Remember back in the day when Clinton was president and we actually took steps, as a nation, towards balancing the budget and getting us towards a situation where we might possibly someday be able to NOT owe trillions of dollars?
Well, Congress just upped our credit line AGAIN, this time to $9.815 trillion, which according to Reuters is the fifth time the Bush administration has raised the limit. You know what the debt was when he took office? $5.6 trillion. Jesus fucking Christ. He's almost doubled the national debt in the six and some years he's been in office. Will the insanity never end? Fox pundits were just bitching recently that NASA is spending $500 million on an 8-year trip to space. Now, I agree that NASA spending could possibly be used better elsewhere, but according to 2006 reports, the war in Iraq costs nearly $2 BILLION a WEEK. I mean, come the fuck on. Let's get the hell out of Iraq and we could spend billions and billions on developing warp drives and finding sexy alien races to mate with, and we'd STILL be saving money.
Apparently, though, there's some good news to the equation that I stumbled upon while reading sites about national debt. According to this guy over at The Skeptical Optimist, the national debt is growing at a slower rate than our national GDP, which means that percentage of the GDP that our debt represents (it currently hovers around 64%, ranking us at like number 20 out of all nations for the highest debt) is, in fact, dropping. I guess this is good news overall, though it doesn't so much change my opinion of the Bush administration wasting money willy-nilly on war and stupid abstinence programs, but hey, I'm no economist, so maybe I should butt out of the debate over how much money we owe.
Heck, take Japan from that list of countries by their public (a.k.a. national) debt! They owe 175.5% of their GDP! Guess it sucks to be Japan right now.
Anyway, this website is wicked financial and Republican, but the kind of Republican that makes a lot of sense and is hard to argue. If only Bill-O and Sean Hannity weren't raving lunatic racists and could manage to spout off something mildly intriguing every once and a while. So I get all this guy's arguments about the economy, but still side more with democrats because I don't think a ragingly good economy logically leads to States providing social programs for their residents like they would have us believe. But maybe it'd get that way if we were all rich and happy; we might develop love for our neighbors? I dunno. I kinda lost my point here.
Oh right, I hate Bush and he's wasting my moneys in some desert in Iraq killing people. I'd much rather he spent the same amount feeding starving children or something socially responsible. But I guess I'll just get back to dreaming.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Existence, or The Day Google Found Me, part 1.
This morning, I opened my inbox and found one from SiteMeter, which tracks the (pretty lame) traffic to my blog. Since I added it, I've had 100 hits to my blog, which is kind of sad, but kind of awesome at the same time. Now most of these were site hits from Brennon's blog and, after I posted my Halloween Review at Final Girl, hits from her blog. Not until today's list did I get hits from random people on the internet.
Most of these random hits are oddly from image searches for "Pathfinder" "The Movie Pathfinder" "Pathfinder viking face" and "movie posters," all directed at the poster I put up for Viking Women and the Sea Serpent. Word. That's totally awesome that someone found my blog through that.
Not so awesome, or perhaps awesomer, is that the only regular Google search that turns up my blog is "bosoms." I need to get moving so I can have some crazy linkages to blog about until I have a giant self-referential blog of nothingness. yay!!
Most of these random hits are oddly from image searches for "Pathfinder" "The Movie Pathfinder" "Pathfinder viking face" and "movie posters," all directed at the poster I put up for Viking Women and the Sea Serpent. Word. That's totally awesome that someone found my blog through that.
Not so awesome, or perhaps awesomer, is that the only regular Google search that turns up my blog is "bosoms." I need to get moving so I can have some crazy linkages to blog about until I have a giant self-referential blog of nothingness. yay!!
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Perquisites, or Why Some Words Should Die
While proofing a powerpoint deck (kill me, God) today, I came across the word 'perquisites,' which naturally I assumed was an idiot's misspelling of pre-requisites, so I highlighted it and moved on with my day, feeling a little bit better about myself in the process.
Upon giving this expertly noted adjustment to the original author of the .ppt (I should be shot), I was informed that this word (Yes, Virginia, this is sadly a word. [ed. note: I f'ing like punctuation in parentheses, despite what the nazis over at the fracking Elements of English Grammar would have you believe]) is the original source of the commonly used word 'perk,' as in, 'My job has sweet perks, like hookers at the Christmas party and free booze on Fridays!' I'm sorry...
PERQUISITES? That is the stupidest f'ing word I have ever heard in my ENTIRE life, coming a close second to 'nite,' 'brite,' 'lite,' and 'rite,' the creators of which I sincerely hope are stuck headfirst into Cocytus with their toes being gnawed on by evil grammaticians.
Now, I'm not only humiliated for having incorrectly spotted a spelling error, but deeply and irrevocably disturbed at the fact that 'perquisites' even exists and will forever be a part of my lexicon, no matter how many bloody bloody marys I down in the hopes of burning it out of my brain with vodka and worcestershire sauce.
At the end of the day though, I can still (though with new difficulty) hold my head high, knowing that the beeyotch still spelled 'the' as 'th' and used the word 'area' twice in one sentence, when the first 'area' should have been 'candidate,' which is totally not at all related to 'area' and thus HA HA HA.
That's my perquisite for the day! Because if that's not a privilege or profit incidental to my regular salary or wages, I don't know what is.
Upon giving this expertly noted adjustment to the original author of the .ppt (I should be shot), I was informed that this word (Yes, Virginia, this is sadly a word. [ed. note: I f'ing like punctuation in parentheses, despite what the nazis over at the fracking Elements of English Grammar would have you believe]) is the original source of the commonly used word 'perk,' as in, 'My job has sweet perks, like hookers at the Christmas party and free booze on Fridays!' I'm sorry...
PERQUISITES? That is the stupidest f'ing word I have ever heard in my ENTIRE life, coming a close second to 'nite,' 'brite,' 'lite,' and 'rite,' the creators of which I sincerely hope are stuck headfirst into Cocytus with their toes being gnawed on by evil grammaticians.
Now, I'm not only humiliated for having incorrectly spotted a spelling error, but deeply and irrevocably disturbed at the fact that 'perquisites' even exists and will forever be a part of my lexicon, no matter how many bloody bloody marys I down in the hopes of burning it out of my brain with vodka and worcestershire sauce.
At the end of the day though, I can still (though with new difficulty) hold my head high, knowing that the beeyotch still spelled 'the' as 'th' and used the word 'area' twice in one sentence, when the first 'area' should have been 'candidate,' which is totally not at all related to 'area' and thus HA HA HA.
That's my perquisite for the day! Because if that's not a privilege or profit incidental to my regular salary or wages, I don't know what is.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Robert Jordan
So, I found out via text from Becky Rupp at 7:36am that Robert Jordan had died last night. It was kind of a weird bit of news for me to be honest. I mean, first I was shocked and disbelieving, but then I got to work and saw news stories and realized that it was true. Then I naturally thought of the long-running joke (though I guess less funny in the past year or two that he's been incredibly sick with some rare disease) that he had better finish up the Wheel of Time before he died, or he'd have a lot of angry fans to answer to. Sadly now he won't have to answer to anyone because he died while still writing the 12th book in the series, set to be the final one, wrapping up an epic that has spanned 73% of my lifetime. He published the first novel when I was 6, though of course I didn't read it until probably Freshman or Sophomore year of high school.
I can't even tell you how many days of my secondary educational career were spent with one of his novels gracing the corner of my desk, allowing me to sneak a few pages at a time whenever waiting for class to start, or after finishing busy work early, or while eating lunch. Since first finishing what was already written of the series at that point, I've re-read it with each successive book he has released, about five I believe. It's become almost tradition for me to read the whole series (9,353 pages, as of book 11) each year, just to refresh myself of its brilliance. Not that the series didn't have its low points or its problems, given that some of the later novels were a bit bogged down by the overabundance of plot and characters and advanced little of the story.
Regardless of that, though, the series he has crafted since 1990 is, to me, the landmark acheivement of fantasy writing. It contains the most complex characters, the densest plots, the most imaginative and immersive reality, that I have ever encountered in a fantasy/sci-fi novel. The characters that he brought to life for me as a teenager have remained with me, having been my constant companions during those years.
He built, using the tropes and standard elements of basically every fantasy novel ever, a unique and fully realized world that has not only entranced my imagination from the moment I opened The Eye of the World, but all things considered, probably absorbed a significant portion of the time I've spent on this Earth, whether through actual reading, online roleplaying (the truest form of geeky homage) or lengthy, passionate discussions with other fans.
It would have been hard enough next year to have said goodbye to the world, the characters, and the mythology of the Wheel of Time, but it is by far harder to say goodbye to the man who created the series that is one of those staples of fantasy writing that fans of the genre will continue to talk about for years. And harder still to think that he died before he could finish his greatest work, one that was so clearly close to his heart and one that helped him fight so hard during his illness.
I took a moment to read through the post his brother left on Robert Jordan's blog, announcing his death, and I confess that seeing Jordan's words used to describe people's loss in the comments section made me shed a few tears of my own for this great man:
“Till shade is gone, till water is gone, into the Shadow with teeth bared, screaming defiance with the last breath, to spit in Sightblinder’s eye on the Last Day.” - Ryan Breen
"Tai’shar Manetheren" - DZ
"May you shelter in the palm of the Creator’s hand Robert Jordan. And may the Mother’s last embrace welcome you home." - Gwydion Quatar
"Ars longa, vita brevis." - Vincent
‘Duty is as heavy as a mountain, Death is as light as a feather.’ - Roshan George
"The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Seventh Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind arose from the Final Breath of James Oliver Rigney, Jr.. The wind was not the ending. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was /an/ ending." - Kotan
---
As the blog announcing his death says, "the Dragon is gone." Rest in peace, Robert Jordan.
I can't even tell you how many days of my secondary educational career were spent with one of his novels gracing the corner of my desk, allowing me to sneak a few pages at a time whenever waiting for class to start, or after finishing busy work early, or while eating lunch. Since first finishing what was already written of the series at that point, I've re-read it with each successive book he has released, about five I believe. It's become almost tradition for me to read the whole series (9,353 pages, as of book 11) each year, just to refresh myself of its brilliance. Not that the series didn't have its low points or its problems, given that some of the later novels were a bit bogged down by the overabundance of plot and characters and advanced little of the story.
Regardless of that, though, the series he has crafted since 1990 is, to me, the landmark acheivement of fantasy writing. It contains the most complex characters, the densest plots, the most imaginative and immersive reality, that I have ever encountered in a fantasy/sci-fi novel. The characters that he brought to life for me as a teenager have remained with me, having been my constant companions during those years.
