Smelly Armpits, Family, Death and Life (as it is now)

My armpits are smelly. They stank to high heaven. I should shower now but not yet. A shower would signal my brain that its okay now, you can relax, probably sleep and things. Not now though. Let us ponder together the meaning of a part of smelly armpits. Why would the Creator put in that genetic code that sweaty armpits will, after certain duration will smell like rancid McDonald's tartar sauce? What is the purpose? Is it to teach us homo sapiens the need to wash our armpits everyday? Is it to plant the seed for the idea of perfumes and later on; deodorant? Fascinating stuff.. I will shower, but not now. Let me finish this post first.

Let me savour this feeling. That feeling of typing things up for fun. I got plenty of work related typing to be done but by God, i have neglected this blog for so long.

Anyway, there had been a death in the extended family. My uncle on my father's side passed away a few days ago. I was not particularly close to him but somehow his death made my heart skipped a beat. No kidding. I had other deaths but none rocked me like his did. My memories of him was of him either going or coming back from fishing, either from the small stream in front of the rumah kampung or from the river at the back of the rumah kampung. He left three children behind. Two of which was still studying. His wife passed away about a year ago. It was always the same pattern that i have observed. When the wife passed away, the husband almost always followed suit afterwards. Maybe death by broken heart is a real thing after all. My thoughts are now for the children now that i have two of my own. How would they cope now that all that they have are each other. Either you grow up or life will force you to grow up. Whether you like it or not for accepting, really accepting that your parents are not going to be around forever for me is the final lesson of growing up. That, and the fact that our parents are not gods and heroes and heroines we all like them to be.

When we were growing up our parents projected this image of strength and resilience. Ready to chew on hot coals and lift cars if need be. At least that was the case with me. Some children have deadbeat parent or parents, forcing them to grow up even faster than they should. Life man, sometimes it comes at you fast.
Anyway, chewing hot coals and lifting cars. Being starry-eyed young thing we were, we came to see that every single things our parents or parents did as cool and particularly awesome but then as we grow up that illusion slowly loses its lustre. As a youngster we might see our fathers smoking as something cool, macho and to be emulated but then as we grew up we learned to hate the acrid smell of burning paper and tobacco until finally when we are adults ourselves we learned that it was a dumb to inhale burning thing and it could give you cancer. The pedestal upon which we placed our parents slowly crumble, nibbled away by age and sickness as we grow older until finally we can finally see that our parents are just as scared and clueless about life like we are now (well, if you have absolute certainty of where your life is heading, i'd doff my hat to you if i have one.). They made bad choices every now and then and tried to live afterwards with the consequences. You know, just living.. 

Come to think of it, who had said that history is cyclical in nature is actually right. The times and the names of the players change but the story remains the same. We live, made choices, we die and so on it goes with subsequent generation until the end of time.

So when we finally accept that our parents are flawed just as we are and that they will eventually leave us to fend for ourselves, that they will no longer be around to hug us and soothe us whenever we graze a knee or something, that is the precise moment that we have truly ascended into adulthood. Until then, we are all just over-sized teenagers. All that stuff about getting a job, getting married and shit are just societal requirements imposed on us. Hogwash..Cowpat. Adulthood is about accepting that perfection is an illusion and mortality is a sure thing.

Fuck me, i am getting teary eyed as i typed up the above.

Most if not all parents have that fierce protective emotion for their child, the urge to beat the living daylights out of anybody who made our children cry for any reason. The name of that emotion is love. It is not the default setting in all parents but most parents have it. Love. In their own way and in their own words for no two parents are made in the same mould. They are the products of their times and upbringing, just as we are.

I lost the point i am trying to make and i am indeed teary eyed.

When i joined the solat jenazah of my uncle the image that kept flashing through my head was of my uncle as a younger man one day when he came back at sundown with his fishing rod in one hand and a tree branch  full of fishes smaller than the palm of his hands in the other. That person is no more. One day its going to be my own father on that cold slab. One day its going to be me. Life is fleeting and time fucking flies (fuck you cicero).

I could not make it to the funeral on the account of the missus being left all alone at home with the kids and with a case in the next day but my dad went. The next day i called him and asked him about it and how he was (he made a trip up north that night and back home again before sunrise). The thing unsaid was how much i love him. I have always had that problem. Telling my father and mother my  how much i love them. I don't rightly know why. Then again, i had the same problem with my siblings.Maybe i am a show don't tell kind of guy.

