We Believe

There it was again: choose what to believe. Couldn't they see he wanted the truth?

- Adapted from JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Religion is flawed, but only because man is flawed.

- Dan Brown, Angels and Demons

I've never had a lot of faith.

I wonder if this would surprise people. I come from a Catholic family, though growing up my exposure was sporadic. I know the usual prayers, what to do during mass, and a smattering of biblical lore. But I'm not sure I could say that I have ever truly believed.

Now, I am not a hard-bitten sceptic, only believing in things I can see. Far from it. If you asked me if I believe in true love, I'd say yes, absolutely - with the caveats that there are a lot of potential true loves, and that love changes. I do believe in God, or I tell myself I do.

I say this because I like logical outcomes. Cause and effect, you know? Certainty. And I'm not certain about God. 

I'm aware that I am choosing to believe.

But I'm also aware that I'm still young, it's a big world out there, and there's a lot of things I haven't seen for myself. To say that my mindset will never change is naive. This is just a snapshot of where I am at the moment. I actually don't feel qualified to have an opinion on spirituality...so I'm not going to offer one.

I do, however, have an opinion on religion.

The Catholic Church's current stance is that members of other Christian denominations, and even other religions, can still attain heaven if their actions and beliefs are sufficiently in line with Catholic teachings. (Historically, this is a major improvement. Before the Second Vatican Council, everyone else was going to hell.) But the Church maintains that salvation can only truly come from them. 

But this is just one branch of Christianity - and also one religion. There are others out there, often as much traditional as spiritual - Judaism and Shintoism are excellent examples. Belief in our own rightness is hardly unique. Everyone thinks theirs is the true path*. So who's right?

Is anyone right?

Yann Martel's Life of Pi offers an intriguing solution. Pi, the boy who practiced Christianity, Islam and his native Hinduism at the same time, claims that all belief systems are simply vehicles of higher understanding - even atheism, whose god is Science. It doesn't matter so much what we believe in, as long as we believe.

He makes a good point. But the problem here is that what you believe can matter a great deal to those who think the most important thing in life is to be a good Christian, or a good Muslim, or a good Hindu. And I'm sorry, but it's not.

It's to be a good person.**

Now think about that. As a Christian, or a Muslim, or anything really; aren't you supposed to be a good person? It's one of the few things most religions share. So why am I making that distinction?

Because too often, we focus only on our differences.

In Mitch Albom's Have A Little Faith - a true story - the author's rabbi, who believed in interfaith relations, became friends with a priest. (Episcopalian, I think.) To demonstrate this, he invited the man into his synagogue to say a few words to the Jewish congregation. The priest thanked him, took the pulpit - and started pleading with the audience to convince their rabbi to accept Jesus Christ. He got tears in his eyes, saying the rabbi was a lovely person, and didn't deserve to go to hell.

I found that quite sad. This priest honestly believed his new friend was heading for eternal damnation, because he belonged to a different faith.

That's a fairly harmless example. Again: religions are not bad. They promote a moral standard - things like honesty, fidelity, compassion. They provide a sense of community. The danger lies in allowing our beliefs to become an excuse for violence - which happens time and time again.

It happened during the Crusades, when European Christians slaughtered their way across the Holy Land. It happened during the Partition of India, in rioting between millions of Hindus and Muslims. It's happening right now, with the so-called Islamic State committing daily atrocities which the Muslim world condemns as crimes against Islam.***

I'm lucky enough to live in a place where religious harmony is a fact of life. (It's not perfect, but what is?) But there are so many places in the world where this isn't so. And it should be.

A friend of mine, a Muslim, once told me about the time he and a Christian friend traveled to West Malaysia, where boundaries are more rigid than in the East. They went out to eat, and before the meal they prayed together. The Muslim spread his hands for the doa; the Christian made the sign of the cross. People stared. The woman behind the counter even went over to ask if they were all right. We don't usually see this sort of thing, she said.

The pair smiled and answered, you do where we're from.

I can get behind that.

I may not be sure about belief in my own religion. But I do believe in tolerance. A little respect goes a long way. Some of us know this, and stories like this give me hope that others can learn. It may be naive, but I really do believe that in spite of all our differences, we can still gather behind the one thing we have in common. I believe we can put our humanity first. 