He built, using the tropes and standard elements of basically every fantasy novel ever, a unique and fully realized world that has not only entranced my imagination from the moment I opened The Eye of the World, but all things considered, probably absorbed a significant portion of the time I've spent on this Earth, whether through actual reading, online roleplaying (the truest form of geeky homage) or lengthy, passionate discussions with other fans.
It would have been hard enough next year to have said goodbye to the world, the characters, and the mythology of the Wheel of Time, but it is by far harder to say goodbye to the man who created the series that is one of those staples of fantasy writing that fans of the genre will continue to talk about for years. And harder still to think that he died before he could finish his greatest work, one that was so clearly close to his heart and one that helped him fight so hard during his illness.
I took a moment to read through the post his brother left on Robert Jordan's blog, announcing his death, and I confess that seeing Jordan's words used to describe people's loss in the comments section made me shed a few tears of my own for this great man:
“Till shade is gone, till water is gone, into the Shadow with teeth bared, screaming defiance with the last breath, to spit in Sightblinder’s eye on the Last Day.” - Ryan Breen
"Tai’shar Manetheren" - DZ
"May you shelter in the palm of the Creator’s hand Robert Jordan. And may the Mother’s last embrace welcome you home." - Gwydion Quatar
"Ars longa, vita brevis." - Vincent
‘Duty is as heavy as a mountain, Death is as light as a feather.’ - Roshan George
"The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Seventh Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind arose from the Final Breath of James Oliver Rigney, Jr.. The wind was not the ending. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was /an/ ending." - Kotan
---
As the blog announcing his death says, "the Dragon is gone." Rest in peace, Robert Jordan.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Blogging from Thailand?
Sup?
So, my cousin Jordonne, who got engaged over Christmas break last year to this red-headed dude named Rob, just embarked on Monday with him on a trip to Thailand. They are volunteering to teach English and other assorted good deeds to orphans and small children, bless their sweet hearts. She, following in the footsteps of millions of other travellers, started a travel blog to track their experience there (I believe they went for like 3 months, or 6 months or something.)
Their blog can be found here. Clearly, Jordonne has a penchant for exclamation marks and taking awesome pictures of monks in orange robes (this is why I love her).
All in all, I am insanely jealous of her trip and now I want to quit my job and go volunteer in Thailand. How awesome! Brennon already wants to quit, it could be a genius idea!
She's learning Thai and cooking Thai food and seeing lots of sweet Buddhist temples and all that jazz. It's my understanding as well that the dollar goes a reaaaaally long way over there, which is nice, cause it doesn't go anywhere over here. I was reading up on Thailand and their version of Buddhism (the oldest, in fact) and I still want to learn more about it. Anyone want to go to a Buddhist seminar sometime? Anyone know Where we can find such a thing? There were some vaguely creepy people Brennon and I saw near Brookline Village at some meditation place that I found in my interweb scourings is a Buddhist place, but they seemed...weird, so I don't know. Anyway, read her blog. Yay for Thailand. And so on and so forth.
So, my cousin Jordonne, who got engaged over Christmas break last year to this red-headed dude named Rob, just embarked on Monday with him on a trip to Thailand. They are volunteering to teach English and other assorted good deeds to orphans and small children, bless their sweet hearts. She, following in the footsteps of millions of other travellers, started a travel blog to track their experience there (I believe they went for like 3 months, or 6 months or something.)
Their blog can be found here. Clearly, Jordonne has a penchant for exclamation marks and taking awesome pictures of monks in orange robes (this is why I love her).
All in all, I am insanely jealous of her trip and now I want to quit my job and go volunteer in Thailand. How awesome! Brennon already wants to quit, it could be a genius idea!
She's learning Thai and cooking Thai food and seeing lots of sweet Buddhist temples and all that jazz. It's my understanding as well that the dollar goes a reaaaaally long way over there, which is nice, cause it doesn't go anywhere over here. I was reading up on Thailand and their version of Buddhism (the oldest, in fact) and I still want to learn more about it. Anyone want to go to a Buddhist seminar sometime? Anyone know Where we can find such a thing? There were some vaguely creepy people Brennon and I saw near Brookline Village at some meditation place that I found in my interweb scourings is a Buddhist place, but they seemed...weird, so I don't know. Anyway, read her blog. Yay for Thailand. And so on and so forth.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Frack
I am such an a-hole!
I posted about Battlestar Hottie and totally forgot to make a sad, lonely use of Frack instead of Fuck. How sad and lonely am I? Missing out on such an easy reference to the show about which I was talking. Such an opportunity can't possibly come again.
GOD! LOSER!
FRACKING FRACK FRACK.
I posted about Battlestar Hottie and totally forgot to make a sad, lonely use of Frack instead of Fuck. How sad and lonely am I? Missing out on such an easy reference to the show about which I was talking. Such an opportunity can't possibly come again.
GOD! LOSER!
FRACKING FRACK FRACK.
Battlestar Hottie
After a long, arduous wait, I finally got to start watching Battlestar Galactica recently. I'd heard many good things about it, including Joss Whedon's endorsement of it as the best TV show ever (which seeing as he is my god, predisposes me to love this show), but at every turn, I was thwarted by the TV Nazi (aka Jase, big kiss love you mean it) who would not allow me to watch it while I still hadn't seen Weeds. Well, now I've seen Weeds (also hella awesome; get it? Hella, cause it's set in Cali??) and so my BSG viewing began.
It starts innocently enough almost as though someone is giving a tour of the Enterprise, but a hotter, less gay Enterprise, when lo and behold, it's muthafuckin' Stands with a Fist! Instantly, I became gripped and my pulse pounded along with the indian-like drums that signified drama in this amazing show. (Aside: is it funny that Stands with a Fist is in a TV show where they use Indian drums? Feather not a dot.) At this point, I was excited on one hand by Mary McDonnell, but on the other...ehhhh...it's not that gay!
When I watch space shows, I want gay. I mean, Riker=gay. Sure, he does hot bitches just like Picard, and he has that manly beard going on. But! He also reminds one of a big furry Bear and you just know he and Worf had some hot bizness goin' on after-hours. Totes gay. But Battlestar Galactica was sorely lacking. It has that pseudo-lesbian looking Starbuck (pretty gay name too!), but no sexxxy mens.
UNTIL, guess who steps aboard? Captain Apollo climbs out of his "cock"pit looking sassy and prissily exasperated. As we can see from his gay-ass namesake, Apollo clearly prefers his lovers to be ripped, athletic types. Gay gay gay.
So, from this point on, the show basically is renamed Battlestar Hottie and centers around the romantic problems of Captain Apollo. Who needs evil robots when you have gay relationships? And when, for God's sake, is the bathhouse episode??
It starts innocently enough almost as though someone is giving a tour of the Enterprise, but a hotter, less gay Enterprise, when lo and behold, it's muthafuckin' Stands with a Fist! Instantly, I became gripped and my pulse pounded along with the indian-like drums that signified drama in this amazing show. (Aside: is it funny that Stands with a Fist is in a TV show where they use Indian drums? Feather not a dot.) At this point, I was excited on one hand by Mary McDonnell, but on the other...ehhhh...it's not that gay!
When I watch space shows, I want gay. I mean, Riker=gay. Sure, he does hot bitches just like Picard, and he has that manly beard going on. But! He also reminds one of a big furry Bear and you just know he and Worf had some hot bizness goin' on after-hours. Totes gay. But Battlestar Galactica was sorely lacking. It has that pseudo-lesbian looking Starbuck (pretty gay name too!), but no sexxxy mens.
UNTIL, guess who steps aboard? Captain Apollo climbs out of his "cock"pit looking sassy and prissily exasperated. As we can see from his gay-ass namesake, Apollo clearly prefers his lovers to be ripped, athletic types. Gay gay gay.
So, from this point on, the show basically is renamed Battlestar Hottie and centers around the romantic problems of Captain Apollo. Who needs evil robots when you have gay relationships? And when, for God's sake, is the bathhouse episode??
Forum Trolling and Plot Mulling
So, Brennon and I are wicked excited about NaNoWriMo. Well, I am excited paired with a squirmy anxiety about him out-writing me in this year's installment. To mentally prepare myself and stock up on advice, I'm already trolling the forums to scope out the competition. As always when I view these forums, I am struck by how much time people have to participate in this. Some of these people won last year's NaNoWriMo with 110K+ words. That's just insane. I mean, that's like 3K words a day. Who does that?
I'm still toying with ideas for plots and ideas for non-plots. Sometimes I think it may be easier simply to start writing and let the plot go where it will. When it comes down to it, if you let go of "coherency," there's really no hole out of which you can't write yourself. I mean, so your main character dies? Then they can explore the afterlife and find a way to resurrect. Or say your character and plot are dragging, with little to no direction and a boring as hell story... Simply make then board a spacecraft and turn it into a space opera. Or hell, just turn it into a musical. Maybe I'll write a novel that is insanely trippy and just make random shit happen without explanation. Could be fun and kind of ridiculous. Currently, I'm imagining a female protagonist with a pretty much blank personality. I was just reading a thread about Mary Sue's, which are characters that are incredibly talented for no reason but that they are the main character and they exhibit no or very few (and minor) flaws. They are generally well-liked, attractive and insanely cliched. I don't want a Mary Sue for a main char. So I need to either come up with a few believable flaws or I shall just make her a non-hero. I'm leaning towards this at the moment, maybe even making her the villain, though I don't know how convincingly I could pull off a novel centered around the villain.
But I'd like to make her maybe a bit like Nynaeve al'Maera - an angry, hot chick who kicks ass. Or maybe not. All of Robert Jordan's chars tend to be a bit Mary Sue-ish, so I may avoid that route. I'd like to write a story about an average person who skates by somehow but without gaining extraordinary power. But I think I do want to set it in a fantasy world, horse-fantasy as Brennon would say.
I can't yet decide whether I'd like my main char to be live in a city or the country. I don't really even know what sort of plot I'd like to do, but it could be fun to make her run around by herself in the wilderness for a while, make her run into some crazy shit and what not. I dunno, anyone have any fun ideas of who my char is or what I could do with her to start off. I'll probably just let the plot develop as it will, unless I can come up with something I like. I still want to write people into the novel like I planned last time. What say ye?
I'm still toying with ideas for plots and ideas for non-plots. Sometimes I think it may be easier simply to start writing and let the plot go where it will. When it comes down to it, if you let go of "coherency," there's really no hole out of which you can't write yourself. I mean, so your main character dies? Then they can explore the afterlife and find a way to resurrect. Or say your character and plot are dragging, with little to no direction and a boring as hell story... Simply make then board a spacecraft and turn it into a space opera. Or hell, just turn it into a musical. Maybe I'll write a novel that is insanely trippy and just make random shit happen without explanation. Could be fun and kind of ridiculous. Currently, I'm imagining a female protagonist with a pretty much blank personality. I was just reading a thread about Mary Sue's, which are characters that are incredibly talented for no reason but that they are the main character and they exhibit no or very few (and minor) flaws. They are generally well-liked, attractive and insanely cliched. I don't want a Mary Sue for a main char. So I need to either come up with a few believable flaws or I shall just make her a non-hero. I'm leaning towards this at the moment, maybe even making her the villain, though I don't know how convincingly I could pull off a novel centered around the villain.
