Milestones, Turning Points, and Activity Updates – September 2017

Welp-dee-doo, looks like I’m more inclined towards living by myself some more now. Still, I need to get moral support from my parents for school days, which I more often get via communication with them over cellphone and Internet as I board. That, and interact with my housemates some more.

So yeah, with that, there’s a more noticeable regularity in my blog posting this month. I’ve been realizing that I can still fit in activities as Tobby after getting all that moral support and pulling myself together some more, you know? And yeah, school’s becoming more of a blast for me, even if discussions can be a little too heated for my taste.

Still, I need to do better, considering things like my eating and sleeping habits plus my unstringed puppet attitude when I get back to my family’s house after school and board time. That foolish sense of entitlement isn’t gonna help me, alright…

Anyway, this month has been quite a month, still. Here’s a list of this blog’s September posts, setting aside the monthly update post for the previous month:

As for future stuff that are likely to be posted in the coming month…well, there’s a vocal arrange cover that just needs an illustration and a video now, and I already got an illustrator for it. I also have another poem that will probably be uploaded next week, too.

Oh, and I’ve been trying to practice freestyle rap lately as well. I’ve recorded some attempts and compiled them as well, so yeah, that’s also something to look forward to.

Wandering Weiss also has gained progress, although slow (Hint: More worldbuilding and OCs, yo). Oh, and I managed to write a RWBY one-shot fanfiction during this month, a one-shot with a significant amount of headcanons.

Will there be original pieces of fiction posted next month, though? Well, considering how I haven’t been getting much done there, I’ll probably go to r/WritingPrompts again to get myself more easily sparked up.

And then there’s the production plan for the music video for that one original song of mine…I should contact my friend some more about it and check when he’ll be free for that…

And with that, honest constructive feedback is highly encouraged and will be highly appreciated!

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The Gun of My Face

The gun of my face
Does extrajudicial killings.
In their guns I hate
Are all the evidence I’m needing.
A strange switch for safe
Is what keeps them from firing.
With theirs seem the same,
All these bullets I’m sliding.
One barrel flows a cased
And everybody’s breaking.
Whose shot was it, hey?
All sights are now scrambling.
Gun safety, I fail
So my gun I’m muzzling.
Lessons, I should take,
Though your toting you’re loving.

Mama Mary and the Art of the Ordinary

Taking the advice of a priest during a Confession I made recently, I’ve been trying to pray the Rosary by myself with more frequency.

So far, I think I’m being consistent with the act of praying the Rosary itself, but I think I need to put more effort into living the more ordinary aspects of my life well. Such a thing is something I find difficult, particularly as I aspire to be a good artist, a road with a brand of difficulty that has temptations toward pride and lust most frequently pestering me everyday.

See, in trying to be an artist (like, in the more general sense and not just in the visual art sense), I’ve realized that it’s easy to mishandle confidence and have it power the other deadly sins and its subordinates, especially when that confidence is aimed at fulfilling some good intentions. Not that confidence is not needed, though, but it’s easy to be overconfident, especially with a crowd of supporters backing me up and all of us having baseness that we tend to fall for in our desire for more ease in our lives. To be more specific, what God would want us to do can grate hard on our pride, making it look like something as bad as sin, and I’m certain that it’ll be a struggle for me to stay properly confident despite being despised and such. Pride is scary that way, you know?

For getting me to think more about that, I have an aunt of mine to thank very much. How she managed to do so, well, in her talks with me about the dangers of pride, she presented the Blessed Virgin Mary as a good example of humility. Ah, and even the priest who advised me to pray the Rosary also helped there, stating that where Mary is, the Devil isn’t.

Now, thinking about Mama Mary as a good example of humility, what I remember about her is that she was very…well, ordinary. She lived a very ordinary life for a woman who served as the great Mother of God. She and Joseph, her husband, weren’t even that rich too, with the Nativity of Jesus in a manger in Bethlehem being a sign of that (Luke 2:7). And judging from Matthew 13:55, which is a part of the depiction of the reactions that Jesus’ fellow Nazareans had at his preaching (“‘Is not this the carpenter’s son? Is not his mother called Mary?…'”), Mama Mary was seen as someone ordinary by her fellow Nazareans as well.

