What Dungeons and Dragons Has Taught Me (About Myself)

It might sound silly, but lately one of my main methods of examining myself and the changes I'm undergoing is through my D&D characters, who I've found end up exemplifying at least some things about the type of person I am/am striving to be at the time. So, let me introduce you.

Malachi and Kazak
In my freshman year of college I created Malachi, a quiet, ordinary elven girl with a thirst for knowledge and a soft spot for creatures of any sort. Her class was a combination between druid and the prestige class "dragon rider." She had a companion, Kazak, a young brass dragon who was indebted to her for saving his life. He accompanied her everywhere, his chattiness making up for her silence, and occasionally took the form of a cat to maintain a low profile.
I think this character was a fine expression of  my high aspirations and my desire to become a vet, as well as a desire to be the "quiet one." At some point during high school, I realized I was attractive and became an obnoxious attention whore, trying to make up for all the years I was an ugly duckling in doubletime. Sometime later I'd realized what I'd become, and thusly I'd consciously try to not be that. This character was also probably influenced by desire for a dog, which I did not have yet. I held onto this character for a long time, trying to play her for multiple failed campaigns. Similarly, I was still resistant to change in my life and holding on dearly to my past self.

Xena
Birthed in the spring of my sophomore year, this was simply a result of me going back and watching some episodes of one of my favorite childhood TV shows. My friend wanted to start a campaign and I was more than happy to join, but also completely lacking creativity, so I just said "I basically want to be Xena." She ended up being an uncouth pit fighter that liked to party and drink, a star in her hometown, with her own mansion and a servant to boot. She may have in part been inspired by a little bit of restlessness, and a desire to change things up for the sake of it.

Tenechi
This character just came to be this fall, the start of my junior year. I left her rather ambiguous and open-ended, intending to develop her through the course of the campaign, which never really went very far. she was dexterity-based fighter. I attempted to play her in such a way that her sex was disguised and people assumed she was a man, but this proved more difficult than I thought. If you know me in the slightest then this doesn't require much explanation. She, like the character before her, was also influenced by out-of-game restlessness and wanderlust.

Vittoria
Part of a campaign I am currently playing, Vittoria is a woman of gypsy decent, attempting to rise through the ranks in a hierarchical society where the idea itself is ludicrous. She is the member of a crew of smugglers gone pirates, with levels as a bard and "swashbuckler."  She thirsts for power and prestige. And for once, I'm hamming up the fact that my character is a woman, who essentially gets places by being seductive and manipulative. This character is largely influenced by some recent self-hate and brooding about the fact that I'm a woman, which I hate, in case you didn't know. I suppose I'm just trying to take out my resentment in a different way. Think of it as a sort of therapy. Or not, given the fact that the world of this campaign is sexist. Maybe I'm just that much of a masochist.
She may also reflect my recent realization that my desire to be a vet is nothing more than a desire for prestige, but that's a story for another blog.

Hunter
A brand new character, just weeks old, I threw this idea together for my boyfriend's Scorched Earth campaign. He is the "tropiest of tropes:" the assassin with amnesia. I am playing him in such a manner that I have not seen my character sheet, most of my "checks" are made for me, and I have to feel things out for myself. At present, he is covered head to toe in one enormous, elaborate, magical tattoo, and anyone he touches receives a lethal dose of poison. He does not remember his name, but shadows and thoughts of predatory animals in the back of his mind have spurred him to temporarily refer to himself as "Hunter." Curiosity about his origins is currently what unites our party.
This character is a fine example of my lack of creativity. What else I have to learn from both him and Vittoria, only time will tell.

Probably Not Politically Correct

In modern America, gender and sex are two different things. Sex is determined by biology: body parts or perhaps chromosomes in unusual circumstances. Gender, however, is social construct, and (apparently) left entirely up to the individual. I think, though, that this system is socially counter-productive in a way, because even if you choose your gender, you're still saying I'm this gender because I have/desire qualities that are typical of this gender, thus perpetuating related stereotypes. Ideally we would all be genderless and our sexualities would all be less defined, but that will likely never happen.

I've been pondering my place in our society as a woman. I suppose everything you read from this point on is a long-winded diatribe derived from a matter of semantics.

What's it mean to be a woman?

Yeah, I have ladybits. That thing that babies come out of. Those things that babies suck on.
(The whole sexualization of breasts is a weird thing, to me. Think about it. Men have nipples too. What's the difference, really? Why are ours obscene? Because they're fattier? Fat men get boobs too, but they aren't forced to hide them. That's hardly fair. Titties aren't any more special than other parts of the body, like the neck, or navel. They aren't sexually explicit, they just aren't.)