I believe in us.

What do you believe?

*Though incidentally, not all religions are so, shall we say, pushy. Shintoism doesn't mind whether you believe or not, and converting to Judaism is notoriously difficult. It's probably why each is restricted to the Japanese and Jewish peoples, respectively.

**Years ago, I read an interview in Reader's Digest with a female entrepreneur. She spoke about going to a Christian school as a girl, and the nuns telling them to be good for the love of Jesus. This woman asked why they couldn't just do good because it was the right thing to do. It got her in trouble. And I remember thinking, but why was she wrong? It made perfect sense to me.


***To state the obvious: it's interesting to note that history is, in essence, cause and effect on a grand scale. The Crusades began when Jerusalem was seized by Muslim Turks, who massacred the Christians there, prompting Pope Urban II to call for a war of liberation. Religious conflicts in the Indian sub-continent are a cycle of perpetrator and victim that continues to this day. And the roots of Islamic terrorism are still being debated, with various opinions blaming exploitation of the Middle East by Western superpowers, crushing poverty, the idea that the the Muslim world is under siege by Western values, and inherent flaws within Islam itself. It's probably too soon to tell.

What I Know So Far

It's already been two months since my last birthday. 

It no longer surprises me, exactly, how fast time flies. Your memories just don't come with dates attached. There's forever that note of disorientation upon realizing what you're thinking of happened weeks or months or even years ago, when you could have sworn it was only yesterday.

Anyway. Now that I'm entering my mid-twenties, I thought I'd compile a list of the most important things I've learned thus far. This is in no particular order. Some I only found out recently and others I've known for years. None of them is a rule I live by 24/7; I'm not that good. But I aspire to, at least.

Because I hope you'll learn something here, I'm taking the imperative voice. *looks smug, then reminds self to be serious*

So here we go.

1. Be grateful.

This seemed like the most obvious one, so it goes first. Doubtless you've heard it before. But it's easy to forget. As human beings, we naturally tend to focus on problems and dissatisfactions, because these make up the pressing issues in our lives. But remember that what we take for granted - our house, our health, our education, our comforts, our loved ones - other people are praying for. Think about it.

2. Accept that nobody's perfect.

People make mistakes. They say and do hurtful things; they make choices you won't agree with. Everyone you know - and I mean everyone - is going to disappoint you sometimes. So don't take it personally when it happens. You can't expect people to be there for you all the time. 

Remember all the times that they were.

3. Don't hold grudges.

This is a complete waste of time. There are so many other uses for your energy. The wrongdoing of others may have affected you, but it doesn't define you - unless you allow it to. Life is short. Learn to let go.

And don't sing the song.

4. Know your flaws.

Remember when I said nobody's perfect? That includes you. Everyone has certain weaknesses, areas in which they struggle. For example: I can be absent-minded. I forget things easily. 

The key here is to struggle proactively.

Now I only keep certain items in certain places, so I'll always know where to look. I keep checklists in my head for routine tasks, and run through them more than once. I try to tie errands to specific times, people and places, because our brains remember by making connections, and thinking of those things might just remind me of the errand. And if all else fails, I set reminders on my phone. 

None of these methods is foolproof - I still forget things. But they help.

Recognize your own flaws, and take steps to correct them. You might never be a master at whatever it is, but you can improve.

5. Know your strengths.

I have a theory that our strengths and flaws are really just two sides of the same coin. You know why I'm absent-minded? Because I'm always thinking about something else. 

Like what I'm writing right now. What, you thought I was just pulling this stuff out of my ears? I planned this. I actually spend a great deal of my time ordering my thoughts. It sounds weird, but I'm pretty sure that's how you begin putting thoughts into words. 

That and I read a lot.

My point here is that balance exists. Just like there are areas where they struggle, everyone also has areas where they excel. Recognize your strengths, and take pride in them.

6. Have purpose.

This one's important. The core of a life well lived is feeling that you're doing things for the betterment of others - and yourself.

At my job we entertain, but also educate. I interact with new people every day. As an introvert, I was surprised to find this is something I enjoy (though it wears me out). It's certainly improved my social skills. We practice teamwork; each person plays a role. I get to work with animals. I get to work outdoors.

It could be a lot worse.

