Chances are that when you want to say "You're so talented." you should use the word "skilled" instead.

Holy shit bro.

If aliens ever contact us, there is this funny possibility that we will get the "underdeveloped primitives treatment" and I don't mean like enslavement or something.

Look, history repeats itself, there is precedent for this.

Imagine this. The aliens arrive and they say they will trade us their tech for our precious stuff. So we amass some stuff that they want (for the sake of the argument lets say like hydrogen or something), or some stuff that we find valuable (like precious metals and shit) and we trade.

Scientists start working on figuring out the tech that we got from them and we continue to give them the things that they want.

Imagine like years later scientists finally crack what they gave us only to find out it's like an equivalent of the glass beads that the British gave the primitives in exchange for their gold and resources.

Meanwhile the aliens abscond with our hydrogen and precious metals, after which we find out that gold is like something they eat and hydrogen is like something that immortality can be made from and we've been missing out for years.

Absolutely gutted and we would deserve it too, and the irony is so fucking funny to me.

Our downfall will be just something that already happened in history, just amplified.

I mean the Atom bomb was just the forever known principle of "I need a bigger/sharper stick than the neighbooring tribe".

I need to feel like I'm creating something again, or I'm gonna go insane. I need the feeling of completely losing myself in an activity.

I am tempted to continue with "I can't, because I either work 9 to 5 or sleep" but that is not really true. It's worse.

My "work hours" are practically: all the time. It seems that there is an indefinite number of tasks ahead of me, that keep piling up even tho I keep completing them, that take anywhere from 10 minutes to 3 hours.

So now it feels like I'm working all the damn time even tho I rarely do, since the amount of tasks ahead of me seem insurmountable, thus requiring more mental energy to do anything.

This is of course partially due to the nature of the work I'm doing, but largely due to me not being able to organize my time effectivelly or designate a concious rest time (I live in a hell of my own making ;b)

And I don't get paid jack shit man, I'm doing this out of the conviction or whateaver...

I should really become a poet. I can really relate to the feeling of entrapment, the misery of today's society and the futility of trying to change it.

Caused by the stress of the workload and the inability to relax because of adiction to consuming media which after extended use became dull and no longer enjoyable, but not having the desire or motivation to do something else and not really having anything else I enjoy anyway, which is just another symptom of the addiction. So I never feel rested, relaxed, or recovered which makes me more reluctant to really work, which causes more workload on my shoulders, which starts the cycle again.

Unfortunately to become a poet and express this, I would have to have the time (which I dont because: big workload) and/or the motivaton/energy (which I don't have the desire to do it, because I dont care enough about it so it then becomes just another work item that I don't feel rested enough to spend my energy on)

So you know. What I'm saying is I guess... Damn that dramatic bitch Byron had it easy. Mother fucker inherited enough to afford rolling in his misery all day and to have the time to digest it enough to put it in eloquent metaphorical verses.

So it kinda funny. The system, or rather the life routine I live in gives me so much work and little relaxation. And the funny bit is "Yea I would go fix that if I didn't have so much work to do right now. Welp, later I guess".

The worst part is that I established this lifestyle. I put this upon myself. I realize my problems but due to those problems I am prone to overlook them, postpone their solving or handwave them.

Like, my biggest problem feels like "the inability to fix my problems, but especially this one".

This is not a cry for help.

Maybe.

This is me trying to reach me and make myself realize some things.

This wasn't the intent for this post, I just wanted to be funny, because I suddenly felt surreal this evening.

The more I learn about Samuel Taylor Coleridge, the more I'm convinced he would love dnd, specifically being a DM and crafting mysteries and awesome atmosphere for his players.

He would be one of those DM's that describe you having one of those spooky dreams and then you wake up and are holding a thing from the dream, and then was it a dream or not?

Every day a butterfly flies around and sticks his proboscis in a different flower, sometimes many flowers in one day.

One could say they are... probiscuous.

Ever get that feeling of wanting more content from your blog, but then you come to realise you have to make it.

Unfair.

I am not a typical man, im more of a typical guy or boy. Im skinny, don't really have a lot of muscle on me. I am tall but kinda scrawny.