But there's more to it than that

Every society has it's own gender roles. I don't need to spell them out, you ought to be well aware. Girls like shopping, boys like video games, blah blah etc. Traditional roles are being defied more often, but we just come up with new ones in their place.

I've always hated being female. The sexes are equally capable, but there's no denying they are naturally suited for different things. Social intelligence vs. mathematical intelligence. Balance vs. strength. Hormonally speaking, if I had more testosterone, I'd be naturally more motivated and goal-oriented. One of the reasons I stopped taking a medication of mine was for the concern that the excess estrogen was diminishing these traits. Are these traits I should value, though? Have I been completely misguided? I am always taking on more challenging tasks in an effort to prove people wrong. Should I just embrace my strengths? There is nothing I value more than the pursuit of knowledge, but does that mean I have to pursue it? Why not accept my place in nature as a female? I could contribute instead by nurturing men, be they partners or offspring, who are more suited to this pursuit than I.

Alas, in the manner I was raised, I don't think I'd be content with that. And in the society we live in, I don't think men would allow us to be content with that, even if they say otherwise. Because no matter your skill or intelligence, you will still be ridiculed for your decision to follow the homemaker route. You have to prove yourself. Nurturing a great thinker is not as good as being a great thinker. We just don't place as much value on the natural strengths of women.

And as I soon learned upon finishing puberty, being a woman sucks when you want to make friends. Men (the vast majority of the time) don't want to be your friend unless they think intimacy might eventually be involved. Theoretically that's fine if you are okay with having sex with all your friends. I imagine that would be exhausting, though. And women? Well, honestly, I just haven't tried very hard at making friends with women. I guess I don't have the right to complain until I do. I am at a disadvantage here because I am a sexist fuck and I think women are manipulative, vapid and boring.

My given set of circumstances has put me in a position of self-hatred. I don't like being a woman. I don't want to be a woman. It doesn't align with my set of values and life plans. What the hell do I do about it, though?

I realize personal testimony doesn't mean shit, but I offer this: On the few occasions I have dressed in drag to appear as a convincing male, I found that people took me more seriously, even if they knew me well and were aware that I was a female.

As far as I'm concerned, you're sexist even if you aren't sexist. I am too. It's okay.

Soft Machine

Sometimes I am painfully or pleasantly aware of how human I am. How alike I am to everyone else, how different I am from everyone else. I take a moment to use my senses to their fullest, to marvel at the world around me and the vehicle I use to experience it. I flex my fingers, I inhale deeply. I think of the blood in my veins and the impulses winding through my nervous system and the mechanics of my eyes and ears. I see, I think, I feel, I am. I am an animal yet I am unique. I am machine, with many complex components and programs. I am animate. I am fragile.

At work with my mother today, many machines hummed with the exchange of information. An accident had occurred one building over.
Then, in an inexplicable instant, after Ms. Hart placed one foot inside, the elevator suddenly lurched up, its door still open, according to the Fire Department. It dragged her until she was pinned between the elevator and the wall, between the first and second floors, the police said.

How horrifying.

Of all the things Ms. Hart thought about on her way to work that morning, I don't think "I might die today" was one of them.

It doesn't seem fair.

What intricate, delicate machines we are.
Machines with programs to conceptualize and fight for things.
Machines with true intelligence, ability to learn and apply knowledge.
Machines with ability to use logic and reason.
Machines with ability to purposely ignore such things.
Machines capable of working together or independently.
Machines capable of great destruction or creation.
Machines that can collect and record many varieties of data.
Machines that can connect to each other in ways worth dying for.
Machines with ideas, beliefs, passions and questions worth living for.

Our world fascinates me.

I think that, no matter what I do in life, I will always appreciate it for the fact that I am alive.

Yep, sums me up pretty well.


http://www.authentichappiness.sas.upenn.edu/Entry.aspx?rurl=http://www.authentichappiness.sas.upenn.edu/tests/SameAnswers_t.aspx?id=310

Polyamory

I consider myself a good person.
My moral compass, is probably a lot different than yours. I won't, however, deny that I've done wrong.

I've "cheated" on everyone I've ever been in a monogamous relationship with. Cheating is bad, of course, because it hurts people. I can't stand hurting people.

My solution? Fuck monogamy.


