On writing

It soon becomes a free-for-all like, "You have 5 minutes to memorize these 4 scripts. Interpret them however you want, regurgitate them. It doesn't have to make sense, but it does have to be honest." And that's really how I do it. A lot more than I initially expected has made sense. I have some formal training, schooling in writing, but a lot of it is self-taught, things I've picked up along the way, especially from books I've enjoyed reading. I take more from the application of style than the style itself, however, in a fashion likeably similar to how MIDI is not the sound but the paper roll for the player piano.

I don't write about what's presumably important. I can't determine that criteria, and when it comes to Second Life, there are already some very fine writers doling out the goods. Hell, now don't take that to mean I just write about what's of interest to me, because there are times when something doesn't catch my attention but it grows on its own; and that can't be forced. It's very organic. I know what to feed the plants, but what will they look like when they're done? Will they give me tasty bumper crops or spew bright lights that are only of aesthetic use? That's part of the inner journey of discovery.

I have a lot of grammatical quirks. I know this and I use it fully. I used to shy away from it, but since it comes out like blood from a bisected horror movie victim, I won't apply a tourniquet. Sometimes for the convenience of the reader, because I like to communicate, I will indicate something is (intentional) but if you see a typo, since I don't use a spellcheck, it was most likely not an oversight… it may mean something too, perhaps a play on words. Look around?intentional errors abound.

I aggregate blogs. I use Bloglines, although I've been giving Sage for Firefox a spin, and with a few reservations, I like it like punch. I zone into what really grabs me, which is not necessarily the weird schtuff, either. Now, that's a misconception. I like "everyday" tales of people being happy. Which blogs do I aggregate? A lot of the SL ones, even the ones that aren't regularly updated (because many of these belong to friends, and I'm hoping to see them "come back"), and beyond that, I have some tech and science things going on, some coolhunting feeds, and daily knowledge. Just because I like learning.

When I first started this, I was pressured to be a "good writer", whatever that means. But I find it's more rewarding to put myself out here, make mistakes, have everything chronicled so not only I, but anyone who can make use out of it can look back and dig into the archives as an amplified resource. I don't really read my old entries, no, but I'm glad I've got them under the watermelon belt. When it comes to the more sensitive, emotional schtuff (and notice how many times I spell it like that), I'm happy I've got that out too. I have some hang-ups over my biological father (and I continue to refer to him as this to specify that this is Lim Choo Wong, not Torley Torgeson, Sr. for the times I am writing mixedmode and may induce some confusion) and it makes me feel a lot better to let it fall out. All of it. Some who are related to me by blood disagree, but I consider their opinions irrelevant and I do not care because they were never there for me when things were hard. Nor are they nice people to begin with.

One of my (biological) father's biggest failings was that in spite of being a superb businessman, he was a lousy explainer. He could build a house, just not talk you through it if he wanted to impart the skills. Which is great from a Christopher Walken perspective, but awful as a Dad. Lim did a lot of good?even great?things. Explaining was not one of them. Even on his deathbed, he didn't have a lot to say.

I will go on to say that my Dad was emotionally abusive. He was physically rough too, and although he never beat me with a belt (oddly enough, my still-living Mom comes closer to being tough-as-nails), there were a lot of difficult moments like talking to a brick wall. For everything he said about getting things done, there'd be a clause it'd have to be done his way, or no action at all. Discipline didn't help me a great deal because I was already internally very systematic. I fault myself for not being more "normal", although as they say, you can't have it both ways, so how I turned out, and why I write the way I do, stems from this.

I grew up living with a lot of lies. Fakeness, deceit, reasons why I came to hate redundancy so much because of how often it was done to me. Cycles where nothing changes. I also know what they say about children being smarter than adults think, and it was certainly the case when my bro Merritt and I were growing up. I am not blaming, and certainly not dwelling on the past, but explaining why I am who I am. The "Wong clan", my Dad's side of the family, consists largely of a literal sewer of yellow rat bastards. Not good human beings. I'll just say there's only so many times I can make excuses for misogyny, racism, spousal abuse and more under the banner of "cultural differences HAW HAW they're Chinese!" before breaking down with the truth as I live it.

This is, at least in part, why I write with such a degree of what appears to be candid to others. I'm not quite at that stage yet, the way I view myself, but I'm aspiring to. Imagine being fed poison daily for years on end and being told it's healthy, before through your own research, coming to the relevation of how toxic you are, and how damaged and fragile you have become. (I'll elaborate more in moment.) This is how I was, although I've been purging myself, venting out the plasma so it doesn't burn… so much. My Dad didn't vent it, and he died earlier than I feel he could have. I don't want his baggage to be carried on, be it by blood or other means, and I've got baggage of my own, so I'm going to handle it as effectively as I can, throw it from the airplane to the sharks to eat, and hope some of the "generation curse" ends with me. I don't want to see my bro end up that way either, which is why I'm so overprotective of him at times. I am hard on him too, I admit I used to be very violent towards him. I am not blaming anyone… I am simply hoping I can be a better person for myself, and more importantly, for the people in my life?and my Second Life.

Which brings me to this: when my Dad kicked the bucket, the yellow rat bastards kept saying how they'd help be there for my Mom and my bro and I (the three of us left in this world). How they'd treat us to feasts, be moral support, and just overall be there. You know how liars are. Not a phone call. Not a single damn one. O, with the exception of claiming money from the will. You know how ugly "family" business can get when that happens. And that, of all the things in my existence, makes me truly angry. It made me declare "Blood thicker than water? Bullshit! Family means nothing!" out loud, and my behavior got increasingly bizarre until I found my own equilibrium of being true to myself.

Now, the good that arrived: it amazes me to this very day how that completely broke apart my world, and a new one was reborn in the image of my daughter.

You know her as Torley Torgeson, Jr.

She's not actually my (Torley Wong/Torley Torgeson, Sr.) flesh-and-blood daughter, but these pixels, in a way, transcend hope and will be more real than reality can ever be. Through her, my avatar in Second Life, I've channelled my hopes for what I would like to see in my offspring. Yes, she is perfect in her father's eyes. I give her lots of love, that's what, maybe be a little too protective at times so she ends up kinda rebellious, but at least I know I've always attempted to be the best papa to her, from a loving home, with a lot of mentors and role models to look up to. She's had plenty of opportunities in the walk of the living to indulge her creative whimsy, and while she's had her conflicts with emotional turmoil and sad days, she's had far more happiness. And she wants to share the happiness with you.

That's a little I have to say about me, on writing.