In my spare time I exercise my cerebral passions - I write and read. And I play video games. A shameless indulgence, that, but I enjoy them. That's a goal in itself. My point here is knowing the benefits of your day-to-day activities.

Find meaning in the things you do.

7. Acknowledge your actions.

Now, for everything you do, there are any number of things you're not doing. You can't complain about the house being filthy when you spend all your spare time playing video games. (Which I don't, otherwise how could I have written this?) You also can't complain about not having enough free time if you feel the need to scrub the floors twice a day.

Time is finite. Use it well.

8. Make friends.

Another one that seemed obvious, but I thought it deserved a mention. Being a lone wolf is cool and all. But wolves are social creatures, and so are we. Some basic courtesy, consideration, and respect for differing opinions will, if nothing else, leave others with a favourable impression of you. That makes a difference. Even if you don't want to be sociable, learn to fake it.

I'm not joking. Don't think you don't need people to succeed in life. You do. Repeat after me: it pays to be nice.

9. Appreciate being single.

This is probably the hardest one for me to practice. 

Don't get me wrong. I value having all this time to myself. *takes a deep breath* It just gets a little lonely sometimes.

There; I've bared my soul. Moving on.

Intellectually at least, I know this is valid. Romance and companionship are great. But the main thing that surprised me about being in a relationship was how much time it took up. (Which seems obvious in hindsight, but hindsight's a...bother.) Letting someone else into your life is a serious investment. Lacking someone else, you can do a lot more with yourself.

Though the song's annoying - don't sing it! - the movie has a point. You might be alone, but you're alone and free.

10. Have no regrets.

I said before that we need to find meaning in the things we do. We also need to find meaning in the things we've done.

I first came across this sentiment a long time ago, and it didn't make sense to me. I had regrets. How could I get rid of them, just like that? It was only recently that I understood that regretting things is pointless.

See, a regret is something about your past that you wish you could change. But you can't change the past. All any of us can do is move forwards.

So that thing you'd do differently. Either you're not going to do it again, or you'll realize you were wrong to regret it. Either way, it's taught you something. Such are the lessons of our lives. I'd like to think mine have made me a better person.

Don't have regrets. Have experiences.

To conclude: these are the things life has taught me.

What have you learned from yours?

A Tale of Skyrim

I'm back, devoted audience. Did you miss me?

Sooo partly to keep the blog going - *looks at how long it's been inactive and winces*; I'll get to that Wheel of Time post, I promise! - and partly as a writing exercise, and partly just for the fun of it, today I'm doing something a little different.

I've been playing The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim lately.

Here be dragons.

One of the first things that struck me about this game was the loneliness. The graphical style aims for realism, and in large part has you wandering through snowy forests, open tundra and haunted ruins alone. You'll feel relieved to stumble upon a new town or city, or to return to one you've already found, because you'll be back in civilization. 

Life feels fragile here. When attacked, characters die and stay dead because you didn't save them, or because you killed them. Danger lurks in the wilds, and sometimes in the cities too. You grow in skill and strength as the game goes on. But even with companions by your side, you'll never lose that sense of the world being a dangerous place, where you can only rely on yourself.

So yes - the game does take itself a bit too seriously. This is the epitome of high fantasy, albeit with a viking twist, so at least the accents aren't British. The sheer vastness of it threw me at first. 

But before long, the freedom to be who you like, go where you will and do whatever the hell you want won me over. Follow the main storyline to a T? You can do that. Focus on one of the secondary questlines first? That's fine too. Simply wander around killing draugr and collecting wildflowers? Go for it.

In fact, because this game is all about forging your own path, I realized that hardly anyone's path would be the same. Everyone would have their own story.

So I decided to write out my own.

I guess you could classify this as fan-fiction. All of the concrete elements belong to the game itself; I simply coloured them with opinions. For anyone who thinks my character sounds a little evil at times, well, what can I say. I have a preference for the darker heroes. They're so much more interesting.

All credit goes to the awesome people at Bethesda. The story is mine, but the world is theirs - and what a world it is.

---

I am a Dunmer. A dark elf, if you will.

Like so many of my people, I was fleeing another life. They said this was a frozen wilderness, wracked by civil war. I didn't care. It had to be better than what I left behind.

Of course, I didn't expect the dragons.

