IC Character Journal for Mayfield

[ceasetoexist]

Hey. This is a stupid little project of mine, I guess, to continue to work on Pokey's voice. Considering he's been in Mayfield for a bit over a year, he's decided to write down some of his experiences, both past and present, on an on-again off-again basis. Doing this is meant to help keep me in his mindset, as well as provide a better look at the way Pokey thinks, especially after the amount of development he's gone through in Mayfield.

Anyway, there'll hardly be a consistent update to this journal. It's for fun, and I may drop it at anytime. But I'll see where it goes.



8/30/195X:

This is stupid. I mean the fact that I’m bothering to write this, not the typewriter. Though hey you know what? For good measure, the typewriter is pretty stupid too. It’s big and dumb and loud in comparison to a computer. Though hey. Gotta admit it looks kinda cool in its own stupid way. And the way the keys clack is kinda neat.

Oh right. I’m getting off track as to why I’m actually writing this stupid thing. Though even I’m not really sure why I’m being dumb enough to do it. I guess I’m getting carried away after having drank that stupid milk a few weeks ago. I just started writing down names. Of the people I could remember had been here, and weren’t anymore. I mean, I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me how many I wrote down. People come and go in this stupid hole all the time. And I want to say I don’t care. But I can’t say that anymore. Well, not here I guess. I can still say it in the open. But it’s dumb. There’s a difference between telling people that, and telling myself it. And I can’t tell myself it.

Yada yada yada I should probably just keep going yada yada yada I wonder how many times I can just type that without getting bored

Yada yada yada yada yada yada yada yada yada yada yada yada yada yada yada yada

Okay I’m bored. Incredible experiment, the experiment is now over.

So anyway I guess what bothered me wasn’t how many people were on the list, but how many I didn’t even remember until I started writing. It was weird, like some stupid chamber in my brain just opened up and decided to barf everything it was holding in it on to the floor so I could rummage around through it and see what I could find. Not that I’d rummage through barf. I mean, if I could maybe scoop up some with something and put it in a bag to throw at someone, but I wouldn’t just rummage through it why am I defending myself to a piece of paper okay let’s keep going now I need to quit this and stay on topic.

So any I realized how many people I’d forgotten. And while I wanted to say I didn’t give a crap? I do. And I felt bad inconsiderate horrible I don’t know about forgetting some of them. And I guess I decided I needed to write about it. About what’d happened to me here so I don’t forget anymore. There are things too important to forget, and I don’t know if I’m forgetting just because of being forgetful, or if it’s another effect of screwing with time-space, or what. If it’s the latter, I should probably make sure I have some kind of record of what’s happened here.

They don’t deserve to be I guess I kind of owe them It’ll work as a record for anyone else who might find it if I get permadroned in this dump. So they at least know some of the weird crap that’d gone on here before they arrived, and about some of the people here because they ought so they know just how long it’s been going on and how many people this place has eaten up.

I’m going to stop typing now. It kind of sucks just looking at the page and I’m only typing stupid crap. I should probably just go to sleep.

I’ll see if I continue this later I guess.


9/11 Entry

9/16 entry

9/21 Entry

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[ceasetoexist]

July 22, ???? (2015)

[ceasetoexist]

So here I am again. And since this dumb place didn't see to give me the rest of the journal I wrote before this, I guess here I am again starting over. I don't know why I'm bothering to keep doing this dumb piece of crap. It hasn't helped me before, it sure ain't going to help me now. Maybe because it's the only action I can take that reminds me of Mayfield. Old habits die hard, I guess I've learned that. And I don't really want to give that up.

So this is my second tour of being stuck in this dumb crapshack town with a stone lodged in my throat, and I guess we'll see if it lasts any longer than the first one. Personally, I wouldn't mind if it didn't so long as the way I get out means going back home or at least closer to it, instead of wandering around the big stupid temple again. This place is supposed to give you powers but hey I seem to be getting to miss out on those so whatever. Big crock of crap if you ask me, especially as to what whoever brought us here wants.

I'm not sure if it bothers me or makes me feel good at how easy it is to fall into just not caring about things here now that I keep getting separated further and further from Mayfield. A big part of me would be happy to sell the jokers here out if it meant finding a way home. Why should I care what happens to these people? They aren't mine. It's wishful thinking anyway; it's not like I've been presented any kind of chance to sell them out, let alone that gets me anything I'd want.

But, if I did sell them out? I don't know if I could face everyone back at Mayfield. I mean this is just a bunch of theoretical butt looking and picking if we're being honest but. I guess everyone back home still holds me to 'higher' standards than they ever should. And hey, not like I should care about anyone else but me but...it sucks. Actually caring about other people and what they'd think when they're not here. It's like I'm not my own anymore. And know what? That'd be fine, if they were here but they're not and I'm still not so I guess I will just unquestioningly work with these losers because that's what everyone else would want me to do.

I keep getting pulled further way from the things and people I care about, and when I start caring about things and people in the next place I am I get pulled away again. That's some great humor there, universe, but I'm still not laughing.

I never got the idea of a 'home'. Not really. Why would any chump want to just bind himself to one place and get stuck there and smothered by a bunch of goobers he forced himself to interact with. I didn't want to, I wanted to keep exploring and going wherever and I wanted and doing whatever I wanted without having to think of any kind of consequence. But then, in Mayfield, I guess I got a home, and I know what it's all about. I never thought I'd get tired of just mucking it up in other places.

But now, I just want to go home.

Day 122 (September 16, 2015)

[ceasetoexist]

I think I should write.

I mean, yeah, I guess I'm doing that right now but write publically, is what I mean. Yeah, yeah, I know that is many some of the nerdiest crap that anyone can do. I might as well start a coin collection and get a pocket protector or something to go along with this. Why not I'm pretty much giving any cred I have away by doing this.

But I mean I guess I have something to write about now. As far as I know, I might be the only one of us still outside Mayfield and who remembers anything about it. I could be the only one who could tell anyone about Mayfield, and what happened there, and the people there. And the fact that I'm the only one who can, who remembers, who cares?

That's sad. They deserve way better than that. If anyone can talk about them or tell others about them, it's me. And I have to. Because I want to. I guess it might just be the right thing to do, too, but hey. I don't care about that that much.

I guess I can start using the internet network here to document it. It'd be the easiest way to start talking about it, and letting the most people see it. I mean if I could, I would jam it down people's throats as hard as I can.

I would write it on stone where it couldn't wear away or have it carved into grooves on the beach that couldn't be wiped.

Thank God no one else can see this. I'd hate to have some nerd awww and gaaaah over how namby pamby crap this sounds.

I'll try and start next week.

I just want others to know, so it won't be forgotten when I leave. I just want others to care.