In case you are reading this, Mak and Abah. I love you guys to bits.

Now, i try to tell my sons and wife that i love them every chance i got. Death, like me, does not keep regular hours. I am not the perfect father or the perfect husband. I am flawed like the rest of us, like my father before me and his father before him. But i try to be better. Every single day. Like the unnamed protagonist of The Road, i try to carry the fire; to be a decent human being. I try to the best of my abilities to teach the boys, my boys to carry the fire. So that in this increasingly dark world that they may shine their own way through it one day. That is all i can hope. That is all we can hope with our children and i guess that was all our parents hope for us.

This is how we roll now

The Missus or should i say, the player is asleep. As it usually is, it signifies the end of a session.

Just now was the shortest session ever so far. I think it ran for about an hour.  I did however, manage to cram a new side quest  and a random encounter involving a semi-naked old man chasing down a tailor halfway across town. Apparently, the tailor pricked the old man's balls in a fitting session hence the chase with bloody underpants and swirling hoe.  A roll of 16 and noble background  averted combat. Resolution comes with ice on balls and alcohol for the aggrieved old man, still clad in his bloody underpants.

I have heard of Dungeons & Dragons before. I have watched the old animation series of it back when it was aired at Metrovision i think. (The now defunct channel 4.) However, i have never thought the day would come when i would immerse myself into the world of table top role playing game. To be more exact; Dungeons & Dragons.

It began when i re-read my bootleg .pdf copy of Dresden files series. One of the book (I can't remember which one) starts off with the titular Harry Dresden playing a role playing game with the Alphas (which was what the vigilante werewolves chose to call themselves), rolling dices, slinging out spells and swinging really sharp things at people and monsters.

Then, something in me clicked.

I was at one of the lowest point of my life. The black dog growls deepened and my shoulders sagged heavy with his weight. Money was really low back then and Number 2 was barely a week old. Day job felt like a dead end, my calling a dry spell after the last  rejection. So it was only natural for a family man to worry about the money, especially when money was not forthcoming. There were some thoughts about ramming something with my car and be done with it but the thought of the kids kept it at bay. (Thank God for that). The kids however, did not keep the black dog from baring his fangs and trying to cow me into submission. Every day was a battle to keep him leashed. So when i read that opening part in Dresden Files, *click*. The dog ceased its barking in amazement.

I immediately did my own reading on the subject matter, starting on the most famous and as it was touted, the greatest role playing game ever: Dungeons & Dragons. I trawled the Net for reading materials, skimmed through Youtube tutorials (which was also how i found out about the live play show, Critical Role).  In a short span of time , i had my own dice set, scoped out possible hangout place to link up with players, got my hands on the bootleg .pdf of the core rule books (which i mean to buy once i have the right amount of money. Content creators should be paid for their efforts!) and strong-armed the Missus into letting me run a homebrew campaign for her. It was around that time the Arsend Campaign began.

What of the dog then you ask? Well, i would like to believe that he cocked his head slightly in the beginning and sat down and wagged his tails as i spun yarns about a sheriff in western themed town in a make-believe world.

The money came in again, not as much as the years before but it came in nonetheless. We get by. I don't get self-destructive thoughts anymore.  The black dog tries to flex his muscles from time to time but most of the time i get to batten him down with a simple line: i got to get prepared for the day when the boys will join me and the missus for a session. So i did. I wrote more contents be it Non-Player Character backstory or world building, dream up a wacky encounter or possible plot hooks. Anything, Man. Anything. I am not the best of Dungeon Master right now but i am getting there. Slowly. Also, the Missus is slowly sinking into the world which is good enough for me.

D&D got me dreaming up stuff again. Got me writing again. It made me sketch stuff again. Something i have not done in ages. Mostly maps and layouts of locations and dungeons, for now. Maybe i will start on living things next, people and monsters and animals. D&D also made me happy, which is a big deal for me because the continuous battle to make ends meet and to keep the family and the firm afloat and to keep myself sane at the same time is numbing. I think the Missus can see that even if she does not speak a word of it.

So whenever the boys are asleep and we are not too tired, i would ask her; would like to roll the dice tonight?

So this is how we roll now.