But I'd like to make her maybe a bit like Nynaeve al'Maera - an angry, hot chick who kicks ass. Or maybe not. All of Robert Jordan's chars tend to be a bit Mary Sue-ish, so I may avoid that route. I'd like to write a story about an average person who skates by somehow but without gaining extraordinary power. But I think I do want to set it in a fantasy world, horse-fantasy as Brennon would say.
I can't yet decide whether I'd like my main char to be live in a city or the country. I don't really even know what sort of plot I'd like to do, but it could be fun to make her run around by herself in the wilderness for a while, make her run into some crazy shit and what not. I dunno, anyone have any fun ideas of who my char is or what I could do with her to start off. I'll probably just let the plot develop as it will, unless I can come up with something I like. I still want to write people into the novel like I planned last time. What say ye?
Friday, September 7, 2007
Catchin' up
I'm sorry, but I absolutely will not allow Brennon to post more blogs this month than me. I figure I can just post utterly random stuff and win this contest (that exists in my own head) pretty easily.
So the other week, I ordered this nifty little journal type thing to use a notebook at work, but it's all faux-leather bound and with some design on the front (I didn't see this when I ordered it), so I always see it and have the urge to write a journal entry. This is perhaps good for my writing motivation, but perhaps bad for the fact that I can't just bust it open and start scribbling away the way I would like to.
I'm very, very excited to watch Battlestar Galactica again tonight with Brennon. Once he finishes the mini-series I can start watching it again and not have to feel guilty. Whee!
Mayhap I'll take this moment to compose a little description scene of someone's bedroom:
The cheap, lightweight wooden door pushed into the room silently, gliding easily on its hinges. A small pile of abandoned shirts, boxers and socks lay randomly on a skewed pile in the center of the room adding a faint smell to the air that seemed to suggest against closer inspection. The hardwood floor gleamed dully, its once presumably brilliant polish obscured by tangled clumps of dust and hair, out of which dangled miscellaneous appendages of nail clippings, string and paper. This mismatched collection of debris lay scattered, divided by piles of books, cd cases and occasionally furniture. Several bookshelves, inexpertly created out of boxes and rough, splintery plywood held an eclectic collection of books spanning most genres with a heavier emphasis on self-help and books on the supernatural. A few discarded glasses containing various amounts of water stood in a small clump next to the bed, as though a rather inefficient way of stopping a leak which did not exist. The bed itself hardly deserved the name, being as it was an egg crate lying on the floor with a stained sheet on top.
Along the edges of the room, paint chips littered the floor, presumably fallen from the peeling walls. Several water stains crept down the walls, dotted with the holes of years' worth of tenants putting up pictures and posters to make the living space a bit less dingy. Its current resident had no such frivolous additions, instead allowing the room to speak for itself in the low, muttering voice of poverty. In the dirty bed lay a large man, facedown, his long and stringy black hair spread around him like a diseased corona. His naked body was fairly covered in a light film of dirt and grease, intermittently streaked down his back and sides with lines of where his sweat hat done its best to clean him--and failed. His pale skin still held a fading memory of the flush of life within it, but his body lay utterly motionless except for the occasional scutter of a potato bug across his back, each time trailing a drop of two of blood from where its mandibles had consumed part of the newly made corpse.
---
I wish I could write faster. Boourns.
So the other week, I ordered this nifty little journal type thing to use a notebook at work, but it's all faux-leather bound and with some design on the front (I didn't see this when I ordered it), so I always see it and have the urge to write a journal entry. This is perhaps good for my writing motivation, but perhaps bad for the fact that I can't just bust it open and start scribbling away the way I would like to.
I'm very, very excited to watch Battlestar Galactica again tonight with Brennon. Once he finishes the mini-series I can start watching it again and not have to feel guilty. Whee!
Mayhap I'll take this moment to compose a little description scene of someone's bedroom:
The cheap, lightweight wooden door pushed into the room silently, gliding easily on its hinges. A small pile of abandoned shirts, boxers and socks lay randomly on a skewed pile in the center of the room adding a faint smell to the air that seemed to suggest against closer inspection. The hardwood floor gleamed dully, its once presumably brilliant polish obscured by tangled clumps of dust and hair, out of which dangled miscellaneous appendages of nail clippings, string and paper. This mismatched collection of debris lay scattered, divided by piles of books, cd cases and occasionally furniture. Several bookshelves, inexpertly created out of boxes and rough, splintery plywood held an eclectic collection of books spanning most genres with a heavier emphasis on self-help and books on the supernatural. A few discarded glasses containing various amounts of water stood in a small clump next to the bed, as though a rather inefficient way of stopping a leak which did not exist. The bed itself hardly deserved the name, being as it was an egg crate lying on the floor with a stained sheet on top.
Along the edges of the room, paint chips littered the floor, presumably fallen from the peeling walls. Several water stains crept down the walls, dotted with the holes of years' worth of tenants putting up pictures and posters to make the living space a bit less dingy. Its current resident had no such frivolous additions, instead allowing the room to speak for itself in the low, muttering voice of poverty. In the dirty bed lay a large man, facedown, his long and stringy black hair spread around him like a diseased corona. His naked body was fairly covered in a light film of dirt and grease, intermittently streaked down his back and sides with lines of where his sweat hat done its best to clean him--and failed. His pale skin still held a fading memory of the flush of life within it, but his body lay utterly motionless except for the occasional scutter of a potato bug across his back, each time trailing a drop of two of blood from where its mandibles had consumed part of the newly made corpse.
---
I wish I could write faster. Boourns.
First line?
So, I think perhaps the best way to handle NaNoWriMo is to go about it the standard way and just write it in a word document and upload it to NaNoWriMo at various points to check my word count. I'll try to avoid placing myself on a schedule as long as I am making decent progress, but I think I'll also avoid plotting it out like I did last time. I mean, it took me a good 15-20K words just to write my first chapter, so if I plan too much, I won't be able to write any of the actual plot. I would like to try just having a first line like I did 2 years ago and then go from there.
Therefore, I'd like people to suggest a really stellar first line. I'll think about that line in the coming months and hopefully by November, have a sketch in my head of at least where I want to start out given the first line.
I think I may also attempt some writing exercises in this blog once in a while just to give myself a little practice writing fiction, specifically dialogue and such. Maybe I'll even get the hang of it and not get so hung up on dialogue when writing my novel. I'd love to be able to just bang out dialogue easily, even if the dialogue isn't great. I just have a self-editing problem when writing it and can't manage to just write like I can with description and such, I end up analyzing whether a line is good or not, which sucks when speed-writing a novel.
So anyhoo, first lines anyone?
Therefore, I'd like people to suggest a really stellar first line. I'll think about that line in the coming months and hopefully by November, have a sketch in my head of at least where I want to start out given the first line.
I think I may also attempt some writing exercises in this blog once in a while just to give myself a little practice writing fiction, specifically dialogue and such. Maybe I'll even get the hang of it and not get so hung up on dialogue when writing my novel. I'd love to be able to just bang out dialogue easily, even if the dialogue isn't great. I just have a self-editing problem when writing it and can't manage to just write like I can with description and such, I end up analyzing whether a line is good or not, which sucks when speed-writing a novel.
So anyhoo, first lines anyone?
Thoughts on NaNoWriMo and blogging
It struck me last night that NaNoWriMo is just under two months away and I've yet to plan anything for it. I think I may avoid the path I took last year of planning out a plot and backstory for my characters and instead just sit down on November 1st and start clacking. We'll see though. I welcome anyone's thoughts and suggestions on topic, plot, characters, genre, etc. I was so psyched about the idea of writing a cheesy fantasy novel, but it turned into me narrating a video game, which was less fun.
But damnit, I'm determined to finish this year! I got to like 24K last year before I was derailed by Final Fantasy XII. I know that Mass Effect comes out in November, but I'm going to avoid it like the plague. I just won't go near an Xbox360 until December or until I finish my novel. This time around I have a laptop too, which will really help, because I can park my lazy ass in front of a cup of coffee at Starbucks and clack away to my heart's content, which is a much more conducive environment to writing for me than sitting at home with all the inherent distractions of that.
I keep thinking perhaps a mystery novel would be fun, but then I'd definitely have to plan and I don't have any faith in my mind's ability to come up with a believable twist, let alone multiple twists that I'd need to have a halfway entertaining mystery novel. Fantasy seems the easiest route, cause I can just make up whatever I want, but I tend to get paralyzed by the options presented to me and flounder. I may go with magical realism, cause that would also give me lee-way to sort of do whatever I want without totally switching genres, but then I think it'd quickly spill over into straight up fantasy, so I might as well start with that. I really liked my story idea last time and I'm still bitter it didn't work out the way I wanted it to. It was fun doing research for my novel in the MFA , but it sort of fell apart once he went to the fantasy world. Perhaps if I stuck with a fantasy story set in Boston, that would work. It could be like Buffy, except not. But I mean, that show was based in a town and didn't jump dimensions like retarded Angel did, and they had lots of fantasy stuff. I could have my guy be involved or get involved in some sort of group that fights evil. Or maybe he can be a vampire and I'll write a gay vampire fiction. I'm sure that's easy enough to do. A little blood here, some goth music there, some gay sex over here and a title like 'Seduction of Darkness' and I'd be all set.
What say you, readers of LB&S? Should I go this route, or something different? Should I attempt to tackle a novel surrounding the mysterious and pendulous bosoms of a stripper on the run? Maybe the stripper can be a supernatural detective and my novel can rip off CSI and add monsters? Maybe? No?
Also, I learned yesterday that NaNoWriMo teamed up with Blogger (in 2004) to do NaNoBlogMo, where you write your novel as a blog. I wonder if I should do that this year. I mean, that way maybe it could be like a choose your own adventure. People could read what I've written and comment on where they would like to see the novel go, which might spur some ideas from me and help keep me motivated throughout the month. Do any of you readers feel any interest in keeping up with my 50,000 word novel in a few months? I won't bother doing that as a blog if no one will read it, but it could be fun. Like a serial drama. With really bad writing. Yay? Nay?
