Don't Be -- You Don't Have to Go it Alone

(Picture illustrated by yours truly. The actual file can be found at my profile page on deviantART. You can also find a lot of other works, there--a couple old literature projects, as well as paintings, sketches, and such.)

You want to be the tough one, you need to show everyone you are strong enough to make it through your problems on your own. You don't need to tell anybody about the pain or hurt you feel.

That's what I thought, too.

Last semester, I almost flunked out of college. I'd moved in three days before classes started, and my roommate and I got along really well. But then he started showing up less and less, spending most of his time in his girlfriend's room. I tried not to let it bother me, at first. After all, I always thought of myself as a lone wolf. But left to my own devices, I ended up letting the room fall into disarray, as well as my health.

And it didn't help that I skipped classes one day. And then the next. And then the week after that. What they say is true--you miss one, and you end up missing a whole lot more. Not only was this happening, but my sleep schedule was screwing itself up gradually, too. I was an unshaven, unkempt mess who stayed up 'til 7 A.M. and slept til 7 P.M.

I wouldn't leave the room. Some days I went without eating because I didn't want to show my face to the world. That's how bad things were. My roommate would only come in the room, around 2 A.M., to sleep. Then I wouldn't see him anymore.

One day he showed up and told me to clean up my side of the room. I was aghast. How could this dude, who was never even in the room to begin with, tell me to clean up a room he'd long since abandoned? But I did it, grudgingly.

My biggest regret was not telling him how I felt about all of it. He was a nice guy, and I'm sure something would have changed had I opened my mouth, just once. But I had to be the tough dude. This was my problem alone, right?

NO.

People are willing to help, if you just let them. My parents found out something was wrong, and had I told them from the start, we could have avoided the whole mess. I moved out of the dorm and began my recovery and preparation for the next semester: and I'd have to pass above a certain GPA to avoid being kicked out, altogether.

The problem with the dorm was my feeling of loneliness, even though there were friends all around me. But that's just my point:

You don't have to be alone to be lonely.

And if you're feeling lonely, you should let someone know. Then, you're not lonely anymore. They'll help you feel better, and guide you back on track.

Now, I know my plight wasn't nearly as bad as others' in the world.  My message still applies. People have the ability to do so much good, but they need a little push. Telling them what's wrong can be one such push.

So if you feel you need to be the tough one all the time,

Don't be.

If you are ashamed to talk, to let your voice be heard, especially between sobs,

Don't be.

If you're afraid to reach out for help,

Don't be.

And if you're hesitant to lend help to someone in need,

Don't you dare ever-freaking be, goddamnit.

-D.

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I've Got a Stupid, Awesome Idea -- How Inspiration Ambushes You

(Picture found from www.paprika-ns.com. I was going to do a joke about Miley Cyrus, but I decided no mortal should be forced to see that.)

It's 7:00 A. M. Your alarm just exploded all over your eardrums. You crack your eyes, glare at the clock, and wish you were still in La-La Ca-Ca Dreamland. But the cruel, twisted fates have other plans. Your job hungrily waits, ready to swallow you up when you walk through those doors, then digest you over the next eight to twelve hours and crap you back out again, having since absorbed your hopes and dreams for nutrients.

But on your way to your certain Doom, you look at the busy streets (or the sparse countryside), see the people (or cattle and crops), look at the sunrise and think, "Man, it's going to be alright. Today's gonna' be a good day."

Where was it hiding? You don't remember the exact moment when it jumped out and smashed you over the head with the Sledgehammer of Hope. But you know, despite the grueling, early-morning migraine, you'll thank it later. 'Cause Inspiration is your secret weapon. It not only gave you blunt force trauma with its Hopeful Hammer, it handed the whoopin' stick over to you so you can beat it into your friends, too.

Man, this turned out way more violent than I wanted it to.

Point is: think of inspiration like a guerrilla commando.

