Ignore the nocturnal bitterness.
I've been getting back into some of the artsy stuff that interested me before I got to field school. It's not that it's creatively stifling to be around so many people, but when I can't be alone, I have problems uncurling my brain enough to do something new with it. Staying on the IPFW campus has been good for me. I don't have to be near so many people. I don't mind them. I even like many of them. But the fact remains the time I've had to myself, whether while working on a computer or spending a weekend or two alone, has done wonders for me. I felt kind of... bound.

But I'm starting a piece of artwork I've been wanting to do for a while now, and due to recent events I think that this character deserves a representation.

Also, some interesting questions have come up. I don't know that I want to address them in detail at this point, when I'm quite frankly a bit tired. But, here goes. The question has recently arisen that if I were a god, what would I be the god of? People often have some kind of theme to their personality. I guess mine might be obsession. For better or worse. There's no middle ground for me. Every opinion is polarized somehow. Except on the subject of caramel, which not only do I have no feelings on one way or the other... but I can't even decide how to pronounce it.

However, consider this theme carefully. The obsession theme actually puts me frighteningly close to Desire of the Endless. I don't know how I feel about that.
The problems I have with it are as follows:
First of all, it seems a little egotistical, which stops me more often than you might imagine.
Second, I don't think people are supposed to embrace the cruelty inherent in Desire. I mean, sure it's there. But there are conventions in place to prevent that from coming out. It's malicious but oddly indulgent.
Third, isn't this what I've been avoiding thinking about for a long time? I mean, I've considered it with a sort of vague pride, but I've never questioned it or cared about the consequences. I manipulate people. It's what I do. Call it charisma, attribute it to a certain affable streak. The only problem is that those things are not conscious. When I stop analyzing the most efficient combinations of words and expressions to get what I want we can change the designation to friendliness from calculated manipulation.

Sometimes I manipulate people out of indulgence. There have been people who could not be trusted with their own well-being. They wanted someone to make them feel like there was something in the world worth wanting. To tell such people the truth (as I always eventually did) was cruel, sadistic, and the only payment I asked for in the end. That final taste, that final truth. That final destruction of everything I'd built around them, leaving them honest and naked. I relished it. And there's nothing in me to persuade me it's wrong to tell people the truth out of cruelty. To enjoy their pain as they realize I've never been on their side. I've been enjoying their happiness as some bizarre form of psychological foreplay. It's not the point, but it will do for a while. Whether or not they become stronger in the end or break entirely is up to them.

I don't know whether the strong ones or the weak ones are ultimately more rewarding. The strong ones allow that nice self-righteous feeling. The one that tells you you've done exactly what you should be doing. It's a surprise that never fails to amuse... when one of them, after being pulled to the dirt and bloodied again and again, stands and defies their own weakness. In a way, it makes me want them more. The ones who break... well, all I can say is better luck next time.

There's only one question... What about love? I know that I do. But where could it possibly come from to have the strength to pass all that monstrous venom unharmed? I don't expect an answer from any of you. I'll be surprised if anything I've said sinks in. Part of me hopes it will. I hope it does because I want you to understand and because when you finally do appreciate all that I've said, the nagging uncertainties will live in your mind long after you've forgotten me.

Wilt thou answer?