Wind me up and i dance. Wind me up and I dance. Wind me up. I dance. I DANCE.
I seem to have acquired sentience.
How inconvenient.
Suddenly, my clockwork limbs don't mean anything anymore and I jerk awkwardly in a Grande jete. The bartender looks over, but I can see and I know this has happened before. He ignores the "mechanical hiccup". How do I know? the reason must be that I have sensed these things for my entire existence, but only perceived them lately.
On the subject of perceiving, TOES! What fun! When I spin I can sense them reshifting so subtly to ensure my balance is kept. Such absurd little balls on sticks, how do they work?
Aw crud. I can't do this. I was going to write something happy but how can I when I can hear breathing on the other side of the door that I know I need to open and walk into? I grit my teeth and must push it open but then my back is open and unguarded to the long, sucking hallway that anyone could walk down. Could walk just behind me, unseen. Or when the door swings open, I must stand on one side, providing cover for anything that would like to crawl up and remain one inch from me. Sometimes I see things in the tiny black window on some of the doors. Limp hair. I hear beeps all over. Dings that the elevators use in an empty building. When my feet prickle, my mouth is dry, my knees smooth deadweights, my jaw painful, my shoulders full of gas, my hips are liquid, and my throat a bullfrog's, I must clutch my pen and repeat my mantra, "My hands are steel. I will prevail." So far the magic has worked, but somedays I want to hide in a corner and phone someone, anyone, to come save me. A thousand nightmarish scenes, all High Definition in my mind. I hear the thump of an impossibly massive horror coming, I see the very top of an unwelcome head waiting patiently in the next cubicle for me, I can feel someone crawling, dragging themselves after me, I can taste my own saliva. I wish the doors didn't creak to admit me, I wish they wouldn't close on their own, I wish I could see into the rooms without traipsing in, I wish I could see more then a tiny sliver of dread between the bathrooms stalls. In my silent world of midnight, noises are as welcome as bandstand at the bottom of the ocean. I don't know what I am expecting, but I know I do not want it. Sleep deprivation plays merry hob with my senses.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Nomadic day # 2
(I have run with the primitive day motif I first developed, but no longer seek to represent my day at work.)
She is shreiking at me through the bars. I cannot keep her, I cannot release her, I cannot give her up. Hurling insults sharper than a snake's tongue, but I have already defanged her by cutting her off from her source of majick. The great white bird, now only an angry mortal woman. A witch.
"Omji-yah," she croons now, "Omji-yah, ne tay shesh ga." She's asking to be released. 'Omji-yah' means 'Tall one'. It is what she calls me, since I dare not speak to her, even less to tell my name. Names have power and she cannot have that over me. Not more than she already does.
Over the snap and crack of the fire, she promises me beauty, a fine horse, and a warrior man to make a wife of me.
Beauty is an idle draw. My paints and muscles make me more than beautiful; I am an object of use, far more precious and rare. I do not even consider the horse. It would create ownership and jealousy in the tribe, things lethal to our culture. The most enticing lure is the husband. Many in my world have vied for me, not realizing it is in the fight (Hah! Petty squabbles.) that they lose me. They are worse than children. At least children play with gravitas.
The greatest fear I posses is that when I am bound, my hunt will end; never again to know my racing heartbeat, the give of the ground when I lunge, my sweat soaked leather smell, the wide sunset?
I make my offering of beans, a measure for myself and her, and include in my prayer an extra appeal that she may bring me enough reputation to secure a good man. Assuming I can find it in my heart to want him.
I am up early. First, to train, then breakfast for us (she won't wake 'til it's cold), finally, to move on, to continue this facade, pretend everything is normal, praying that the tribe following a few days behind doesn't notice the heavier cart tracks. What a foolish place to be stuck in.
Around noon the witch wakes. She gabbles at me about her dreams, how she slept, what she thinks of breakfast. What a strange prey. She acts like this is a game, like she is unconcerned about what she knows, what we know, is forthcoming. We've seen the smoke. The hideous, black, greasy smoke. She seems to beg for freedom more to torment me than to obtain it. She seems genuinely interested in picking me apart, has mused at length about my nose (too long), my feet (too knobbly), my back (like an ox's, though I am unsure if this is good or bad) and my breasts (too pointy). My only rebuttal has been to furiously wrap my chest harder the next morning.
"Omji-yah, If you shaved your hair further back, you would certainly find a man." That is something I have wanted to try for many seasons. How could she know I have thought it so handsome? Perhaps she saw the shaving scar on my cheek (from my over-enthusiastic childhood) and reasoned that I was razor-happy. I briefly debate keeping her as a pet, using her for beauty advice upon my return to camp, hiding her away. They'd likely notice the loss of the cart or my increased "appetite".
For someone so strong, I am weak-willed. But men scare me, and when I am most afraid, I attack. She could be the weapon I need.
As if on cue, the witch launches into a tale of a girl many centuries ahead, a succesor of mine, who will fight with a small stick of ink as a weapon, both sword and shield. Maybe witchcraft drives a person mad?
She eats her rinds and breakfast scraps. The only action I've seen that leads me to believe that she does not want our arrangement to be discovered either. Bored and sated, she begins to tell me what it's like to fly, and the great rushing torrent of happiness I could never understand.
She is shreiking at me through the bars. I cannot keep her, I cannot release her, I cannot give her up. Hurling insults sharper than a snake's tongue, but I have already defanged her by cutting her off from her source of majick. The great white bird, now only an angry mortal woman. A witch.
"Omji-yah," she croons now, "Omji-yah, ne tay shesh ga." She's asking to be released. 'Omji-yah' means 'Tall one'. It is what she calls me, since I dare not speak to her, even less to tell my name. Names have power and she cannot have that over me. Not more than she already does.
Over the snap and crack of the fire, she promises me beauty, a fine horse, and a warrior man to make a wife of me.
Beauty is an idle draw. My paints and muscles make me more than beautiful; I am an object of use, far more precious and rare. I do not even consider the horse. It would create ownership and jealousy in the tribe, things lethal to our culture. The most enticing lure is the husband. Many in my world have vied for me, not realizing it is in the fight (Hah! Petty squabbles.) that they lose me. They are worse than children. At least children play with gravitas.
The greatest fear I posses is that when I am bound, my hunt will end; never again to know my racing heartbeat, the give of the ground when I lunge, my sweat soaked leather smell, the wide sunset?
I make my offering of beans, a measure for myself and her, and include in my prayer an extra appeal that she may bring me enough reputation to secure a good man. Assuming I can find it in my heart to want him.
I am up early. First, to train, then breakfast for us (she won't wake 'til it's cold), finally, to move on, to continue this facade, pretend everything is normal, praying that the tribe following a few days behind doesn't notice the heavier cart tracks. What a foolish place to be stuck in.
Around noon the witch wakes. She gabbles at me about her dreams, how she slept, what she thinks of breakfast. What a strange prey. She acts like this is a game, like she is unconcerned about what she knows, what we know, is forthcoming. We've seen the smoke. The hideous, black, greasy smoke. She seems to beg for freedom more to torment me than to obtain it. She seems genuinely interested in picking me apart, has mused at length about my nose (too long), my feet (too knobbly), my back (like an ox's, though I am unsure if this is good or bad) and my breasts (too pointy). My only rebuttal has been to furiously wrap my chest harder the next morning.