I was caught crossing the border, and learned the realities of the war firsthand. I'd stumbled into the company of rebels, you see. The Imperials would have had us all executed. I actually had my head on the block when the black roared in and started breathing fire over everything. In a way, it saved my life.

I suppose I should feel grateful.

In the chaos, one of the more polite Imperials actually helped me escape. The village was destroyed - but I was free. I started walking.

I won't bore you with what I've found in the wilderness, then or since - wolves and bandits and the odd nest of vampires. Obviously I've survived.

Like all Dunmer, I have an affinity for the elements. Fire and ice and lightning, nature in its purest forms: those that kill. I am simply a conduit, guiding that purity, directing it. This is - I admit - something I enjoy. It defines all of us so gifted. Our blood burns with it. We are destroyers.

But I can also pull out a sword if need be - one in each hand. I enchant them myself. The best defence is a strong offence, as they say.

I know what you're thinking. I am not one to strike from the shadows. I'm no paragon; I have stolen and murdered when the need arose. But I disdain thieves, and I despise assassins. The Dark Brotherhood will burn if I find them.

Ahem. Where was I?

I wandered for a time, learning trades, never staying in one place for long. There were always new sights to see. Yours is a beautiful land - and a harsh one. I met many in need of aid; I heard many sad stories.

And I saw how my people are mistreated.

I have nothing against Nords in general, you understand. Not all are bigots. The Jarl of Whiterun was quite courteous when, as a favor to that Imperial, I delivered a warning of dragons. Their housecarl was another Dunmer, no less. Would that we could all rise so far.

The rebels show no such respect. They see Dunmer as vermin plaguing their lands. What has Ulfric Stormcloak done for us? His grand ideals of independence are for the Nords alone. 

I met the man once. He was among the rebels to be executed before the dragon attack. Gods know how he got himself captured; I suppose even the mighty slip up now and again. Even then he exuded confidence. I disliked him on sight. A shame the dragon didn't kill him, but it seems he escaped as well.*

I have killed many dragons since then - and absorbed their souls. 

I still remember the first, on the outskirts of Whiterun. The warning I delivered was just in time.** Another flew in near a watchtower; of course I joined the defense. By chance, mine was the killing blow. Its body burned away in moments, leaving only bones - and the wind of another world passing through me. Into me.

And I gained the power of the Voice.

They call me the Dragonborn. One who can use the dragons' own power against them and cleanse the skies once and for all. Me! A dark elf, the saviour of Skyrim! What the patriots must think of that. 

A heavy burden indeed. Much like this mask I wear.

My true face? 

Why not. I have nothing to hide.

Younger than you expected? Oh my friend, don't be naive. None of us are young at heart.

I slay whatever dragons I find, of course. But I have larger concerns.

I journeyed to Solitude, the Empire's capital in Skyrim. Seat of the High King, before Ulfric Stormcloak murdered him in a hall of witnesses and then fled the city. Another nail in his coffin. The new Jarl still mourns; I pity her. So young to be a widow. But that is not why I made my choice.

You see, I swore the oath. I have joined the Imperial Legion. 

Our high-elven allies can be arrogant bastards. In fact, I killed one once who tried to press me about the Nordic god they so adamantly oppose. He annoyed me. 

I care nothing for this man who died and rose again, whom the Empire has outlawed. Yet I can sympathize with the rebels who worship him. The freedom to believe what you will - perhaps this is something worth dying for.

But I know that under the Stormcloaks, my people's lot will only worsen. The Empire treats all races equally. What more can we ask?

There is still much I wish to do. I hope to study at the College of Winterhold, and learn more of the powers I wield. Perhaps I will earn a name for myself as a warrior among the Companions. An enchanted blade is still a blade, yes? And of course, I must master the Voice and attempt to end the dragon threat.

Perhaps I will even find love.***

But above all else, I am a soldier of the Empire. And I will crush the rebellion, if I have to cast a spear of ice through the heart of Ulfric Stormcloak himself.

In fact -

I look forward to it. 


*I didn't meet him again in Windhelm. I'm supposed to hate his guts, after all.
** I'd already found the dragonstone before meeting the Jarl, so after handing it over, the game went straight to the dragon attack.
*** Yes, you can even get married.