And hey, much like how easily a significant bunch of us pity the woman who easily submits – and especially to a man – these days, I think that Mama Mary would be someone who would be very easy to look down on. The prideful would find her pathetic, for she just followed God’s orders and blended into society without much protest, even when she was troubled by the angel Gabriel’s greeting (Luke 1:26-29), even when she and her husband had confusion over the reply that her young Son gave them when they found Him – and after three days of searching, even! – teaching in that temple (Luke 2:42-50), and even when she was told off by her grown-up Son that it was not His time yet in that particular wedding which had a problem with the wine (John 2:1-4) – even telling the servants afterwards to do as He says! She never reacted violently during her Son’s Passion too, just letting Him meet His fated humiliating death in the hands of us sinners and complying with her Son’s entrustment of her to Saint John the Apostle and Evangelist (John 19:26-27), and she still came along with the Apostles to Jerusalem, praying with them as well (Acts 1:12-14).

Now, for an aspiring artist like me to draw inspiration from Mama Mary and to even try living as humbly as her…I honestly found all that unbelievable yet fascinating.

Like, really, for so long, I’ve been thinking that a good artist has to be flashy, much like the superheroes of novels, comic books, and animations. I’ve already come to terms with the fact that I can’t be as superpowered as them, but I still long to be looked upon like I was as sparkling as them, for being revered is something that those superheroes needed to have as well so that they can be more seen as heroic.

And that’s why being like the idols on the stages of the entertainment industry became quite a wonderful idea to me as well. Thing is, though, as that same aunt of mine reminded me about, fame is quite a fickle thing, and with that in mind, desiring it so much is bad for my soul.

But what does that mean for me as an aspiring artist, then? Does this mean that I shouldn’t be an artist? Are artists just burdens to society?

If you ask me, well…I don’t think being an artist means being a burden. After all I’ve been through in life, I’ve realized that perhaps there are ways to be a truly humble artist, and that I’ve been holding so much pride, so much that I still struggle with finding those ways. Perhaps I should try rapping with toned-down swagger. Perhaps I should focus on singing less angsty songs. And perhaps I shouldn’t aim towards notching up the sexiness in my adorkableness, even!

Along with that, I shouldn’t think about having a good image only. Even if no other human is watching me, I, along with everyone else, am always within the watch of God, after all, so I still need to think, speak, and act properly, even in private. And I need to work hard towards being more proper there, especially since I still have some bigtime fumbles with my spare time. If I improve there, then I’ll be able to handle having fans better, because being famous is like walking on a tightrope, and I need more balance in my life.

Yeah, there’s more to life than just trying to entertain people. I still lack knowledge, so I need to go to school. I have struggles processing others’ opinions, especially when they’re vocally opposing, so I need to keep calm and search for humbler listeners to talk with and learn from. I need to be more mindful of others as well, which means that I also have to smack my pride down and take corrections from people like my parents better. And like it or not, even if I’m the protagonist of my own story, my growth is never something I cause by keeping the spotlight all to myself.

Come to think of it, though, I think I’m centering on myself too much in writings like this lately, with a bunch of previous paragraphs in this entry being a likely example…Hm, I guess I should take some time to get in touch with some good friends and mentors when it comes to such matters, then. Also, I think this is the first time I’m writing Bible citations into something like this, and I don’t think I can say that I know how to do that as well as I should yet, so yes, honest constructive feedback is highly encouraged and will be highly appreciated!

And hey, God Almighty keep on helping us all! And don’t underestimate Mama Mary, people! Like, really, considering how she lived here on earth, I now think she’s a major factor behind Don Bosco being able to say “Do your ordinary duties extraordinarily well.”

