The Quest for an Abudance in Sunshine

where you find: the key to happiness, personal experience, a redhead's poetry, book reviews, new science, nature, rock'n alt. medicine

Tag: games

The Art of War



Sunday is Appreciation Day, which I remembered promptly at 3:45 p.m. A little late in the day to remember to be thankful, no? Nevertheless, I took 60 seconds to think about Mrs. Zella’s charity, the hard work Edwardo is clocking in, and the ability to feel astonished.

I was also happy to be in a healthy relationship with Edwardo, and although the battle is a long one, we still have the strength and provisions to keep pressing forward. 

Edwardo changed my life with his lessons of war history. I let him explain Germany’s ingenuity for efficient weaponry and defense, demonstrating with Google pictures of the different tank designs. He taught me how to disarm a gun in a blink of an eye, get cover, and how to aim with a sight. One lesson he stressed was to be stoic, or be like water. If there are logs in the way, water moves swiftly around it. Edwardo is a tactician, his talents reflected in his ability to play only bad ass video games like BATTLEFIELD and DARK SOULS on PS3 in LEGENDARY MODE. Edwardo never played a video game on NORMAL or EASY. Never. He’d change the settings of the game play to experience the engine’s highest potential. I miss the merciless heat of the humid summer when Edwardo paced with the ART OF WAR in his hands, as he read aloud in this magisterial voice summoning the strategies of an ancient high-ranking Chinese general for my benefit. He was trying to save my life the way he had saved himself – survival of the fittest.

Here’s an analogy: My first snow was a trap. I admired the cotton fluff snow at the cost of hypothermia. The south has NO inkling how cold 28 degrees Fahrenheit gets. I would complain, until I remembered Stalingrad. 


it’s a tactic I use to get myself motivated and to keep fighting for what I believe in. 

Zombie – The Cranberries

DARK SOULS game trailer



The last words I remember my dad saying to me was that I better get on that fucking plane. He sacrficed his savings so I could have a one-way ticket to Northern California, a chance to escape this country life.


I left to California, unfortunately, things did not turn out according to plan. I have been back in town since November. Dad and I haven’t spoken since. He is upset that I failed at my opprotunity to make it big in the golden state. No, I had to come back here and fall in love with a gamer.


Eduardo is a HARDCORE gamer, a filmmaker, a soldier, a comedian, and musician. My father worked as a server anaylist and in web design. I watched him bring in servers that weighed over 100 lbs to take apart. I was ten and I’d watch him pull a wire out like a surgeon. I’d want to ask questions and watch him work. There was a black lamplight at his station, and lots of drive bits, and pieces with digital artwork. I wanted him to show me things, but whenever I got close he pushed me back. “You don’t know any better! Get out out and go play with your things.” Daddy made hundreds a day, he’d stay up late into the night to design Tommy Chong’s website or fix a boss’s laptop. Beepers and pdas were the new, smart people needed help with their chunky computer gear.

I miss him. That’s why I’m talking about this on Sunday night. This is the year where I refuse to hate who I am, to give myself a fighting chance, and I think to him, who is a lot of who I am.

The parts of me that loves to break things down, my anaylitical brain. He is a tattoo artist, I got my ink pulses somewhere. I was always told I was intense, skinny, and smart like my father.

I’m comfortable with computers, although I don’t know anything about them, because I saw him fix trouble after trouble after trouble. When no one found a solution, he did.


He’d make me specialized temporary tattoos to wear for fun when I was growing up. I had the latest gear in gadgets, why, he gave me everything I ever asked for.


I’m tearing up so bad….because…our relationship may never be like it used to be before……..Daddy…..if you only knew I was trying so hard to be that promising little girl you knew.


Daddy, if you only knew that I want your happiness as much as my own!


And the tears crash as I remember one moment when we connected almost two years ago. I came by the house to pack more of my things when he said I could have this: a junk memory module. It had 128 MG. I have a black  usb the size of my thumb that holds 4 gigabits. Times change.

As the IT guy, Daddy had access to the coolest computer games.

I got to spend time with the mysterious femme fatale Laurel. I’ve mentioned her on previous posts on this blog. This morning I refused to feel inadequate. First I put on clothes that didn’t match, and then said, “I know better” and changed into my gray stockings, my black mini dress, and leather jacket. It went perfect with my red booties, and my hair in an up do with coils framing my face. I cinched my dress with a studded white belt.

I still ranted on to Laurel when I asked if she wanted to come outside to smoke with me. I knew as soon as I had MJ in my system, I’d relax, and socialize easier.

Two years ago (not 2 mo. after I was raped) her mother died.

I thought, wow, when I was the lowest, she was pretty low too. She lost her mom forever. I lost who I was. I started to see similarites, and I wondered if I should feel ashamed.

One day, over the kitchen sink, we got into a talkative frenzy. I mumbled that I notice how happy she appears to be and comment on her field of friends. “You’ve had a lot of support from your friends and family.” After the crime, no one talked to me. I lost every one I thought I knew.

And I don’t remember how we started talking about her mom, but she brought it up and I knew it was very important to listen to her. I didn’t know if she talked about what happened, but I know from experience that you can’t run forever.

She told me it gets harder every year, especially around the holidays.

This surprised me a little. I only wished I had the same reserve, and wished silently that I hadn’t let myself down after all that happened. Life became so stressful. I couldn’t focus in college. I couldn’t laugh with my friends. I couldn’t go to a fast food joint without bursting into hot tears over the pressure of having to decide what to have on my subway sandwich.

If it hurts her now, it doesn’t look like it.