"Omji-yah, If you shaved your hair further back, you would certainly find a man." That is something I have wanted to try for many seasons. How could she know I have thought it so handsome? Perhaps she saw the shaving scar on my cheek (from my over-enthusiastic childhood) and reasoned that I was razor-happy. I briefly debate keeping her as a pet, using her for beauty advice upon my return to camp, hiding her away. They'd likely notice the loss of the cart or my increased "appetite".
For someone so strong, I am weak-willed. But men scare me, and when I am most afraid, I attack. She could be the weapon I need.
As if on cue, the witch launches into a tale of a girl many centuries ahead, a succesor of mine, who will fight with a small stick of ink as a weapon, both sword and shield. Maybe witchcraft drives a person mad?
She eats her rinds and breakfast scraps. The only action I've seen that leads me to believe that she does not want our arrangement to be discovered either. Bored and sated, she begins to tell me what it's like to fly, and the great rushing torrent of happiness I could never understand.
Friday, February 08, 2008
She walks in beauty
I managed to sleep late today. Well, by "late" I mean at least until my alarm squawked. I pulled the cat into my lap, rolled us in volumous covers, and procrastinated for a half-hour. The stupid floor was cold. Six pork buns later (Aw, shut up. They were small.) and I'm off to the gym.
Somehow, by dint of incredible luck, one of the elliptical machines is free. It's all mine and all I have to sacrifice is my warm-up stretches. (I'll rethink this decision tomorrow)
It's Chinese New Year again. Last year's was happier, but as always the case with myself, I'm happiest in the middle of struggle (misery?). One bird in the bush is worth two in my hand. Sometimes the point of life is to take the road less travelled by (or the slug less trampled by, depending if you subscribe to Frost or Conley)
This is why we create beauty. It is so incredible that anyone can create something that another sees as beautiful, given humanity's varied tastes. Precipitously perched between "not enough" and "too little".
Anyway, this is how my day started. Despite the minor midlife crisis before supper, it has been good. The waking, the exercise, the crisis, has all culminated to this point; Where I stand here, amid hushing air vents, with a sweet in my mouth, amazed at how my day is beautiful again.
A lady at work has a chocolate coin glued to some paper handing in her cubicle. I waste two minutes wondering if I can pry it out delicately, obtain the sugar, then seal the empty foil. I waste five minutes wondering if this makes me a bad person.
What is the appeal of one beautiful thing amidst ugly things? The one perfectly ripe pear in a basket of rotted mush. Vice versa. What is the draw of one ugly thing encompassed by beauty? An old haggard lady laughing between supermodels. Perhaps it is the difference we seek, the novelty, or the unknown?
I beg to submit a radical postion on violence. Violence itself is not ugly. Two people fighting, with passion and determination, is not ugly. One person abusing another is ugly. The only thing that has changed is the victim. Is the root of the "ugly" in the reaction of the victim? In the loss of dignity? My dad once told me that "You cannot see in others what you do not have in yourself." This is one of the most elegant, and essential tools for understanding motivations that I have ever been gifted with. People are either attracted to or repulsed by something they have within themselves. This, also, is what composes anger. Acknowledgment of someone giving it to something you dare not. (I would like to emphasis that this does not place value judgements on the darer or the dared. Somethings should be dared, some should not.) From this anger comes schadenfreude, which divides us.
I would like to digress for a bit, and talk about a movie I saw a little while ago called "Children of men". Although it was violent I did not feel for a second that any of it was uncalled for or less then entirely accurate. This movie is, simply put, a masterpiece. When I go home tonight, I shall endevor to watch it again. Now I will degrade into spoilers. If you haven't seen it, just skip the rest of this paragraph. Someone asked me, "Why is it called 'Children of men'?" I puzzled for a while before hitting on the idea that in the movie, every woman is selfless and giving. Without exception. In the movie, every man is conniving and manipulating. Save one, of course, our hero, someone who animals love. I think the idea is that the children of women are peace and small humans, and the children of men are violence and chaos. Has anyone had any other thoughts on this?
Anyway, Check
I think I'm done here.
Somehow, by dint of incredible luck, one of the elliptical machines is free. It's all mine and all I have to sacrifice is my warm-up stretches. (I'll rethink this decision tomorrow)
It's Chinese New Year again. Last year's was happier, but as always the case with myself, I'm happiest in the middle of struggle (misery?). One bird in the bush is worth two in my hand. Sometimes the point of life is to take the road less travelled by (or the slug less trampled by, depending if you subscribe to Frost or Conley)
This is why we create beauty. It is so incredible that anyone can create something that another sees as beautiful, given humanity's varied tastes. Precipitously perched between "not enough" and "too little".
Anyway, this is how my day started. Despite the minor midlife crisis before supper, it has been good. The waking, the exercise, the crisis, has all culminated to this point; Where I stand here, amid hushing air vents, with a sweet in my mouth, amazed at how my day is beautiful again.
A lady at work has a chocolate coin glued to some paper handing in her cubicle. I waste two minutes wondering if I can pry it out delicately, obtain the sugar, then seal the empty foil. I waste five minutes wondering if this makes me a bad person.
What is the appeal of one beautiful thing amidst ugly things? The one perfectly ripe pear in a basket of rotted mush. Vice versa. What is the draw of one ugly thing encompassed by beauty? An old haggard lady laughing between supermodels. Perhaps it is the difference we seek, the novelty, or the unknown?
I beg to submit a radical postion on violence. Violence itself is not ugly. Two people fighting, with passion and determination, is not ugly. One person abusing another is ugly. The only thing that has changed is the victim. Is the root of the "ugly" in the reaction of the victim? In the loss of dignity? My dad once told me that "You cannot see in others what you do not have in yourself." This is one of the most elegant, and essential tools for understanding motivations that I have ever been gifted with. People are either attracted to or repulsed by something they have within themselves. This, also, is what composes anger. Acknowledgment of someone giving it to something you dare not. (I would like to emphasis that this does not place value judgements on the darer or the dared. Somethings should be dared, some should not.) From this anger comes schadenfreude, which divides us.
I would like to digress for a bit, and talk about a movie I saw a little while ago called "Children of men". Although it was violent I did not feel for a second that any of it was uncalled for or less then entirely accurate. This movie is, simply put, a masterpiece. When I go home tonight, I shall endevor to watch it again. Now I will degrade into spoilers. If you haven't seen it, just skip the rest of this paragraph. Someone asked me, "Why is it called 'Children of men'?" I puzzled for a while before hitting on the idea that in the movie, every woman is selfless and giving. Without exception. In the movie, every man is conniving and manipulating. Save one, of course, our hero, someone who animals love. I think the idea is that the children of women are peace and small humans, and the children of men are violence and chaos. Has anyone had any other thoughts on this?
