I joked that it was about me, because, well, look...
Aesthetically, it combined symbols and themes with the unlocking of colors and the ability to sing and grow, and the soundscape was so beautiful it defied expectation.
Personally, it contained a lot of symbols and signs that float through my life: birds, stars, lush greenery, water, plants, the powerful feminine, galaxies -- so many pretty things that I see in my world not only because "Well, yeah! You live on planet earth: of course you'd see these things reflecting back at you!" It's also because legitimately it ties into my art, and is echoing through from Terrell, talks with relatives, my counselor, Lorde, 1984, everything.
It's all converging so powerfully, if I try to remember every thread I feel like my heart will explode.
The game was amazing and I cried at the end.
I feel spoiled by its rich beauty and intensely emotional storytelling. It was artistically and aesthetically "completely satisfying in all ways": ways a regular point-and-shoot or Mario Kart aren't because they aren't necessarily hope filled or healing.
I even got a little better at using the controller.
It was a cathartic experience and there's more left to explore on a second play through.
I'm not excited to go back to work when I wake up.
I practiced a song tonight that I wrote around this time last year, to get through some post-"admission-of-anti-Christian-art-angst" guilt, and I realized a small thing... Maybe a big thing...
I've been hurt in the name of God...
I have been hurt in the name of God my whole life, but God Himself has never hurt me...
I really don't know what to do with that information right now other than sit with it and see... I cried again... I'm going to be tired tomorrow.
C.S. Lewis is back also, believe it or not.
We saw our dear friend Steve Fenley perform as him the other night after I played my girl power song to open the evening.
I remember a quote from the play as I'm writing this. Paraphrased, God uses suffering as a megaphone because if we could do it all on our own, we would. If we are self-sufficient or think that we're in control, then we will never come to Salvation.
That's scary. I want to be saved.
But I also feel very much like handling things by myself right now.
In our post game research, Terrell and I learned that Gris was perhaps Spanish for grey, and definitely about the five stages of grief, one stage of which is anger.
I'm very angry right now.
My mom once told me it took her getting to that point (very angry) before she could make a move or start changing anything.
I cannot speak to that any further.
Make of it whatever you want.
On my journey, however, I have been here before. It's frightening how familiar this all is.
It's as if a wormhole has opened up and sucked me right back to this part of the game, this place in time, this space in the Matrix.
I told Grandma Julie I didn't have the right skill-set for this level last time. I spoke to the Matriarchs this morning while accomplishing all my errands.
It was an invigorating day until I had to admit I don't want Christian art right now, I just want good art.
It sounds gross because I am a Christian and I understand it's a dangerous place to be.
But C.S. Lewis is back...
"If you can find a way back in to a softer spiritual state, why not take it?"