[Abashai's Scrapbook] A Breach in the Wall

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The player scrapbooks forum is literally a place for writers to warm-up, brainstorm, keep little scraps of notes, or just post things to encourage themselves and each other. Each player can feel free to create their own thread - one per account - and use them accordingly.

[Abashai's Scrapbook] A Breach in the Wall

Postby Abashai on March 5th, 2010, 1:46 pm

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Murchison Falls, Uganda June 2004


Hey everyone, welcome to my scrapbook! I don't know what will end up here, but I invite you to add your comments, thoughts and suggestions. Honestly, I'm a bit shy, so my goal is to stretch myself here.
Deal is, respect me and I'll respect you.

Viva Mizahar!

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Abashai
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Re: [Abashai's Scrapbook] A Breach in the Wall

Postby Sorian on March 5th, 2010, 3:11 pm

If Tarot is Superman, Mike would be Captain America. i don't know why he is either, so don't ask me!

His avatar as Abashai, Oded Fehr is awesome. Anyone who goes into battle with a gazillion hounds from hell wielding swords without flinching about getting gacked is insanely super for me.

Do I even need to start with his other avatar, Brad Pitt?

I should start an Abashai joke thread one day. Because you're just too awesome to be described by normal words and sentences.
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Re: [Abashai's Scrapbook] A Breach in the Wall

Postby Gromhir on March 5th, 2010, 5:07 pm

Yeah, but he's old.

He's not scared of the hounds from hell cause he's wrestled dinosaurs for shits and giggles.
The world can make you think that everything matters. But all that really matters is that the sun rises and you enjoy what you're given.
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Re: [Abashai's Scrapbook] A Breach in the Wall

Postby Abashai on March 5th, 2010, 6:00 pm

...And won, my young friend. ;)
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Abashai
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Re: [Abashai's Scrapbook] A Breach in the Wall

Postby Nya Winters on March 5th, 2010, 7:41 pm

This scrapbook is so aptly named. I think Mizahar is slowly breaching Abashai's players personal walls. And we're doing such a good job at it that I don't think he realizes how defenseless hes going to be in regards to us before its too late.

Storming the gates will be fun. Who's with me?!?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


So, how about a shared memory?

So, the very day I met Mike the first time (and consequently answered this really endearing HD Ticket on 'How do I actually post?' which I responded something like 'You're already posting if you managed to make this HD Ticket.. the forums operate on the same principle' ) I heard a young lady named Cheyenne sing this song at a SCA gathering - a wonderful highschool freshman with the voice of an angel. Just reading the lyrics makes it seem sorta maybe silly - but she did get people to tear up in the audience. For some reason I've always equated it since then with Abashai - since I remember that day so clearly because of the two events. I know its horribly old fashioned, and Coven did a version of it that used it in a way that defended Native American rights... but it still brings a message of peace before violence.

.
One Tin Solider


Listen, children, to a story
That was written long ago,
'Bout a kingdom on a mountain
And the valley-folk below.

On the mountain was a treasure
Buried deep beneath the stone,
And the valley-people swore
They'd have it for their very own.

Go ahead and hate your neighbor,
Go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of Heaven,
You can justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowing
Come the judgement day,
On the bloody morning after....
One tin soldier rides away.

So the people of the valley
Sent a message up the hill,
Asking for the buried treasure,
Tons of gold for which they'd kill.

Came an answer from the kingdom,
"With our brothers we will share
All the secrets of our mountain,
All the riches buried there."

Go ahead and hate your neighbor,
Go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of Heaven,
You can justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowing
Come the judgement day,
On the bloody morning after....
One tin soldier rides away.

Now the valley cried with anger,
"Mount your horses! Draw your sword!"
And they killed the mountain-people,
So they won their just reward.

Now they stood beside the treasure,
On the mountain, dark and red.
Turned the stone and looked beneath it...
"Peace on Earth" was all it said.

Go ahead and hate your neighbor,
Go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of Heaven,
You can justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowing
Come the judgement day,
On the bloody morning after....
One tin soldier rides away.