But there is one thing that makes me feel really manly. (but like in a positive way, not like toxic masculinity)

I love getting those little scratches, from bushes and stuff, on my arms and legs.

It feels like i earned them, those little scratches you don't really know where you got them but it was probably from working, or moving something kinda heavy or gripping something rough, maybe brushing against small thorns in bushes while trekking trough the forest.

I love those. I love the fact you don't really notice when they happen and then some time later notice those short scabs and you feel like "hell yeah, i didnt even know i scratched myself, didnt even feel it, doesnt faze me, im tough"

It feels like i worked with my hands and have something to show for it

like proof that i did something that wasnt exactly a piece of cake, but i managed. didnt even regard it as that big of a deal

I love how my hands look with them. I feel like im showing the world that even tho I have smooth hands I am not afraid of handwork

You know adulthood hit when your first thought when your parents are outta house is "Ah, nobody to bother me, perfect time to vacuum" instead of "masturbate"

Ok, look. I have diabetes. I've had it for some time now. One part of the experience is having a sensor impaled in you constantly with an external reader device that you scan your blood sugar level with.

And when you scan, you can also put in some predefined notes (food, insulin, excersise, medication)

You are supposed to put them in so the blood sugar graph makes more sense (a rise after eating, a decrease after insulin or excersise)

And you know, sometimes at night when "I have naught but my own company" I sometimes "cause myself bliss by bodily contact" as one does. And oftentimes it gets a bit lenghty and sweaty and calory-burning and you know...

Remember how you can input "excersise"?

I am so tempted to clock it in every time. First because if I go low then I know what caused it but mainly because it would be so funny to see the reaction of the doctor.

Like, I will never do it because that would be embarrassing, might as well tell them "yeah, I touch myself at night" to their face.......but still

Imagine the hillarity. They spot the "excersize" note put in at 3am and have to do a double take. Maybe they even start a sentence like: "Hey it says here you excersised in the middle of the night, was that just a misclick?" But right at the end of the sentence they will have The Realisation. They might even finish the sentence but the eyes, the eyes man, they stop right in their tracks, just making brief eye contact, and in that moment we connect for a split second.

They know. I know they know. They know that I know that they now.

And then they will not mention it, pretending to be convinced it was a missclick and pretending even more that their remark about it being a missclick didnt carry any significance.

Meanwhile me on the other side of the table with hot sweat on my neck and a shit-eating grin on the inside.

It is 3:57 in the morning. I have a feeling that is not healthy.

I want someone to bite. I want to nibble on someone's arm so bad.

Okay so I just fucking hyperfocused again and spend 2 hours crafting up the best session zero for a dnd group and don't get me wrong I very much enjoyed it but like.

- the group is not even fucking formed yet so i made it for a hypothetical group

- i based it of of a dungeon dudes video and at the end they said "btw for completely new players it might not be as important as getting them to experience the feeling of playing" so I feel like I kinda spend a lot on something that might amount to nothing much

- also it is 2 fucking am for fuck sake, I should be asleep

- I have something like a bussiness trip this weekend that I have to be prepared for and I haven't read a single document I was supposed to

- I don't even have transport figured out and I have to be on the way tomorrow afternoon

- I should be resting because I recently ended my antibiotics treatment, as I was ill last 2 weeks or so

- it is fucking week long bussiness meeting except it is not actuall bussiness which is nice because I cannot get fired but I also don't get paid jack shit and will def be judged when it is revealed i done jack shit again

- and I have to buy some food for everyone too

- also we will be sleeping in sleeping bags on the cold-ass floor so good luck not being ill again me, god im such a dumbass

idk how you all faring but we in Europe have like 2°C average

So a post goes around here I believe from writing prompts blog about the guy in a fantasy setting who doesn't believe in magic and thus it has no effect on him.

Imagine playing that in dnd. It would be so delightfuly broken.

Only use in joke campaings.

