Tis the Season

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
Happy Holidays as well.
I hope the coming months bring what you wish from them
and that you are able to live your life in the way that brings you the most happiness
with those you love.

Stars

Stillness.
There is no wind.
Not a branch moves
overhead.
The grass is as quiet
as the sky -
black and framed by tree-fingers.

The world is away,
hidden by white trunks of old
aging aspens.
We lay together in the quiet,
hands entwined.
Eyes reflect the span of the stars.
How small we are.
How large we can become
on the grass,
hand in hand.

Seascape

The ocean waves lapped at the shore, surprisingly calm given the storm that brewed out at sea. Purple-blue clouds hung low on the horizon, fading to more pastel shades in their relatives as they approached the shore. The water reflected the sky, green-blues highlighted with violet, turquoise, and the whitecaps of waves. A strong breeze gusted off the water, filling the air with salt spray. A lone seagull cawed overhead.

The shore seemed to be waiting for the oncoming clouds. Waiting for the bulging, blue-violet forms to move overhead and release a torrent of rainwater that would pulverize the sandy shoreline. For the waves to grow in size, rising like luminescent skyscrapers before collapsing onto the sand. They would shatter into white foam and liquid shards of glass. The ocean would collect the remnants, drawing the foam and the shards back just far enough so that the next towering wave could fall. The shore would take it all – the falling waves, the pounding sky-water. It would last for a few hours and then the ocean would quiet itself as the sky tamed its winds. They would both apologize to the shore with soft breezes and gentle waves, soothing the tousled sand.

That was hours off yet, however. The ocean was still being sullen, fighting with the sky as they worked up the courage to come to land. The shore was left to wait, listening to the seagull flapping overhead.

Gaming

I wrote this a couple of months ago, and felt that it should be cleaned up and shared again. WARNING: Spoilers for Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age II, and all three Mass Effect games below.


I know that gaming in general has become more main stream and socially 'acceptable' than it was a few years ago, but there are still varying levels of gammer and how gammers are percieved. We all game for different reasons, all very valid and very real. In finishing the Mass Effect series with the completion of Mass Effect 3, I've had to let go of my cannon Shephard, Kai. Sure, there's still much to be written about the end of her story, but I don't like endings - I don't like letting go. So her story's still unrefined and unfinished in a word document on my hard drive. That being said, she is still present, even though her in-game story is technically finished.  It's made me realize how dear to me gaming is and how these characters, seemingly insignificant pieces of code combined with a visual, have helped me through some of the darkest points of my life.

In high school, it was Adrianne Tabris - my city elf, dual wielding warrior from Dragon Age: Origins. Dealing with the emotional tumult that were my final years of high school, Adri was the calm in the storm - she knew what she had to do, and set out to get it done. And she did it with a smile, this job that was forced into her hands as leader of the Grey Wardens and eventual Hero of Ferleden. She found love and held on to it, in spite of duty, giving up pieces of herself to protect those she loved. Writing about her with a friend at the time, she provided an outlet for confused feelings and immense hurt. She helped to mend some broken bridges, or at least air out some dirty laundry in tandem with my friend's Mahariel. She became an outlet for my anger and frustration, a leader to aspire to, a safe place where I could leave my teenage angst behind me.

College came around and my gaming became limited to my visits home, cramming in hours between visits with friends and dates with the boyfriend. When my college buddy came back from winter break with an xbox that she offered to let me play, Ferrel was born. My sweet, naive mage was my protagonist for my first play through of Dragon Age II, falling hard for Anders early on. Shortly before I beat the game, I broke up with my long distance boyfriend, calling it off due to a need for space and a general air of disconnection between us. Not a week later, he came clean to me over a skype call. He had been sleeping with my best friend almost the entire time we had been dating - over a year.
Never have I been so hurt, so angry and hateful all at once. I ceased trying to contact the girl I had called 'friend' for so long, wrote with, cried with, grown with. It was the first time my college friends had seen me break down, and I'm still trying to let go of the resentment and hurt. Dragon Age II became an escape, a support alongside my friends and family. So when the Chantry exploded and Ferrel was faced with Anders' betrayal, the feeling was eerily close to that of my own real life betrayal. And I realized that Ferrel had become a symbol of myself as I had been; that her change, post-betrayal, mirriored my own. Neither of us were the women we used to be: young, childish, naive. We grew hard, wary, but didn't let it change us. It made us stronger. It took Ferrel for me to see that.

