Written By Sydney
Oct. 16, 2020, 5:50 a.m.(3/17/1014 AR)
Have I mentioned that I hold envy for those who can take the teachings of Death and find comfort in them?
I do not doubt that the wheel turns, and I do not doubt that a part of us all moves on. Perhaps it is fear and perhaps it is greed, but I see little solace in the notion that some future spin of 'me' will resemble me not at all, will remember me not at all, and will not know or feel as keenly what I know and feel now. I suppose it is what makes these writings so important.
Evidence that I existed.
Evidence that I thrashed and struggled, pissed and moaned, fiercely protected the things that were and are important to me, and I hope against hope that this turn is a long and fruitful one. For I do fear what comes after, in spite of it all.
I do not doubt that the wheel turns, and I do not doubt that a part of us all moves on. Perhaps it is fear and perhaps it is greed, but I see little solace in the notion that some future spin of 'me' will resemble me not at all, will remember me not at all, and will not know or feel as keenly what I know and feel now. I suppose it is what makes these writings so important.
Evidence that I existed.
Evidence that I thrashed and struggled, pissed and moaned, fiercely protected the things that were and are important to me, and I hope against hope that this turn is a long and fruitful one. For I do fear what comes after, in spite of it all.
Written By Sydney
Oct. 15, 2020, 7:03 a.m.(3/15/1014 AR)
There is joy in motion.
When I feel at my lowest, what helps bring me back to the center - without fail - is going to the Training Center (or even just outside my home), and going through some basic exercises. The mind needs an adversary, and if you don't give it one, it will create one. Quite frequently, it's capable of far worse things than armed foes or lashing out at shadows, so occupying it before it has the chance to do so is one of the wiser courses of action.
I've been doing what I can to use more of my body than my arms and fists, of late. Fundamentals are important, but so is the element of surprise. It may be seen as 'dirty fighting', but the amount of scraps I've gotten an edge on because I kicked up some dirt or sand when an opponent expected a fist speaks to the efficiency of the maneuver. A well-thrown boot to the soft bits or a strike to the nose with one's forehead is equally efficacious in keeping someone off of their balance, and thus off of their guard.
Certain acquaintances of mine have left the city or are laying low, and I find myself missing their presence. I enjoy rambling, and I enjoy the sound of my own words, but they take on a tinny and hollow quality when spoken to myself. There is no shame in leaning on something that makes you feel a success in times of turmoil.
Each turn of the wheel is too short not to thoroughly enjoy the one where you're inimitably yourself.
When I feel at my lowest, what helps bring me back to the center - without fail - is going to the Training Center (or even just outside my home), and going through some basic exercises. The mind needs an adversary, and if you don't give it one, it will create one. Quite frequently, it's capable of far worse things than armed foes or lashing out at shadows, so occupying it before it has the chance to do so is one of the wiser courses of action.
I've been doing what I can to use more of my body than my arms and fists, of late. Fundamentals are important, but so is the element of surprise. It may be seen as 'dirty fighting', but the amount of scraps I've gotten an edge on because I kicked up some dirt or sand when an opponent expected a fist speaks to the efficiency of the maneuver. A well-thrown boot to the soft bits or a strike to the nose with one's forehead is equally efficacious in keeping someone off of their balance, and thus off of their guard.
Certain acquaintances of mine have left the city or are laying low, and I find myself missing their presence. I enjoy rambling, and I enjoy the sound of my own words, but they take on a tinny and hollow quality when spoken to myself. There is no shame in leaning on something that makes you feel a success in times of turmoil.
Each turn of the wheel is too short not to thoroughly enjoy the one where you're inimitably yourself.
Written By Sydney
Oct. 10, 2020, 9 p.m.(3/6/1014 AR)
The Lowers feel quieter of late.
A place is never truly quiet. It's only ever made to feel that way when you can't see what's going on within it.
So it goes.
A place is never truly quiet. It's only ever made to feel that way when you can't see what's going on within it.
So it goes.
Written By Sydney
Oct. 7, 2020, 11:31 p.m.(2/28/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Tanith
I know you well enough by now not to imply that you'd ever be associated with something that crumbles when nibbled, tempting as the notion is.