Ah, and I guess I should look for a girl who looks up to Mama Mary as well…

Manly Treasure Hunting

Manly Treasure Hunting

a Final Fantasy V fanfiction by The Overlord Bear

Summary: Faris Scherwiz’s crew of male pirates wasn’t a bunch that Bartz Klauser took seriously, but after certain stories and secrets were shared to that merry band of fools, they point out a situation which becomes serious business to the wandering Wind Warrior…


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Internal Politics

My right hand wants to punch,
My left hand wants to cut.
Whichever goes first
In the end, matters not.
I complain either way
For pain just exchanged.
I broadcast my cross
And downplay my loss.
The person across me
Should shut with my call.
I’ll hold some of theirs
And graft a new arm.
It’s quite an advance
But they call it death’s stance.
I plug in a shot
But some parts still rot.
“He, I’ve no need”
Was what I believed.
Yet a cross harrows on
And follows throughout.

Sanctuary in the Boarding House

It can be difficult living in my boarding house room.

See, the lone bed in my single-occupancy boarding house room is one which has wooden fixtures that serve as shelves and study desks. With that in mind, the bedframe proper is situated over them, requiring a fence and a ladder on one side for safety and accessibility.

I find it tough, having to go up a ladder to get to my bed, though I guess having to sleep on the top bunk of a double decker in my family’s house made me more used to it. But what makes my boarding house bed notably difficult consists of things that can be shown by describing the ladder.

First, though, to have a reference, my height is around five-foot-nine. Now, with that in mind, imagine the ladder being taller than me by a few inches. That’s how high the bed is, and adding to the difficulty is the slant of the ladder, which stands close to ninety degrees. The bed length is also left with a few inches of space once my lying body is there, and the gap between my sitting height and the ceiling is also a few inches long.

The bed’s not the only difficult thing about living in my boarding house room, though.

One thing I enjoy about the boarding house I’m currently staying in is the Wi-Fi. The place doesn’t have a television, but even if a television were there, the presence of Wi-Fi would pull me harder than the presence of a TV.

Now, the struggle I have with the Wi-Fi in the boarding house is how the signal weakens once I’m in my room. Perhaps the walls have something to do with that, but hey, even though I’m not sure about why right now, the Wi-Fi signal is still weak when I’m in my room. My phone can only catch a working signal when I’m sitting close to the door, at least, and although my laptop can catch a working signal better there, it tends to be intermittent, giving me tough times with sudden bouts of disconnection and inaccessibility. With all that, I’m better off being in the common room if I need to use the Internet more efficiently.

I think I’ve complained about those things to my parents before, and I think I’ve mentioned the Internet connection problem to the landlord as well, but I don’t really feel like bothering to complain about those things further than all that.

I mean, with the height between my bed and my study desk, I feel like I can differentiate work and rest much more easily now! Bringing my laptop up to the spot where I should just rest feels more awkward with that setup, and I’d be more comfortable sitting on a chair with the laptop in front of me than trying to curl up while using my laptop within few inches of leeway.

Also, with the weaker Wi-Fi signal in my room, I can better concentrate on doing work that doesn’t need much in terms of Internet connection, particularly homework! And if I need a stronger signal, the common room’s there to serve me better and also keep me more in line, keeping me farther away from certain bad habits I want to quit!

So yeah, I guess that’s why I’ve been getting more used to life at the boarding house. That, and I think prayer has been helping me out pretty well, too. The room’s also conducive for such too, especially with the images of Jesus and Mary on the upper level of my two-level shelf/study desk underneath my bed, images which I let my mother place when we first moved my things into the place.

Still, I gotta keep on putting a good amount of effort towards improving myself. I still struggle with things like getting enough sleep and keeping myself from wasting time on foolish attempts at creative works, things made more obvious by the limits of my room when I try to mess around.

Hm, my room’s quite a training ground, then, no?

Well, with that, God Almighty keep on helping us!

Ruins – Vocal Arrange Cover

It’s been a while since I last put lyrics and vocals over an originally instrumental track. Not like I lost interest in doing such a thing, though, but making stuff like this takes a lot of effort, you know? That, and this sort of thing is something that’s extracurricular compared to other things in my to-do list. All those constraints I consider blessings now, though, because I think harder about what sort of content I’m making and how I’m making them.

