Press Start

Dear Blog,

I have no idea how to vlog. I've watched videos on the subject, read articles for tips, and even purchased some neat cameras for the task at hand. But I still don't know what I'm doing. Every time I start, I give up fifteen minutes later because nothing seems right. I feel off when I record my vlogs. So what do I need to do? Wait to be in Woods House, where I'm motivated by my job? Do I need to seek out a friend to vlog to, Vlogbrothers style? I know you don't have any answers, Blog, but it's a tad frustrating. I like the idea, and I feel like I would be good at it. But I fail. Not an epic fail, but I'm not getting anywhere.

In high school, I was in a television journalism class. And in class, I feel like I did a fine job with the broadcasts that I made. Vlogging, in a sense, is that class. So why can't I start something? Blah, this is a tad frustrating.

On a more playful note, I've been trying to play Star Wars Galaxies a bit before the servers go offline at the end of the year. I'm looking forward to The Old Republic a great deal, but I have fond memories of SWG. I'm installing the game on my laptop again. It seems like my character is intact. My possessions aren't as stable, though. I doubt I'll be able to do much in the economy. I won't complete any quests. About all I will do is grab a land speeder and seek out all the Star Wars landmarks in the game. Perhaps I could grab some screenshots for you (no promises, though). It'll be like a mini-vacation before school starts. Unless there is heavy combat. I don't think I could survive that. I'm just a Level 90 Master Droid Engineer. Or at least I was. I might labeled as a Trader now. I recall the ability to build Battle Droids now, too. Who knows what awaits Adnil Nedlog in the Chilastra Galaxy (if it still exists).

Even if I ultimately play for only a day, at least I get to fly in space again.

Until next time!

-Daniel Golden

Lady of Time

Dear Blog,

Here is a poem.

"Lady of Time"
by Daniel Golden

Dear Lady of Time:
Do you hear the bells chime?

Wait? What? No bells?
Milady, that only tells
Me that you’re sound
Of mind, and grounded
To the reality to surrounds
You and your crown
Of pretty sea shells.

Crown of what-the-heck?
Hold on, just a sec
As I reread my latest blunder
Which occurs only whilst the thunder
Rolls on over and under,
Filling the air with the wonder
Of lethal nature as we stand on the flight deck.

I did it again, milady;
Making my words very odd and shady.
I just want to convey
That we could someday
Log on and start to play
Games that feature an array
Of weapons to kill that Level 20 Nazi zombie.

You take notes with a smile so bright,
That it’s near blinding to my subpar sight.
And I wear The One Ring to impress
My geeky independence
To you in hopes that you’ll address
Some feelings to profess
To the nerd behind you who could be your Jedi Knight.

So, Lady of Time, before you walk through the doors:
Allow me the honor to escort you to a showing of Star Wars?

Photo Credit

It's a little odd, definitely awkward. But genuine, right? I like it, although I'm not sure you will, Blog.
Maybe I can expand on this one? I'm not sure if it even works to begin with, though. Oh well, it's an older poem to start off, and the slight edits I just made before posting here might be all I can do when it comes down to it.

Until next time!
-Daniel Golden

Darkness and War

Dear Blog,

The dark. It's been a long while since I've been scared of it. I don't fear monsters in my closest or aliens outside my window. Bumps in the night are usually residence hall neighbors, or just the protests of an old building bombarded with each year's changes. The quiet air is calming after a long day of loud bass and the lively laughing of tenants. When my ceiling light switches off and the numerous screens in my room power down, only the glow of street lamps flow onto my bed. The moon, nearly full these past few days, aids in illuminating the floor as I pace.

I pace in the dark. I lay in the dark. I rock back and forth in the dark. All until the sun wakes up and my body can no longer resist the need for sleep. It's not on purpose. Perhaps my sleep schedule is off? Maybe I drink too much caffeine during the day? No matter the cause, I feel I fear the nights I spend in my room on my own. Not a fear for my life, nor a fear for my health. A fear for my sanity, in some small regard, maybe.