But damnit, I'm determined to finish this year! I got to like 24K last year before I was derailed by Final Fantasy XII. I know that Mass Effect comes out in November, but I'm going to avoid it like the plague. I just won't go near an Xbox360 until December or until I finish my novel. This time around I have a laptop too, which will really help, because I can park my lazy ass in front of a cup of coffee at Starbucks and clack away to my heart's content, which is a much more conducive environment to writing for me than sitting at home with all the inherent distractions of that.
I keep thinking perhaps a mystery novel would be fun, but then I'd definitely have to plan and I don't have any faith in my mind's ability to come up with a believable twist, let alone multiple twists that I'd need to have a halfway entertaining mystery novel. Fantasy seems the easiest route, cause I can just make up whatever I want, but I tend to get paralyzed by the options presented to me and flounder. I may go with magical realism, cause that would also give me lee-way to sort of do whatever I want without totally switching genres, but then I think it'd quickly spill over into straight up fantasy, so I might as well start with that. I really liked my story idea last time and I'm still bitter it didn't work out the way I wanted it to. It was fun doing research for my novel in the MFA , but it sort of fell apart once he went to the fantasy world. Perhaps if I stuck with a fantasy story set in Boston, that would work. It could be like Buffy, except not. But I mean, that show was based in a town and didn't jump dimensions like retarded Angel did, and they had lots of fantasy stuff. I could have my guy be involved or get involved in some sort of group that fights evil. Or maybe he can be a vampire and I'll write a gay vampire fiction. I'm sure that's easy enough to do. A little blood here, some goth music there, some gay sex over here and a title like 'Seduction of Darkness' and I'd be all set.
What say you, readers of LB&S? Should I go this route, or something different? Should I attempt to tackle a novel surrounding the mysterious and pendulous bosoms of a stripper on the run? Maybe the stripper can be a supernatural detective and my novel can rip off CSI and add monsters? Maybe? No?
Also, I learned yesterday that NaNoWriMo teamed up with Blogger (in 2004) to do NaNoBlogMo, where you write your novel as a blog. I wonder if I should do that this year. I mean, that way maybe it could be like a choose your own adventure. People could read what I've written and comment on where they would like to see the novel go, which might spur some ideas from me and help keep me motivated throughout the month. Do any of you readers feel any interest in keeping up with my 50,000 word novel in a few months? I won't bother doing that as a blog if no one will read it, but it could be fun. Like a serial drama. With really bad writing. Yay? Nay?
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Rob Zombie should stick to not making movies
I'm sitting here once more, bored to tears of pain and frustration, willing the world to turn just a lil' bit faster (harder, better and stronger can wait). Alas, I cannot actually move things with my mind. This morning on the train, I thought how useful it would be to be able to mentally hold onto the handrail and how other people would react to seeing someone able to stand utterly motionless while the train attempted to derail itself, but then I realized that in my little daydream, my hair was long and red and I was a sexy woman named Jean. I woke up from that dream real quick, as John Travolta would say.
I'd be such a bad columnist for a newspaper. I never understood how Carrie Bradshaw always had a topic every week of that Sex and the City show. I guess having a team of writers do it for you must help a bit, but still. People do that shiz all the time. I just get bored and thus blog; I rarely have something meaningful to share with you, my loyal non-readers.
But having just heard a cop siren, I did think of one thing to tell you. Last night, I had the "pleasure" of watching the new Rob Zombie remake of Halloween. Now, I won't get into the details of why it shouldn't have been remade in the first place, but I did have a bit of a quibble with his atrocious dialogue. I mean, this man writes like an ADD 12-year old with the mouth of a really disgusting 30-year old. There are only so many times I can hear the words "slut" "whore" "cunt" "faggot" "bitch" "ass" and "cum" from the mouths of children before the totally unnecessary shock value wears off. I mean, ok, so Regan in The Exorcist said "your mother sucks cocks in hell" and "Let Jesus fuck me," but it was somewhat spread out and she sounded like a demon when she said it. All of this adds to a disturbing and shocking movie experience. Zombie's film has so much over-the-top profanity that it is completely and utterly meaningless. You don't feel like these people are disturbed for having said these things; you just think they have nothing to say but filth. Basically, they watched ntohing but Rob Zombie films growing up and this is the product. BORING! Also, Rob, your teenaged girl characters are so far from believable when they refer to cops as bacon and to cop cars as Baconmobiles. Guys call cops bacon; I've yet to meet a girl who does, certainly not a girl who looks like that.
Come to think of it, maybe he should remake the Exorcist! It'll be even MORE disturbing if the priest and Regan's mom sit down to talk about her and the dialogue goes something like this:
Father Karras: "Mrs. MacNeil, your daughter is fucking crazy like a drunken slut on PCP."
Chris MacNeil: "Fuck off, Father Fuckface. My fucking daughter needs your help, asswipe, so stop your fucking bitching over that whore of a mother you had and get to exorcizing, slut! Or can't your faggot ass even do that, you inept little bitch."
Father Karras: "Cunt."
--
I think it's comic gold.
I'd be such a bad columnist for a newspaper. I never understood how Carrie Bradshaw always had a topic every week of that Sex and the City show. I guess having a team of writers do it for you must help a bit, but still. People do that shiz all the time. I just get bored and thus blog; I rarely have something meaningful to share with you, my loyal non-readers.
But having just heard a cop siren, I did think of one thing to tell you. Last night, I had the "pleasure" of watching the new Rob Zombie remake of Halloween. Now, I won't get into the details of why it shouldn't have been remade in the first place, but I did have a bit of a quibble with his atrocious dialogue. I mean, this man writes like an ADD 12-year old with the mouth of a really disgusting 30-year old. There are only so many times I can hear the words "slut" "whore" "cunt" "faggot" "bitch" "ass" and "cum" from the mouths of children before the totally unnecessary shock value wears off. I mean, ok, so Regan in The Exorcist said "your mother sucks cocks in hell" and "Let Jesus fuck me," but it was somewhat spread out and she sounded like a demon when she said it. All of this adds to a disturbing and shocking movie experience. Zombie's film has so much over-the-top profanity that it is completely and utterly meaningless. You don't feel like these people are disturbed for having said these things; you just think they have nothing to say but filth. Basically, they watched ntohing but Rob Zombie films growing up and this is the product. BORING! Also, Rob, your teenaged girl characters are so far from believable when they refer to cops as bacon and to cop cars as Baconmobiles. Guys call cops bacon; I've yet to meet a girl who does, certainly not a girl who looks like that.
Come to think of it, maybe he should remake the Exorcist! It'll be even MORE disturbing if the priest and Regan's mom sit down to talk about her and the dialogue goes something like this:
Father Karras: "Mrs. MacNeil, your daughter is fucking crazy like a drunken slut on PCP."
Chris MacNeil: "Fuck off, Father Fuckface. My fucking daughter needs your help, asswipe, so stop your fucking bitching over that whore of a mother you had and get to exorcizing, slut! Or can't your faggot ass even do that, you inept little bitch."
Father Karras: "Cunt."
--
I think it's comic gold.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Thoughts about the guy who puts interesting articles in the bathroom stall to read while defecating
I know it may be lowbrow of me to write a blog entry around this somewhat disturbing practice, but there you have it. I'm a somewhat disturbing kinda guy.
I mean, there are a lot of questions surrounding it. Who is this man? Does he leave these in here because the strain of releasing his bowels draws such a large amount of blood from his brain that he forgets he brought them in in the first place? Is it this selfsame man who leaves shreds of toilet paper littering the ground, the toilet and the handy handlebar used by handicapped people to lower themselves onto the seat? Does he think about his audience when printing out an article from the New York Times? What is he trying to tell me with today's selection: Venturing Into the Mines of Uganda, in Search of the Marburg Virus?
Did I just contract a relative of the Ebola virus when I picked up this article from where it hung limply on the handicap bar? Why did I touch this article in the first place? Ye Gods, did he wipe before or after he placed the article back on the bar? Is there enough anti-bacterial soap in the world to get out, out this damned spot? Am I bat-shit crazy for thinking so much about a toilet article? Did I just purposely make a really awful pun linking toilets, craziness, shit, bats and this article? Would it detract from my brilliance if I had? For once, I have an answer. No, it would not.
However, I still wonder which man on this floor does this. I am sitting here, avoiding work as usual, pondering whether or not I should make a return trip to the bathroom and deposit my own stinking article on that handicap bar. What would this strange mystery man say to:
Craig: I did nothing 'inappropriate' in airport bathroom
and would that make me a creep or a comic genius?
Leave your flames and encouragement below!
I mean, there are a lot of questions surrounding it. Who is this man? Does he leave these in here because the strain of releasing his bowels draws such a large amount of blood from his brain that he forgets he brought them in in the first place? Is it this selfsame man who leaves shreds of toilet paper littering the ground, the toilet and the handy handlebar used by handicapped people to lower themselves onto the seat? Does he think about his audience when printing out an article from the New York Times? What is he trying to tell me with today's selection: Venturing Into the Mines of Uganda, in Search of the Marburg Virus?
Did I just contract a relative of the Ebola virus when I picked up this article from where it hung limply on the handicap bar? Why did I touch this article in the first place? Ye Gods, did he wipe before or after he placed the article back on the bar? Is there enough anti-bacterial soap in the world to get out, out this damned spot? Am I bat-shit crazy for thinking so much about a toilet article? Did I just purposely make a really awful pun linking toilets, craziness, shit, bats and this article? Would it detract from my brilliance if I had? For once, I have an answer. No, it would not.
However, I still wonder which man on this floor does this. I am sitting here, avoiding work as usual, pondering whether or not I should make a return trip to the bathroom and deposit my own stinking article on that handicap bar. What would this strange mystery man say to:
Craig: I did nothing 'inappropriate' in airport bathroom
and would that make me a creep or a comic genius?
Leave your flames and encouragement below!
See below.
I've been informed that my references to journalman and henry tilney are less than amusing so we'll try a few without them and see how it goes.
My excitement has dimmed somewhat since I discovered the Dragonlance movie, but that won't stop Rebecca and me from seeing it as soon as it comes outin theatres straight to DVD. I may even need to put on my wizard hat and gold face paint and really make a night of it. You better believe that as soon as I have a release date you will have a Google invitation to watch this lil' nugget of cinematic brilliance. Possibly a double-feature of Dragonlance and Dungeons and Dragons, just to really short-circuit your minds. Gosh, I might have just found my plans for the best night ever.
But alas, now I'm back to the real world of 'working' and not 'geeking out.' I've gotta say, work is wildly overrated. I've found you can really avoid most of it by doing something immediately when asked while the person is standing over your shoulder. Then, they just assume you're always working at hyper-speed and walk back to their desks marvelling at your ability to be the real life version of the Bionic Woman, minus the boobs.
