childofthepaladinking-blog

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Two uncomfortable thanksgivings for the price of one. (Bonus, both sets of grandmoms laughing their butts off )

What is gay privilege?

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So, my parents hate the fact that my cousin married a girl ....

Okay, so let me say this. My parents love Kayla and Savannah, But they hate the fact that they are together. They are always saying “oh, well, they may THINK that they love each other, but God didn't make humans that way”. . . . . Okay, then, why the *#$€ can my parents have friends in their own gender? Why do they tell me to love my brother? “oh, that's different. You are saying that companionship is the same as actual, sexually attracted love.” Well, they are extremely different, yes, but that does not mean that you should judge someone based on the writings of an old, lying, asshole that thought that stoning a kid because they stepped out of line in their parents home was perfectly acceptable. And to clarify, I am speaking of Paul. He is the only one I could find that says anything against homosexual relationships,or anything similar in the Bible or similar texts. Also, let me say that I love my parents. They may not be good people, but I still think that I should love them, even if just to say“ you are wrong, you literally cannot stand your own neice's life, and in spite of that, I still love you guys” But, that does not mean I support my parents hate of my peers, my family, my friends, or people I do not even know. Long story short, I am about to weather a shitstorm, and I don't see any land worth beaching. Be well, and avoid the men with yellow eyes......

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My cousin and her wife are coming to stay for a week or two, and I will be blogging all of it....

So, my parents occasionally do this thing where they take in family or friends that are going through a rough patch, such as a divorce, a drug abuse case, and in this latest installment, eviction. So, in a week or two, we will have 5 people living in our house, 3 of them children, and we will also be teaching one of the parents (hereby known as Kayla) to bake, in the hopes that she can use it as a job sometime in the near future. In this time, their kids have to make it to school, other parent(hereby Savannah) still has to make it to work, and Kayla has to look for a job. On top of all of this, my mom has had a baby recently, (less than 6 mos.) We have a play this upcoming week, and my dad has to travel to Florida at least 5 times between now and Christmas. So, long story short, we have a metric butt ton of stuff in the next little while, and it is about to get hectic. So, have fun, stay safe, and avoid the men with yellow eyes.

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Death scene I want to use, but don't have an active story

I see myself on the ground where I landed, my bones sticking out at odd angles, and the blood seeping from my wrist I cut before I jumped,and I feel sick. I notice a buzzing noise beside me, and I see her running to where I fell, but...the timing is wrong. She is running, but it takes her hours to get there, but she is already there when I land, and.... I turn away, my face wet from shame and I run. Far away from my hurt, from my life, my friends, and my family. Or, what's left of them. When I get far enough away, I turn around, and I see her clutching me to her chest, her keening cries echoing through the alley, choking her voice, but I also hear her talking to a child. She sounds older, more worn, and she says “ Shasta, this is where your mom fell after she cut her arm. You always asked what happened, and now I am telling you. Please, don't ever do what she did, okay?” The child looks at her, and I see my daughter, older than when I saw her this morning, and... The area around me shifts, and I am in a large room made of gemstones and skulls, and I hear a woman call to me. “what did you think of, when you fell?” I turn, looking for the voice, but I can't find the source, and I turn once more, hoping to find a door, but I don't see one, so I answer. “i, um, I was thinking of my husband, and how much I wanted to see him.” I call out to the voice, and she says “so, you left your sister to fend for herself, and you daughter, while you opted out of the only life you had?” I flinched, and nodded, crying. “do you seriously hope for an afterlife with him? After you took the easy way?” Subtly, from behind me, I hear sharp, deliberate steps on the stone floor, and I stand and I turn, and I see a woman, clothes in what appears to be fire, with accents of diamonds and ice, with a face full of pain. “ I am death, but I am also the monarch of life renewed, so if you agree to work for me, I will restore you to your body, in your own time.” I fall to my knees, and grasp her dress, and say “your majesty, please, I would do anything.” She smiles, but it does not reach her empty eyes. "I will let you know when you are needed, now leave.” I hear a sharp tone, and wake up in a hospital bed, my sister staring at me, still in her bloodstained sweater.

[childofthepaladinking-blog]

Also, if your husband cheats while you are parted, you can cut off his particulars.