---

Naturally, I'm already thinking about making another character to join the Stormcloaks and overthrow the Empire. Maybe I won't, if I'm satisfied with one playthrough. Again: this is a huge game. But maybe I will.

Maybe I'll write about it.

The Wheel Turns, Part 1

A few days ago, I finished reading A Memory of Light, the 14th and final book in the Wheel of Time. I had very high hopes. This was it, after all. This was the end. I'll have to read it again to get a clearer picture of the various plot threads and resolutions - or lack thereof - for analytical purposes. But overall, my impression of the end of the series was...

It was all right.

First, some background. I first came across the Wheel of Time when, while visiting a distant relative, I was invited to look over their college-bound son's books. Among them, he'd collected nine intriguingly fat books - each one more than two inches thick - from the same epic fantasy series. (The entire series, at the time.) That alone said something. I borrowed the first one, found the opening a little slow, was sucked in after a few chapters and burned through it, all 305,000 words, in four or five days.

I was eleven.

Since then, I have collected the entire series, reading through most instalments at least three times - the first book seven times in all, I think. I could tell you, from memory, the story arcs of all the major characters; I could summarize the cultures and beliefs of all of the major kingdoms and factions. This series was what made me want to become an author. This was the story that made me want to write my own. 

But...

For all its vast scope and intricate plot threads, epic magic and sweeping battles, my love for the series has waned in recent years.

It isn't the widely-panned flaws. I read most of the Wheel of Time in my teens. Back then, I didn't know enough to recognize them as such. Although...

In hindsight, the characters did get rather caught up in their own side-quests for the middle third of the series, the 10th volume being the worst offender. Except for the ending, plotwise, the book is absolutely pointless. (It's also the one I liked the least. Could you tell?) The author did speed things up again in the 11th, the last book he completed before his passing, and definitely among the best in the series. But still. 

While annoying at times, I found the way gender differences are played up amusing, if unrealistic. Other people found it offensive. 

Though there's nothing sexually explicit in the series...all the spanking was pretty weird.

And why exactly did the hero have three true loves? At the same time. I never liked that.

Nor is it the fact that the last three books were largely written by a different author. Considering how vast this series is, with its multitude of plot threads and characters, he did a pretty good job - though it was annoying how he couldn't get one of my favorite characters right. 

No, at the end of the day, the reason I don't care so much about the Wheel of Time anymore is that I've outgrown it.

There was a time when I drank this stuff in like an alcoholic bathing in wine, ignoring any peculiarities in flavor for the high. (I don't like wine. That's just a metaphor.) But that was before I started writing myself. I enjoyed the final book a great deal; as an epic conclusion, it worked well.

 But there was a part of me that read much more critically, looking for lessons to learn and mistakes to avoid - and finding them. Sometimes a meaningful death is better than being saved at the very last minute (the prologue). Too many action scenes too close together dull their impact (the middle). And leaving elements of the ending intentionally vague can be frustrating (the ending, obviously).

There was an author, I forget who, who said that once you learn to read with a writer's eye, it never leaves you. You'll never read a book the same way again. And I suppose that's what's happened here. Some of the magic has been lost, now that I know how to make my own. 

The Wheel of Time turns, and legends fade...

So that this already prodigious post doesn't get even longer - though that would be a fitting tribute to the series - I'm splitting it in two. This first part focused more on the flaws, the places where the magic failed. The second will examine those elements of the story that I adored, that made me want to keep reading, and that I can still see in my own writing to this day.

The Wheel of Time was, after all, the first series I truly cared about. (My first love. Heh.) It will always hold a special place in my heart. It inspired me. I remember reading one of the later books a few years back and thinking, I could do this. 

I can't think of a better legacy than that.

No More Elves

I guess it was inevitable. Starting today, I will no longer be writing about elves.

(Actually a few days ago, but I'm milking the drama here.)

To clarify: I am excising all elves and elven references from my epic fantasy cycle, written and planned. My elven characters will now be human. Their culture, tree-motifs and all, is now a human culture. I'd thought of simply adding a few differences and renaming them something else. But that's stupid. A rose by any other name, and all that.

I am absolutely going to keep writing fantasy. Just not about elves. Why? Well...

A lot of reasons.

1) I wasn't writing much about elves anyway.