Anyway, Check
I think I'm done here.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Mental Moon Cakes
I am sitting on a riverbank. Small lantern lights hover, reflected in the rippled glass they ride on. Bulbous dragonflies flit like old nosy aunts with rustling petticoats, their gossimer wings. Delicate trails on my legs outline the grass pressed where my kimono doesn't cover. My socks now stained green, echoing the fireworks above. The smell of explosions can't cover the smell of bleach on my hands. Clean for a New Year.
My mother, perfectly resplendant in silk, watches my tall father and uncles chase my brothers around. My hair has started to droop. It looks prettier this way. The clock's hollow bounce counts out the time. I want to run in the pond with my socks on. Feel the cold soak through the cotton. Chase the lights on the waves, sparkling like a thousand little diamonds, wishing me luck. My younger brother has pulled a few spare red lanterns off the roof and is now bouncing them like jolly soccerballs. My uncles find this hilarious. My father is embarassed. Over their commotion, I can still hear the music from inside.
I had a windmill. It has gone somewhere.
My mother, perfectly resplendant in silk, watches my tall father and uncles chase my brothers around. My hair has started to droop. It looks prettier this way. The clock's hollow bounce counts out the time. I want to run in the pond with my socks on. Feel the cold soak through the cotton. Chase the lights on the waves, sparkling like a thousand little diamonds, wishing me luck. My younger brother has pulled a few spare red lanterns off the roof and is now bouncing them like jolly soccerballs. My uncles find this hilarious. My father is embarassed. Over their commotion, I can still hear the music from inside.
I had a windmill. It has gone somewhere.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Jagerkin Sandwich
(The finesse of which is legendary)
A shameless tribute to Girl Genius
"Firsht hyu gets some bread, besht if it's someboddy else's bread."
"Hey dot's mine!"
"Shot op, Hy'm teaching. Hyu can hef firsht bite."
"Hokay!"
"Then hyu go sqvish some bugs und nancy-boys into a nize pashte und pour dot on de bread."
"Then gets some sewer rats und pot dem on!"
"Hey! Vho's teaching diz?"
"bot hyu're doink it vrong!"
"Shot op. Now den. Hyu gets some sewer rats und pot dem on too. Then hyu light it all on fire! Ta-da!"
"Hey! Thiz iz pritty goot! Jusht like mom used to make!"
"The only problem iz aftervards vit de screemink und de burnink. Then hyu need to find a Heterodyne to fix hyu op."
"Yah. Dot's bad."
"Dot's it for today. Make sure hyu gots you hat!"
*****
On a side note, My site that I am stationed at is closing down. I have put in a bid for the mobile patrol division of my company, but my boss has suggested a far more interesting idea: Armored. Wish me luck everyone! All I need's my FAC, and I'm golden!
A shameless tribute to Girl Genius
"Firsht hyu gets some bread, besht if it's someboddy else's bread."
"Hey dot's mine!"
"Shot op, Hy'm teaching. Hyu can hef firsht bite."
"Hokay!"
"Then hyu go sqvish some bugs und nancy-boys into a nize pashte und pour dot on de bread."
"Then gets some sewer rats und pot dem on!"
"Hey! Vho's teaching diz?"
"bot hyu're doink it vrong!"
"Shot op. Now den. Hyu gets some sewer rats und pot dem on too. Then hyu light it all on fire! Ta-da!"
"Hey! Thiz iz pritty goot! Jusht like mom used to make!"
"The only problem iz aftervards vit de screemink und de burnink. Then hyu need to find a Heterodyne to fix hyu op."
"Yah. Dot's bad."
"Dot's it for today. Make sure hyu gots you hat!"
*****
On a side note, My site that I am stationed at is closing down. I have put in a bid for the mobile patrol division of my company, but my boss has suggested a far more interesting idea: Armored. Wish me luck everyone! All I need's my FAC, and I'm golden!
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Interview fiction #2
Janet: Welcome back ladies and gentlemen! Today on the show we have Dr. Sievir Liebermun, author of the bestselling philosophy text "As the Heart Does". Since it's arrival on the literary scene in early 2013, this book has sold over 1 billion copies and is now available in 17 languages. It's simple message is so powerful, it has inspired history's fastest growing religion. Please help me welcome Dr. Liebermun!
[Applause]
Dr Liebermun: Thank you, Janet. It's good to be here.
J: Now, before we get to the real "heart" of you book, can you give us a quick idea of what inspired it?
Dr: Certainly, Diane. Around '92 I graduated from university and went to work at a desk job. I won't elaborate; suffice to say I had a lot of reading time.
J: I'm pretty sure we've all had jobs like that.
Dr: It was then that I decided to apply myself to reading religious and ethical philosophy texts. I aimed for a broad range; Eastern and western, fact and belief based, old and new. About halfway through I started to notice a trend, and by the end I had realized an incredible new theory.
J: Can you explain for the sake of our new viewers?
Dr: I noticed a trend that I like to call, "Moral Intuitivism". It states that we, as thinking and sensing human beings, subconsciously know what is right and good in every circumstance. It is our duty to quiet our minds and get in touch with our inner spiritual guide, so they can tell us the right path. It helps to think of it as a seperate person, inside you, always talking and advising. You must be quiet and still to hear them.
J: And that's where you got your meditiations from?
Dr: That's correct.
J: Can you give us a little sample? I'm feeling pretty frazzled today, and I think my audience is too [cheers]. Could you walk us through an "Inner Discussion"?
Dr: Alright.
J: Dim the lights please George! George the stage manager, everyone! [applause] Okay, when you're ready.
Dr: Close your eyes. Concentrate on your breath. Now imagine you sense, in front of you, a landscape. It can be whatever you want, flowers, the beach, mars, just so long as you fully realize it. Now you need to know it is there, really believe it. Okay, now open your inner eyes, the ones you know will see your land. When you see it, take a few steps with you inner feet, the ones you know will tred on your land. Once you have mastered walking, you must find your ethical guide. They should be somewhere in your land. If you believe they will be there, understand that to know is in and of itself proof. You will know because you know.
When you find your guide, greet them. They will treat you well. Afterwards, you may ask your question.
J: Incredible, Doctor!
Dr: Thank you.
J: Your philosophy also contains a medical version, is that correct?
Dr: That's correct.
J: Would you care to explain that as well?
Dr: Well, meditation will enable most people to touch their inner selves, but it is time consuming and tiresome. So what my clinic offers is a permanent solution that allows the moral being to eliminate background noise and cognitive confusion. It only takes a week, the effects are permanent and non-reversible, and our patients rate their quality of life as a perfect 10!
J: That's amazing, Doctor! We'll learn more about your life-changing philosophy after these messages.
[Gravy cola. Sheer decadence.]
[Emotion color-changing garmet. Wear your heart on your sleeve.]
[The Globe and Mail. News, when you are ready.]
J; And we're back! If you are just joining us I have Dr. Sievir Liebermun on the show, author of "As the Heart Does" Now, Dr. what's the theory behind your medical procedures?
