The Adventures of Nubland

Today I opened a letter from myself from 10 years ago. I had pretty big expectations for myself… I wanted to have a book published, a company started, my own house, a wife and a kid… Heh pretty big dreams, I do have some of the things I wanted though. A red car, my own computer, a dog and good friends. Im sorry I couldn’t live up to your dreams 10 year old me. I tried… I really did. But a promise is a promise. Time to write another 10 year goal plan.

What is the worst type of question? The unsolvable kind? The awkward kind? I think it is a question that you want to ask, but you are too afraid of the answer to ask. These are the questions that hold us back from taking risks. We are afraid of the possibility of a negative answer. Unfortunately the smarter you are the less likely you are to take a big risk. You think too much about all the bad. While a simple person may just blindly decide without a second glance.

Knowledge, how does one obtain it? Schooling? Experience? Both are viable ways, but teach through entirely different manners. School teaches you things that have already been seen and done, and how to do them. Experience teaches you by you yourself figuring it out. Take this for example. Did you find out the stove could burn you by touching it, or by having a parent or someone tell you it could? Both different, yet both end up accomplishing the same thing. One leaves a sense of gratitude, the other a sense of pain, but gain. I’ve learned many things in my life. The things I was taught are easily overlooked, but the things I experienced, those are stuck in my mind forever…

Sometimes you just can’t tell what someone thinks anymore. Never assume you know anything about anyone, people are people and can surprise you at any given moment. As much as you might wish for someone to still think something about you, it might not be true. Think positive, but don’t bet your life, your dreams, or your mental health on it. In very rare cases you might be able to tell exactly what someone thinks. But such things are rare, and hardly anyone in this day and age can see subtle hints anymore. I never am able to…

Chances are not often given. If you are given one then that person has enough faith in you to do what they hope you will do. Sometimes people are given an once in a lifetime opportunity, sometimes they try their best and succeed, other times they panic and fail. I can think of several chances I was given in my life in which I failed. Even though someone fails, the true question is will the person give them a second chance? By all logic and reason, no they shouldn’t, but if that person believes enough in that person. Maybe, just maybe, there might be hope for redemption. A thousand apologies won’t change someone’s mind. A simple action, or course of actions might.

The last thing he wanted to do was see her upset. He cared too much about her. What could he do? A birthday gift! Of course! But, with only a single silver coin he couldn’t get much. Nothing that would mean anything in the long run at least. Roland continued to walk down the street until he came to the market district. Shops would be closing soon, he would have to window browse if he was going to have any luck. Nothing seemed to click, the toy store looked expensive as if you actually were buying a miniature manor for a doll. The weaver wouldn’t have enough time to make her anything fast enough… What could he do? His eyes finally set themselves on a small keepsake store. Perhaps he could find something in there. Roland entered the tiny shop and was surprised by an equally tiny elderly woman. “Welcome good sir, please take your time.” He nodded and tilted his hat in recognition and she nodded back. This was his only hope for finding his daughter a gift. Roland sighed and began his search…

It’s strange what writing can do to you. What art in general can do to you. Emotion is its lifeblood, and in order to create it you must have a powerful emotion. Be it writing, painting, or music. Every artist has a muse that makes them feel, and those feelings spark the creativeness and leads to the creation of something spectacular. If you have ever influenced my life, for better or worse, I thank you, for you have given me something to write about.

He was a failure. His wife had left him with nothing but his house and clothes. Roland looked down at the wooden floor of his small yet comfortable abode. This is where it all went wrong, he had lost his temper and shouted at his wife and child. He loved them more than the world and now they were gone. His beautiful wife Lilly, and his most treasured thing in the whole world, little Emily. Roland stood there in the hallway of his home. Examining every floorboard in his search for answers. Would he ever see his daughter again? He could appeal for visitation rights but his wife was a clever lass. She would demand child support from him. Something he could not afford. He had lost his job at the restaurant, and then the mill, and finally at the dockyard. Roland was on his last piece of silver and he was at a loss on what to use it for. Food? No, he wasn’t hungry nor could he eat, too much shame. He wasn’t about to fall into alcoholism either. Roland walked out into the street watching as the snow fell over the city of Portwall. His neighborhood, while nice enough, was in the middle of the slums. Beggars lined the streets. Shanties were set up in alleyways. It was a awful sight. Roland walked down the street until he saw the lantern lighter approach for his evening round. That meant it was just about six o clock. He flipped open his pocket watch. Yes, six o clock on the dot, of the twenty sixth of January. Roland paused… Twenty sixth… Emily’s birthday was two days from now…