I can't explain it; it just happens. I'll have the worst day I've ever had, and then it hits me. I can see it in the horizon, feel it in the winds, and hear it in the waters. Even on the grayest day, certain things just click; they work together to give me an image, or a serenity I so desperately need. Subtle motions in the leaves, the swaying of grain. Doesn't matter.

Hell, most of my inspiration comes at a time when I'm in the shower, hot tub, or using the facilities. I realize this is more information than you really need, but it demonstrates my point. Inspiration comes from any and everywhere. In a way, it's the goddamn creepiest (yet friendliest) stalker you'll ever meet.

It doesn't just give us hope--ideas are a great gift, too!

You wouldn't believe how many stupid (or awesome) things I've cooked up just from looking out the window for two seconds. Especially after I wake up. When I'm reanimated every morning, I simply don't have the will to want to do anything. Even if I've had the most productive day of writing the previous day, I'll feel worthless.

But that clever bastard hits me at the weirdest moment, and then I've got a fire in my soul. The greatest thing is, past a certain point, you start to learn where it hides for you, specifically. And then you can ambush it.

Find where inspiration hides, and seek it out, yourself.

Give yourself that boost you deserve! Actively search for it! Trust me: it'll save you a lot of time!

Everyone deserves to be happy. That's my opinion, anyway. And everyone owes it to themselves to use their full effort and potential in everything they do. Unfortunately, it doesn't always come easily. Sometimes, we need a little extra push...

And a certain inspirational sledgehammer.


-D.



P.S. If you like the blog, or just enjoy a couple topics, hey, that's enough! Please hit that li'l follow button down below! It'd mean a lot to me! Also; tell your friends! Share with your family, coworkers-- force it down your boss's throat!

WARNING: Do not actually force anything down said boss's throat. D. Logan, D. Logan Affiliates, and D. Logan, Inc. cannot be held responsible for any events that may incur upon these actions.

Imagination Saved My Life

(From Spongebob Squarepants)

Spring Break! WHOO! Spring Cleaning! ......

Not what I wanted. This post is coming a little late, today because for the majority of the afternoon I've been cleaning my room. And I'm not a neat person. Things usually sit haphazard, strewn about on the floor. It usually kind of looks like a great big conglomeration of random junk exploded in the center.

But now there's nothing on the floor. Rad.

On to my totally inspirational message. Actually, it's just been something I've mulled over a bit lately, as I work ever-harder on my manuscript.

Creative writing is the act of making worlds from words, and sentience from sentences.

I started writing because I love being creative, but I haven't really thought much about why I love being creative. And I think it all boils down to this: Imagination is one of most amazing things we, as humans, possess. On its own, imagination can pull a life out of the gutter and into wonder. Imagination is something so many people lose when they grow older, something we buried with our family pets in the back yard of our first house. It's what we gave away with our old toys, outgrew with our clothes, and forgot with some of our first memories.

Imagination is what I want to hold on to. It's the one thing that makes me feel my life is worth living.. Imagination aided humanity in its inventions, in television, in movies, in songs, in videogames, and in books. Imagination makes me feel special. Throughout my early years of education, a deep depression was woven into me by careless mockery of my fellow classmates. Kids will be kids, right? But because of it, I continued my life paranoid. Sometimes, I can't tell if someone is being sarcastic, and I have to ask them if they're joking. I take so many things personally because that's what I was used to.

And at the end of my seventh-grade year, I wanted to kill myself.

But I was talented. I was so talented, so loved by my close friends and family that it would be a waste to do myself in. And I viewed the world so negatively. So I turned inward for happiness. I thought up my own worlds, where anything I wanted could be a reality. I lived an alternate life through my characters, told their stories with my own voice, made them strong when I couldn't be.

There's a reason the norm is called the norm. It's normal. It's what we're used to. It's the hum-drum, drab, every-day existence we live. Imagination doesn't change the world. It changes how we see it. Suddenly, those scary trees outside your bedroom window at night become silent guardians, protecting you from even scarier things. Your dad is a mechanic, but he's secretly a superhero who's building a new power source to save the world from evil.