Source: https://twitter.com/ImpPoster

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Token friends/trophy spouses

So, this is another one of my rant-y gripe/description posts, and as always, I have some experience with the title. So, I could not find a definition like I typically place at the forefront of these posts, so I will try to define it myself. “A ‘token friend’ is a person that fits into a stereotype, such as Gay, Straight,Black, White, Asian, Trans,etc,etc. ” A token friend is typically a social status play, and can sometimes be accidental, but is typically purposeful and targeted at a specific stereotype, such as (in my personal experience) the token sexual deviant. I would like to say that I am not insinuating that having token friends makes you a bad person, or that it makes you less of a “real” person. I would also like to say, as far as I know, if you are reading this and know me personally, you are not one of the people who used me as a token. The original idea of a trophy spouse is “A younger, taller spouse, with an equal or higher social status.” I have no connection with this explanation, but I talked to someone before writing this, and they suggested putting forth these two ideas at the same time. Now, in my opinion, only a despicable attention who...Glutton, will marry into a trophy relationship, as they use a person, and could very easily cause mental and/or emotional breakdown of the aforementioned trophy. Now, again, I have no right to say anything about these relationships, and I would like to say that not all of them turn out as bad as I am making them out to be. Also, I would like to make sure that I distinguish trophy relationships from marriages of necessity or honor,(such as marrying because of a child, or because of the death of a previous spouse) and actual, true, 100% Honest love marriages. Finally, I would like to say that if you think you are in a token relationship, whether marriage, friendship, or Familial, please talk to the person you think is using you as a social play, and, if need be, distance yourself until you no longer feel animosity or pain when you think of them.

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I think,of all my other work, posted here and shared among friends, this is the best I have ever written.

Inkwell nymphs

She rises from the dark, viscous depths, bringing forth light. She holds in her essence the need for creativity, and a knowledge of unspeakable things. She can be as harsh as a general, Or as sweet as a lover. As cruel as a demon, or as soft as an angel. She wills the wishes of authors and the demands of kings into being to her brother, the rough, earthy parchment. Her words can be knives of the wicked, or the whips of the holy. But she is always her own. Nothing will make her take a form that displeases her.

[childofthepaladinking-blog]

I think I am sad, but I don't remember.

Do you ever have those 4:34 A.M. blues? The ones that have you crying and drinking vanilla Coke out of a glass bottle? The ones that remind you that the world is full of evil, and good, and everything in between and more extreme? Do you ever have those 4:36 A.M. blues? Those ones that have you bawling and screaming inside your head, but on the outside, you front side, your "you see me as I want you to." Side, you are just an awkward jumble of mess and strange? Those blues that are always there, but never around when you want to feel? Do you ever have those 4:38 A.M. thoughts, where the world could just, fade away?

[childofthepaladinking-blog]

Hope.

* This is the second (speech?Rant?mega-ramble?) Post in a series, the first of which was titled 'nostalgia', and this one will hopefully turn out better, or at least better worded.* 'hope'- 'A Feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.' So, hope is a strong word. Not only is it strong, but it is very commonly used in the English language, and perhaps even in other languages in our world. Typically, when one 'hopes' for something, it is petty, such as ;"I hope I will win those tickets to super cruise" or, "I hope that she will give me hot chocolate rather than coffee", or even " I hope the paint dries quickly". However, it is also used as something close to a prayer, like "I hope that my windshield will not shatter in this storm" or, "I hope that Mikael lives through this stab wound" or even " I sincerely hope that you will forgive me for stabbing your pet android" Hope is often tied into a religious conversation, and sometimes is placed above faith, and I think that this is acceptable if there has been no response to a repeated prayer, or at least if the person is not a part of a religion. This is not to say that if you believe in something, you should completely disregard something you hear or see based only on a hope, or a hopeful thought. Now, I have a question for anyone who reads this (see top for description of post), " do you believe that hope is entirely a human construct, or does it exist among animals, or in any deities or aliens who have visited our mortal plain?" Once again, this is the child of the paladin king, signing off, signing out, and signing obscenities to birds on my porch. (Beware the men with yellow eyes....)

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Nostalgia.