My body must know of the dreams I have in the midst of night. Chaos and confusion, submission, loss of hope, misguided actions, loss of direction. A fading path leading away from who I want to me and into a boy I dare not aspire to be. My body wants me to avoid the chance for another nightmare. Evade another scenario to be played right behind my consciousness. Aware, but trapped by my mind's film. An unwilling actor in unlikely events. An unwilling actor in sad roles. Lured by the promise of heroics, crushed by the time credits roll. Betrayed by my mind's villains. I applaud the efforts I unknowingly take to remind myself why I stare out into the world from time to time. I try to forget, but that's not an option now, is it?

I need to acknowledge my thoughts, I know. I need to know what I dread. But I wish to sleep now. Spare me the violence and disappointment on my depressed dreamworld, my dearest mind. The dark should be a relief. The end of another day. I want to relish in the completion of it. Another day I survived on this Earth. Not another day to worry. I don't want to be conditioned to fear the night, to live the day whilst preparing for a long night. Let me move on. I can tackle the real terror. But not at night. Not in the dark on my room. Alone, yes. But wait until the light shines my field of vision. Grant me that luxury, sweet mind of mine. Give me a chance.

I like to think of myself as a good man. A decent man. Someone who is patient, playful, and posed in an image of my true self. A good man. And in the coming weeks, this good man will go to war. Because I will win the battle. I will conquer my demon and I will stand tall. But I have to wait until the morning. I have to wake for a better day. A brighter day. Not in this night, not in this darkness. I can do it if I must. But I shouldn't. I didn't pick my adversary, but I should be able to pick the time of conflict. So permit me each night's rest, body and mind, and let me plan for war another time on another day.

Until next time,
-Daniel Golden

The Island of Misfit Toys

Dear Blog,

It’s been nearly a month since I last wrote to you. Though it may seem like I haven’t had anything to write about, quite the opposite is the truth. A month ago, my biggest concern was reading, which I’m happy to report has actually come to a mild sort of fruition. I finished “Prisoner of the Daleks” a few days ago, in addition to the TARDIS Handbook. I enjoyed both of them immensely. My sister drove down here to Springfield from home to drop off the Harry Potter series for me to read again. I feel like familiar material will help fuel my desire to read. Plus, the Harry Potter series is a lot of fun to read. I doubt I’ll finish before seeing the final film, but it will still be fun.

I haven’t written anything (more on that in a minute). But since Netflix now has the rights to Star Trek, I’ve begun to watch The Original Series from the start. I currently count two episodes featuring Kirk doubled, and another two episodes with women who are not as they appear to be (three of both instances if you count “The Cage”; but she had no control over her appearance and the second Kirk didn’t perform any sort of malice in that pilot episode). Very good stories, so far. I’m glad I’ve got this opportunity.

I broke up with my girlfriend, too. In no means fun like reading Doctor Who or watching Star Trek, but an event that’s happened, nonetheless.

In a very brief (and hardly comprehensive) recap:
-I was having doubts in regards to the relationship. I couldn’t place if the doubts were due the nearly month long separation between the spring semester and the summer semester when she’d return, or they were vested my changing feelings for her.
-During that month, I talked to a lot of my friends, trying to gain more viewpoints. Unfortunately, lot of them said I should just end it. Upon hearing that, Blog, I was a bit agitated. So did that mean I should still date her if I felt like that? I felt something. But I couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
-I talked to her about my feelings when she got back and not wanting to just give up hope, opted to continue our previously planned trip to her house for Six Flags/her Taekwondo Black Belt Test/her brother’s birthday. I had hoped that the following couple of weeks, plus the extended weekend trip would rekindle something inside of me. A spark to light a flame, perhaps. I didn’t want to give up. I wanted to try. So I did.
-The weekend was a lot of fun. Driving to and fro from Springfield and St. Louis was fun. Nice conversations and Veggie Tale songs. We had a great time at Six Flags (only minor sunburn on her head). She passed her Black Belt Test with flying colors (the best candidate testing from what I saw). And her brother’s celebrations were nice. I bought him a replica Harry Potter wand (and miniature wands for her other siblings). I enjoyed spending time with her and her family (and her siblings enjoyed my Kinect).
-But all in all, I didn’t feel like a flame was ignited. During the weekend, I was honest with her. I did things on my own free will. She didn’t trick me, guilt me, or anything. I held her on occasion, and I kissed her. I love her; don’t get me wrong, Blog. She is near and dear to me. The chance for long, worthwhile conversations and playful teasing is still there. And common interests prevalent. But for now, it seemed my feelings had shifted from romance to friendship. A great friendship, mind you. But dating her didn’t fit with me very well.
-So after many tears, we broke up. And soon after that, we played co-op on Portal 2 and had a good time solving puzzles. We aren’t the greatest Portal 2 team, but we get to the finish line eventually.