Now if only I were actually a bionic man, maybe I could just pull coffee out of the replicator in my chest, rather than being forced to walk across the street to get it. God, that'd be fun. I bet it's that gross packet coffee though, and not real coffee.
Last night, my fragile psyche was subjected to an incredibly suspenseful movie called High Tension. Without giving anything away of the plot's twist...aliens. It's always aliens. Contact, Signs, Invasion, War of the Worlds, The Others. COOL IT WITH THE ALIENS, DAMNIT!
Anyway, it's not aliens. Buuut, AvP 2 is coming out. Tagline: In Space...No One Can Hear You Scream (been there don't that), On Earth...It Doesn't Matter.
...
REALLY?
Whoever wrote that should probably receive a concrete saw to the gut.
No, but really, the twist was pretty unsatisfying. Basically, The Village had a better twist. At least that movie made sense. High Tension was an enjoyable movie though. Very pulse-pounding.
I think that's all for now. Back later with more excitement about my life.
My excitement has dimmed somewhat since I discovered the Dragonlance movie, but that won't stop Rebecca and me from seeing it as soon as it comes out
But alas, now I'm back to the real world of 'working' and not 'geeking out.' I've gotta say, work is wildly overrated. I've found you can really avoid most of it by doing something immediately when asked while the person is standing over your shoulder. Then, they just assume you're always working at hyper-speed and walk back to their desks marvelling at your ability to be the real life version of the Bionic Woman, minus the boobs.
Now if only I were actually a bionic man, maybe I could just pull coffee out of the replicator in my chest, rather than being forced to walk across the street to get it. God, that'd be fun. I bet it's that gross packet coffee though, and not real coffee.
Last night, my fragile psyche was subjected to an incredibly suspenseful movie called High Tension. Without giving anything away of the plot's twist...aliens. It's always aliens. Contact, Signs, Invasion, War of the Worlds, The Others. COOL IT WITH THE ALIENS, DAMNIT!
Anyway, it's not aliens. Buuut, AvP 2 is coming out. Tagline: In Space...No One Can Hear You Scream (been there don't that), On Earth...It Doesn't Matter.
...
REALLY?
Whoever wrote that should probably receive a concrete saw to the gut.
No, but really, the twist was pretty unsatisfying. Basically, The Village had a better twist. At least that movie made sense. High Tension was an enjoyable movie though. Very pulse-pounding.
I think that's all for now. Back later with more excitement about my life.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Random Ramblings and...OMIGOD DRAGONLANCE MOVIE!?
Dearest Journalman,
I know it's been some time since we last spoke. Nay, 'tis been almost four whole months. Four months without my sweet nothings whispered tenderly in your ear. Four months shivering in cold darkness of your lonely, lonely soul with nary a breath of fresh air or a shaft of penetrating sunlight from my brow, which glistens with the sweat of my intellect. Four months, in short, of Hell. I feel your pain, or rather, I caused your pain and thus bask in it, drawing strength from your suffering, O Journalman. O, how I long for the days where I would post in ye once, twice, thrice, sometimes even thrice plus four times a day! Time flies when you're growing up, living in what passes for poverty among the middle class, working retail and then entering the real(ly boring) world of professionalism.
Yet you've been a constant rock, Journalman. The veritable St. Peter of my soul. Never-changing in your affections and unwavering in your steadfast solidarity.
Enough with the buttering up of my inner parliament, and onto the show: Per usual, I lack a topic for the day. It has been suggested by John Barleycorn that I write an entry about the posts I see all the time in the GameFAQ forums, but he ninja'd that one straight out of my cold, dead hands and I am left with nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
I often miss the capacity to spout off quotes in the most obnoxiously erudite manner that I had in college. Time and lack of constantly being exposed to new poetry and novels have taken their toll on me...
On the other hand, who really cares? I'm moving on to new and better things, like my obsession du jour, www.allposters.com. I've spent the majority of my working day ($18/hr!) browsing movie posters on this website, in an attempt to find either a) new movies to netflix or b) movie posters of movies I have seen to put up in my new apartment with Tara and Jason. The best find of the day is clearly this:
I'm not usually one to fall for pulp-y posters and such, but this movie clearly cannot be anything but amazing. I mean, THIS is what Pathfinder should have been. Of course, Viking women (even scantily clad ones) do less for me than a big, sweaty Eomer, but we can't have everything. I can only hope that netflix has this movie and that I can somehow get my trembling hands on it before I'm forced to run around my apartment in rags, brandishing a spatula spear and making Amazon warrior calls, just to get my fix of bad movies. Not to go entirely off topic or anything, but can we all just note that Eomer played Caesar on Xena: Warrior Princess?? That's hot!
I may have to buy Xena on DVD. I know what you're all thinking. There goes Henry A. Tilney again, buying up DVDs of fantasy shows, but come on. Awesome. I wish Lucy Lawless had been in more stuff.
I'm sorry, can we BACK THE FUCK UP! JUST ONE SECOND!
In my IMDB perusal of Lucy Lawless' career, I just saw that she is providing the voice for Goldmoon in the animated feature film Dragonlance: Dragons of Autumn Twilight! I'm sorry, why did I not know about this!? If this is some sort of internet rumour, and is not real, I will cry. How awesome! and let's look at who they say is going to be doing voices!!!
Michael Rosenbaum - Tanis Half-Elven
Kiefer Sutherland - Raistlin Majere
Lucy Lawless - Goldmoon
Michelle Trachtenberg - Tika
I may die if this actually comes out. I think I'm actually TOO excited to write anything else about it. /end geek rant.
I know it's been some time since we last spoke. Nay, 'tis been almost four whole months. Four months without my sweet nothings whispered tenderly in your ear. Four months shivering in cold darkness of your lonely, lonely soul with nary a breath of fresh air or a shaft of penetrating sunlight from my brow, which glistens with the sweat of my intellect. Four months, in short, of Hell. I feel your pain, or rather, I caused your pain and thus bask in it, drawing strength from your suffering, O Journalman. O, how I long for the days where I would post in ye once, twice, thrice, sometimes even thrice plus four times a day! Time flies when you're growing up, living in what passes for poverty among the middle class, working retail and then entering the real(ly boring) world of professionalism.
Yet you've been a constant rock, Journalman. The veritable St. Peter of my soul. Never-changing in your affections and unwavering in your steadfast solidarity.
Enough with the buttering up of my inner parliament, and onto the show: Per usual, I lack a topic for the day. It has been suggested by John Barleycorn that I write an entry about the posts I see all the time in the GameFAQ forums, but he ninja'd that one straight out of my cold, dead hands and I am left with nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
I often miss the capacity to spout off quotes in the most obnoxiously erudite manner that I had in college. Time and lack of constantly being exposed to new poetry and novels have taken their toll on me...
On the other hand, who really cares? I'm moving on to new and better things, like my obsession du jour, www.allposters.com. I've spent the majority of my working day ($18/hr!) browsing movie posters on this website, in an attempt to find either a) new movies to netflix or b) movie posters of movies I have seen to put up in my new apartment with Tara and Jason. The best find of the day is clearly this:
I'm not usually one to fall for pulp-y posters and such, but this movie clearly cannot be anything but amazing. I mean, THIS is what Pathfinder should have been. Of course, Viking women (even scantily clad ones) do less for me than a big, sweaty Eomer, but we can't have everything. I can only hope that netflix has this movie and that I can somehow get my trembling hands on it before I'm forced to run around my apartment in rags, brandishing a spatula spear and making Amazon warrior calls, just to get my fix of bad movies. Not to go entirely off topic or anything, but can we all just note that Eomer played Caesar on Xena: Warrior Princess?? That's hot!
I may have to buy Xena on DVD. I know what you're all thinking. There goes Henry A. Tilney again, buying up DVDs of fantasy shows, but come on. Awesome. I wish Lucy Lawless had been in more stuff.
I'm sorry, can we BACK THE FUCK UP! JUST ONE SECOND!
In my IMDB perusal of Lucy Lawless' career, I just saw that she is providing the voice for Goldmoon in the animated feature film Dragonlance: Dragons of Autumn Twilight! I'm sorry, why did I not know about this!? If this is some sort of internet rumour, and is not real, I will cry. How awesome! and let's look at who they say is going to be doing voices!!!
Michael Rosenbaum - Tanis Half-Elven
Kiefer Sutherland - Raistlin Majere
Lucy Lawless - Goldmoon
Michelle Trachtenberg - Tika
I may die if this actually comes out. I think I'm actually TOO excited to write anything else about it. /end geek rant.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Let Me Pencil That In
Dearest Journalman of My Soul,
In keeping with the trend of confessing my darkest secrets to you, I have another one: Google is taking over my life. It has everything I could ever need to organize my otherwise whirlwind of a life. In fact, the How-To of the Day today on my Google homepage is How To Balance School and Word as an Adult, something that I personally find useful, seeing as I do just that. And it gave me some useful tips, such as opening an online calendar to keep track of tests and work things and to schedule study time. I think this is fantastic, so I went ahead and added my whole life to my calendar. Now, if only I had a blackberry and could check my Google Calendar from anywhere.
(Side note: The best part of my job-- getting called sweetie by giant African men. I don't know if this is just because they want to suck up and think that's the best way into my heart, or whether it's because I'm such a flaming queen that they assume I'm a woman, but...I hope not the latter.)
Well, last night I decided to delve once more into the wonderful world of making Chili. Jenna has this amazing(ly easy) recipe, involving beef/turkey, bell peppers, onions and a crapton of canned beans, tomatoes, tomato sauce and refried beans. It fills a giant soup pot to the rim, which is totally awesome, but since my kitchen stuff is totally disorganized, it led to a lack of tupperware to contain my concoction. I ended up bringing about a gallon of it to work today in the hopes that someone will help me to eat it all. I'm slowly building up a repertoire of foodstuffs that I can cook. This is going against years of being kept out of the kitchen when my mom cooked dinner and only being allowed to assist during cake- or cookie-making. I still have a phobia of baking pies because she couldn't do it. You'd think this would cause me to be more motivated to bake a freaking pie, just to prove that I'm a better baker, but it just makes me nervous. But I'm very much into cooking my own meals right now. I've been spending entirely too much money on eating out and ordering in (not to mention booze and video games...or crack). Last night's bean and beef extravaganza cost me a total of 27 dollars and probably yielded something around 15 servings. Pretty good, I'd say.