Dr: You see, Diane, as I read further and further back in our history, it became apparent that we were more moral because then. Family values, and the dignity of life meant something these. The decline of morality is strongly correlated with the development of the frontal lobe. Acting on this theory I received a government grant and tested on my first subject, a white male, 24 years of age, named Fitb.
J: We are lucky to have Fitb on the show today, let's bring him out here!
F: Hello.
D: Good morning Fitb. How would you rate your quality of life since your surgery?
F: Me? Yah! I'm happy!
[Applause]
Dr: He's able to enter, live in really, a state of constant moral meditition, unhindered by higher thought. This man is the world's first perfectly moral being. There's no pain, no nasty scars, and best of all, no medication. It's all natural, causes weight loss and 63% of housewives report being more satified with their husbands.
[Applause]
J: Wel, that's all the time we have today, but if you want an appointment for a procedure, please check out Dr. Liebermun's feedsite. Once again, Thank you for being on the show today and tune in next week everyone when we have the pope on for a rebuttal. Have a great night!
[Applause]
Dr Liebermun: Thank you, Janet. It's good to be here.
J: Now, before we get to the real "heart" of you book, can you give us a quick idea of what inspired it?
Dr: Certainly, Diane. Around '92 I graduated from university and went to work at a desk job. I won't elaborate; suffice to say I had a lot of reading time.
J: I'm pretty sure we've all had jobs like that.
Dr: It was then that I decided to apply myself to reading religious and ethical philosophy texts. I aimed for a broad range; Eastern and western, fact and belief based, old and new. About halfway through I started to notice a trend, and by the end I had realized an incredible new theory.
J: Can you explain for the sake of our new viewers?
Dr: I noticed a trend that I like to call, "Moral Intuitivism". It states that we, as thinking and sensing human beings, subconsciously know what is right and good in every circumstance. It is our duty to quiet our minds and get in touch with our inner spiritual guide, so they can tell us the right path. It helps to think of it as a seperate person, inside you, always talking and advising. You must be quiet and still to hear them.
J: And that's where you got your meditiations from?
Dr: That's correct.
J: Can you give us a little sample? I'm feeling pretty frazzled today, and I think my audience is too [cheers]. Could you walk us through an "Inner Discussion"?
Dr: Alright.
J: Dim the lights please George! George the stage manager, everyone! [applause] Okay, when you're ready.
Dr: Close your eyes. Concentrate on your breath. Now imagine you sense, in front of you, a landscape. It can be whatever you want, flowers, the beach, mars, just so long as you fully realize it. Now you need to know it is there, really believe it. Okay, now open your inner eyes, the ones you know will see your land. When you see it, take a few steps with you inner feet, the ones you know will tred on your land. Once you have mastered walking, you must find your ethical guide. They should be somewhere in your land. If you believe they will be there, understand that to know is in and of itself proof. You will know because you know.
When you find your guide, greet them. They will treat you well. Afterwards, you may ask your question.
J: Incredible, Doctor!
Dr: Thank you.
J: Your philosophy also contains a medical version, is that correct?
Dr: That's correct.
J: Would you care to explain that as well?
Dr: Well, meditation will enable most people to touch their inner selves, but it is time consuming and tiresome. So what my clinic offers is a permanent solution that allows the moral being to eliminate background noise and cognitive confusion. It only takes a week, the effects are permanent and non-reversible, and our patients rate their quality of life as a perfect 10!
J: That's amazing, Doctor! We'll learn more about your life-changing philosophy after these messages.
[Gravy cola. Sheer decadence.]
[Emotion color-changing garmet. Wear your heart on your sleeve.]
[The Globe and Mail. News, when you are ready.]
J; And we're back! If you are just joining us I have Dr. Sievir Liebermun on the show, author of "As the Heart Does" Now, Dr. what's the theory behind your medical procedures?
Dr: You see, Diane, as I read further and further back in our history, it became apparent that we were more moral because then. Family values, and the dignity of life meant something these. The decline of morality is strongly correlated with the development of the frontal lobe. Acting on this theory I received a government grant and tested on my first subject, a white male, 24 years of age, named Fitb.
J: We are lucky to have Fitb on the show today, let's bring him out here!
F: Hello.
D: Good morning Fitb. How would you rate your quality of life since your surgery?
F: Me? Yah! I'm happy!
[Applause]
Dr: He's able to enter, live in really, a state of constant moral meditition, unhindered by higher thought. This man is the world's first perfectly moral being. There's no pain, no nasty scars, and best of all, no medication. It's all natural, causes weight loss and 63% of housewives report being more satified with their husbands.
[Applause]
J: Wel, that's all the time we have today, but if you want an appointment for a procedure, please check out Dr. Liebermun's feedsite. Once again, Thank you for being on the show today and tune in next week everyone when we have the pope on for a rebuttal. Have a great night!
Friday, February 01, 2008
One Simple Rule
It seems people have forgotten civility. Politeness, ettiquette, common decency. Things are tough for you, yes, but it is not like the person you are about to disrespect had had a golden life. One should imagine that everyone you interact with is saying, (taken from What is the What by Dave Eggers) "You do not understand. You would not add to my suffering if you had seen what I have seen!"
As babies, we all cry. This should unite us! Next time you are about to explode on someone, remember they have cried. Have suffered in some way. We all do. Struggled in some way. Why don't you help out? Has rejoiced in triumph. Dance with them. Defeat, Embarassment, Hope. All of these things, present in the person you are about to try to destroy. Is it really worth it? That they should fight to make it so far in life, just to have to contend with the petty squabble you put on them?
If I could wish one thing in the world, it would not be world peace (which would likely have the life span of some cheetos at a snowboard rally) but more empathy.
*****
On an unrelated note, I have included some links at the bottom of my blog including my favorite webcomics and some useful links. Enjoy!
As babies, we all cry. This should unite us! Next time you are about to explode on someone, remember they have cried. Have suffered in some way. We all do. Struggled in some way. Why don't you help out? Has rejoiced in triumph. Dance with them. Defeat, Embarassment, Hope. All of these things, present in the person you are about to try to destroy. Is it really worth it? That they should fight to make it so far in life, just to have to contend with the petty squabble you put on them?
If I could wish one thing in the world, it would not be world peace (which would likely have the life span of some cheetos at a snowboard rally) but more empathy.
*****
On an unrelated note, I have included some links at the bottom of my blog including my favorite webcomics and some useful links. Enjoy!
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Fiction work # 4
Everyday this man comes to the coffee shop where I wait for him. I used to be mad at him. Furious with his stupidity, for not figuring it out, for putting me in this situation. It gave way, gradually, to something else. What are those five stages again? Oh well.
The only thing in this gaping room is me, the wadded newspaper discarded in the corner by the window. Everything is frozen until he arrives. Then, a carnival! Strobed colors, chimes, heat flows into me through my blood, my breath whooshing through my nostrils like turbines. How alive he makes me!
I sometimes look at other men. I cannot help it, I suppose, I get so bored. They mean nothing, though, when he appears. How could they?