Go ahead and hate your neighbor,
Go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of Heaven,
You can justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowing
Come the judgement day,
On the bloody morning after....
One tin soldier rides away.


.


PS. Anyone else want to slide down the waterfall into the sea? Looks fun.
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Re: [Abashai's Scrapbook] A Breach in the Wall

Postby Abashai on March 5th, 2010, 8:16 pm

Funny you should post those lyrics Jen, for they have a lot of significance for me...because I hate that song.

Hear me out. I don't hate the song actually, but I have always hated what it did to me. I do not get emotional about a lot of things. But, from a child, I have always had a strong emotional reaction to the words of that song. Utter and profound grief. No other song affected me as a child. But this one did. It would break my heart, bring me to tears. I would rage at the tragedy, so unnecessary. Even as I read your post now, I felt that horrible sadness.

So, I have avoided that song for decades. Looking at it now, after so long, I realize now that reacting so strongly to the events in that song is not a bad thing. It assures me that I have not lost my humanity.

I guess I owe you thanks. You can say, Jen, that you have removed that sticky band-aid. Painful for a minute, but necessary to move on.

Well...I would say that was a very large breach in the wall. :)
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Re: [Abashai's Scrapbook] A Breach in the Wall

Postby Nya Winters on March 7th, 2010, 7:00 pm

I love the fact that we have the type of friendship that honesty is prevalent. :) Truthfully, I love songs that are completely heart wrenching and sad. I grew up listening to native songs with a grandmother who also had a serious crush (which my grandfather forgave her for) on Johney Horton so things like Comanche and Sink the Bismark I can sing from memory. I also loved the Ballad of the Edmonds Fitzgerald.

I have a feeling it has to do with my native roots. We never had a written language in Shoshone culture. Truthfully modern day attempts at creating one are having a mixed result. But our old songs all spoke of lessons - told tales of the people of the past and how they learned and grew and changed and died. We even have incredibly sad songs sung in our native tongue about other tribes and their demise. The Shoshone survived and thrived where the Nez Pierce did not fair so well... who could not sing about an epic exodus that ended twenty miles shy of the Canadian boarder and in almost complete slaughter?

One Tin Solider is like that for me. The man that actually wrote the lyrics could have even had the heart and soul of a native for all that he's white. So I love that song. I love how it makes me feel. Songs that make you feel anything like that are powerful. They come around once in a long while but tend to linger once they are birthed into existence. Your pc, mike, is like that too. I won't ever forget him regardless of how his story plays out. I'm glad he's here... and even if it ends in profound sadness, its worth reflecting on and feeling that sadness. Because we learn that way... and that way is powerfully important.
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Re: [Abashai's Scrapbook] A Breach in the Wall

Postby Abashai on March 12th, 2010, 1:06 pm

Thinking Globally, Acting Out Locally


I have always been more fascinated with life outside the US border than within. As a kid, I didn't care to learn what American state was where. But I devoured world geography, savoring the exotic names of foreign capitols. That is why I am still amazed that I can wake up at 5am and log onto chat and converse with Kami in the Phillippines, or Pygmy in Australia, jump back on a few hours later and catch Tarot in Italy, Grom in England or Malia in Austria. That just thrills me.

My family didn't have the means to permit me to travel overseas, nor did I when I became an adult. So, you see, back in the day, connecting with someone from another country meant you had to find a pen pal (and actually write on paper) or meet them as exchange students. And aside from the guy from the Netherlands in high school who taught me how to say naughty things in Dutch, or the Brazilian girl we called Coffee Bean (who laid her head on my lap and let me stroke her hair without my girlfriend's knowledge :)), I had to find other ways to get my international fix.

