud of that! For some reason, it never struck me properly, but that's actually a really cool thing!
I probably shouldn't try to write a poem on my blog. I don't know how many/few people read it, but it still makes me feel put on the spot.
Maybe my brain is just mush. I haven't felt broodingly witty lately. I don't know if I ever have, but it sounded sexy.
DUDE! Have you ever been married? It's the worst! And the best! I once coined the phrase, "It's everything I could have dreamed and everything I could have dreaded." I stand by that.
However, more recently, I realized it's the worst because it brings my flaws to the surface, and it's the best because I'm still accepted and loved despite them.
UGH.
It's work, and I'm weak.
Moving on.
Who pleads on behalf of the healthy? The Make-a-Wish Foundation has done and continues to do some miraculous work. There are so many dreams out there that feel snuffed by sickness. I know one lady who got to Make a Wish. Paige now-Omartian got to record a CD of her music, her singing. She had, fought, and overcame cancer. Now, she does way too many useful things for me to summarize, but I especially want to mention that she's published a few books (totally jealous!). The Make-a-Wish Foundation made one of her wishes come true.
I harbor 0 resentment, but I do wonder if there's any organization out there that grants the wishes of medically healthy people with broken hearts. I had a broken heart once; it is the time during which I now refer to myself as Dark Nathan. I wonder if anyone speaks for those who have voices but too little heart for words.
The world is too big, and I am too small. But I want to serve. I don't need to be the title of some grand story, but I would like to play my part. I haven't felt especially useful lately. Utility is not the only good, however. Am I beautiful? I am clothed in Christ's beauty, and that is enough.
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