I spoke with a priest once. Hoping to be absolved. With the stained glass drifting like pale feathers kissing his features, he washed his hands of me. Said only God could judge me now. Said I would find Him in my heart. I prayed he was right, then left the house of worship, where I long to be, but dare not profane with my confusion. Jesus wept in the Garden of Gethsemane; that is why I keep him in my troubled heart. He knows me, still loves me.
I would say I am angry, but it has drained out of me so long ago. I keep it in a bottle in the corner, along with other necessities. Sometimes I hear it, yelling at that stupid fedora he wears, that I swear I know better then my own knees, telling him to "Go Away!" because anything is better than letting me do it. But he doesn't. Every day is the same. So I wait for the sign. The sign that he is giving up. Giving up his home. Is throwing his...no...our fortune to the wind. I long for it, and dread it. I know it is coming.
What a man he is! To inspire this dichotomy. He seems powerful, yet stocky. A bushy, but trim mustache, keen eyes. My favorite part of him is his hands. Meticulously covered in soft brown leather that matches his briefcase, he must condition them nightly.
What will I do when he is gone? My mind is drawn to the macabre question as surely as a cart on tracks. To combat the problem, I like to imagine drapes on the window I lay by. It is currently bare, in keeping with the austerity of the room, which was chosen for it's function, not it's form.
Every inch of my body screams for this to be over, but my heart and my soul wish it could go on forever.
Maybe some nice pink ones. I could sew them myself. I wonder if he'll like them? I wonder if he'll notice.
Before he arrives, I work-out. The sweat, the pain in my muscles, is honest. Pure truth in lactic acid. I start with push-ups, moving to handstand push-ups. There is a bar set up for chin-ups, and I like to do crunches. This tiny zen workout seems to be the only thing between myself and sheer madness.
On a cold day, I touched my tongue to the metal. Some of it stuck, peeling off of me. Now this tiny cylinder with myself on it is a symbol. An apology of sorts. A sign of respect, an acknowledgment. "I know you. I love you. I am sorry." I hope it is enough. For both of us. Our absolution. I have loaded my symbol and now I wait for the sign to put a piece of me through his head.
My name is Sergeant Gunnery Hart. I have been assigned to kill this man when he defects. God Preserve us Both.
The only thing in this gaping room is me, the wadded newspaper discarded in the corner by the window. Everything is frozen until he arrives. Then, a carnival! Strobed colors, chimes, heat flows into me through my blood, my breath whooshing through my nostrils like turbines. How alive he makes me!
I sometimes look at other men. I cannot help it, I suppose, I get so bored. They mean nothing, though, when he appears. How could they?
I spoke with a priest once. Hoping to be absolved. With the stained glass drifting like pale feathers kissing his features, he washed his hands of me. Said only God could judge me now. Said I would find Him in my heart. I prayed he was right, then left the house of worship, where I long to be, but dare not profane with my confusion. Jesus wept in the Garden of Gethsemane; that is why I keep him in my troubled heart. He knows me, still loves me.
I would say I am angry, but it has drained out of me so long ago. I keep it in a bottle in the corner, along with other necessities. Sometimes I hear it, yelling at that stupid fedora he wears, that I swear I know better then my own knees, telling him to "Go Away!" because anything is better than letting me do it. But he doesn't. Every day is the same. So I wait for the sign. The sign that he is giving up. Giving up his home. Is throwing his...no...our fortune to the wind. I long for it, and dread it. I know it is coming.
What a man he is! To inspire this dichotomy. He seems powerful, yet stocky. A bushy, but trim mustache, keen eyes. My favorite part of him is his hands. Meticulously covered in soft brown leather that matches his briefcase, he must condition them nightly.
What will I do when he is gone? My mind is drawn to the macabre question as surely as a cart on tracks. To combat the problem, I like to imagine drapes on the window I lay by. It is currently bare, in keeping with the austerity of the room, which was chosen for it's function, not it's form.
Every inch of my body screams for this to be over, but my heart and my soul wish it could go on forever.
Maybe some nice pink ones. I could sew them myself. I wonder if he'll like them? I wonder if he'll notice.
Before he arrives, I work-out. The sweat, the pain in my muscles, is honest. Pure truth in lactic acid. I start with push-ups, moving to handstand push-ups. There is a bar set up for chin-ups, and I like to do crunches. This tiny zen workout seems to be the only thing between myself and sheer madness.
On a cold day, I touched my tongue to the metal. Some of it stuck, peeling off of me. Now this tiny cylinder with myself on it is a symbol. An apology of sorts. A sign of respect, an acknowledgment. "I know you. I love you. I am sorry." I hope it is enough. For both of us. Our absolution. I have loaded my symbol and now I wait for the sign to put a piece of me through his head.
My name is Sergeant Gunnery Hart. I have been assigned to kill this man when he defects. God Preserve us Both.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Tall Ships
I've trimmed my nails. Right down to the quick. I can't use them to grip anymore. They still catch, however, and the catching sets my teeth on edge.
On edge. How appropriate the phrase. Waiting. Poised. A death-defying balancing act, since I got on this huge wooden metaphor. This boat. To a new world.
I imagine it full of of clever men and women; Salons full of the revolutionary elite. People dashing about in the streets, crying on the corners, "World class inventions! Come see history in the making!"
Perhaps there will even be a girlfriend waiting for me! A bosom friend who will laugh with me and share tales! I shall plait her long, red hair and she will sing harmony. And talk about Romance! Oh, How I wish!
As soon as I was settled on the boat I thoroughly scanned the sailors, but there were all dirty, rough-hewn old men. Where is the doe-eyed rogue who is destined to steal my heart away? Some people. I have given up looking and instead torment the only passanger of interest. A boy who is travelling with his family. He is only a few months younger then me, but he is so dull! A slow-witted farm boy.
Speaking of dull. Sometimes I am terrified that I will die on this ship and never be allowed to leave! I will be forced to haunt it! Forever!! The creaking shall drive me mad!!! Every night! Every day! the rocking, creaking, tossing, spray noise! There is salt everywhere. What a pain! I thought, when I first envisioned my Grand Journey, that I would take daily, placid, walks around the pristine deck, admired by the dozens of attractive sailors, resplendant in my perfect, but breezy, frocks. My placid walks have become simple, once-round, neccessities, punctuated by mild seasickness. I wear only my most austere garb, and am rarely admired, but instead, leered at by the few lucky enough to have a brief moment. I'd never imagined a sailor's life so busy!
In juxtapose, mine is so empty. I while away the hours imagining my future husband. He will likely be at the port when we make land. I'm excited to meet him! I hope he is muscular and handsome! I should also like him to be tender and affectionate, however. What will I do if he is some kind of brute?
Speaking of brutes, my dinners with the captain have taken an astonishing turn. At the beginning he was very formal, always standing on ceremony, but lately he has regailed me with boistrous tales of far away lands. this man tells me of the exotic people he's met, the things he's done; some that polite people would faint upon hearing! He completely disgusts and repulses me, but I find myself drawn to it.