Now, as I sit before the document that will be Kai's final chapter, I don't know where to begin. Sophmore year of college kicked my ass.  Between a full class load, the Resident Advisor duties, and the unexpected Presidency of the DePaul Swing Society, I was grasping at straws to get everything to come together. I managed, it's done, but I never had any time to just sit back and be myself. If one thing was finished, there was always something else on its heels: another duty, another paper, another test. Even when I could steal a few minutes for myself, the lingering sense of my titles and who everyone else needed me to be weighed heavily. So when Mass Effect 3 came out in March, about two weeks before finals, I dove into it with fervor. I had recapped and set up Kai's files, ready to see where this last game would take me. I never imagined that it would lead me here.
Powering through, doing as much as I could on a schedule, I felt the urgency and pressure settling on Kai's shoulders. Do this, solve that, make this work while the Reaper threat blared in the background. The woman was cracking at the edges and there was nothing she or her lover, Garrus, could do about it. It was just too much - the galaxy needed Commander Shephard, not Kai. DePaul needed RA Sarah, or President Sarah, not just Sarah. Sarah had to wait.
I cried when I thought I'd killed Grunt on the Rachni mission, sobbing hard enough to have to pause the game when he came out of those tunnels alive. When Mordin went up into the Shroud, singing as it exploded, I cried for Kai, since she could not. Thane, Legion...so many friends, for both of us. Garrus was Kai's strong rock, balancing her, keeping her sane. So when the final push came, that last weekend before Finals, I was caught in Kai's desperation and wish that it would just be over. When she finally chose Synthesis that first time and the credits rolled, I couldn't help but sob over the peace she felt, the she had done her job and could rest. I toyed with what happened after, but it was done. She had done it, living on in spirit through the synthesis.
As satisfied as I was with my original ending, little pieces niggled at me and got me excited for the Extended Cut. I had gone back to play through Mass Effect with Alexis 'Alex' Shephard, my charming, ice queen Commander who had survived Mindor and became the Butcher of Torfan. She was Kai's opposite: cold, calculating, get the job done regardless of the cost. Kai was a bad ass, but personable - Alex is just as bamf, but terrifyingly calculating about it. So, jumping back to the final hours before striking Cerberus with Kai threw me for a loop. I forgot what it felt like to play her character, more going through the motions than anything else. And then came the final evac scene.
My boyfriend at the time was watching me, keeping his distance as I had requested when I warned him that I was going to play. The evac scene played, and I couldn't stop the tears. Kai, my baby girl, had to order her turian lover to leave. The same one who had been at her six all game long. The same one who fought to stay beside her, bloody and all, claiming "You've got to be kidding me. We're in this together!" The goodbye wrenched my heart, made all the more potent by the presence of Kaidan, her love interest from ME all those years ago. She was saying good bye to him too. The two men she loved most, her mate and her brother-in-arms, could only watch as she faced the end alone. There was not a damn thing they could do. And Kai knew she wasn't coming back. Not this time. So when the choice came, fleshed out with new information and insight, she chose Destruction. She begged EDI's forgiveness, Legion's forgiveness as she fired, praying that she'd die this time. Only, she didn't. And she doesn't know what to do with that.
And now it's officially done, Kai's game story. All that's left is whatever I can write to do her justice. Going through ME3 with her mirrored my own frantic nature, allowed a little bit of 'self' escape through her. She got me through the rest of the year and is helping me process. I think writing the end of her story with provide closure for both of us; something to look back on and face with acceptance. Something to learn from.

All of these characters, Kai in particular, have grown with me, shaped me, supported me in ways that only they can. Their stories mean more than just mere games: they are their own beings, fictional, but real in strange ways. It's a hard thing to describe, but it's special and true and why I love video games in particular. It's been a blessing to take these journeys with these characters, and it's been eye opening. At the end of the day, I can only hope that I can write a story that can help someone else as much as these stories, these characters, have helped me.

So now, as I sit down and write Kai's story, I hope her ending is what she wants it to be, something that does her - and the force she's been in my life - justice. We'll see where she takes me next, no?

Break

            Exhale.

            Her eyes focused on the boards in her mentor’s hands. Around her, the dojo was quiet as the blue-padded floors and white walls absorbed any sound. The parent spectators were still. She knew her mother and father were seated there, waiting for her. Overhead, the Korean flag hung alongside the Tran’s Tae Kwon Do logo. They beamed down at them all, while her fellow test mates watched patiently behind her.

            Her mentor nodded.