I wanted to kill myself, but if I did, a hundred other worlds would cease to exist. Nobody would ever know about them. But they want people to know. They want me to tell their stories. They need to spring forth and bring others joy.

Writing is my tool for sharing. It's my medium to show people what EVERYONE is made of, not just myself. With a fantastic theme, a book can change a view on life. It did come from Imagination, after all. And not just the writer's imagination! Just because the writer envisions it a certain way, doesn't mean the reader will visualize it exactly the same (unless you drowned them in description).

And we are all writers, not just of stories, but of our fates.

Imagination helped me live. But a nudge was all it gave me. The rest is up to me to decide. And so, while I'm creeping ever-closer to the 24th, when I'll be attending an online class for finding and keeping literary agents (with critique and possibility for further advancement at the end), I'm not just writing a manuscript, but my destiny. That is why I write.

I write in the hope that one day, I can make a difference in someone's life. That through me, Imagination will change them for the better, as it did for me. Last year, I made it my personal mission to go find and buy a DVD copy of my favorite childhood movie, An American Tail: Fievel Goes West .  I did it because it's a fond reminder of how much Imagination has done for me. Sometimes I'll still plug it in the player and reminisce on the past, in preparation for the future.

Because Imagination is a gift I've never forsaken. It gave itself to me in my childhood, and I intend on keeping it close and dear in my heart as long as I live. Imagination is going to carry me to my dreams...

Well, that and a keyboard!


-D.

Blat Blat Goes the Sun

(Photo From Zazzle.com)

I've recently discovered that I'm a morning person. This is in stark contrast to the majority of students at my university. Now, when I say I'm a morning person, I don't necessarily mean that I enjoy waking up early... Or at all, to begin with. No, my friends, I'm talking about the feeling I get when I crawl into my car on the way to school or I'm just standing out on my porch, letting the dog outside. The sun's got my back. Literally. In the morning, on my porch, I'm facing west.

So just why is the sun so special? Because the sun is a vigilante gangster of justice, that's why. Every day the sun comes back to blow the darkness's fricken' head off--the same darkness that conceals the unknown and blinds us. When Big Sol shows up, he lets us see. See the beautiful world we have, walk outside and go about our lives in light. Of course, when night comes, he has to go shoot UV holes through the darkness somewhere else; Big Sol's in high demand, and he loves us all equally.

Okay, but seriously. Past the silly metaphor, the message I'm trying to convey here is: You can love the night, but be grateful for the day, because it's one more day you get to live your life.

And to my fellow Dark Souls fans:

PRAISE THE SUN!!


-D.

Rennovations (For Now) Complete!

(I shouldn't have to link to where this photo came from: it's all over the interwebz.)

Eh, just changed some fonts, the background, and added in Syndri over there. --------->

And it's at this time that the first hint about my manuscript comes out. Syndri is from Inheritor, my manuscript. It's a futuristic Sci-Fi and her personality can be described as follows:

Sass
Strength
The Tough-Girl Complex (Actually, it's less of a complex and pretty much how she is the first half of the novel before certain events happen that make her view life a whole lot differently.)

She's a crazy-ass fighter and an amazing pilot and mechanic.

She is NOT the main character.

That's all I can share at this point. Tune back in tomorrow, and I'll have more for you gents and gentleladies!

-D.

Blog Renovations!

Most Esteemed Land Sharks,


The blog has been silent yesterday and will likely be the same today while I doodle some things to decorate the site. Hopefully when you all next check in, it'll have some flashy new treads (that actually have a lot to do with my manuscript-in-progress.) So I'll see you all then!




-D.

'Twas the Night Before Texas....

(Photo from PhotoBucket)

That's terrifying, yeah?

On Saturday night I had the opportunity of hanging out with two of my good friends. The only difference between this and every other time, though, was that one of them was leaving for Texas the next day. He was going to go work through the summer and then come back in the fall. Now, you might be thinking, "Big deal, he's leaving."