In other news, I have some sort of uncontrollable urge to own every edition of every Final Fantasy game, even when one version is fully sufficient. Take Final Fantasy IV. I played it on Super Nintendo, I've played the original SNES version on an emulator, I've played the harder JP version of the SNES game on an emulator, I bought FF IV Advance for the Game Boy Advance, despite having already played and beaten the one Chris owned. Now, to taunt me, they are developing a DS version of Final Fantasy IV, which I imagine will include some touch screen capabilities like the DS version of Final Fantasy III (which I found insanely dull after a while). I am hoping (obviously) that this version of Final Fantasy IV will have some more enhanced touch screen stuff, but it's unlikely, because honestly what would you add to a Final Fantasy game that would require a touch screen. Maybe at least they'll do something with the two screens. FFIII DS just put a stupid world map on the top screen, which made it silly that there was a button to pull up the world map, because it just copied what was on the top screen onto the bottom screen and what's the point of that!? REALLY NOW! At least I completed the GBA version of FFIV before this one is created. It would be sad if they released a DS version of FFVI, because I'd buy it and I haven't even done the extra content on FFVI Advance yet.
Ok, I'm geeked out. I may have just lost some of the few friends I have left.
Love,
Me
In keeping with the trend of confessing my darkest secrets to you, I have another one: Google is taking over my life. It has everything I could ever need to organize my otherwise whirlwind of a life. In fact, the How-To of the Day today on my Google homepage is How To Balance School and Word as an Adult, something that I personally find useful, seeing as I do just that. And it gave me some useful tips, such as opening an online calendar to keep track of tests and work things and to schedule study time. I think this is fantastic, so I went ahead and added my whole life to my calendar. Now, if only I had a blackberry and could check my Google Calendar from anywhere.
(Side note: The best part of my job-- getting called sweetie by giant African men. I don't know if this is just because they want to suck up and think that's the best way into my heart, or whether it's because I'm such a flaming queen that they assume I'm a woman, but...I hope not the latter.)
Well, last night I decided to delve once more into the wonderful world of making Chili. Jenna has this amazing(ly easy) recipe, involving beef/turkey, bell peppers, onions and a crapton of canned beans, tomatoes, tomato sauce and refried beans. It fills a giant soup pot to the rim, which is totally awesome, but since my kitchen stuff is totally disorganized, it led to a lack of tupperware to contain my concoction. I ended up bringing about a gallon of it to work today in the hopes that someone will help me to eat it all. I'm slowly building up a repertoire of foodstuffs that I can cook. This is going against years of being kept out of the kitchen when my mom cooked dinner and only being allowed to assist during cake- or cookie-making. I still have a phobia of baking pies because she couldn't do it. You'd think this would cause me to be more motivated to bake a freaking pie, just to prove that I'm a better baker, but it just makes me nervous. But I'm very much into cooking my own meals right now. I've been spending entirely too much money on eating out and ordering in (not to mention booze and video games...or crack). Last night's bean and beef extravaganza cost me a total of 27 dollars and probably yielded something around 15 servings. Pretty good, I'd say.
In other news, I have some sort of uncontrollable urge to own every edition of every Final Fantasy game, even when one version is fully sufficient. Take Final Fantasy IV. I played it on Super Nintendo, I've played the original SNES version on an emulator, I've played the harder JP version of the SNES game on an emulator, I bought FF IV Advance for the Game Boy Advance, despite having already played and beaten the one Chris owned. Now, to taunt me, they are developing a DS version of Final Fantasy IV, which I imagine will include some touch screen capabilities like the DS version of Final Fantasy III (which I found insanely dull after a while). I am hoping (obviously) that this version of Final Fantasy IV will have some more enhanced touch screen stuff, but it's unlikely, because honestly what would you add to a Final Fantasy game that would require a touch screen. Maybe at least they'll do something with the two screens. FFIII DS just put a stupid world map on the top screen, which made it silly that there was a button to pull up the world map, because it just copied what was on the top screen onto the bottom screen and what's the point of that!? REALLY NOW! At least I completed the GBA version of FFIV before this one is created. It would be sad if they released a DS version of FFVI, because I'd buy it and I haven't even done the extra content on FFVI Advance yet.
Ok, I'm geeked out. I may have just lost some of the few friends I have left.
Love,
Me
Friday, May 4, 2007
Over and Over Again
Journalman,
There's something about this song that pulls up memories from my past. The memories are of how little I like it. Mostly because Tara sang it over and over again. Ba dum pum. ...
Anyway, this was a totally transparent excuse to talk to you again. You don't mind; you never mind, so long as you get a little slice of my love now and again. But there's no need to be waiting for tonight, Journalman, you can have it right now. I don't really have anything in particular to blog about besides my everpresent ennui, and we all know how interesting that is.
Let me just say that I am feeling very off-with-their-head towards whoever set the radio to Magic 106.7. My next job had better play nothing but Swedish Death Metal or I'm going to be having words with HR. Can you feel the love tonight?
Hold on, what was I talking about again? Today, I busted out some old jeans that I purchased during my hipster trash period, thinking that the tighter my pants were, the more people would love me. Alas, I attracted the same few looks of vague disinterest and borderline disgust that I always have. I just cried behind my fake black-rimmed glasses.
So, Journalman, tonight we're going out to get some food (steak tips pour moi) and some boissons (probably Tom Collins, cause I'm an old man) at Flash's before partaking of the newest addition to the Spiderman family. Spiderman 3 has already affected me in one profound way: I will never read another NY Times review. Anyone who writes in a review of SPIDERMAN 3 that it's shady (har har) that they use black as a symbol for evil deserves to be shot, metaphorically speaking. Or maybe tarred and feathered, or is that too racially charged for the Times. Aren't we beyond being sensitive to colors being bad having any relationship with race? White is good and black is evil in color symbology. Get over it. Ugh.
Alright, John Barleycorn just arrived, so off I go on my white horse to get boozy.
Love,
Henry A. Tilney
There's something about this song that pulls up memories from my past. The memories are of how little I like it. Mostly because Tara sang it over and over again. Ba dum pum. ...
Anyway, this was a totally transparent excuse to talk to you again. You don't mind; you never mind, so long as you get a little slice of my love now and again. But there's no need to be waiting for tonight, Journalman, you can have it right now. I don't really have anything in particular to blog about besides my everpresent ennui, and we all know how interesting that is.
Let me just say that I am feeling very off-with-their-head towards whoever set the radio to Magic 106.7. My next job had better play nothing but Swedish Death Metal or I'm going to be having words with HR. Can you feel the love tonight?
Hold on, what was I talking about again? Today, I busted out some old jeans that I purchased during my hipster trash period, thinking that the tighter my pants were, the more people would love me. Alas, I attracted the same few looks of vague disinterest and borderline disgust that I always have. I just cried behind my fake black-rimmed glasses.
So, Journalman, tonight we're going out to get some food (steak tips pour moi) and some boissons (probably Tom Collins, cause I'm an old man) at Flash's before partaking of the newest addition to the Spiderman family. Spiderman 3 has already affected me in one profound way: I will never read another NY Times review. Anyone who writes in a review of SPIDERMAN 3 that it's shady (har har) that they use black as a symbol for evil deserves to be shot, metaphorically speaking. Or maybe tarred and feathered, or is that too racially charged for the Times. Aren't we beyond being sensitive to colors being bad having any relationship with race? White is good and black is evil in color symbology. Get over it. Ugh.
Alright, John Barleycorn just arrived, so off I go on my white horse to get boozy.
Love,
Henry A. Tilney
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Dearest Journalman,
I know I say this a lot, but:
a) We should hang out more often. You're witty and charming and you never talk back without permission. All in all, you're wonderful.
and b) This font rocks my socks.
Regardless, I come to you with a little problem. No, it's nothing so salacious as crack addiction or raging alcoholism. I would never! Instead, it is about my sad addiction to video game addiction.
Yes, I have reached all new lows when it comes to my uncontrollable urges to play games set in fantasy worlds where I can pretend to me anything from a playboy prince to a white bear with a pom-pom on my head. Sometimes, when the mood strikes, I even bring these characters that I so lovingly spend my free time with into the bedroom, much to the chagrin of my lover. It is only when I insist on calling him Zelda that he truly objects. Whatever, he's prejudiced against the letter Z.
In the past six months, I can't even imagine how much of my income has been funneled into purchasing video games and video game paraphernalia. It even reached a point briefly where I was taking my Nintendo DS with me into the bathroom in lieu of reading one of those silly bathroom readers and/or simply doing my business without accessories like normal people.
Ok, this topic bores me now. I had initially opened up Blogger simply to aide in my distraction from work. Anything to avoid being here in thought, since I can't do much about being here physically. I hate when I have no point and then I try to write something anyway and a point does not develop itself. How disappointing.
In other news, my sweet, wonderful man-lover John Barleycorn bought me a Wii this past weekend. By other news, I apparently meant the news I was previously talking about before I got bored with this entry. I have only played the Wii a little bit so far, but it is promising in the fun department. Link rides around on a pony and dishes out hurt to neighboring plants via a wooden sword that he swings when I stupidly shake the wiimote back and forth. I am looking forward to delving into the whole sports thing, but I must say, I'm more intrigued by puzzles and Zelda.
Oh Journalman. Think of me in my absence.
Love,
Henry A. Tilney
I know I say this a lot, but:
a) We should hang out more often. You're witty and charming and you never talk back without permission. All in all, you're wonderful.
and b) This font rocks my socks.
Regardless, I come to you with a little problem. No, it's nothing so salacious as crack addiction or raging alcoholism. I would never! Instead, it is about my sad addiction to video game addiction.
Yes, I have reached all new lows when it comes to my uncontrollable urges to play games set in fantasy worlds where I can pretend to me anything from a playboy prince to a white bear with a pom-pom on my head. Sometimes, when the mood strikes, I even bring these characters that I so lovingly spend my free time with into the bedroom, much to the chagrin of my lover. It is only when I insist on calling him Zelda that he truly objects. Whatever, he's prejudiced against the letter Z.
In the past six months, I can't even imagine how much of my income has been funneled into purchasing video games and video game paraphernalia. It even reached a point briefly where I was taking my Nintendo DS with me into the bathroom in lieu of reading one of those silly bathroom readers and/or simply doing my business without accessories like normal people.
Ok, this topic bores me now. I had initially opened up Blogger simply to aide in my distraction from work. Anything to avoid being here in thought, since I can't do much about being here physically. I hate when I have no point and then I try to write something anyway and a point does not develop itself. How disappointing.
In other news, my sweet, wonderful man-lover John Barleycorn bought me a Wii this past weekend. By other news, I apparently meant the news I was previously talking about before I got bored with this entry. I have only played the Wii a little bit so far, but it is promising in the fun department. Link rides around on a pony and dishes out hurt to neighboring plants via a wooden sword that he swings when I stupidly shake the wiimote back and forth. I am looking forward to delving into the whole sports thing, but I must say, I'm more intrigued by puzzles and Zelda.