While they do did feature in my world's backstory, I killed most of them off long ago. The greater part of my rather ambitious epic has nothing to do with them. Heck, the fact that I never gave them a greater role says something in itself. Which leads to my second point...

2) I never made them my own.

I never developed them as a race, in other words. This is opposed to my other races, all of my own invention. (Though one or two are, admittedly, inspired from other sources. *coughangelscough*) Their cultures and histories and origins are all a part of the story, and are expanded upon accordingly. Their races, in and of themselves, matter.

I never did that for the elves. If you asked me what separates my 'own' races from humanity, I could give you my own answers. If you asked the same about the elves, all I could give you would be the same tired old shtick. They're long-lived, they like trees, yada yada yada. 

And none of that was even reflected in the story. Looking back, my elf characters had absolutely nothing personality-wise that distinguished them as elves - the pointed ears were just window dressing. This too is telling. My elven characters are three-dimensional personalities; I'm quite proud of them, really. It's just that those personalities barely had anything non-human about them. I didn't care enough to emphasize their elvenhood. 

Elvishness? Elvanity? Whatever.

And what references to their being elves I did include were unoriginal. Because let's face it...

3) Elves are cliché.

I confess. Remember how I killed off most of my elves in the backstory? Well, the few survivors were supposed to be holed up in - you guessed it - an ancient, hidden forest city that no one could get into uninvited. *hangs head in shame*

Seriously, though. George Martin had a point when he said that elves have been done to death. They've been around for centuries in myths and folklore, of course. But Tolkien popularized them, Dungeons and Dragons made them playable, and the Quendi blew up from there. 

By now, elves have been depicted as good, evil, noble, savage or morally ambiguous; they've been subdivided into high elves, wood elves, dark elves, wild elves, nomad elves, mountain elves, sea elves, and - I kid you not - space elves.

And all that's just from one author. Would you like some more examples? 

(I do apologize for relying so much on Wikipedia. There's only so much you can find on the internet.)

Like it or not, elves have become one of those things everyone thinks of when thinking of fantasy, along with dragons and edged weapons and wizards/mages/whatever-you-want-to-call-them. They're everywhere.

And that leads to my final and most important reason. Because I'm afraid that finding elves everywhere means that...

4) They no longer interest me.

I still like elves. Always have, probably always will. But these days, more often than not, seeing that a book contains elves will actually make me less likely to read it. Isn't it a cardinal rule that you should never write something you wouldn't want to read?

Nowadays, I'm looking for originality. (Aren't we all?) And even if another author has successfully made elves their own, I'm not sure I could forget that they come with a lot of baggage attached. (Unless they're funny. In that case, all bets are off.) I still think elves are cool, but they're also...quaint. Old-school. 

That's not a bad thing; far from it. But now that I'm older and wiser and somewhat jaded, when I see how many different viewpoints and societies and stories have been built around this one race...

I think I'd rather just make up my own.

Reading to Learn

A little while ago, I got a critique of my first book's prologue from a fellow writer via an online critique group. It was mostly laudatory; all smiles about that. But one comment of his got my attention. 

At one point, he noted that I use a lot of semicolons, and I use them correctly. But in his opinion, the average reader doesn't know the correct use of a semicolon. Their presence could thus make the text look awkward. In general, he simply writes two sentences rather than combining them in a way that might not be understood, and suggested I do the same.

Huh.

First, in case you didn't know. The semicolon is the following punctuation mark; see what I did there?

Now, let me clarify that isn't going to be a rant against the guy or anything. I respect his opinion, though I don't share it. He's not a bad writer. His story, what I've read of it so far, is pretty darn good. And he had a point regarding the sentence he commented on: it really did sound better split in two.

Nor is this going to be an impassioned defence of the semicolon, and its importance in written English. Stuff like that reminds me of the same things as fundamentalism: narrow-mindedness, and a desperate fear of change. I like using semicolons today, but I didn't always, and might not in future. It could be that in a hundred years the mark will be considered horribly arcane. Tastes change, as do languages. Such is life.

But. Growing up, I was mainly homeschooled. My education, such as it was, focused very little on the English language. One of my close cousins became an English teacher, and a lot of the time when she goes into grammatical terms, I won't know what she's talking about...until I get an example. Then, in most cases, I'll understand perfectly. So how is it that, lacking any formal education, I have mastered English grammar? How do I know how to use semicolons correctly?