Two which I reply, "You have no idea how I get when I don't see friends anymore." Seriously. Two of my other friends have already gone to Texas to live down there. Now that I think of it, there seems to be a strange gravitational pull coming from that Southern State... >.> ... Anyhow, they went to Texas, another took off to Pittsburgh, and I have no idea where-the-hell a lot of the others went. And when my friends leave, I go nuts. I suddenly feel like I have nothing to do anymore.

So on our last night of camaraderie, we had S'mores at his house. But we needed milk, first. So we piled into a car and took off for the grocery store.

On the way, we passed a car wash. And at this car wash, this dude in a wind-breaking mask was carrying around a sack and rooting around the pay terminals. We thought this was the sketchest thing ever (keep in mind it was late at night) and so we stopped the car and stared at this guy for a few minutes.

We even honked. And this dude kept doing what he was doing. But then after we determined that he wasn't wearing a ski mask, my friends went, "Oh, okay, he's not a thief."

To which I retorted, "Yeah, because it makes since to say someone's not a thief because they don't wear a ski mask."

How dare we stereotype against this man who so obviously was either a thief or homeless? Or both?

Well, we took off and went to the store. And right when we got out of the car, a cart was about to blow straight into this guy's brand new truck, and my Texas-bound-buddy rushed to stop it. Scientists predict that had that cart slammed into this guy's truck, the end result would have been something like this:

Good luck in Texas, buddy!


-D.

Sunday is a B-Word.

Sorry about the lack of post today, guys. Had a lot of things going on so I'll save what I was going to talk about today for tomorrow. I'm glad I've gotten as many views as I have thus far, thanks so much to everyone! I'll see you all tomorrow.

-D.

Starship SuperTroopers

In the year 2626, alien life finally came to Earth... and we were totally cool with it.


Of course, they didn't come here empty-handed. In their tentacley appendages they grasped loads upon loads of SpessRox, a radical new high outlet, mined from asteroids. The drug was generally well-received by us humans, even in spite of the overwhelming fatality rate due to piloting while intoxicated (PWI).


In turn, we swapped weed, coke, all sorts of things with 'em. They gave us technology to pay for it, and now we're cruising! Literally! All the places we never got to see, all the gnarly, big-headed extra-terrestrial party people we never knew existed! We met them all, dude.


But it's not all fun and games... There's still the gal-gal... The Galactic Enforcers... Ugh.






Gnobb Naxius tossed a small, plastic baggy over his shoulder to Spazz Whambasster, in the back seat. Gnobb, Spazz, and a human named Chuck 'Chuckles' Droy, were smooth-sailing in Gnobb's ol' Gravitator X3, completely smashed and screaming Pearl Jam songs into the hazy air of the cockpit.
"Hey," Gnobb shrieked in between verses, "This Earth music stuff ain't half bad!"
Chuck, busy plucking away at an air guitar solo, nodded, "Told you, brah."
"Gnobb! Gnooooooooobb!" whined Spazz from the back, slapping Gnobb's shoulder with a spiny hand, "When are we gonna' listen to my Subspace mix tape?"
Gnobb groaned, the air sack beneath his chin inflating irritably. "Dude, I told you! I hate Substep!"
Chuck whirled, a sneer on his lips as he droned, "Pass me the Rox, dude!"
"You've had enough, brochacho," Gnobb protested, staring intently out the windshield at something in the distance, tucked neatly between two chunks of rocky debris. "Shit. The gal..." He flung his tentacles at the steering wheel, swerving the ship to their left. It was too late.
Whirling blue and red lights erupted behind them, and they all released a collective groan.
Gnobb idled the engine while the group sealed their loose items into storage compartments and threw on their oxygen helmets.
A purple man floated to the driver's side window and rapped on it lightly. Gnobb undid the airlock, sucking the oxygen from the cabin as he rolled down his window.
"License and registration, please," the enforcer prompted as his partner drifted to the passenger side.
Gnobb pointed at the glovebox compartment, and Chuck scrambled to retrieve its contents.
Quickly handing the officer his documents, Gnobb winced, "I-is there something wrong, sir?"
"Nope," replied the enforcer, sneaking a sly wink, unnoticed, to his human partner and grabbing the certification.
"We just wanted to let you boys know that there are a couple a fellas out here posing as Enforcers," stated the human enforcer. "So stay safe and don't trust anyone."
"But... officer? Why should we trust you, then?" stammered Chuck.
The purple man glared at them. "Are we going to have trouble, boy? Cuz I could write you up for failure to cooperate."
"No, that won't be necessary!" cried Gnobb.
The officers drifted back to their cruiser and took off.


