I have decided that I need to be more organized. Yeah right! I don't know how yet, but I'm gonna try to get some stories up for the Rabbit-hole stories. I have some ideas I've been batting around, for instance a tale about a people that time left behind, and a story about an invention of my own the BoKhutswane; their sort of like African Hobbits, only smaller and.... um... different (?) I guess (???).
But tonight the topic is:TOPICS!!!
Yeah, that was anti climactic.
If I am going to rave and rant and spit my opinion onto the internet (which I know a LOT of people wont be happy about), I am going to need a repertoire of topics to talk about. I'd kinda like to bear away from grabbing topics out of a hat, but if that's what it takes than fine.
I'll probably have to talk with some people about what would make good posting material, especially since I'm fairly new at this whole nonfiction thing. I'd like to share with people, but there comes a point where the stuff someone types gets dull... and no one ever reads it. I believe that I have successfully made it to that point.
That's all I've got for now so, ta!
Tuesday, 23 July 2013
Friday, 19 July 2013
Narrow Wind. A short story.
Snow flakes fell on the breath of a late November wind, the sky over head was grey, and the ground folded in a cold white blanket. But that was not what gave the wind its chill. Nor was it the forest of stones that he stood amid, each slab standing in its' row. The wind brushed against the folds of his trench coat, which he pulled no tighter about him and from beneath the shadow of his fedora, the man's blue eyes stared fixedly. Though there were many erect stones in the yard, there was only one that bore any significance more than any other rock. And as the man stared, a tear ran from his eye which he did not even think to remove. He'd stood there for hours, and would stand there yet for hours, because he craved just one minute more.
Sun set.
It's sun set right now, and the dust is starting to settle after another long day in Ghanzi. The sky is fading into the pastel colors that happen right as the sun passes over the horizon. The street lights are turning on and I'm sitting on the front porch. Buster, is laying down in his burrow hoping I'll take him on a walk.
For the past week or so, I've not done anything much but try to learn some calligraphy, and read some of the stuff on Facebook. I don't know what's up, but I feel grey in my mind; Simply uncreative, and I don't know why.
It's most likely that my parents told me that they could tell when I wasn't taking my meds. I don't want to go into specifics, but honestly; I never that I would have a daily medication before I was even 25.
The sky is becoming more golden now, darkening into a deep orange at the horizon, and the trees cast they're shadowy silhouettes.
My dad expressed a similar emotion about his thyroid medication. This will pass I guess, but I thought for sure that I might simply be... Well— normal. Clearly not. Not only am I not normal, but I am a unique case. So there goes my chandelier of fitting in at collage (that is; assuming I actually get there).
If I sound discouraged, that's because I feel it. As graduation ebbs nearer and nearer, I just wonder how I'm going to do it. That is with out a nervous break down. My vacation has been a blast, but if it weren't for my brothers being home, I would have worked through it. I am just ready to be done.
I'm gonna go for a walk now. I'll try to write some more later.
Friday, 12 July 2013
*CRASH* ... Sorry, I tripped.
Yesterday my family took a trip to Maun (said Mow-oon), which is the next city north of Ghanzi. The Okavango Delta touches... no more like entangles the city. Maun has one of the country's two international national airports and is my favorite vacation spot.
We went there because of a money transfer that was just easier to take care of in person. The sun had not yet risen when we left and consequently, was in my eyes for the first hour-and-a-half. I spent most of that time listening to music; Matt, Josh and Becca watched Phineas and Ferb; and I'm honestly not sure what Kathy was doing. When the sun had gone up far enough that I could see we were somewhere near Sahithwa.
The climate, that part that is visually apparent, was as different as Ghanzi is from Windhoek. The ground was absolutely bare, with the exception of the trees that grew, not quite thick enough to be called a forest, but not thin enough to be called The Bush. The sand was (if it was sand) was greyer than that which we have in Ghanzi, about the shade of grey the elephants find fashionable, and seemed to also be dustier than ours. The trees of the same sort in Ghanzi which are rather diminutive, there were quite formidable. Those trees in question being those of the acacia and similar varieties. despite the lack of grazing material, there were a lot of really really fat cattle, and that was as amazing to me as the grammatical structure of Black Speech.
