"The impossible in the Dreamscape is not Death, but rather 'Dormancy.'" - Dr. Ratio, Honkai: Star Rail v2.1
It felt fitting to open this blog entry with this quote, because it perfectly sums up my latest feelings about putting my little corner in the web. In time of writing this, I am the middle of my hiatus. I can proudly say that I am enjoying my time offline, with all of its imperfections, bleariness, and good moments. Sarcastically and without—what a time to be alive!! In the coming months, I would like to take regular breaks like paid time-offs lol.
It's pauses like this that grounds me to other aspects of my life that also matter, if not more urgent. I am a firm believer and an advocate to multiple, holistic, and varied enrichments. To me, then, the internet is not a home; it's a place to visit from time to time. As such, how I would define "little corner" is akin to a terrarium I set up and place in one corner of my living space. In this manner, my little corner of the internet-slash-terrarium is a part of my space, and does not encompass it. Its innards can morph, and even decay. I can forego the terrarium altogether, find another use for the container.
The wonderful thing about the act of creation is you can dismantle the output, and make the portions into their own sentient beings as time goes by. It's thrilling to be refreshed of its intertwining nature with destruction. That is why I am looking forward to my personal website's upcoming moments of temporary shutdowns and eventual revivals. In this manner, the output continues to live on. In this manner, my website, which I set up as a counter-response to social media, is immortal to a certain extent. It will die. Does it matter? I can code.
I won't get into the nitty-gritty details of what went on during the months I was out. What I can say is I am grateful for having felt a myriad of emotions and feelings; to have fluttered between polar extremes, and the median baseline of calm. It is a blessing to feel and experience, even if I want someone dead. What I can say is I kept in touch with people—myself and others alike—and it makes me feel eager to meet me and them again.
What I can say is that much of my offline life required my patience. And in a similar vein, I watched a brief video essay I found interesting. The author NoblePlays advocated to play video games only on weekends. It's not revolutionary, and rather, more refreshing, in a world where gacha games and battle passes are rampant. A friend and I discussed this. We both agreed that there is beauty in a work-in-progress character build. Given too how gacha games fuel players' FOMO, reinforced with daily awards and time-sensitive events to save up for upcoming banners, the essay reminded me that it's okay to not log in to my gacha games each day. See, recently, I got Anaxa in Honkai: Star Rail, and I've yet to finish building Ruan Mei. But oh, the fight left me, I'm tired and I need a break. Similarly to my non-gacha video games, the story will still be there when I log back in. My Stardew Valley farm will be there, and my crops have not wilted. Altogether, I don't need to hurriedly return to any of them. Video games and personal web are both supposed to be fun; the novelty is a part of the excitement.
Slow. Light. Careful. Be slow for a change. Allot time for slowness. Allot time for stagnation, paralysis, withering, and the agony that comes with cramping and wrenching unto yourself, snake swallowing tail. Then regurgitate that tail and slither forth to where you need to go. I'm going to fucking kill this website again. Smother it to unconsciousness. Then come alive again. I return to myself little by little.