Gnobb gave a nervous smile to his friends, and they all shared a laugh. He throttled it, and they were off again. They hadn't gotten two miles before the lights shone again.
"Oh, god they know!" screamed Chuck, quickly throwing his helmet back on.


A rapping on the glass. "License and registration, please."
Gnobb nudged Chuck again, who checked the glovebox. "It's not there!" he cried.
"Tsk, tsk," scolded the purple officer. "Flying without a license. Gonna' have to write you up, big time for that." He scribbled something on a pad and handed it to Gnobb.
"Five thousand nebulons?!" Gnobb yelped. "I can't pay this!"
The purple officer raised an eyebrow. "You know what?" he said after a moment of thought, "officer Cooper and I are feeling pretty generous today. We'll make you a deal. We know you boys are carryin'. How about you hand over all the illegal substances you have, promise you won't do any more tonight, and we'll let you go with a warning. We want you boys flying safe, understood?"
They all scrambled to grab the bags as Gnobb nodded. "Understood, sir. We promise, we won't do it any more!"
The human officer removed a license and registration papers from a pouch and slipped them into the glove box amidst the confusion.
The enforcers took the substances and left. Chuck looked back to the glove box.
"What he hell?"

Disney Princesses Make Great Murderers!

(Photo Courtesy of Rooster Teeth)

This photo is extremely relevant because it sums up what the second half of my first tabletop RPG one-shot was like for me... except I didn't have a gun and I was waaaay less badass. But more on the relevance later.

This one-shot was super-duper fun, essentially we were all mercenaries that had been flung into the real world from the Disney worlds, where our memories of the past were erased and we all went to different spots of the globe, committing (about equally) terrible war-crimes until we were brought back to the Disney worlds five years later, where we discover that Maleficent is generally still a bitch and messin' shit up more than ever. Alright, so we gotta' go kill a dragon-witch-greenladything. But there's only one problem. She can only be killed with a stab through the heart, (and eating of said heart) by a person who has truly, undoubtedly, come to peace with who they are. (Cue Farnsworth.)

"And if you kill anyone, make sure to eat their heart, to gain their courage! Rich, tasty courage..."

And here comes the kicker: Each one of us had been a Disney Princess in our past lives. So half of it is a game of guess-who. I was Pochahontas. So I was good with a bow, I guess. Well, in the second half of our journey, we came upon the always-nefarious Dog Fights, led by none other than Gaston himself. (God, he's such a penis.) Well, we stumbled into his boss room (a bar, one of the only places in Disney Land World Dimension Multiverse to actually have alcohol.) I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity. Rather than tackle Gaston head-on in a Biggus-Dickus challenge, like many of my comrades chose, I simply sat down and had a drink. Or two. Or Ten. Witch's Spit, they called it. Much stronger than Moose's Piss, mind you. So my teammates were a fightin', and doin' all the work, really. One of Gaston's minions came over to me and told me something. Well, I was wasted so I couldn't remember what he said. BUT IT WAS OFFENSIVE! So I stabbed him in the eye with an arrow.