When I was in middle school, about 11 or 12 years old, I checked a book out of the school library on languages. I wanted to learn a dozen, be a real man of the world. I focused on the unusual (to us) languages, like Russian or Chinese. It was cool, it was rebellious (at that time, the Soviet Union and China were our Cold War "enemies"). I never returned the book. Then my grandma gave me a short wave radio, my window to the world. I would stay up late at night, micro-tuning the dial to catch some program from a distant land. I remember listening to Radio Canada International and Radio Moscow's English-language programming. My favorite was Prague's Saturday Night Jukebox, broadcast from, what was at that time, Czechoslovakia. I collected foreign currencies, given to me by my globetrotting great uncle or ordered from ads in the back of Boy's Life magazine. I would practice my accents at school, even practice mimicking other languages.

My obsession extended to college, where I became enthralled with Asia. I studied its religions, philosophies, arts. I did regional studies of Chinese and Japanese history and took Mandarin Chinese. I was thrilled when the only Indian girl on campus invited me to a dance, and when my Filipino friend invited me to be the only Caucasian at the Ohio State University Asian students' dance. And I did things I was not proud of. My friend and I would go to clubs and pretend I was from some country that no geographically-ignorant American would know of and he would act as my interpreter. Though I didn't really speak any other languages, I was very good at mimicking them. it was a lame way to pick up girls.

So, finally, when I was 37 years old, I made my first real visit outside the US (Cancun doesn't count culturally). I went on a mission trip to Uganda. To be honest, Africa would not have been my first choice, but it turned out to be an absolutely amazing trip. That is for another post though.

Anyway, if I ask you strange questions in chat about where you live, or some part of your life that seems mundane, it is only me feeding my need for global knowledge. In fact, My friends in Mizahar have shown me that there is quite an interesting diversity within my own country.
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Re: [Abashai's Scrapbook] A Breach in the Wall

Postby Alice on March 12th, 2010, 4:10 pm

This is also one of the things that I love about Mizahar: the variety of people with different cultural background you meet and talk to and get to know. Of course, they're all individuals, but at the same time they're shaped by their birthplace and where they spent the majority of their lives. It's so fascinating!

With the one difference that I tend to suppress my urge to ask "silly" questions ... probably shouldn't do that.
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[Abashai's Scrapbook] A Breach in the Wall

Postby Abashai on July 14th, 2010, 7:13 pm

Bummed Out


I do not like to talk about stuff going on inside. But I feel compelled to now. I am sad. I feel like the folks from the Wizard of Oz when Toto pulled back the curtain to reveal the great Oz was just some guy with a machine. Mizahar had become my idol. The founders were like benevolent demi-gods. My characters had become my catharsis. Even at my age, I found myself consumed with the fantasy world found only here.

Now I have found myself in a rut. Maybe its typical in this type of game, I don't know. I feel like my characters have hit a developmental wall. I had a good run, playing from my feelings and gut reaction. You all fed my ego with praises. I kept making characters, thinking I could expand, play someone different. But in the end, they all just seem to end up like some pumped up version of me. My threads are beginning to look alike. I began making rpg etiquette mistakes that I never realized, ticking off people I played with. That bummed me out.

Now, I am not feeling my characters. If I can't feel them, I can't play them well, because the only way I know how to write is to feel. I'm good at that, but now I see it has limitations.

Some of you have said I have seemed to lose my confidence, and that is partially true. I know there is an expectation, from you and myself, and I don't want to write less than that. I am tired, physically very tired. Busy real life has stolen my creative time...
(wow...now it sounds like a pity party).

Anyway...I ramble, because that's what my scrapbook is for, I don't make art and i don't post pictures. I guess I say all of this as an explanation for my behavior lately. I know it is just a game, but a lot of us take our characters to heart, and I feel like I have been somewhat of a let down, if only to myself. It's not anyone else's doing either. I'm not saying all of this to get pity or an "awww" or a pat on the back like the martyr I have been known to play. It's just that Mizahar has lost some of its shininess. It is still by far the greatest creative activity I have ever done, I just don't want to lose that magic that Mizahar has created for me. And I don't want to let my friends here down. Maybe this is a cry for help to the veteran players. Maybe its just a phase, or a period where I have too much going on. I just feel.....rutted and I don't know how to get out. I guess in my eyes, I am the great Oz who has had his curtain pulled back.
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There are winds I am compelled to follow...
 
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