Written By Sydney
Oct. 6, 2020, 7:20 p.m.(2/26/1014 AR)
<< The following journal appears to be written in comparative chicken-scratch to the author's normal handwriting. >>
No, the thing that's good about using your bare hands is that you don't have to sharpen them or oil them or grind them down or
It's good. It's more good than even a spear. You can't hide a spear don't try it
What if a badger stole your spear? You'd have no spear, and then you couldn't spear things or even worse you'd just have a stick if it stole the blade? head?
Lots of snow. Too much, probably. Really fluffy. Ruffy? Flurry? FLURRY.
<< Flurry is underlined many, many times. The paper is thin around where the accumulated ink was overly applied. >>
Setarcan. See tarcan. Sea tar can. Fire. Can fire. Fan sea. Fancy fire.
<< What follows is script that is far more legible. >>
Well. I suppose that's rather self-explanatory. I see no need to waste the parchment, so suffice to say that I've reached the pivotal moment in my life where I think penning in my journal while sloshed out of my mind is a good life decision.
There's some proper gold in there, though.
Fancy fire. Nice.
Just, uh, apparently avoid talking to me about badgers. And spears. Or both.
No, the thing that's good about using your bare hands is that you don't have to sharpen them or oil them or grind them down or
It's good. It's more good than even a spear. You can't hide a spear don't try it
What if a badger stole your spear? You'd have no spear, and then you couldn't spear things or even worse you'd just have a stick if it stole the blade? head?
Lots of snow. Too much, probably. Really fluffy. Ruffy? Flurry? FLURRY.
<< Flurry is underlined many, many times. The paper is thin around where the accumulated ink was overly applied. >>
Setarcan. See tarcan. Sea tar can. Fire. Can fire. Fan sea. Fancy fire.
<< What follows is script that is far more legible. >>
Well. I suppose that's rather self-explanatory. I see no need to waste the parchment, so suffice to say that I've reached the pivotal moment in my life where I think penning in my journal while sloshed out of my mind is a good life decision.
There's some proper gold in there, though.
Fancy fire. Nice.
Just, uh, apparently avoid talking to me about badgers. And spears. Or both.
Written By Sydney
Oct. 4, 2020, 7:39 p.m.(2/22/1014 AR)
The temptation to remain indoors for the entire winter is a tempting one, particularly now that I have the means to be able to do so. Alas, with that temptation comes the inevitable feeling of my body setting to rust. Losing mobility I once had out of comfort over necessity.
I have far too much yet to do to allow for such lapses. My body is my trade in a very real sense, after all.
I have far too much yet to do to allow for such lapses. My body is my trade in a very real sense, after all.
Written By Sydney
Oct. 2, 2020, 7:13 p.m.(2/18/1014 AR)
I do not intend to cut my hair until I am all but tripping over it.
And then I will cut it short enough not to trip over it for a few more months.
And then I will cut it short enough not to trip over it for a few more months.
Written By Sydney
Sept. 30, 2020, 9:42 a.m.(2/13/1014 AR)
I feel truly fortunate that whenever I find myself adrift, I have people in my life who keep me grounded.
Written By Sydney
Sept. 27, 2020, 4:35 p.m.(2/8/1014 AR)
I care not who or what is responsible for that damnable whirlpool abating, but the timing of its impact on the market could not be better. Making coin stretch even a little bit further in the winter months is invaluable for those in the Lowers.
Written By Sydney
Sept. 25, 2020, 11:57 a.m.(2/3/1014 AR)
Should the day come where I hold myself with half the self-importance of select portions of this city, please rub a copy of this journal in my face.
Written By Sydney
Sept. 22, 2020, 2:04 p.m.(1/26/1014 AR)
I'm hardly a tactician - especially when it comes to the heat of the moment. Dangle an objective in front of my nose, and I'll clamber over anything and everything to twist and wrench the solution in to the one that requires the least friction. Those that know even the first thing of who I am can guess what my initial gut reaction is when faced with adversity, and I'll not even bother to deny it. In my own defense:
Sometimes, there is no correct solution. Sometimes, the correct path forward is plowing straight ahead, leaping into the fray, and preventing the situation from getting worse. There is much to be said about catching an opponent off of their guard with something they weren't anticipating.