Well, stuff got real, real quick like. My friends were lobbin' knives, Gaston was breakin' em in his hand, arrows were a flyin' all over the place! I tried to shoot one, but my hammered consciousness gave me a +4 to all my rolls. Since it was a system with golf rules, I naturally missed. I shrugged it off and had another drink. Well, now the bar was catching on fire, for whatever reason, I can't remember. My teammates had got Gaston to minimum health. He was bleeding out, his throat was cut, his face was on fire, he got audited that day, and he left the oven on at home. My group members scurried around, grabbin' stuff, saving people, you know totally ignoring this blood-gurgling asshole in the middle of the room. My DR (Designated Runner) for the night picked me up and bolted. And just before we were out of the room, I shot one last arrow.

Zing.

Splrch!

Right in the face! Killing blow, bitches! ....hic! That's how I felt. I had made a skill shot, probably firing upside down, on someone's back, a millisecond before we were out the door. And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is why Mordecai is sitting all proud at the top of this post. Because he was a drunken sniper.

Colors of the Wind, foolz.

-D.

Stupid, but Clever..

(Photo from Cartoon Network's The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy)

The title and picture that accompany this post are a blatant reference to Hoss Delgado from The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy. Much like the Australian Vampire-Koala Bears, this segment is all about things that I think are stupid, but clever. To clarify, it's about things I initially thought were stupid, but then came to either enjoy somewhat or have a better appreciation for. So, let's kick this list off, shall we?

1. Dubstep

Do not wub me to the wall just yet, my friends. When I was first introduced to dubstep, I hated it. I thought, "How can a bunch of pulses of pure noise possibly entertain me?" Every time a friend or fellow student would start going on about the latest dub to the wub-wub, I would roll my eyes and groan. But then something really weird happened. I watched things... other things, with Dubstep interwoven into them. (the Hero's Duty bug hunt scene from Wreck-It Ralph and/or the first gameplay trailers to Halo 4). I will never be Dubstep's #1 fan, or anything like that, and I don't much care for it on its own, but I enjoyed the fast-paced, adrenaline-pumping tempo it added to crazy CG scenes.

2. Alcohol

It was in Mexico. It was legal. I'd kept a safe distance from alcohol all through high school. See, my mind had this idea that the second I tasted alcohol, I'd vomit, or I'd become one of those stories you'd see on A&E. But while the fam was gettin' our party on in Mexico, the drinks were free at our resort and I decided to "just taste". And it wasn't that bad. It was fruity, though, so... that was to be expected. I didn't get insta-junkied, or anything, and the only problem with taste was a really poorly mixed Tequila Sunrise. I don't much care for cough syrup, I don't know about you. Not addicted, or anything. The first thing on my mind when I wake up isn't alcohol. It was just fun to do something different.

3. Writing

Oh, my god. Why hadn't I started this sooner than I did? I was an avid reader up until high school, then I kind of dropped off, but I had a college reading level in the fifth grade, and I've pretty well retained that, if not improved, 'til now. And since I loved reading, and I wanted to make some super-special-stuff, it was only natural that I should write something. But the worst is when people say they don't like to write. Listen. You don't ave ta write goodly to liek ta rit. Do you like to talk? Then you like to write. What I'm doin' here, isn't any different than how I talk. Just in letter form.

4. League of Legends

Ugh... Don't wanna' talk about this one...

5. Doctor Who

Stay your whippings, people! This is the part where I became a hipster asshole. "I don't get why this is so popular! I dislike it because it's popular!" etc, etc. I haven't developed Whokemia yet, but it's not half bad.

And, lastly......

6. Blogging

'Nuff said.

Now, I know you guys've experienced somethin' like that, so give me the gritz n' gravy of it! Let's hear some unexpected ones!

-D. 

A Large Pizza with Extra Brains

(Photo Courtesy of www.optipess.com)

HvZ (Humans vs Zombies) started up on my university's campus today, and it's an event that I hadn't tried before, so I thought what the hell, I'd give it a shot. I wasn't really wanting to play, actually. But the second I stepped outside of the safe building, oh my god. Nobody was after me, of course but all of a sudden it felt stupidly real. Giving every ambush point a wide berth so I wouldn't get nommed on the way to my car.