Shouting, her hand leapt forward, clenched tightly into a fist. It passed easily through the wood, snapping the pair of boards cleanly in half. The lines of her mentor’s face crinkled in approval as he scratched his beard. In unison, her fellow blue belts cheered. 

Old Shorts

It's odd, returning to a life so old.
It's like those shorts you wore in gym class two years ago
that are a size too small now,
even though you haven't grown since then.
It's stiff and tight in all the wrong places -
a mold that never worked back then
and still won't work now.
It's the old expectations:
straight As,
curfews,
set the example for your siblings,
that still crowd in like the walls of your room -
now too small for what you've become.

You're life has expanded now,
beyond the place you called home those years past.
It's the wide open dance floors now,
the friends who hold your hand as you fall asleep.
It's the ones who open their home to you for a weekend,
the ones who you never feel anxious sharing your favorite song with.
the ones who make you smile when you're curled up in a ball on their couch,
fighting the memories that make you tremble and cry.
They are your family now.
Your life is them,
the spaces you inhabit together.
This old life doesn't fit anymore,
like those old shorts.
Embrace the new one -
that's where you belong.
You fit there.

Your Text

As I type the words, "I don't fit,"
You text me otherwise.
I don't know how you do it -
how you can tell when I'm feeling heavy
and how you just know what to say.
The phone lights up,
the text shines bright,
and I can't help but smile.

Hesitiation

Based on Alfred Stevens’ Hesitation (Madame Morteaux).   

Just outside the pinewood door, she hesitated, her most recent needlework in hand. She had modeled it after a painting her betrothed had bought home from his last voyage to China, imbuing the piece with porcelain, fans, and women dressed in patterned robes with long, wide sleeves. It weighed heavily on her fingertips, pressing against her leg through the fabric of her gown. Was it ready? Would her mother approve? She tucked her knocking hand to her chest and closed her eyes as she listened to the ladies within the sitting room. At her throat, the blue ribbon itched.

As she glanced back at the circular thread cabinet, the glimmering sapphire on her finger caught her eye. Images of her betrothed’s delight flashed through her mind: the afternoon sunshine washing the green walls and family portraits of the sewing room. The way all of the furniture gleamed with the new wood polish her father had used that morning. The way her betrothed’s face split with a grin as she showcased the almost-finished product. She sighed and straightened he hair. If it was good enough for her husband-to-be, it would have to be good enough for her mother.

She rapped confidently on the door before letting herself in. 

On Playing Games

You know how people like to play games? Stringing gullible souls on with a little touch of hope? Making them believe there may be something ‘special’ there between them, when really all they want is the thrill of the chase? You know whom I’m talking about.

I’m talking about people like that cashier your eyeing, that works at the grocery store on the corner. The one with the long hair and green eyes? With the black-framed glasses? Yeah, that one. The one that always has a different woman on his arm when his shift ends. I’m talking about people like him. People that flirt with almost every woman who comes through their checkout line, dropping little compliments everywhere. Who collect the scraps of tissue fished from deceptively large Channel purses, and never call the phone numbers on them. The ones who will tell one ‘special’ lady to wait: “I’m off my shift in 15 minutes.” You’ll see them sometimes, hovering by the firewood that the grocery always has stacked by the door. People like him always leave with a different woman who waited for them to get off shift.

Do you see what I’m getting at? With this guy and these women? He’s playing games: he’s roping them in with compliments, taking their numbers, and leaving them all waiting. He never calls – only the woman who leaves with him at the end of the day gets any attention, and that’s only for one afternoon. I’m trying to warn you about people like him sister. People who like to play games with other people. I want you to know the signs – to have an example – so you can see them coming. So you can steer clear of them. You’re better than game players. And you can do so much better than the guy at the grocery store. 

Molasses

The kitchen was warm when I came downstairs

Leaving my luggage at the front door.

It smelled like pumpkin and molasses.

The dog’s in front of the oven,

And there’s flour on the floor

While a bowl, filled to the brim

Sits amidst the baking pans.

Mom’s there too

In her sweater and jeans,

Rolling out the dog treats

With her trusty wooden pin –

The same as always.

Off

Something's bottled inside
locked in tight,
bursting at the seams.
The tremors rock through my chest,
through my finger tips,
making it hard to carry a conversation.
My voice vibrates,
my chest feels fizzy - off -
I don't know what's wrong.
Is there something wrong?
I'm sick to my stomach -
can't sit in class anymore.
Walks don't help.
Talks don't help.
Mom and Dad don't know what to do.
I'll just sit here and wait
for the fizzy and the sick to go away
so I can sleep
and not feel another day.