As we approached Toteng, I prayed vehemently that the bridge hadn't washed out. "But Chris, it's dry season." Right, like the fact is gonna stop the river. As we came upon the bridge, I could see that the water was lower than it had been the last time we'd gone there, but even so, it lapped up against the tops of the hydro-channels. We got across with minimal difficulty, and proceeded on to Maun.
Upon our arrival, much to my surprise, we drove past the bank that we needed to go to. I was just about to ask why when Matt did. That's just one of those funny things about living in a large family, if you take too long in wondering about something, chances are someone else will notice too and ask first, if you're not quite quick enough. By the time he had finished his long winded, and serial interrupted interrogative tangent, we had already driven and nearly parked in front of the answer. We were in front of Eshinee's house.
We went in and and visited for a while. The house they (her and her husband) live in would've been comfortable for two, cozy for four; but for all seven of us... let's just say we were a (little) bit cramped. My mom and dad talked with her, a diversion that would allow for us to use the toilet (Bathroom to you Americans). She inquired as to what were doing in Maun and when my dad had told her, she asked if she could come along.
So with that, we waited for josh to get out of the bathroom, and then we were off. The our destination was less then ten minutes from her house, it was the mall near the Maun air port. As per the plan that we formulated on the way there, Kat went with Eshinee, mom, Josh, Becca and I went to the gift shop.
I don't know the name of the shop, and in all likeliness I probably never will. But it is one of the coolest places in all of Botswana-- that is if you are in to trinkets and random souvenirs that have no practical use for every day life. Between their supply of copper jewelry and incense related items, from time to time, they do actually manage to have some thing interesting. I was particularly drawn to a certain walking stick which was extremely intricately carved (for the craft of a Tswana) when Josh dirrected me to a brightly colored glass object that he could not identify. I chuckled. I knew from the hose that was attached what it was, but I really didn't want to tell him. Then mom came she looked like she was ready to leave, but when Josh asked her, she asked me. So I told them that it was called a hookah, and explained it to them. Josh looked thoroughly intrigued, a fact that causes me to worry.
After we left, we decided to have lunch."... and what better place to have lunch," Eshinee said a little too enthusiastically, "than Hilary's!" We did end up going there, and it was probably the best food I've ever tasted (sorry mom).
After we'd finished eating, our conversation drifted from banks to mental disorders, from earthen wear to noses; until we settled on the ever-so pleasant topic of major dental surgery. Upon which I was thoroughly amused, and it was after much slap-happiness that we had to go most unfortunately. A quick end to a good day it was.
We went there because of a money transfer that was just easier to take care of in person. The sun had not yet risen when we left and consequently, was in my eyes for the first hour-and-a-half. I spent most of that time listening to music; Matt, Josh and Becca watched Phineas and Ferb; and I'm honestly not sure what Kathy was doing. When the sun had gone up far enough that I could see we were somewhere near Sahithwa.
The climate, that part that is visually apparent, was as different as Ghanzi is from Windhoek. The ground was absolutely bare, with the exception of the trees that grew, not quite thick enough to be called a forest, but not thin enough to be called The Bush. The sand was (if it was sand) was greyer than that which we have in Ghanzi, about the shade of grey the elephants find fashionable, and seemed to also be dustier than ours. The trees of the same sort in Ghanzi which are rather diminutive, there were quite formidable. Those trees in question being those of the acacia and similar varieties. despite the lack of grazing material, there were a lot of really really fat cattle, and that was as amazing to me as the grammatical structure of Black Speech.
As we approached Toteng, I prayed vehemently that the bridge hadn't washed out. "But Chris, it's dry season." Right, like the fact is gonna stop the river. As we came upon the bridge, I could see that the water was lower than it had been the last time we'd gone there, but even so, it lapped up against the tops of the hydro-channels. We got across with minimal difficulty, and proceeded on to Maun.