Polyamory (from Greek πολύ [poly, meaning many or several] and Latin amor [love]) is the practice, desire, or acceptance of having more than one intimate relationship at a time with the knowledge and consent of everyone involved.

 I spent an inordinate amount of my short life enamored with one person. The infamous first love. They greatly shape who we become as people.

For about a year and a half of my time in a "relationship" with this person, he was also in a relationship with someone else. Why did I let shit go on that way? I was naive as hell, and I did stupid things in the name of love. I was assured he was only with her for the company, and that I was the one he loved, and that he would leave her to be with only me again when the time came. This trained me to have a very odd mindset. I'm okay with him fucking other girls as long as he still loves me. I later found out he'd also lied about being in love with me.
From then on I divorced the ideas of sex and love. They became, for me, completely different things that do not necessarily go together all the time.

Through the duration of that disaster of a relationship, I believed that one can only romantically love one person at a time. This was the origin of most of my pain. Many people suffer from this same notion, however, it simply isn't true.

Firstly, there are many kinds of love. The way a parent loves their child, the way a person loves their pet, the way you love your first, and each love thereafter. Arguably no two loves are the same.

Secondly, consider this: When a family with a child has an additional child, do they love their first child any less? A friend shared a beautiful analogy with me, that I will paraphrase:
When we had our next child, we explained to the older one... that your mother and father's love is like a flame, and you, the children, are the candles. When one candle lights another, the flame doesn't go away, it grows. So we can give our love to your younger brother too, but it doesn't mean we love you any less.

The realization dawned on me. That same idea does work with romantic love. We love different people for different reasons in different ways. Why not be able to be intimate with all of the people you want intimacy from? Go to concerts with this person, go to museums with another. It's a matter of needs. We spend our whole lives being exposed to something contrary, but that doesn't make it true.

I am, for the first time in my life, in a polyamorous relationship. With someone I've yet to lie to. Which is a big thing for me, because I lie like a motherfucker. And so far, it's the healthiest relationship I've ever had. I don't fear replacement. I don't feel jealousy. Hell, he could have a harem of women and I'd be fine with it, as long as we were all aware of eachother's existences. Admittedly I'd vie for position as the matriarch, but I'd submit to the right woman. I mulled over the logistics of it, and really, the main problem with polyamory is that there are people that don't want to take part in it. This approach to relationships is still new to me, I can't say I've fully experienced it yet. But so far, it really works. In theory it's more stable and better than monogamy in every way.

Alas, not many people welcome this idea, or even comprehend it. And because of that, there are people in my life who I love, but will never hear me say it, and who I would make love to, but will never know it.

Did I adopt this approach to relationships for fear of being hurt? Originally, yes, and I don't see anything wrong with that.

I do believe in something like "true love," which I think is more appropriately referred to as "complete love." And I think it is attainable with just one person, but how likely is that?

Obligatory Religious Post

My parents had very different ideas of how to raise children.

They both did their best to raise me in their own ways, and you know, I think I turned out pretty damned great. But sometimes their values conflicted. My mother wanted me to be a good girl, and my father wanted me to be inquisitive. When you're a little kid and your divorced parents are throwing you different ideas, and each claims the other is wrong, it gets a bit confusing.

Despite this difference in opinion, when I was small I was taken to church every Sunday, regardless of which parent had custody of me that weekend. I think my dad may have taken me because I would actually ask him to. I was a good girl and going to church was a good thing to do. If you didn't it would make god sad. To paraphrase what my mother told me, so my five year old ass could comprehend, god made us and everything around us and he just wants us to visit him once in awhile to say thank you.
"But if god is everywhere, why do we need to visit him at church?"
"Because that's his house."
 I never questioned it too much. I hardly ever paid attention. I actually found mass rather boring, but I liked singing the songs and reciting the prayers. Going to church made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I went to catholic school for a little while in kindergarten. I don't remember why I changed schools. I remember one really bad experience with my teacher and that's about it.

I started getting sent to CCD (catechism classes) every week so that I could get my seven sacraments (Roman Catholic thing). At this point (around seven years old) I got really serious about this shit, even started taking pride in it, because suddenly my religion was school, and I was all about doing well in school. I memorized more prayers. I started praying more, on the school bus in the morning, before meals. I learned to genuflect properly and how to use a rosary.

I also started reading the bible, and paying attention in mass. And I think this is when I started to doubt.