Too many times have I seen people lunge headlong into awful circumstances, so I can see the knee-jerk reaction that carefully considering an outcome is always the best approach - but I've also seen fights won before they could even start because one party acted so out of the ordinary that it defied everything that their opponent had prepared for.
Sometimes the surest way to win a high-stakes game of cards against a master player is a well-placed kick to the teeth.
Sometimes, there is no correct solution. Sometimes, the correct path forward is plowing straight ahead, leaping into the fray, and preventing the situation from getting worse. There is much to be said about catching an opponent off of their guard with something they weren't anticipating.
Too many times have I seen people lunge headlong into awful circumstances, so I can see the knee-jerk reaction that carefully considering an outcome is always the best approach - but I've also seen fights won before they could even start because one party acted so out of the ordinary that it defied everything that their opponent had prepared for.
Sometimes the surest way to win a high-stakes game of cards against a master player is a well-placed kick to the teeth.
Written By Sydney
Sept. 17, 2020, 1:53 a.m.(1/15/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Bree
It is most assuredly not.
But we are all of us beholden to exceptions in our arithmetic for those we care for.
But we are all of us beholden to exceptions in our arithmetic for those we care for.
Written By Sydney
Sept. 16, 2020, 6:17 p.m.(1/14/1014 AR)
My mind drifts often to poetry in these winter evenings. I'm certainly not the type to try my hand at it unless I've been suitably inspired or have been drinking heavily and therefore am suffering a considerable lapse of judgement, but it holds meaning to me. I've been reading more of it, trying to linger on each poem, and ruminating on what each one might mean.
What was the author thinking? What were the yearnings or fancies in their heart that made them put pen to paper and scribe dream to Dream, for some or none to read? Too often, I find I'm not able to decipher the 'meaning behind the meaning' that others purport to see, but there's beauty in something that can be looked at by many and seen identically by none.
How does it even work? I understand those that have a rhyming cadence, but these seem to be regarded scornfully or somehow lesser to the poetry that is merely sloshed about the page.
Who is to say
where poems begin
and where they
end --
When the rules
if there are such
aren't writ in stone
but float through
the sky
Is this poetry? Is it just a sentence that has been stretched and carried wastefully across parchment? I confess, I do not know the difference.
I find it thoroughly maddening.
And captivating.
But also maddening.
What was the author thinking? What were the yearnings or fancies in their heart that made them put pen to paper and scribe dream to Dream, for some or none to read? Too often, I find I'm not able to decipher the 'meaning behind the meaning' that others purport to see, but there's beauty in something that can be looked at by many and seen identically by none.
How does it even work? I understand those that have a rhyming cadence, but these seem to be regarded scornfully or somehow lesser to the poetry that is merely sloshed about the page.
Who is to say
where poems begin
and where they
end --
When the rules
if there are such
aren't writ in stone
but float through
the sky
Is this poetry? Is it just a sentence that has been stretched and carried wastefully across parchment? I confess, I do not know the difference.
I find it thoroughly maddening.
And captivating.
But also maddening.
Written By Sydney
Sept. 15, 2020, 1:15 a.m.(1/11/1014 AR)
There are few pains fiercer than the self-inflicted.
I can stand in a ring and go toe-to-toe with someone and hardly bat an eyelash until I'm kissing dust, but getting a splinter underneath my toe nail made me howl. Haven't done that in a spell. I hope it doesn't fester.
I can stand in a ring and go toe-to-toe with someone and hardly bat an eyelash until I'm kissing dust, but getting a splinter underneath my toe nail made me howl. Haven't done that in a spell. I hope it doesn't fester.
Written By Sydney
Sept. 10, 2020, 3:59 a.m.(1/1/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Gabriella
An immutable desire to change the world.
The knife cuts both ways.
The knife cuts both ways.