So yeah, about this track, it’s originally by TRISTN, a peep whom I first encountered through twenty one pilots instrumental covers. And I guess I decided to put this on queue for vocal arrange covering because I wanted to show off…which is probably ironic, considering the lyrics. Also, production really took a while, considering that I asked for permission to use this track around 5 months ago. How I still remember something as obscure as this probably says something about my shifting musical interests and TRISTN’s potential as a musician as well.

As for the production, well…I struggled with this for a while. The second verse wasn’t really a rap at first, the choruses didn’t feel genuine, and the second shot at the chorus only went once, with some awkward attempt at a dramatic couplet afterward. I then rerecorded with revised lyrics, changing my vocal melody for the chorus and upping the song’s overall level of melancholy as well.

Oh, and as expected, rapping dries the throat fast. Also, there’s my tongue kinda messing up saying “fools” in the second verse. Still, after listening to the whole thing a bunch of times, I feel like I improved. Of course, I still need your honest constructive feedback, dear listeners. I also don’t mind rerecording this track sometime, considering how I’ve noticed a bunch of points in my rapping and singing that I can improve on.

As for audio engineering, I’m getting more used to adding a little more amplification to my vocal tracks for good measure. And as for video effects and editing, I played around with AviUtl some more. I find the resulting video impressive, though, making me consider the possibility of me being more like Monthly Girls’ Nozaki‘s Mikoto Mikoshiba in terms of visual art skills. Still, again, honest constructive feedback from the audience is important. That, and I think I should do more with the text effects.

Oh, and better not forget Ms. Biwa. She did the illustration for the cover video, and although it’s somewhat different from what I expected, I’m still pretty impressed by it! Like, check the character design and the background, yo!

And now, here’s a link to the mp3 of this cover, and here’s a link to this cover’s lyrics sheet. Do give proper credit and linking if you’d like to use my lyrics, okay?

And again, honest constructive feedback is highly encouraged and will be highly appreciated. ^_^

Generation Gap

Generation Gap

a piece of Kagerou Project fanfiction written by The Overlord Bear

Summary: Azami is stuck as an adult with a bunch of other adults. It would have been fun if their respective descendants thought of visiting and thanking her for the powers they got from her, at least. I mean, what’s so hard about dying without going to the afterlife for just one freaking day?


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Manners are Always Groovy

Recently, a professor asked me to be quiet during class.

To be more specific, her voice back then when she asked me to do so had some spiking intonations. Her arms would’ve caused banging sounds on the table if she were swinging them down there too.

What did I say back then? Well, that’s not really the point. Maybe it was good, maybe it was bad, but still, that’s not really the point.

I mean, come on, what’s the point of what I said back then if I drove it in right while she was delivering some very important notes to the class?

In other words, I ruined her groove. She did get back into her groove, but I can’t deny that I ruined it. Having a ruined groove sucks very much, you know?

Like, really, I should know, considering how I feel when I myself get interrupted while I’m doing stuff I consider important. It’s like being in the middle of an tough and epic battle in a game like, say, Pokemon, and the battle’s so tough and epic that the time it would take for me before I can save my game data will take a considerable while, but then someone snatches my gaming system while telling me to go do stuff like household chores.

Well, stuff like playing video games aren’t really stuff to classify as important in the grander scale of things right now, but hey, that doesn’t really take the importance of manners away, still. Even if I’d act immature by not understanding you, doing something tactless is still immature and will not help as much as we’d like to think. I can resist retaliating with more immaturity, yeah, but I would still feel the struggle because I’m not being understood well.

I mean, even if Prof sounded pissed back then, she still managed to avoid saying stronger words like “Shut up!” Such a thing likely helped in getting me to control myself better afterwards despite me having to deal with wounded pride, you know?

So yeah, manners and politeness…Now that I think about it, I guess I really take them for granted more than I think, especially considering how I interact with my family when they try to teach me such things. I think about myself and what I think is right too much, inflating my pride and all that, and my pride tends to make a lot of others’ actions seem ruder than they actually are. For example, I groan when they try to point out the importance of seemingly trivial things like who goes first when it comes to introducing people and not making mixture mountains out of my food during fine dining.