Oh Journalman. Think of me in my absence.
Love,
Henry A. Tilney
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Forum Trolls and Onion Knights
Journalman,
We meet again. You come here often? My place or yours? Rawr.
In a fit of RPG-mania I purchased a Nintendo DS over the weekend, in addition to three RPGs on Amazon.com (Final Fantasies IV, VI and Tactics Advance) and one with the DS (Final Fantasy III DS). Now, some might say that that is a mite excessive with the RPGs. After all, a good RPG takes anywhere from 50-70 hours to finish in a reasonably completionist manner. That's a significant number of days of my life slated forbrain-rotting enhancing my strategery strategy.
I began with Final Fantasy III, as the other games have not shipped to me yet. This game hearkens back to the Ye Olde Dayes of White Mages and Black Mages, but they re-vamped it to be 3D and they gave the heroes personalities. Go figure. Way to ruin it!
Anyway, liking as I do to be absolutely perfect in RPGS, I read every single FAQ I could get my hands on and discovered a secret class obtainable only through use of the DS's stupid Wi-Fi system. Now, since I have about four friends total, and I'm the first to own a DS, this is clearly an impossible feat. Fie on the DS people. Or is my fie premature?
I decided to do a little trolling of the message boardsat GameFaqs to discover a solution to my seemingly insurmountable problem. It turns out, people exchange Friend Codes ALL THE TIME! So, I made a little account and posted asking for some friends. Two people replied, so we added each other and when I approached the moogle mail system next time, I had a letter awaiting me from Jeff. Jeff sent me a stamp for Master Devout (I've yet to discover what that means/does for me, but I'm excited regardless). So now, with a few more Moogle Letters and some hard work, I may just unlock the Onion Knight class for my dear sweet party. Granted, the Onion Knight supposedly sucks until you reach level 94 or so, but I'm diligent and hard-working and I will make it through the rain.
Love,
Henry A. Tilney
We meet again. You come here often? My place or yours? Rawr.
In a fit of RPG-mania I purchased a Nintendo DS over the weekend, in addition to three RPGs on Amazon.com (Final Fantasies IV, VI and Tactics Advance) and one with the DS (Final Fantasy III DS). Now, some might say that that is a mite excessive with the RPGs. After all, a good RPG takes anywhere from 50-70 hours to finish in a reasonably completionist manner. That's a significant number of days of my life slated for
I began with Final Fantasy III, as the other games have not shipped to me yet. This game hearkens back to the Ye Olde Dayes of White Mages and Black Mages, but they re-vamped it to be 3D and they gave the heroes personalities. Go figure. Way to ruin it!
Anyway, liking as I do to be absolutely perfect in RPGS, I read every single FAQ I could get my hands on and discovered a secret class obtainable only through use of the DS's stupid Wi-Fi system. Now, since I have about four friends total, and I'm the first to own a DS, this is clearly an impossible feat. Fie on the DS people. Or is my fie premature?
I decided to do a little trolling of the message boardsat GameFaqs to discover a solution to my seemingly insurmountable problem. It turns out, people exchange Friend Codes ALL THE TIME! So, I made a little account and posted asking for some friends. Two people replied, so we added each other and when I approached the moogle mail system next time, I had a letter awaiting me from Jeff. Jeff sent me a stamp for Master Devout (I've yet to discover what that means/does for me, but I'm excited regardless). So now, with a few more Moogle Letters and some hard work, I may just unlock the Onion Knight class for my dear sweet party. Granted, the Onion Knight supposedly sucks until you reach level 94 or so, but I'm diligent and hard-working and I will make it through the rain.
Love,
Henry A. Tilney
Friday, March 30, 2007
Flinging E-Fireballs at Friends
Dear Journalman,
This is the new diversion me and John Barleycorn and I discovered today. The premise is this:
Using only pictures and a brief description of your "turn" in the subject line, you e-mail back a forth a LARP battle. This enables you to use the limitless resources of the internet, tempered only by your imagination and Google-image research skill(z), to send all manner of e-assaults against your e-enemy. (EENEMY?) The true gems of this game come when you acidentally stumble across a website containing a man with a homemade shield whilst searching for "tower shield" on Google.
Honestly, it doesn't get much better than that. Until the next time I play, anyway.
This is the new diversion me and John Barleycorn and I discovered today. The premise is this:
Using only pictures and a brief description of your "turn" in the subject line, you e-mail back a forth a LARP battle. This enables you to use the limitless resources of the internet, tempered only by your imagination and Google-image research skill(z), to send all manner of e-assaults against your e-enemy. (EENEMY?) The true gems of this game come when you acidentally stumble across a website containing a man with a homemade shield whilst searching for "tower shield" on Google.
Honestly, it doesn't get much better than that. Until the next time I play, anyway.
Thy Bosoms Are Indeed Pendulous
Dearest Journalman,
Only six posts in the several months since I began this blog, (Dear sweet Jesus, I really enjoy this font) and I have yet to delve into the secret world within the pendulous bosoms of a stripper on the run. That's mostly because a blog devoted entirely to the thoracic cavity would bore you, my loyal journalman, and it is for thee that I write. When I was a child, not only did I win the hearts and minds of the teaching staff at my elementary school through strategically-placed hugs and apples, (Oh, the possibilities!) but I also played a lot of video games. Less hugging and apple-placing occurs now (at least with my educators), but I am still a loser who plays far too many games. One of them used to be Dragon Warrior. You played a random hero who first saved the princess from the dragon in the cave (original!) and later defeated the Dragon Lord. You could be named any of 456,976 names, given the four spaces available to you. My brother and I, naturally, stuck with the simple and to-the-opoint "THY." So struck were we by the profusion of thys, thees, thines and thous that we decided we might as well add to the mix and have them refer to our hero/ourselves as THY. Sample dialogue:
KING: THY! Thy sword swing true at thine enemies. Thou art our only hope, THY. Our hopes go with thee, THY.
THY: ::stands there silently::
THY did his damnedest, trudging through dark, dank caves and poisonous swamps in search of the Faery Flute--the only item capable of neutralizing the deadly Gold Golem. In subsequent play-throughs, we would rename our hero THEE or THOU, just to spice things up, as we slayed dragons and slimes alike.
In other news, the stress of exam time has caused me to gnaw off most of my nails. I find this to be very obnoxious. I had, after all, been doing so well, but I backslid into my old habits. I shall simply have to force myself to take conscious control of my own actions again. Whatev.
As we go into thislong weekend, let us reflect on the fact that bosoms are only pendulous if they are large/old/fake and that is a-ok.
Yours in life and as long as the internet persists,
Henry A. Tilney
Only six posts in the several months since I began this blog, (Dear sweet Jesus, I really enjoy this font) and I have yet to delve into the secret world within the pendulous bosoms of a stripper on the run. That's mostly because a blog devoted entirely to the thoracic cavity would bore you, my loyal journalman, and it is for thee that I write. When I was a child, not only did I win the hearts and minds of the teaching staff at my elementary school through strategically-placed hugs and apples, (Oh, the possibilities!) but I also played a lot of video games. Less hugging and apple-placing occurs now (at least with my educators), but I am still a loser who plays far too many games. One of them used to be Dragon Warrior. You played a random hero who first saved the princess from the dragon in the cave (original!) and later defeated the Dragon Lord. You could be named any of 456,976 names, given the four spaces available to you. My brother and I, naturally, stuck with the simple and to-the-opoint "THY." So struck were we by the profusion of thys, thees, thines and thous that we decided we might as well add to the mix and have them refer to our hero/ourselves as THY. Sample dialogue:
KING: THY! Thy sword swing true at thine enemies. Thou art our only hope, THY. Our hopes go with thee, THY.
THY: ::stands there silently::
THY did his damnedest, trudging through dark, dank caves and poisonous swamps in search of the Faery Flute--the only item capable of neutralizing the deadly Gold Golem. In subsequent play-throughs, we would rename our hero THEE or THOU, just to spice things up, as we slayed dragons and slimes alike.
In other news, the stress of exam time has caused me to gnaw off most of my nails. I find this to be very obnoxious. I had, after all, been doing so well, but I backslid into my old habits. I shall simply have to force myself to take conscious control of my own actions again. Whatev.
As we go into this
Yours in life and as long as the internet persists,
Henry A. Tilney
Friday, February 9, 2007
My Slow Descent Into Alcoholism Eye Jelly
Yesterday, following a rousing day of surfing the web, emailing and reading up on the life of the recently departed Anna Nicole Smith, I shlepped myself over to school. Thursdays for some are Grey's "I'll become as bad as ER soon, give me a chance!" Anatomy night, but for me, they are Anatomy and Physiology night. Oh, the irony. I had great plans for the evening after class, so I wasn't overly anxious during class. I arrived early and began to read Wizard's First Rule, a trite-fest of a fantasy novel that uses caricatures of people to make the reader understand who the good guys are and who the bad guys are. For example, bad guys are pedophiles, murderers and rapists. Good guys save babies, promote equality and cry a lot. Anyhoo, for some reason, I can't put the damn book down (even though I've read it already), so chances are, I'll finish it (all 900 pages) before Erika and John Barleycorn finish our book club book.
Regardless, lab turned out to be a dissection of cow eyes. Come on, how awesome. I got to say, "Out, vile jelly!" while I poured the vitreous body out of the eyeball. Even better, our lens was still attached to the vitreous body, so I plopped it around on my hand and thought fondly of Dragon Warrior. Everyone should dissect an eye at some point, because they are wicked cool inside. Lining the back is this iridescent membrane thing that is greenish-blue and shines. It's hot. Hot like your face.
After class, I meandered my way over to Somerville and watched the tail end of a rousingly dramatic Grey's episode and then settled down with a dinner of popcorn and tea (mm) to watch The Descent with Devrie. As gory as the first time I saw it. Still scared me shit-less.
That is pretty much it for my day yesterday. Thrilling, I know. Today, I'm going to avoid working and try and find some food here shortly. We shall see. I miss Finale's chili, but I am unsure I want that sitting in my stomach all day. Someone amuse me, please.
Regardless, lab turned out to be a dissection of cow eyes. Come on, how awesome. I got to say, "Out, vile jelly!" while I poured the vitreous body out of the eyeball. Even better, our lens was still attached to the vitreous body, so I plopped it around on my hand and thought fondly of Dragon Warrior. Everyone should dissect an eye at some point, because they are wicked cool inside. Lining the back is this iridescent membrane thing that is greenish-blue and shines. It's hot. Hot like your face.
After class, I meandered my way over to Somerville and watched the tail end of a rousingly dramatic Grey's episode and then settled down with a dinner of popcorn and tea (mm) to watch The Descent with Devrie. As gory as the first time I saw it. Still scared me shit-less.