Spellcaster enemies would be powerless against me. But at the same time no healing from allies, no magic items functioning, not even healing potions (just water that tastes like strawberry). No boost spells like haste, bless or even guidance. Even +1 weapons probably won't function. Basically you could only play martial a martial class. Not even monks because they have Ki. Also it is as if you turned on hardcore mode, because if you die, no revivify or anything. And i you make your death saves you need a good old fashioned 8h recovery before you even get concious.

I also came up with a variant, so you don't fucking die as easily. Once you go unconcious, magic starts working on you (why? I'll explain later), but that means all magic. If you get hit with fireball for example, you fucking die.

Now a little phylosophy and why does this actually work.

When asked, the character explains. "It is not that I don't believe in magic. It's just everybody else that believes in it. Let me ask you this, how do you think the gods got here? See, everybody belives gods created us, but what if it is the other way around? When humans encountered natural phenomenon they couldn't explain, they thought that a higher being capable of such feats must exist. Through this belief they reinforced the existence of such creatures and thus they did exist. Don't believe me? Do you know of any god that exists without aomeone believing in them? No. Why? Because they cease to exist once nobody believes. That is also how your magic functions. Everybody just belives waving your hands in the air and muttering some old language bullshit makes stuff happen and thus it does - for them. See, will is something i can believe, and that will is what truly manifests and affects the surroundings. But once you realise this, that enviroment gets changed just because somebody believes it will, you can no longer take it seriously. Like, oh you think a meteor will hit me just because you want it very much, how cute, come and slap me in the face if you really want to hurt me. This is why you take damage from hostile fireballs and I dont. Don't you see? You are not taking fire damage, you are taking psychic damage. But this is also why yours and enemy's magic items function around me. Because you all believe it.

You may think "then why do you take damage when a fire elemental punches you?" Simple. The "magic" part is only the concience of the elemental magicaly holding physical fire around him to use as a body. But that fire is very real, not magical. If I was an elemental I would cease to exist because i couldn't do anything to hold my body together.

Then how would you explain magic working on animals? First of all, animals don't have the concept of will so they can't realise that what is happening to them is bullshit. They have will but not the concept. Second of all, even if that wasn't the case, it is humans who unconciously decide that it works on them. We believe animals to be mentally bellow us and thus it doesn't even cross our minds magic couldn't function on them. And because we believe that, it does.

But the plot twist is, he is fucking wrong. And right at the same time. (this also covers any holes in his logic)

Magic is actually fucking real and should work. But he is right about will being a strong force in the universe. You can see that in people who were on the verge of death but chose to survive, even in real life. What he doesn't realise is it is his will that makes magic not work on him. He is actually the only one in the world who believed something so hard it becams true, not the others. And he is blissfully unaware of it.

Something will only damage him if he believes it will. (this covers any holes, like if someone summons a meteor to hit him. the magic is only the process of summoning the mass, but the meteor is physical and should by all means kill him)

Work with your DM to decide what he believes will and will not hurt him. Also decide if the part about gods is true or not or to what extent in the context of your world.

I consider this my magnum opus.

Hey, ever finish a series or a book and then you feel empty as reality hits you that you will never experience anything like it in real life nor can you experience it again exactly the same so you just crave more of that experience feeling like the conclusion was actually not what you desired ans not as satisfying as you hoped because in reality it was the "experiencing" that brought you joy. After which you realize that is a very strange but accurate metaphor for life, which leaves you with existencial numbness. I just want to cry because it is over or smile being glad it happened but I just feel void like something that was very dear to me never even existed.

Why can't I just cry? I'm sure I would feel better.

Anyway, its 1AM and I just finished Critical Role campaing 2. I'm going to watch the wrap up tommorow. I should be fucking studying for my midterms.

Ok, I need some funny skit where there is a man and a woman doing the dirty and suddenly we hear the door being unlocked. The woman exclaims "That's my husband!". The guy panics, picks her clothes up and ushers her out through the back door, then lays on the bed acting inconspicuous. Before realising like: "Wait, no, shi-"

The cast of Critical role radiate polyamorous group vibes. Like every member knows the other members carnally, but they are already past that point. Now they just love each other platonicaly but passionately like a found family.