Sure, those things seem trivial, but my ignorance of them, if not dealt with properly, will hit me hard and harder once I meet more and more people. I may not know a lot of the consequences right now, but considering my level of social inclination and how people like my parents and one of my brothers are more socially inclined than me, I think crushing my pride and having some faith in others really is a better idea in my life.

And hey, that reminds me of how I need to be more critical of not only my words, but also how I deliver my words. At times, I think that using cruder words would deliver my point better, but there’s such a thing as overkill, and such a thing is as bad as not saying anything at all during the right times, considering my conflicting feelings when I have to listen to people with good points yet crude delivery. At times, I feel as if suddenly cutting in feels groovy, but if I don’t get the other person’s groove, then my groove is more likely to be noise than music, with that interruption incident with my professor being a very good example. And at times, being loud with my fun seems like something to be happy about, but not everyone thinks the same way I do, and I gotta acknowledge things like my parents tapping my shoulder and quietly telling me to keep my volume down.

I still have a long way to go, alright, especially considering how I still feel the sting of the pride that shouldn’t be in me even when my parents ask me to use my indoor voice while expressing their understanding of my inclinations toward increasing my volume whenever I become more enthusiastic.

Now, more about that recent time when my professor asked me to be quiet because I interrupted her very hard, I felt nervousness while being quiet after that despite feeling irritation, particularly when she started talking about some serious social issues. I could feel the understandable yet still toxic wrath at the corruption of society, particularly its leaders, and even though I wanted to say that each of us are leaders in a way as well, I knew that I still have a lot to learn, and that speaking my mind out would likely lead to a bigger explosion that would put the progress of my education in danger.

Indeed, for me to learn manners and politeness better, I have to look at others more than I look at myself. Such reminds me of something I learned in poetry classes, and that something is the importance of learning about tradition before criticizing and experimenting.

And speaking of learning about tradition – particularly in terms of theory – in my studies as a Creative Writing student, it’s like learning manners and politeness, alright. My professors have talked about how most students don’t like learning about that, reminding me of how I also need to have some faith in my professors despite their imperfections, for they know better than I do when it comes to becoming the proper writer I should be. And tradition may not be perfect, but they have tried and tested stuff, and with all that, we aim to work towards improving it more and more.

Some people say that most of us peeps these days don’t use common sense, but if you ask me, I think that we use a form of common sense that needs to be shaped better every single day of our lives.

And before I even try to help in shaping that groovy thing called “common sense” better, why should I claim that I know what being groovy is when I don’t know what others consider groovy? Why should I claim that I understand others when I don’t want to interact with others? Why should I claim that I know what better manners are when I don’t know what society considers good manners?

And why even claim that I’m self-made when my existence in this world is something that never would’ve happened if it weren’t because of others as well?

Yes, moments like these remind me of how essential manners and politeness are in our lives…and learning them better also requires interacting with and learning from others, something which we struggle with a lot because of things like pride.

So yes, God Almighty keep on helping us all, for I don’t think we’d ever end up learning if we don’t have things like faith.

A Certain Criminal’s Encounter with Justice

I once owned a bottle
Which could fit coins despite its narrow neck.
I stuffed bills as well,
The fruits of good work.
As I wanted to use them for the good of the world,
I labeled them “For Justice” with red brush-turns.
Things were managed well for a time
But then came a time when my brother went vile.
He snatched the bottle because he wanted money
Which he was likely to spend on some more numbing.
Remembering the label on the bottle as well,
I thought it fitting to slam on his head.
More than expected, my brother’s head hit hard,
First by glass cracked, then on concrete flat.
Blood became a pool, his life tiding out,
Drowning the pieces of paper, metal, and glass around.
I couldn’t read the label I painted on anymore
And I didn’t feel that much better at all.
Green joined the pool,
I had been a fool,
And what wrecked me wasn’t an iron fist
But shards of glass that dug into my skin.