Written By Sydney
Sept. 10, 2020, 3:57 a.m.(1/1/1014 AR)
Relationship Note on Svana
You would hardly be the first nor will you be the last to take to the Whites in a fit of passion.
While it's more convenient to submit these writings as black, there are few among us who hasn't transcribed their feelings to paper and then had them delivered in their rawest form.
I had some especially choice words to say about my first employer. I'm thrilled that I was so insignificant at the time that word never got back to him about it - or if it did, he was gracious enough never to bring it up to me.
We learn our measure by our mistakes. Regret them, but do dwell overlong.
While it's more convenient to submit these writings as black, there are few among us who hasn't transcribed their feelings to paper and then had them delivered in their rawest form.
I had some especially choice words to say about my first employer. I'm thrilled that I was so insignificant at the time that word never got back to him about it - or if it did, he was gracious enough never to bring it up to me.
We learn our measure by our mistakes. Regret them, but do dwell overlong.
Written By Sydney
Sept. 9, 2020, 10:37 a.m.(12/27/1013 AR)
Now that it is nearly behind me, I can say rather definitively:
1013, for all of the opportunities it brought me, was a rubbish year for my personal life. I need to narrow down my focuses for 1014, else I shall likely be writing this same sentiment for the year to come. I'm grateful for the friends that I've made for helping me to get through the worst of things, but 1013 shall go on record for me as a year not forgotten, but certainly not to be dwelled upon.
May I retain the lessons more than the failures.
1013, for all of the opportunities it brought me, was a rubbish year for my personal life. I need to narrow down my focuses for 1014, else I shall likely be writing this same sentiment for the year to come. I'm grateful for the friends that I've made for helping me to get through the worst of things, but 1013 shall go on record for me as a year not forgotten, but certainly not to be dwelled upon.
May I retain the lessons more than the failures.
Written By Sydney
Sept. 6, 2020, 1:41 p.m.(12/22/1013 AR)
When one develops a skill, it's almost always out of necessity or desire. Few things are half as dispiriting as when that skill begins to rust, whether through disuse or circumstances beyond one's control.
It's easy to wonder why one wasted their time, why one even bothered, why one poured so much of oneself into something that has no practical application save for their own enjoyment and self-satisfaction.
There are few things as valuable as a moment of validation for those efforts. Whether it's a kind word from someone whose opinion one holds dear, or a moment of clarity when one realizes that what they discounted as a worthless pursuit has become one of the key pieces that make up the core of who they are, and any removal of any experience valued or no makes up a part of who one is.
Or when you punch someone so hard that their ancestors feel it.
It's easy to wonder why one wasted their time, why one even bothered, why one poured so much of oneself into something that has no practical application save for their own enjoyment and self-satisfaction.
There are few things as valuable as a moment of validation for those efforts. Whether it's a kind word from someone whose opinion one holds dear, or a moment of clarity when one realizes that what they discounted as a worthless pursuit has become one of the key pieces that make up the core of who they are, and any removal of any experience valued or no makes up a part of who one is.
Or when you punch someone so hard that their ancestors feel it.
Written By Sydney
Sept. 3, 2020, 9:30 p.m.(12/16/1013 AR)
Some days are drearier than others. I can't put it into words, but something feels off in the air today, and I'm pleased to just sit at home and sip some whiskey rather than go off on any grand, sweeping adventures or do anything more than cook a meal for a woman I care about and hope that she enjoys it.
I suspect she shall, and that is a dreary day well spent.
I suspect she shall, and that is a dreary day well spent.
Written By Sydney
Aug. 31, 2020, 5:45 p.m.(12/10/1013 AR)
I've yet to read anything on the matter, so I suppose I'll be the first to admit it.
I hate you, earthquake. You knocked over two nearly-full bottles of the good shit.
Come /on/.
(Also, uh. Earthquakes and a whirlpool. Somehow I can't imagine they play nicely together.)
I hate you, earthquake. You knocked over two nearly-full bottles of the good shit.
Come /on/.
(Also, uh. Earthquakes and a whirlpool. Somehow I can't imagine they play nicely together.)
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.