"A sentimental longing, or Wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with Happy personal associations." (I have been putting this off for some time, and would like to say that I am slightly uncomfortable writing this, as it is my first non-fiction project, and I intend to view more words, feelings and similar constructs within the human spectrum. I would also like to say, I have done minimal research, and I have done it quickly, so if I am wrong in an area, or as a whole, please let me know. I will be writing one hopefully once a week, but I cannot promise anything, and I hope that, at some point, I will have the aid of a friend in selecting a topic, and then deconstructing and analysing it to an easily recognized explanation.) So, my understanding of nostalgia can be reduced into this- "a series of thoughts, smells and/or feelings that trigger a memory/memories that are not fully formed, but that play a vital role in one's character/personality"- and until a few weeks ago, I figured that this was all that nostalgia would ever be. I have also learned that there is a term that is both similar to, and the close opposite of, nostalgia. found in the Portuguese language, it is defined as "the presence of Absence" and I find that quite romantic, in a way. This term is saudade, and it is the main reason I began this wonderful train wreck you are currently subjecting yourself to. I have been noticing recently, a void whenever I think of heavy things like future, hopefully long lasting, relationships, and even the death of loved ones (which, tbh, two of my grandparents have been in the E.R. in the last 3 months for heart problems, and this has been a topic I cannot get out of my head lately) The void, I sense, is hungry for words, or more specifically, phrases, and the two that I am constantly directed to are "I love you" , and " please stay here." Now, just to be clear, I have never been in a relationship with anyone, of any gender, but I am not someone who would admit to things like these unless I was hurting in some way, and even then it would take quite a while for me to build up trust to say them to someone, but I have that need to say them, even to an empty room whenever I am leaving for any stretch of time. However, that was a tangent that I may return to in a upcoming week. (Look out for "meloncholy and peace") Now, back to nostalgia. Something I have found while researching this word is that a very common way to feel nostalgic is to smell something from your past. For me, the most nostalgic scent I can think of is paint, electronics, a wood scented perfume and rabbit fur, all mixed together with the smell of pine-sol. These may seem unconnected, but when I was younger I was always at my friend's house, which smelled heavily of these. Now, as far as I can find, a nostalgic scent could have many subtle notes, or it could be a single, faint smell, such as the smell of stale bread, but typically we hear of smells that are untracable, but powerful and many toned. Another common trigger is a sound. In my case, the most nostalgic sound I can think of is my great aunts voice echoing off of a wall. And again, the sound can be anything, as long as it holds sentimental value to you. So, now that I have briefly touched on triggers of nostalgia, let us talk about the effects that come with it. However, before I say anything further, I would like to, again, point out that I have done research, but probably not enough, and I am most likely very wrong in this rambling speech. So, back to what nostalgia does. In most cases, nostalgia brings up happy memories, or more accurately, feelings, and causes the release of calming chemicals into you blood stream, such as oxytocin, dopamine and seratonin. These all help calm, compose and clear your mind, and are also vital to pain relief in your body. Also, these happy feelings can help lift your mood and get you motivated for something, (which, sidebar, is probably why there are so many commercials with kids playing sports and other similar activities, even when the product has no correlation with such an activity.) Also, when you hear a song you used to listen to all the time, or you eat a food that you used to eat as a kid, you are taking your mind back to a time that seems simpler, or maybe even easier, than whatever you are going through at the moment. And, as a final, closing thought, consider this; you are literally an atom floating around in a universe so huge that the biggest thing we can see is smaller than a billionth of a billionth of a billionth of a percent of the universe, and yet you can give yourself the warm-fuzzlies by looking at a cereal box, while no where else on that atom can another creature claim the same. So, this is the child of the paladin king, signing off, signing out, and signing foul language to a bird on my porch. (Also, if you ever see a man with yellow eyes, run away...)

[childofthepaladinking-blog]

To add to this, I would say using fourlegged walkers would be a viable choice.

Whgskl. Okay.

PSA to all you fantasy writers because I have just had a truly frustrating twenty minutes talking to someone about this: it’s okay to put mobility aids in your novel and have them just be ordinary.

Like. Super okay.

I don’t give a shit if it’s high fantasy, low fantasy or somewhere between the lovechild of Tolkein meets My Immortal. It’s okay to use mobility devices in your narrative. It’s okay to use the word “wheelchair”. You don’t have to remake the fucking wheel. It’s already been done for you.

And no, it doesn’t detract from the “realism” of your fictional universe in which you get to set the standard for realism. Please don’t try to use that as a reason for not using these things.

