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Turn back the sands of time
Undo the old clock's chime
Baby, when it comes to you
I'm just a teen without a clue

Grim Dawn Saved Characters

I've found that item sharing for the game Grim Dawn is scarce, so here are my saved characters. Feel free to download and use the items, or test the characters, or use one to farm the Crucible (Holmes). I've collected quite a few mythical legendary items.

https://www.dropbox.com/sh/c58ggoyo6vhfzem/AADDqMdYNq-PhnkZN3QpyhUna?dl=0

The Lines of the Real

Despite its sizable potential quotes, there’s a line from Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat Pray Love that is surprisingly stuck with me. It is said by the protagonist’s inner voice when she was on the brink of a mental breakdown, not knowing what to do, and wanting to run away from her life. The line was simple and nothing extraordinary. “Go back to bed,” it says. Yet it was the thing the protagonist needed to hear.

For the past few days, lines just like the one above have crossed my path. And also just as the one above, I have come to like them. They all have something in common. They are simple, they are real, and yet, they work.

I believe I’m somewhat an optimist, but I certainly have little care for fairy-tale hopes. Movies like Serendipity, as much as I am entertained by them, don’t hold a candle to my real-life perspective. And it doesn’t help that I was raised Catholic, which mostly involved a heavy dose of embracing reality as it is. I am mostly detached from words that leap too far from reality. Overly optimistic promises of love, success, health don’t ring much in my soul. And so do every life advice that are based on those promises.

However, unlike those advices, the lines that I like are not built on over-the-top promises. When the protagonist in Gilbert’s novel heard her inner voice, it didn’t tell her to leave her life, or stay with her husband. It also didn’t tell her how everything would pan out. It merely told her to do the only thing possible for her at the moment. “Go back to bed,” the voice said. And so she went to bed, which so happens ultimately led her to where she was meant to be.

Another line, “Everything worth doing is worth doing poorly,” also have come to my liking. It is not about doing your job irresponsibly, though. It is about not letting too-high expectation prevent you from doing something good. Amazingly, it doesn't only work for people who have more grounded perspectives in life, but also for people with depression, or people who have lost their hopes. If you can’t shower, wash your face. If you can’t exercise, go out from your house and have some sun. This kind of thought invites such people to move and do something. Because just like how sometimes form precedes essence, doing something, no matter how mundane, enables hope to reemerge. And for the people who are already with hope, it does something greater. If you can’t do kindness to the whole world, do it to this person in front of you. If you can’t write something that will touch a lot of people, write something that will touch yourself. Because everything worth doing is so worth it, that doing it a little is better than not doing it at all.

And even when such lines turn to more optimism, they still remain within the bounds of reality. Just like in The Amazing Spider-Man 2, which despite its flaws, has delivered one of the best lines that answers the question about why we should hope. “And even if we fail,” the character Gwen Stacy said, “What better way is there to live?” For me, this simple line answers the question of why we should hope beautifully. It doesn't jump into promises of outcome that it can't possibly keep. It stays in the real. It answers the question by giving value to hope itself, and not to what it aspires to attain.

In the end, I guess the reason the lines attract me is because their comfort doesn't require me to believe in something that may be far-fetched from what I see everyday. They only talk about the now, what you can do, and how valuable it actually is. They don't talk about some prize at the end of the road, because the prize is already here, in the form of the simple actions, and in me doing those actions.

Singapore 18

Traveling alone turned out great.

I swear, I love the old Picasa album. Until I find a way to create a slideshow like it used to, I'll only display 9 photos.

Singapore 18

As the ultimate Manic Pixie Dream Girl, Claire Colburn, once said, "Some music needs air,"

one bud was off.

*thanks to Tik for the term

The Walking Dead, Well, Dead-ish

It's 10 PM.

I'm still at the lab, working on a research.

I still have a blood slide to check.

I'll probably be done by 11 PM,

or maybe 12.

I'm desperate for a shower,

or a pack of instant noodle,

or a few more episodes of Hannibal,

or a few more messages.

I'm in good health, though.

Well, good-ish.

I can't complain.

Life has been kind.

Yet all I want is to sleep in Your comfort.

The Redundant Scene

There's a scene in the movie Moana that I like the most. It is the one at the start of the movie. It is cute as a button yet as deep as the ocean (pun badly intended). It tells about innocence in such a beautiful way that it deserves a writing of its own.

However... this is not such a writing.

Instead, this is a writing about how it is redundant, pointless in the perspective of storytelling.


The scene shows Moana who was still but a little child, playing alone at the beach. She was greeted by the ocean, which offered her a stone, the heart of the Goddess Te Fiti. It was long taken from her, causing bad things in the world. In time, Moana would restore the heart to Te Fiti and lift the curse. But at that exact moment, she was just too young to understand anything. When her father eventually came and carried her away, the ocean silently took back the heart until the time it fell on her hands again when she was already a teenager.

I've said that the scene is redundant and now I'll tell you why. It adds nothing to the plot. If the scene were taken away, it would change nothing. Moana would still receive the heart as a teenager and restore it to Te Fiti. She didn't even have any recollection of the event due to her young age. And because there was no witness, it was never mentioned again in the whole movie. The scene was an isolated event, detached and lost to everyone in the movie.

Well...
Except for the audience.

It is also why the scene, as pointless as I think it is, remains the scene I like the most.

Most stories I know have an unwritten rule. Pointless scenes get pointed out and ridiculed, and for good reasons. Such scenes clutter the story and take away the meaning. However, this scene does exactly the opposite. It gives another dimension to Moana's quest, a divine aspect. She didn't just make the choice to save the world, as fantastic and noble as it was. She had always been meant, or expected, to do so. What was considered a simple human endeavor for all the characters in the movie was morphed into a quest of the divine.

And let's remember that this perspective is only given to the audience. It was absent to all the movie characters, even Moana herself. She never knew about the great destiny expected of her, not at the beginning nor the end. Only the audience understand that she not only needed to take the quest, she had to. And they get to keep the perspective as they go through every scene that comes next.

It was something I admire in storytelling. I like to write, and the mechanism never crossed my mind. The idea that you can add depth in a story by giving a personal, private, special perspective just for the audience and the audience alone, captivated me. It was genius. And maybe for people longing for a hidden layer of meaning inside their lives, assuring.