So that’s how it stands. We’re best friends. A bit awkward, it’s true. What to say, what not to say, physical boundaries and the like. But that will iron out over time. I’m still there for her if she needs someone. And she’s someone I can run to if I need it.

On that note, of needing someone, Blog, let me apologize to you. As I mentioned earlier, I haven’t been writing. In fact, aside from text messages and the occasional Facebook chat, I rarely write anything. So here I am, out of practice, writing a ton of stuff to you. In a sense, without you, Blog, I probably would be staring out my window right now until my eyes couldn’t stay open.

I say that, because for the past few weeks, leading up to a couple of days ago, I was not motivated to do anything. I’d essentially lost all interest in the world around me. I couldn’t find pleasure in nearly all the things that bring me pleasure. Be it Doctor Who, Star Wars or Star Trek, video games, anything. When I was around other people, I giggled at the thought I being able to watch Star Trek via Netflix and laughed at the Doctor Who remarks. But in my room alone, I lacked the drive to watch Netflix. I couldn't bring myself to turn on my Xbox 360 or TV. I couldn’t be productive in any sense. I was, for most intents and purposes, anhedonic.

In addition to the apparent anhedonia I experienced, I slept for the better part of the week. My room lay unkempt for days. It was easy to shrug it off and claim it as my right as a college male. But looking back on it now, this wasn’t me. I strove to have a clean room while I was in college. I made my bed each day, recycled whenever possible, and woke up easily each day. My aim was not to be like the two roommates I had my first two years in college. But from the start of this spring semester, I slowly lost my touch. My Woods House room had things piled on the floor constantly. My bed was rarely made. I struggled to wake up each morning. And the summer semester had not been kind. With an online class, I rarely need to wake up in the morning, so I usually got out of bed by one in the afternoon.

I know what this pointed to. I was depressed. Not down in the dumps for a bit. But depressed. Heck, I still am. But now I know I am. And I’m sure I know why. It’s not easy to say, but my past relationship led to this. I don’t like pointing blame. It’s not what I do. But the abuse simply haunts me even now. I can’t ignore the impact it’s made. Doing that would be unwise. It’s a reality, however unpleasant.

It’s hard to wake up knowing what happened. To realize each day that it could happen to me again and I might not even notice it. I feel like my whole being was compromised because of that relationship. Weak when compared to the rest of the world. Who I am, what I do, how I act, how I think. I thought I was in the clear for life, that this was the person I wanted to be. But I was betrayed. Turned against myself, all because I was manipulated by her. I doubted myself. I still do. Was I wrong? Defective? She said I was. It’s hard to undo something like that in my mind, even after the break-up. I feel disconnected to the world now. A split-second apart from the universe. Out of phase, so to speak. The world is tangible but beyond my grasp. Bethany helped me along, to get me feeling like myself again. Immersing myself in the world of Doctor Who for a bit, being a big kid. But to lean on her would be wrong, especially when I my feelings shifted. Nikki has always been there, too. An anchor through turbulent storms. Allowing me to do whatever I want. Virtually care-free is I’d like to be. But to lean on anyone too long would be unhealthy. I need to rectify this on my own. I didn’t cause the damage. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. I am not defective. But I still have a broken soul to patch up. A soul that needs better protection for the coming future. A soul that will find its way back to the rest of the universe over time.

Blog, I’m not all right. Nor am I entirely bad. I will be better in the future. For now, I'm in a state of repair. A work in progress. I will be able to look at my reflection one day and not feel like a broken toy. But in the meantime, I will sit on the Island of Misfit Toys and I will tend to my wounds. Some will be easier to fix, others will leave scars. But I will work at it. I will mend them. I won’t hide them. The end product will feature a stronger version of myself. But I still need to work at it. Patchwork progress and patience. One step at a time.

Until next time,
-Daniel Golden