I don't remember the progression of my doubts very well, but I know I started doubting the institution of religion long before I started doubting the existence of god. One Christmas Eve, I had a discussion about religion with my cousin Melissa, someone I really looked up to, who talked about it in a way I'd never heard before. She said that she viewed religion as a personal thing, that you should have a relationship with god in your own special way and that the church should have nothing to do with it. She talked about some of the ways the church changed religion for the worse. I started talking about it more, and asking more questions.

In my preteens I started to resent going to church. My father stopped taking me. My mother had to drag my stubborn ass.

I began my freshman year of high school still referring to myself as a Roman Catholic. Then I got my laptop, my very first entirely personal computer. I had the internet, and access to millions upon millions of personal opinions. A classmate of mine also introduced me to LaVeyan Satanism, which wasn't at all what one would imagine, and had a set of virtues I could more easily get behind.

Satanism depicted Lucifer, the dark bringer of light, as the hero of the bible. God placed Adam and Eve in paradise, and gave them everything except knowledge. Adam and Eve were stupid, and god wanted them to stay that way. He just wanted them to walk around in paradise and eat and sleep and fuck and sometimes talk to him. (I wonder what they'd talk about?) But essentially, god wanted us to live no differently than any other animal, he just wanted us to be obedient. And at the same time, he knew we would disobey him and gain knowledge and self awareness, and then he punished us for it. I found the thought abhorrent. I had a thirst for knowledge, I loved learning more than anything. And according to the bible, this is what Satan gave us. The bible was no longer a thing of value to me, fact or fiction.

Furthermore, I began to examine the goal of Christianity: getting into heaven. That was it. But what if there was no heaven? How sad is to to spend the brief time you're given as a conscious being trying to attain the unattainable? And if there was a heaven? It sounded incredibly boring. This seemed like a lose-lose situation. I much preferred Dante's description of limbo:

Charon ushers you across the river Acheron, and you find yourself upon the brink of grief's abysmal valley. You are in Limbo, a place of sorrow without torment. You encounter a seven-walled castle, and within those walls you find rolling fresh meadows illuminated by the light of reason, whereabout many shades dwell. These are the virtuous pagans, the great philosophers and authors, unbaptised children, and others unfit to enter the kingdom of heaven. You share company with Caesar, Homer, Virgil, Socrates, and Aristotle. There is no punishment here, and the atmosphere is peaceful, yet sad.

I grew hatred the idea of the Christian god and started forming one of my own. I quietly renounced my religion. I started calling myself agnostic.

But my mother continued taking me to church and sending me to CCD so I could receive the sacrament of confirmation. I could understand why, she wanted to do what was best for me. I mean, how often does a fourteen year old know what the fuck they ought to do? But I started being a smartass about my assignments. We had to listen to the gospel every week and write what we learned from it. I started writing the same exact lesson for every week: "Have faith in Jesus."

One morning before school I worked up the courage to tell my mom I wanted to stop going to church, I didn't want to be Catholic anymore. She wasn't very happy about it. It was kind of scary, but the whole thing dissipated quickly. I was still forced to attend church and CCD, but I knew it wouldn't be for long, and it felt good to have that off my chest.

Sometime after that my mom started going to church less an less. I always wondered if it was my fault, to some extent. I didn't know how to feel about it. I wasn't too unhappy about losing my own faith, but you know, I imagine it wasn't quite the same for her. It made me kind of sad.

Through high school and college my ideas about religion and god evolved constantly, and change still. I learned the semantics of gnostic vs. agnostic and theist vs. atheist, and can now refer to myself as an "agnostic atheist." I fit a few different labels, such as "spiritual without religion." No matter how you boil it down though, I'm completely secular. I find no personal value in religion which you can't get from philosophy.

I have have an idea I refer to as "God," but it is not a deity. It's a possibility. It's a name I lend to that which I do not know or may not be able to comprehend, and I acknowledge that. It allows me to enjoy the use of the word as a metaphor in art, music, literature. It's not a big part of my life.

I don't have a particularly valuable or witty closing thought.

Thoughts on Love and Intelligence

Do you think those of a higher intelligence are able to love more deeply? (Please try, for just a moment, to not turn this into a semantics argument.)

When this question was first posed to me, I answered "yes" automatically. But then I immediately reconsidered. Why? Why did I answer yes to that?

 My younger sister, Maggie, is one of the most energetic thirteen-year-olds you'll ever meet. She has an innate vitality that follows here everywhere. Sometimes it's almost as if she has more than her physical being can handle. She has a very active imagination, good memory, and impressive logic and problem solving skills.