Upon our arrival, much to my surprise, we drove past the bank that we needed to go to. I was just about to ask why when Matt did. That's just one of those funny things about living in a large family, if you take too long in wondering about something, chances are someone else will notice too and ask first, if you're not quite quick enough. By the time he had finished his long winded, and serial interrupted interrogative tangent, we had already driven and nearly parked in front of the answer. We were in front of Eshinee's house.
We went in and and visited for a while. The house they (her and her husband) live in would've been comfortable for two, cozy for four; but for all seven of us... let's just say we were a (little) bit cramped. My mom and dad talked with her, a diversion that would allow for us to use the toilet (Bathroom to you Americans). She inquired as to what were doing in Maun and when my dad had told her, she asked if she could come along.
So with that, we waited for josh to get out of the bathroom, and then we were off. The our destination was less then ten minutes from her house, it was the mall near the Maun air port. As per the plan that we formulated on the way there, Kat went with Eshinee, mom, Josh, Becca and I went to the gift shop.
I don't know the name of the shop, and in all likeliness I probably never will. But it is one of the coolest places in all of Botswana-- that is if you are in to trinkets and random souvenirs that have no practical use for every day life. Between their supply of copper jewelry and incense related items, from time to time, they do actually manage to have some thing interesting. I was particularly drawn to a certain walking stick which was extremely intricately carved (for the craft of a Tswana) when Josh dirrected me to a brightly colored glass object that he could not identify. I chuckled. I knew from the hose that was attached what it was, but I really didn't want to tell him. Then mom came she looked like she was ready to leave, but when Josh asked her, she asked me. So I told them that it was called a hookah, and explained it to them. Josh looked thoroughly intrigued, a fact that causes me to worry.
After we left, we decided to have lunch."... and what better place to have lunch," Eshinee said a little too enthusiastically, "than Hilary's!" We did end up going there, and it was probably the best food I've ever tasted (sorry mom).
After we'd finished eating, our conversation drifted from banks to mental disorders, from earthen wear to noses; until we settled on the ever-so pleasant topic of major dental surgery. Upon which I was thoroughly amused, and it was after much slap-happiness that we had to go most unfortunately. A quick end to a good day it was.
Thursday, 11 July 2013
Revived.
I think I may have just needed a few days. I have decided that I will continue the game, though it will be my last. This is to be my last variation on the Mystic Theme so brilliantly composed by my old friend Stephen. And as I prepare to go out, I have every intention to go out with a bang! At some point I will type up a plot synopsis, but right now, I don't have time. But in the mean time, I fully intend to cease the days ahead, and make this my best game ever!
Friday, 5 July 2013
The last game. (maybe)
I think I'm done. I have done well. Me earlier games were better than my resent ones, but I don't think I can make games anymore.
By brothers played my games, my later ones, and claimed to enjoy them. But I remember when I could see the worlds that I made in front of me, I remember when the the worlds in my head were more real to me than the one in front of me was to me. I have time for them, but my will is waning. Whether it will ever return again, I know not.
My worlds have begun to bland, I half suspected it, maybe I felt it; but now I know it. They know it, and They have felt it too. Whether it will ever return again, I know not.
My brothers were playing again to night. They had just slain a cave elf in battle, and discovered the underground realm of the N'Diki, spider-people that walk on four legs, spit webs and have a bad temper; when it became evident to me that they were bored. I had tried to make it interesting for them, but I had failed again. I suppose I might let this game-mastering hobby go, it would save Matt and josh a few crushed knuckles. I don't know, I'll have to pray about it.
Thursday, 4 July 2013
Week: 127
We got to Gaborone and back safely. I have decided that I am not going to detail any of the happening of the trip though, I think that family vacations can enjoyed just as vacations and don't need a bunch of memoirs typed up about them. I am sorry that I haven't posted in a while, but I make no promises of posting any again any time soon either. Unless something amazing happens, I might write about that. There has been a bush fire somewhere outside of Ghanzi. No one that we know has said anything, but the Sun has taken on that tell-tail, sickly yellow shade, so I'm sure prayers would be appreciated by those who are fighting the fires. I have been looking this week further into the option of video blogging, and it just seems to be very complex. I have been trying to see what all I could do with the resources available to me, but it just feels bland. But I'm going to keep working on it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)