I don't want to tell anyone, but he's been filling my head with strange notions. He tells me that my arranged marriage should be my choice as well! That I am not my husband's property! He even tells me that I should have the right to study and learn anything I want! Even wear pants! I'm not sure what to think of it. Everything I am dictates that I plug my ears (delicately of course) and ignore his sinful suggestions, but I find an ember of defiance in my breast. It is small yet, but if fanned by the flames of his stories, and encouragement...who knows? I suppose just the fact that I write this is proof enough of his influence. Mother said I should not write, that it would over-exhaust me unduly and any heirs I produce would be sickly. I am terrified to think of stepping off this little path that has been neatly laid for me, but I ... want to. I do not know, yet, if there are great things in me, in truth, I don't think so. I am not so astounding that I would produce anything marvelous, but there is desire, in me, to carve out a little piece of the world for my own. To plant my flag and howl triumphantly.
I suppose time will tell what the world has in store for me...
On edge. How appropriate the phrase. Waiting. Poised. A death-defying balancing act, since I got on this huge wooden metaphor. This boat. To a new world.
I imagine it full of of clever men and women; Salons full of the revolutionary elite. People dashing about in the streets, crying on the corners, "World class inventions! Come see history in the making!"
Perhaps there will even be a girlfriend waiting for me! A bosom friend who will laugh with me and share tales! I shall plait her long, red hair and she will sing harmony. And talk about Romance! Oh, How I wish!
As soon as I was settled on the boat I thoroughly scanned the sailors, but there were all dirty, rough-hewn old men. Where is the doe-eyed rogue who is destined to steal my heart away? Some people. I have given up looking and instead torment the only passanger of interest. A boy who is travelling with his family. He is only a few months younger then me, but he is so dull! A slow-witted farm boy.
Speaking of dull. Sometimes I am terrified that I will die on this ship and never be allowed to leave! I will be forced to haunt it! Forever!! The creaking shall drive me mad!!! Every night! Every day! the rocking, creaking, tossing, spray noise! There is salt everywhere. What a pain! I thought, when I first envisioned my Grand Journey, that I would take daily, placid, walks around the pristine deck, admired by the dozens of attractive sailors, resplendant in my perfect, but breezy, frocks. My placid walks have become simple, once-round, neccessities, punctuated by mild seasickness. I wear only my most austere garb, and am rarely admired, but instead, leered at by the few lucky enough to have a brief moment. I'd never imagined a sailor's life so busy!
In juxtapose, mine is so empty. I while away the hours imagining my future husband. He will likely be at the port when we make land. I'm excited to meet him! I hope he is muscular and handsome! I should also like him to be tender and affectionate, however. What will I do if he is some kind of brute?
Speaking of brutes, my dinners with the captain have taken an astonishing turn. At the beginning he was very formal, always standing on ceremony, but lately he has regailed me with boistrous tales of far away lands. this man tells me of the exotic people he's met, the things he's done; some that polite people would faint upon hearing! He completely disgusts and repulses me, but I find myself drawn to it.
I don't want to tell anyone, but he's been filling my head with strange notions. He tells me that my arranged marriage should be my choice as well! That I am not my husband's property! He even tells me that I should have the right to study and learn anything I want! Even wear pants! I'm not sure what to think of it. Everything I am dictates that I plug my ears (delicately of course) and ignore his sinful suggestions, but I find an ember of defiance in my breast. It is small yet, but if fanned by the flames of his stories, and encouragement...who knows? I suppose just the fact that I write this is proof enough of his influence. Mother said I should not write, that it would over-exhaust me unduly and any heirs I produce would be sickly. I am terrified to think of stepping off this little path that has been neatly laid for me, but I ... want to. I do not know, yet, if there are great things in me, in truth, I don't think so. I am not so astounding that I would produce anything marvelous, but there is desire, in me, to carve out a little piece of the world for my own. To plant my flag and howl triumphantly.
I suppose time will tell what the world has in store for me...
Saturday, January 26, 2008
The terrible calamity of Ms. Whimbledon; Abridged for brevity
January 24th
Dear Diary;
Today I had the most odd experience. I was stepping off the coach, just about to alight on my doorstep when I noticed a man staring at me. He was of rather low birth in a faded vest, scruffy pants, ill-shone shoes, and a tweed monstrosity I could only surmise to be a hat perched on his head.
He stared so intently I was sure he was a chimney-sweep or other such servant, but when I paid him a shilling for his service, he didn't say anything. He only clutched it in his huge hands, until his knuckles went white. The sun was out, so I moved inside to avoid exposure, but when I looked out he was still there. He stayed there all evening.
January 25th
The man was still there when I began morning prayers, so I sent the butler to run him off. When I left for the usual ladies night together, he had the gall to wink at me! I was so surprised, I went back inside the house! Who knows what that wink had planned?
January 27th
He thinks I can't see him, but I can. He's out there by the lavender gate. He peeps at me while I sew. I'm sure he's thinking something filthy. His eyes are so low and sunk-in. I've phoned the police to escort him away.
January 30th
What good are the police if they can't keep one man in jail? He's back, hiding in the Rhodedendrons. Squatting obscenely! The cheek! The absolute nerve! I can't concentrate anymore! I feel like I need to know where he is at all times!
Febuary 1st
The police insist they have him in custody. What do they know? He's right outside. I can feel him. I haven't changed in two days. He watches me. The maid tried to make me change. I've dismissed her. How could I trust her now? I'm sure she works with him. I fear she has let him in. Curse her treachery! She wanted me dead! I saw her hands linger over the silverware! She lingers no more!
Febuary 5th
I've boarded the doors and windows. The butler refused to help. He says he saw the police execute the man for murder yesterday. He's mad. I've dispatched him. I found some ash. I've covered myself in it! Let him see through that! They tried to make me go to Bedlam, but I said, "No! No! No!".
Febuary 6th
He's in. The house. The police are powerless. The government is in cahoots with the vagrant! Only I and Mr. Poker can fight back. His gangly limbs hold me. We are barricaded in the laundry room, but He knows. I can smell him. The foul desultory smell of satan! We tunnel to the food pantry, as we must have food to do God's work, but it is arduous.
Febuary 7th
Mr. Poker had abandoned me! He dove through the tiny hole into the pantry and now he is gone. I have taken the only course left to me; If I must parish, that bastard will burn with me!
Febuary 10th
How nice; I've never been to Germany. Today, as I was contemplating how to best rebuild my life, I saw a beautiful man walk past. I trotted after him, feeling compelled to stay close to him no matter what. As I stood outside his house, he came over and gave me a sixpence. When he did, I felt a huge weight lift off me. I think I'll sleep outside his house for just a little while.
Dear Diary;
Today I had the most odd experience. I was stepping off the coach, just about to alight on my doorstep when I noticed a man staring at me. He was of rather low birth in a faded vest, scruffy pants, ill-shone shoes, and a tweed monstrosity I could only surmise to be a hat perched on his head.
He stared so intently I was sure he was a chimney-sweep or other such servant, but when I paid him a shilling for his service, he didn't say anything. He only clutched it in his huge hands, until his knuckles went white. The sun was out, so I moved inside to avoid exposure, but when I looked out he was still there. He stayed there all evening.