Because, if you think about it, these people are more dangerous than yer average zombie. Because they're still people. They can use judgment. And common sense.

So my friends and I had joked earlier about zombies ordering pizza as the perfect trap. But I got to thinking- there could be so many more trollish ways to get those tasty brains. Of course, it'd all have to be at the start of the outbreak, before anybody really knew what the hell was going on, but maybe a dude telling you to sign for a package, or a zombie moaning, "Uuuublisherrrrs Cleeeeeearing Ouuuuuuse." I don't know about you, but I'm stupid enough to fall for that if I really wanted the check. Have your friend come pick you up for the game and enjoy a to-go snack. So many possibilities!

What about you? Give me your zaniest ideas. I'm hungriest for the really clever ones!

-D.

The Souls Have Never Been Darker. The Controllers Have Never Been More Broken.

                                                (Photo Courtesy of www.funnyjunk.com)

So Dark Souls II hit the shelves for console today, and I can honestly say I've never been more bummed to miss a game release. I've never played Demon's Souls, but I ran through Dark Souls to the point of borderline insanity. For real. I'd fall asleep and dream about the wall textures in the Undead Burg. I'd never played a game so violently dark and difficult, and it was honestly refreshing to delve into depths unknown. From my first few deaths in the New Londo Ruins, (before I figured out that I was quite possibly retarded for thinking that invincible ghosts would inhabit the first area) to the final, 30 minute showdown with Gwyn, rotating around a rock with Zweihander + 15, because I didn't have the reflexes to have a parry-down, I was completely hooked. I had also never raged so much in my life. The Bed of Chaos almost cost me a controller and plasma television.

But behind all the gruelingly irate moments, I was engaged. It took incredible focus, which my parent's just didn't understand. ("Why didn't you answer the phone?"   "Woman, I was about to be speared off a goddamn ledge, what more you want from me?")

And it gave me a quality that stayed with me since, and it's actually something I'm glad about. Which brings me to the point:

Videogames can be helpful to society... they just often tend not to be. Dark Souls made me solve problems. It made me so damn irate when I didn't understand how to fix something that I couldn't put it down until I had made it ten times better than it was.

Perseverance is the heart and Soul (ahem...) of the Souls games, and, in my case, it showed. So for all the raging, the obsessiveness, and complete disregard for the happiness of my parental units, Dark Souls left me with something that made me better as a person.

Hey, thanks From Software!!


What about you? Do you have a fancy fond memory of the Souls series?
What about videogames in general? Have they left you anything positive?
I'd love to hear some stories!

-D.

Welcome to my blog, yo.

Welcome, esteemed reader.


Welcome to my humble bloggin' abode. The name's D. Logan. I am currently a freshman in college, lookin' to jump into the literary world.
And that's where the Land Shark blog comes in. Over the next few months, you guys'll get some sweet seats and peaks into what I'm doing with my novel, and also just some general stuff about Life, the Universe, and.... The Sum of Creation. Dodged that reference like a pro.


It'll be a fun, incredibly stupid journey and there's sure to be more surprises for those who stick around.


"If you'll all look under your seats, you'll see... a nuclear program! Except you, Korea!" -Oprama


Some info about me:


All my life, I wanted to make something unique and special and detrimental to the health of 90% of the worlds population... wait... not that last one. But I always wanted to create something well, creative. Had an early love of writing--when I wasn't being chased by an emotionally confused brother with a bat, I'd play the ever-popular Pretend : Imagination's Battlefield. Not only that, but in every scenario, I played the voice of every character, and I forced them (me) to go over their (my) lines until they (I) got them exactly right, cadence and all.


The material I'm trying to shove down the public's throat is mostly Sci-Fi, sometimes has a bit of Horror or Fantasy mixed in, but Sci-Fi nonetheless. (I was heavily influenced by video games such as, but not limited to: Spyro the Dragon, Crash Bandicoot, Gex, Earthworm Jim, any Legacy of Kain titles, and Halo.)


Please enjoy your visits.