There is no reason to lock the disabled people in your narrative into towers because “that’s the way it was”, least of all in your novel about dragons and mermaids and other made up creatures. There is no historical realism here. You are in charge. You get to decide what that means.

Also:

“Depiction of Chinese philosopher Confucius in a wheelchair, dating to ca. 1680. The artist may have been thinking of methods of transport common in his own day.”

“The earliest records of wheeled furniture are an inscription found on a stone slate in China and a child’s bed depicted in a frieze on a Greek vase, both dating between the 6th and 5th century BCE.[2][3][4][5]The first records of wheeled seats being used for transporting disabled people date to three centuries later in China; the Chinese used early wheelbarrows to move people as well as heavy objects. A distinction between the two functions was not made for another several hundred years, around 525 CE, when images of wheeled chairs made specifically to carry people begin to occur in Chinese art.[5]”

“In 1655, Stephan Farffler, a 22 year old paraplegic watchmaker, built the world’s first self-propelling chair on a three-wheel chassis using a system of cranks and cogwheels.[6][3] However, the device had an appearance of a hand bike more than a wheelchair since the design included hand cranks mounted at the front wheel.[2]

The invalid carriage or Bath chair brought the technology into more common use from around 1760.[7]

In 1887, wheelchairs (“rolling chairs”) were introduced to Atlantic City so invalid tourists could rent them to enjoy the Boardwalk. Soon, many healthy tourists also rented the decorated “rolling chairs” and servants to push them as a show of decadence and treatment they could never experience at home.[8]

In 1933 Harry C. Jennings, Sr. and his disabled friend Herbert Everest, both mechanical engineers, invented the first lightweight, steel, folding, portable wheelchair.[9] Everest had previously broken his back in a mining accident. Everest and Jennings saw the business potential of the invention and went on to become the first mass-market manufacturers of wheelchairs. Their “X-brace” design is still in common use, albeit with updated materials and other improvements. The X-brace idea came to Harry from the men’s folding “camp chairs / stools”, rotated 90 degrees, that Harry and Herbert used in the outdoors and at the mines.[citation needed]

“But Joy, how do I describe this contraption in a fantasy setting that wont make it seem out of place?”

“It was a chair on wheels, which Prince FancyPants McElferson propelled forwards using his arms to direct the motion of the chair.”

“It was a chair on wheels, which Prince EvenFancierPants McElferson used to get about, pushed along by one of his companions or one of his many attending servants.”

“But it’s a high realm magical fantas—”

“It was a floating chair, the hum of magical energy keeping it off the ground casting a faint glow against the cobblestones as {CHARACTER} guided it round with expert ease, gliding back and forth.”

“But it’s a stempunk nov—”

“Unlike other wheelchairs he’d seen before, this one appeared to be self propelling, powered by the gasket of steam at the back, and directed by the use of a rudder like toggle in the front.”

Give. Disabled. Characters. In. Fantasy. Novels. Mobility. Aids.

If you can spend 60 pages telling me the history of your world in innate detail down to the formation of how magical rocks were formed, you can god damn write three lines in passing about a wheelchair.

Signed, your editor who doesn’t have time for this ableist fantasy realm shit.

[childofthepaladinking-blog]

Inkwell nymphs

She rises from the dark, viscous depths, bringing forth light. She holds in her essence the need for creativity, and a knowledge of unspeakable things. She can be as harsh as a general, Or as sweet as a lover. As cruel as a demon, or as soft as an angel. She wills the wishes of authors and the demands of kings into being to her brother, the rough, earthy parchment. Her words can be knives of the wicked, or the whips of the holy. But she is always her own. Nothing will make her take a form that displeases her.

[childofthepaladinking-blog]

The things I could see

My body it sleeps My mind wide awake My body, it screams My mind, it won't wake I'm wishing I saw The things I could see Banish the dark thoughts from inside of me My blood it will hum my thoughts will stay numb I'll never repeat My heart it won't beat I'm wishing I saw The things I could see Banish the dark thoughts from inside of me The things I could see Stir deep within me The thoughts I could hide Will cut open wide The thoughts in my head As I lie in my bed I'm wishing I saw The things I could see BANISH THE DARK THOUGHTS FROM INSIDE OF ME

[childofthepaladinking-blog]

we got grounded...(more whining)

so, my sibs and i got grounded, for various reasons.                                              one reason,is that i was working on a job for a person, and did not get to sleep until about 3:40-ish on friday evening.                                                                     i then had to put up with stupid questions, and have decided that we were in the wrong. however, we are not the only ones who are, or were, in the wrong.(and if i have ignored any messages since saturday afternoon, this is why)

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A place long ago, a time next to me.