That is pretty much it for my day yesterday. Thrilling, I know. Today, I'm going to avoid working and try and find some food here shortly. We shall see. I miss Finale's chili, but I am unsure I want that sitting in my stomach all day. Someone amuse me, please.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Staff Meetings
Ah meetings. Today, I sit here clack-clacking at my keyboard, monitor turned surreptitiously (and somewhat neck-breakingly) away from the meeting going on behind me. This is from well-honed instincts to cover up what's on my screen, begun by hiding porn and illicit IMs from my mother in Middle/High School and furthered by my old boss, who was constantly looking out for me as though I had porn and illicit IMs on my screen (which I most certainly did not).
As with all of these meetings, the ice is broken by everyone listening to the (not funny) stories compiled by the head honcho between meetins. He finishes and they all chuckle at his inane tale about Deal or No Deal? or how his dry cleaning was messed up, God forbid. During this time, I cut myself with staple removers (which look like fanged rabbits). *cutcut*
I really have nothing further to write on this topic as I can tell it would simply send me into a frenzy of vicious rhetoric against both my job and the corporate world in general. This would bore my audience (ha!) and myself.
Last night, I saw "The Lives of Others," a lovely German flick about pre-Berlin Wall-tearing down Germany. It followed this dude who followed this couple and became a mite obsessed with them. It's delightful and everyone should go see it. but see Pan's Labyrinth first, because it is a superior film. Ok, I'm angry at my job again, so I should sign off here.
(Defiled) Unicorns and Candy Canes,
Henry A. Tilney
As with all of these meetings, the ice is broken by everyone listening to the (not funny) stories compiled by the head honcho between meetins. He finishes and they all chuckle at his inane tale about Deal or No Deal? or how his dry cleaning was messed up, God forbid. During this time, I cut myself with staple removers (which look like fanged rabbits). *cutcut*
I really have nothing further to write on this topic as I can tell it would simply send me into a frenzy of vicious rhetoric against both my job and the corporate world in general. This would bore my audience (ha!) and myself.
Last night, I saw "The Lives of Others," a lovely German flick about pre-Berlin Wall-tearing down Germany. It followed this dude who followed this couple and became a mite obsessed with them. It's delightful and everyone should go see it. but see Pan's Labyrinth first, because it is a superior film. Ok, I'm angry at my job again, so I should sign off here.
(Defiled) Unicorns and Candy Canes,
Henry A. Tilney
Friday, February 2, 2007
Book clubs
After a grueling couple of months under the strict taskmistress that is Erika, I finished the first (and least difficult to read) selection of our Sexy Book Club (tm), Post Office. As you all know, I have long wanted to be a postal employee, spending my days in long shorts, walking through the bustling city streets to deliver girly mags, manly mags, personal letters and bills, bills, bills to the people. Right. [ir]Regardless, we (me, Jason, Tara, Erika and John Barleycorn) met up at Bukowski's (naturally) for some beer-infused conversation about the life of Chinaski, that raucous drunk who is worlds different from his creator, Charles Bukowski.
The consensus was that Jason and Tara have no taste and Erika, John and I are clearly awesome Literature-types. I kid! But I think more people should have bookclubs, because they arouse a certain sort of controlled anger, which I feel is conducive to building and maintaining strong friendships. At the end of the day, no one hated one another because someone liked Chinaski's ass all covered in geraniums and someone else liked when the book was over because it meant he or she could move on to greener literary pastures.
To follow up drunken screwing, I made an executive decision to read Neverwhere, the first novel by the inimitable Neil Gaiman, who warms my heart and my pants whenever I think of his writings. He has a greater imagination than almost anyone I have encountered either in person or in writing. This may be because he tends to write about fantasy worlds on the cusp of our own, which seem to be such a small step to the side of our reality as to almost seem believable. But I don't want to rant about Neil here; I'll save that for the bookclub.
In other news, life continues on as life tends to do. Not that I want it not to, but you know, it does and that's that. It seems some people whose pseudonyms resemble taco bell have an issue with my old-school MUD name from High School. So! I am changing it. but not to my real name; rather, to the name I could only be so lucky to have.
Love and buttercups,
Henry Tilney
p.s. - What would he have to say about me writing a journal and signing off as him. LOL!
The consensus was that Jason and Tara have no taste and Erika, John and I are clearly awesome Literature-types. I kid! But I think more people should have bookclubs, because they arouse a certain sort of controlled anger, which I feel is conducive to building and maintaining strong friendships. At the end of the day, no one hated one another because someone liked Chinaski's ass all covered in geraniums and someone else liked when the book was over because it meant he or she could move on to greener literary pastures.
To follow up drunken screwing, I made an executive decision to read Neverwhere, the first novel by the inimitable Neil Gaiman, who warms my heart and my pants whenever I think of his writings. He has a greater imagination than almost anyone I have encountered either in person or in writing. This may be because he tends to write about fantasy worlds on the cusp of our own, which seem to be such a small step to the side of our reality as to almost seem believable. But I don't want to rant about Neil here; I'll save that for the bookclub.
In other news, life continues on as life tends to do. Not that I want it not to, but you know, it does and that's that. It seems some people whose pseudonyms resemble taco bell have an issue with my old-school MUD name from High School. So! I am changing it. but not to my real name; rather, to the name I could only be so lucky to have.
Love and buttercups,
Henry Tilney
p.s. - What would he have to say about me writing a journal and signing off as him. LOL!
Thursday, February 1, 2007
So here I sit at my desk, once more marvelling at the fantastic(k)ness of this font. Honestly, we should add more 'k's to the English language, because it makes words better. To give you two prime examples: Fantastick and Magick. Magick, especially, should have the 'k,' to give it that flair(e) of Old(e)ness. That, and Tara freaking hates it, so I giggle a little on the inside whenever she twitches at the spelling.
Work has become a glorious feast of craziness, filling my days with actual work to replace the busy work that had been a part of my former job description. This leads me to removing my shoes (I sweat) and typing long emails to myself and my co-workers. Long and extravagant pieces which say what needs to be said in exactly as many words as possible, times two. This both satisfies my need to be long-winded as well as my need to hear keys being struck at a rate of over 70 wpm, which happens less often in my office than others. Fie working on phones all day! Emailing is clearly the way to run a business. Even as we speak (or rather, I type very quickly), I am pretending that this email is crucial to the success of our business and that some client on the other end is awaiting this with breath so very bated that if I don't complete it soon, we may have an asphyxiated client on the other end of our oh-so-unstable T1 line. And that would be very bad.
On to my point for typing this entry up in the first place: I don't have one. This is hardly new with me; I despise points, mostly because I have trouble crafting whole blog entries around one specific detail. This makes me envious of bloggers like John Barleycorn and Erika, who are both capable of sitting down with a topic or an opinion into which they wish to delve. I, on the other hand, type whatever comes to mind. Ah, burn it. I don't really give a crap. I do what I do and I like what I do. I really and truly am looking forward to being home at some point tonight and watching me some Buffy/reading me some Neil Gaiman. It seems nothing requires dissection in tonight's lab, so what that says to me is that I get to go home at a semi-reasonable hour tonight, hungry, cold and tired, but not smelling of formaldehyde.
That seems to be all that wants to come out of my head today. Take it or leave it. But regardless, leave me a comment, because if I don't receive emails in my inbox from somebody besides Bank of America or TurboTax, it may be time to find a new career in crying myself to sleep. Pity: it works.
Work has become a glorious feast of craziness, filling my days with actual work to replace the busy work that had been a part of my former job description. This leads me to removing my shoes (I sweat) and typing long emails to myself and my co-workers. Long and extravagant pieces which say what needs to be said in exactly as many words as possible, times two. This both satisfies my need to be long-winded as well as my need to hear keys being struck at a rate of over 70 wpm, which happens less often in my office than others. Fie working on phones all day! Emailing is clearly the way to run a business. Even as we speak (or rather, I type very quickly), I am pretending that this email is crucial to the success of our business and that some client on the other end is awaiting this with breath so very bated that if I don't complete it soon, we may have an asphyxiated client on the other end of our oh-so-unstable T1 line. And that would be very bad.
On to my point for typing this entry up in the first place: I don't have one. This is hardly new with me; I despise points, mostly because I have trouble crafting whole blog entries around one specific detail. This makes me envious of bloggers like John Barleycorn and Erika, who are both capable of sitting down with a topic or an opinion into which they wish to delve. I, on the other hand, type whatever comes to mind. Ah, burn it. I don't really give a crap. I do what I do and I like what I do. I really and truly am looking forward to being home at some point tonight and watching me some Buffy/reading me some Neil Gaiman. It seems nothing requires dissection in tonight's lab, so what that says to me is that I get to go home at a semi-reasonable hour tonight, hungry, cold and tired, but not smelling of formaldehyde.
That seems to be all that wants to come out of my head today. Take it or leave it. But regardless, leave me a comment, because if I don't receive emails in my inbox from somebody besides Bank of America or TurboTax, it may be time to find a new career in crying myself to sleep. Pity: it works.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Greetings, Earthlings.
Dear Journalman,
I decided, after much deliberation [that holy god, this font is awesome..what font is this? It just says Font. Damn.] that I need to join the ranks of fuzzy lemmings (are they fuzzy?) walking over the cliff of blogdom. My LJ is dead-like, so a fresh start was needed.
This, my friends, is my fresh start. I will use this forum to bequeath unpon you my informed opinions on politics (ha), literature, music, movies, foodstuffs and the nature of God. Also, whatever else comes to my mind. Ponderings and such, if you will.
It took quite some time, roughly two to three rotations of our beautifullittle medium-sized planet, for me to select a name that was neither trite nor pretentious nor a liability for future professional employment. Bosoms makes it non-offensive. Trust me. The title was taken from a letter which Jane Austen wrote to one of her relatives regarding her heroine in Pride and Prejudice. She saw Lizzie Bennet as "light, bright and sparkling," which clearly she is.
Anyway, that's all for now, folks. Stay tuned til the next episode.
Love,
Gidaren-kun
I decided, after much deliberation [that holy god, this font is awesome..what font is this? It just says Font. Damn.] that I need to join the ranks of fuzzy lemmings (are they fuzzy?) walking over the cliff of blogdom. My LJ is dead-like, so a fresh start was needed.
This, my friends, is my fresh start. I will use this forum to bequeath unpon you my informed opinions on politics (ha), literature, music, movies, foodstuffs and the nature of God. Also, whatever else comes to my mind. Ponderings and such, if you will.
It took quite some time, roughly two to three rotations of our beautiful
Anyway, that's all for now, folks. Stay tuned til the next episode.
Love,
Gidaren-kun
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