January 25th
The man was still there when I began morning prayers, so I sent the butler to run him off. When I left for the usual ladies night together, he had the gall to wink at me! I was so surprised, I went back inside the house! Who knows what that wink had planned?
January 27th
He thinks I can't see him, but I can. He's out there by the lavender gate. He peeps at me while I sew. I'm sure he's thinking something filthy. His eyes are so low and sunk-in. I've phoned the police to escort him away.
January 30th
What good are the police if they can't keep one man in jail? He's back, hiding in the Rhodedendrons. Squatting obscenely! The cheek! The absolute nerve! I can't concentrate anymore! I feel like I need to know where he is at all times!
Febuary 1st
The police insist they have him in custody. What do they know? He's right outside. I can feel him. I haven't changed in two days. He watches me. The maid tried to make me change. I've dismissed her. How could I trust her now? I'm sure she works with him. I fear she has let him in. Curse her treachery! She wanted me dead! I saw her hands linger over the silverware! She lingers no more!
Febuary 5th
I've boarded the doors and windows. The butler refused to help. He says he saw the police execute the man for murder yesterday. He's mad. I've dispatched him. I found some ash. I've covered myself in it! Let him see through that! They tried to make me go to Bedlam, but I said, "No! No! No!".
Febuary 6th
He's in. The house. The police are powerless. The government is in cahoots with the vagrant! Only I and Mr. Poker can fight back. His gangly limbs hold me. We are barricaded in the laundry room, but He knows. I can smell him. The foul desultory smell of satan! We tunnel to the food pantry, as we must have food to do God's work, but it is arduous.
Febuary 7th
Mr. Poker had abandoned me! He dove through the tiny hole into the pantry and now he is gone. I have taken the only course left to me; If I must parish, that bastard will burn with me!
Febuary 10th
How nice; I've never been to Germany. Today, as I was contemplating how to best rebuild my life, I saw a beautiful man walk past. I trotted after him, feeling compelled to stay close to him no matter what. As I stood outside his house, he came over and gave me a sixpence. When he did, I felt a huge weight lift off me. I think I'll sleep outside his house for just a little while.
This one's for you Mom
http://glutenfreegirl.blogspot.com/
She was featured on Blogger's Blogs-of-note, and reading through her site is really soothing.
Not only is she gluten free but she links to an absolute butt-load of other gluten-free sites.
Thought you might find it interesting. : )
Trolling the internet with love for my family.
-Michelle
She was featured on Blogger's Blogs-of-note, and reading through her site is really soothing.
Not only is she gluten free but she links to an absolute butt-load of other gluten-free sites.
Thought you might find it interesting. : )
Trolling the internet with love for my family.
-Michelle
Friday, January 25, 2008
Interview fiction number 1
[Beginning of recording]
Subject #5398
Regarding: Occurance on January 23, 2008 in Vermont
Interviewer: Please state your name for the record.
Subject: Oh, uh, Vanessa. Vanessa Jones. My momma called me that cause, uh, she liked it.
I: Thank you. Can you describe what happened the night of January twenty third?
S: Sure. Well, it's like I told the constable, I get up every morning around five to check on the cows 'cause that's when they get up too, so by nine, I'm tired, but I was wide awake then, so I was out on my best horse, her name's Pennyforth Bedelia's Best Amsforth the fifth, but we call her Gedova 'cause it don't matter what it is she, [Laugh] she'll "ged ova" it. Get it?
I: Understood. Please continue.
S: So I was out ridin' and I saw some lights on the stable roof which really ain't good cause it scares the horses and then they run but they can't run nowheres, so then you get a meatgrinder kinda thing and you can lose $600 on a prize thoroughbred for a scar 'cause it ruins the line of the horse, you know? so I was going over to check
[sound of door opening]
Visitor: Sir? There's a call for you on line one.
I: Not now.
V: Understood. Sorry sir.
[door closes]
S: You can take the call, I don't mind. I got Donna to feed the horses n' stuff so...
I: It's fine. You are our top priority right now.
S: Oh! Well, Thank you very much. I've never been a priority before.
I: A shame. Please, continue.
S: Anyway, I go into the barn with my shotgun ready
I: I'm sorry. Why did you initially bring your shotgun?
S: Oh, no. Mine's in the house. I keep an extra in the barn. When you got $500,000 in, uh, "moveable assets", if you don't have a gun you got $500,000 in, uh, "nothing". So. There you go.
I: A prudent move.
S: Is it?
I: I believe so. Please, continue.
S: So anyway, when I got in there, the horses weren't moving, just starin' at a person at the end of the barn, where I got the horse insem'nator? That's the thing where you fill it with [Portion deleted]
I: Uh, We'll attach a diagram.
S: You okay? You're all pink.
I: Thank you. I'm fine. Please, uh, continue. Maybe with more detail about the figure?
S: Yah, sure. So he was starin' at my newest, Marybell's Triumph. She was in stall 70, right here. [Paper shuffling]
I: Please refer to diagram two "Blueprint of barn", stall 70.
S: We just did.
I: No, I mean for the listener.
S: Oh.
I: Please?
S: Right, so I asked who it was 'cause last week we gotta little boy here, wanted to ride a horse, so he snuck right outta bed and walked here from town, but I didn't want to scare no kid, so, you know.
I: What did the figure do?
S: He, well, It, I guess, turned and howled at me! Like, Like a wolf howl, but worse! I never been so scared in my life! I seen a momma bear up close and it weren't near as bad! I was so terrified, I thought I'd die and...
I:That accounts for, uh, substance b found at the scene?
[silence]
I: Let the record show the subject nodded affirmation. ... It was at this time that Marybell's Triumph was killed?
S: Yah, and I, uh, I don't know why it... [sniffling]
I: We can take a break. We don't have to rush. Would you like some coffee?
[silence- 10 seconds]
I: You don't have to do this now we can...
S: What? No, uh, no. I'm okay.
I: Well, we'll take a break. Shutting off recording.
I: Resuming interview after 15 minute break. Alright. How did you respond to the figure's actions?
S: I shot it.
I: You shot...could you be more specific?
S: I shot it. In the face.
I: Accounting for injury C. Did this have any effect?
S: Yah. It jumped at me, with it's claws. And did this. [Cloth rustling]
I: Subject is gesturing to injuries 12 through 17.
S: 12? No, it didn't
I: You have some old injuries we observed: a compound fracture, a few puncture wounds...
S: Oh. I see. Heh. I remember that tree.
I: You used to climb [Portion deleted]
S: [Laughing]
I: Yeah, right. Sorry. Hehe.Uh, how did you respond to the attack?
S: [Laughs]I gave it [Paper shuffling]injuries d through q.
I: Ah. The report is unspecific as to what weapon you used.
S: Oh, well, I was so mad, I couldn't reload so I just hit it. Uh, with my hands. Well, my fists.
[pause 45 seconds]
I: I've seen the injury photographs. You are a remarkable woman, Vanessa.
S: Thank you, Mister...?
I: Call me Brian.
S: Thanks, Brian.
I: Um [coughs] So, after that?