Through reading.

I have always enjoyed reading; I've said that before. And allow me to state the obvious: the more you do something, the better at it you get. When I entered the second grade for my single year of school, I was already reading at a third-grade level. (They gave me a different book.) I remember seeing some of my classmates reading things like Dr. Seuss and thinking, you're still reading that? I got bored of that a lifetime ago. (Probably a year or two. You know how time crawls when you're young.) And if memory serves, I passed every spelling test with flying colors. (Math was a different story.)

My vocabulary also grew over the years. I've lost count of how many words I've learned from reading for pleasure - exacerbate, inebriated, remunerative, pedantic - simply because I saw them, didn't know what they meant, and had to look them up. Not sure if I could have done this for semicolons; I wouldn't have known what they were called. Maybe I just instinctively picked up that the pause was that of a colon + a comma. But I couldn't have learned about semicolons if I hadn't seen them in the first place.

Reading isn't just an eye-straining pastime. It taught me new words, new ways of linking them into chains of meaning. It helped me to better understand the English language as a whole.

And that is why I'm not going to stop writing semicolons. Because even - especially - if my readers don't know what one is and how it sounds...

They deserve the chance to learn.

Readers aren't stupid. If they were, they wouldn't be reading, and writing to ensure they understand what they read is not the same as assuming they won't. There's a fine line between clarity and condescension. Though it could be true that most will just skip over a word or symbol they don't know, at least a few will pause and wonder. I did. I even bothered to find out what they meant. I'd like to think I'm a better person because I did.

Maybe someone else will see something they don't understand in my work that makes them pause, and wonder.

Now, who knows what an ampersand is?

All Play and No Work...

Do you ever get the feeling that something you're doing for fun just isn't as fun as it should be? 

Now, this could be due to a lot of things. Overly high expectations, unwelcome distractions. Maybe you've never had sex before and you're expecting it to blow your mind. (It probably won't.) Maybe you've finally got time to read that novel, but your kids or your spouse or an annoying friend want you to spend it with them instead. (Relationships are at stake here.)

But let's assume that you, lucky you, are both fully focused on enjoyment and fully aware of how much you should expect. Yet the feeling that the pleasure is somehow undeserved lingers, drowning it out over time. That can't be right, can it?

It's probably time to get back to work.

For anyone who has managed to blur the lines between work and play to the degree of doing the same things for both: I salute you. I can't do that. For me, work, no matter how much I enjoy it, is still work. And pleasure, no matter how much 'work' is involved, is still pleasure. That's just the way it goes.

Even as a child I was aware of this. I remember watching a movie marathon - a lot of TV in one sitting, at any rate - around the age of twelve and getting restless after a few hours. So I got up and did some housecleaning. Then I sat down and watched some more, and it was fun again. Because I'd earned it.

That still holds true today. I can't do 'just for fun' things for too long. (Most of my pleasures are sedentary ones. But that includes things like walks in the park too - and not just due to fatigue.) I start getting the nagging feeling that my time could be better spent.

Maybe I have a guilt complex.

But I think this is normal, and even healthy. It seems to me that work and play are simply halves of a whole. What is the whole, you ask? Satisfaction.

Think about it. Each results in an opposing form thereof. One requires time and energy to produce; the other is immediate, but fades with repetition. Exactly what form the reward takes - money, experience, satiation - depends on the circumstance. How satisfied you are depends on your values and preferences. And the combination of the two, productivity and enjoyment, how much you fulfill needs and how much yours are fulfilled, is perhaps the most important element of our emotional well-being.

It's how much you like your life.

Of course, all this is just another way of saying something we've all heard time and again: balance is essential. But I can't help thinking that maybe the key to doing what you love is not needing a balance at all. You simply need to make work and play the same thing.

And again: I can't do that. Take this post, for instance. I enjoy writing. I enjoyed writing it. I am proud of the finished result. But because of all the time and effort I put into it - several hours, if you're wondering - I am still going to classify this as 'work'. What can I say. I've never been one to blur the lines.

But I know it can be done. And maybe that's enough.

So again, to all you special people living your dreams, and to all the others dreaming of living them, like I am:

Here's to you.

Now I'm going to go play a video game. I've earned it.