" a large nostalgia for me and my imaginary friend here, bartender!" A man shouts over the noise in the small bar in the slums. I bring the man his order, and stop at the next person, a lady who s Is asleep on the bar. " Ma'am, excuse me. You need to wake up." I say, attempting to rouse her, but she does not respond. I look around for the woman who came with her, but she has already left. This is something that happens quite often, and when it does happen, I am responsible for bringing the sleeper to the back room, and I must stay awake for days trying to find a friend or family member. Nostalgia is not an easy drug, but is a legal one, and it is not uncommon for someone to overdose, sending them into a coma that can only be broken by a voice from their past, in the present. If someone who has no one in their life drinks nostalgia, they enter into an unending coma, which they constantly dream of a time in their childhood when they were lost. If this woman has no one, I must take her to the hospital,and she will become a ward of the state, but I do not want to do this without trying. Thanks for reading!

[childofthepaladinking-blog]

Perhaps another story.

I have become the most successful person in reality, but I cannot ever see anyone who I knew before my transition, or it will be reversed. To this end, as soon as I entered my new form, I goiged out my eyes with an inkpen, and passed it off as an intruder who did not know I was in the room, and attacked blindly. But, I guess perhaps I should answer your question, how am I in this position. Well, have you ever heard a certain story about a young man who meets his uncle, who needs his help getting a magical piece of possessed lighting equipment? You probably have, even if you do not recognize it when worded that particular way. Well, I found this oil lamp, and I rubbed it, and a woman wreathed in electric green smoke poured out of the wick, and gave me an option. "MORTAL, YOU HAVE FOUND ME, AND NOW HAVE A CHOICE TO MAKE!" The room shook with her voice, but I stood my ground, and asked what that choice was. "YOU WILL NEED TO DECIDE IF YOU WOULD LIKE ONE WISH, AND YOU KEEP YOUR SOUL, OR THREE AND BECOME BOUND TO THE LAMP UNTIL THE DAWN BREAKS OVER THE PAINFUL GLARE OF THE ALMIGHTY!" I pondered this, and said I would prefer the single wish, but I would need proof of her power. As I said this, the room grew dark, and a pale light reached from the floor, threatening destruction before I could move, and she bellows in an altogether different voice, one of sandstorms and shredded glass, "YOU DARE TO PUT FORTH AN ULTIMATUM TO A HERALD OF THE END OF LIFE, TO ONE OF THE FOUR HORSEMEN?" As she said this, my skin paled, my mind aged, and my body withered and died. But somehow, I reverted to my original state, only to restart the process, many times over. " HOW DOES IT FEEL MORTAL, TO DIE IN THE MOST COMMON WAY OF YOUR AGE?" I responded in the voice of an aging person, "painful, oh harbringer, but I have made my choice." Instantly, the aging stops, and she changes herself to an older male, heavily laden with piercings and chains, built like the sky and the sea, and says in the same voice, albeit quieter, "if you have made your choice, speak your mind and enter into your new life." " My only wish is to work my way to the top of a powerful business, and become the owner of that business, and to do this with every company in reality and time." "Your choice is yours, and will be honored to my fullest extent." And just like that, I have become the most successful person in reality.

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Maybe nothing, probably something, perhaps everything.

What if no one ever knew anything? I propose that at some point in our timeline, whether past, present or future, we will reach optimum stupidity. Everyone talks of "the singularity" as if it is inevitable, when in reality, we have no idea what could happen. We could perhaps, never think another thought from this moment forward, and we would never evolve further, mentally or physically,or someone could look at their foot and find the formulaic code of the universe from the wrinkles on their ankle. I think it more likely that we will stagnate before reaching the singularity, and knowledge will stop. But that will not change the existence Of humanity. Eventually, someone will restart our progress of technology, and maybe even release us from stagnation, but it will happen only through discontent.