Maggie is also autistic. She's in the "special" class at her middle school. You don't have to be around her for long before you realize that there is something very off about the way she behaves and communicates. She is extremely stubborn, fervent and temperamental.  She is a creature of habit completely uncomfortable with change. Her skills in speech, reading, and learning are all several years behind where they ought to be. Overall, she's not very well adjusted, though I think she is entirely capable if getting there with time.

Growing up with her, I always thought I understood her better than anyone else, at times moreso than her own mother. I introduced her to video games at a young age and was a diehard advocate for her continued exploration of them as she got older. They were something she became passionate about, just about the only thing she was passionate about, and I believed the skills she could learn from them to be invaluable.

The only time she really communicates openly is when she's talking about video games. If you ask her about her day at school she won't answer. She won't talk about books or people or anything really. But if you ask her about the new treasures she's found in Pikmin 2, she could go on for hours. Video games, in a way, are her world, and a common means for someone else to enter her world. (Being the only one in her immediate family to also play video games, I always thought this fostered a special connection between us.) Some might think this is unhealthy, but I disagree. If not for video games, what would she have instead? Television?

At any rate, I think that in certain areas she is very intelligent, much moreso than people give her credit for. But her social intelligence is lacking, as are her communication skills. It made growing up with her an unusual experience. She doesn't usually make eye contact. Her sentences are often ambiguous or disjointed. She does not understand or experience emotions in a way that I can compare to the average human being. You know, I don't think I've ever in my entire life heard Maggie say, "I love you."

But I know she does.

Sometime in the past year or two, while I was off 500 miles away from my immediate family who I hadn't seen in months, I received a call from my mother. She was sitting aside a hospital bed, calling to tell me Maggie had gotten a serious MRSA infection. I could heard loud, aggravated grunts and groans in the background, as if in protest of something. My mother informed me that Maggie was angry because she absolutely insisted my mother didn't tell me she was in the hospital.

I felt a pang in my heart. I don't know how it seems to an outside observer, but as someone that's known Maggie her entire life, what she did that day was the greatest expression of love I had ever seen from her, and perhaps ever felt in my own time. She understood the severity of her situation, and despite her own pain and difficulty, she wanted to spare me the burden of worrying about her. It was absolutely beautiful.

In reflection, I know why my gut reaction was to answer the initial question in the affirmative. Those with higher intelligence are often better capable of expressing their love, and so they can more deeply share their love, and by this line of thought, those of higher intelligence can more deeply fall in love with eachother. Communication is incredible that way. However, I must disagree with the sentiment that they can feel love more strongly, because at this point in time, I know better. My dear Magpie has shown me otherwise.

Plans

The class applauded at the end of her speech and she returned to her seat, feeling confident she'd done well. She made only two mistakes, and they were likely noticeable only to herself. There was a lot of effort and rehearsing put into that speech. She sat through the rest of her public speaking class with mild interest - she resented having to take such a course given her academic plans, but she enjoyed learning either way.

She was going to be a vet. And using this as a springboard, she was going to do great things. Maybe inspire an animal rights reform. Maybe research astrobiology and Mars. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do exactly, but she knew she wanted to do things.

Class ended and she stepped out into the November air, cool and thin, carrying the faint smell of rotting Halloween pumpkins and decaying leaves. She fastened her coat and mounted her bike, and as she rode home she ran through her schedule in the front of her mind. I am going to go home, start dinner, take my dog to the park, and then study chemistry until my brain leaks out my ears. Maybe I'll even have time to practice the violin or watch a movie with Daniel.

But then a dull pain throbbed in her lower abdomen. Almost forgot about that. Pharmacy, then dinner, Fort, and study. Not too much of a hassle, it was on the way anyhow.

Halfway there she swerved to avoid a car and hit a pothole. Suddenly her bike was handling quite funny. She braked and dismounted to find that he back tire had gone flat. Pharmacy, then bike shop, then dinner, the park, and studying.

But wait, that's too late to take Fort out. And I still have to go to the pet store before eight. Shoot.

The entire way home she was preoccupied with these events, trying to arrange them in a suitable manner. She walked in her front door with a bike that was still flat. She greeted her dog cheerfully but was distracted by other things.

She walked up the stairs, still thinking of other things to be done, when suddenly her very enthusiastic dog bounded up behind her and ascended the stairs by weaving through her legs. She was thrown off balance, and tumbled head over heels down a very steep, narrow staircase. On the second landing her head hit the wall in such a way that her neck snapped, and she died almost immediately.

"But I have so much to do."