S: Oh, that's the weird bit! I blacked out and woke up by the fifth mile marker! Next to that poor man! Is he okay? Your men were helping him but wow, he was wreck! All covered in blood! and he was, we were...but we didn't...I mean...I don't really remember, but I don't think...
I: There is no evidence to suggest conjugal relations. So, you did not know the man?
S: No, I don't, well, didn't. So, he's dead?
I: He died from multiple injuries caused by a blunt object. Exacerbated by a shotgun wound. To the face.
S: He...But, I didn't...Oh no. No. I didn't kill him. The thing in the barn couldn't have been a man! It was crazy! The claws! Didn't you look at his hands?
I: We are still looking into possible explanations.
S: Have you thought it could be a...
I: A what?
S: Well, it's silly, but my daddy used to tell me an old indian legend about the Wendigo. I mean, it's just a child's tale, but after that night, well...
I: Have you signed the confidentiality agreement? Are you aware that there may be Fatal reprecussions for discussing anything you are told here?
S: Yah, of course, but I didn't think they were serious...
I: I'm afraid so. We belive that we are dealing, indeed, with a Wendigo, as you mentioned. We are unaware how to combat the problem.
S: The problem? But I ...oh...
[Silence- 35 seconds]
I: You may no longer contact anyone you know. You must give up your farm, although you may transfer the horses to a new location, provided no one you know can track them. You must remain with an agent at all times until you have remained in the service for two years. You will be employed with us. You will be given a badge and gun. You will be taught all you need to know. You will be provided with everything you need, but your life will essentially belong to the force. Sign here please.
[Pause of 2 minutes, including paper shuffling.]
I: Welcome to the force.
S: [heavy breathing]
I: Vanessa, it's not as bad as it seems. I promise.
S: I can keep the horses?
I: It will need to be an exclusive ranch, hidden from the public, and you will need to sell them under a pseudonem, and fire your ranch hands
S: hand. Only ever had the one.
I: Right. but other then that, you can run it how you like, assuming it doesn't interfere with your duties.
S: Which are?
I: You'll receive a full briefing after lunch.
S: Ah.
[Silence- 7 minutes]
I: You are smiling?
S: This is [laughs] kinda cool. I'm mean, I've always wanted an adventure.
I: You are really remarkable.
S: [laughs] Thanks, Brian.
I: I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to
[end of tape]
Subject #5398
Regarding: Occurance on January 23, 2008 in Vermont
Interviewer: Please state your name for the record.
Subject: Oh, uh, Vanessa. Vanessa Jones. My momma called me that cause, uh, she liked it.
I: Thank you. Can you describe what happened the night of January twenty third?
S: Sure. Well, it's like I told the constable, I get up every morning around five to check on the cows 'cause that's when they get up too, so by nine, I'm tired, but I was wide awake then, so I was out on my best horse, her name's Pennyforth Bedelia's Best Amsforth the fifth, but we call her Gedova 'cause it don't matter what it is she, [Laugh] she'll "ged ova" it. Get it?
I: Understood. Please continue.
S: So I was out ridin' and I saw some lights on the stable roof which really ain't good cause it scares the horses and then they run but they can't run nowheres, so then you get a meatgrinder kinda thing and you can lose $600 on a prize thoroughbred for a scar 'cause it ruins the line of the horse, you know? so I was going over to check
[sound of door opening]
Visitor: Sir? There's a call for you on line one.
I: Not now.
V: Understood. Sorry sir.
[door closes]
S: You can take the call, I don't mind. I got Donna to feed the horses n' stuff so...
I: It's fine. You are our top priority right now.
S: Oh! Well, Thank you very much. I've never been a priority before.
I: A shame. Please, continue.
S: Anyway, I go into the barn with my shotgun ready
I: I'm sorry. Why did you initially bring your shotgun?
S: Oh, no. Mine's in the house. I keep an extra in the barn. When you got $500,000 in, uh, "moveable assets", if you don't have a gun you got $500,000 in, uh, "nothing". So. There you go.
I: A prudent move.
S: Is it?
I: I believe so. Please, continue.
S: So anyway, when I got in there, the horses weren't moving, just starin' at a person at the end of the barn, where I got the horse insem'nator? That's the thing where you fill it with [Portion deleted]
I: Uh, We'll attach a diagram.
S: You okay? You're all pink.
I: Thank you. I'm fine. Please, uh, continue. Maybe with more detail about the figure?
S: Yah, sure. So he was starin' at my newest, Marybell's Triumph. She was in stall 70, right here. [Paper shuffling]
I: Please refer to diagram two "Blueprint of barn", stall 70.
S: We just did.
I: No, I mean for the listener.
S: Oh.
I: Please?
S: Right, so I asked who it was 'cause last week we gotta little boy here, wanted to ride a horse, so he snuck right outta bed and walked here from town, but I didn't want to scare no kid, so, you know.
I: What did the figure do?
S: He, well, It, I guess, turned and howled at me! Like, Like a wolf howl, but worse! I never been so scared in my life! I seen a momma bear up close and it weren't near as bad! I was so terrified, I thought I'd die and...
I:That accounts for, uh, substance b found at the scene?
[silence]
I: Let the record show the subject nodded affirmation. ... It was at this time that Marybell's Triumph was killed?
S: Yah, and I, uh, I don't know why it... [sniffling]
I: We can take a break. We don't have to rush. Would you like some coffee?
[silence- 10 seconds]
I: You don't have to do this now we can...
S: What? No, uh, no. I'm okay.
I: Well, we'll take a break. Shutting off recording.
I: Resuming interview after 15 minute break. Alright. How did you respond to the figure's actions?
S: I shot it.
I: You shot...could you be more specific?
S: I shot it. In the face.
I: Accounting for injury C. Did this have any effect?
S: Yah. It jumped at me, with it's claws. And did this. [Cloth rustling]
I: Subject is gesturing to injuries 12 through 17.
S: 12? No, it didn't
I: You have some old injuries we observed: a compound fracture, a few puncture wounds...
S: Oh. I see. Heh. I remember that tree.
I: You used to climb [Portion deleted]
S: [Laughing]
I: Yeah, right. Sorry. Hehe.Uh, how did you respond to the attack?
S: [Laughs]I gave it [Paper shuffling]injuries d through q.
I: Ah. The report is unspecific as to what weapon you used.
S: Oh, well, I was so mad, I couldn't reload so I just hit it. Uh, with my hands. Well, my fists.
[pause 45 seconds]
I: I've seen the injury photographs. You are a remarkable woman, Vanessa.
S: Thank you, Mister...?
I: Call me Brian.
S: Thanks, Brian.
I: Um [coughs] So, after that?
S: Oh, that's the weird bit! I blacked out and woke up by the fifth mile marker! Next to that poor man! Is he okay? Your men were helping him but wow, he was wreck! All covered in blood! and he was, we were...but we didn't...I mean...I don't really remember, but I don't think...
I: There is no evidence to suggest conjugal relations. So, you did not know the man?
S: No, I don't, well, didn't. So, he's dead?
I: He died from multiple injuries caused by a blunt object. Exacerbated by a shotgun wound. To the face.
S: He...But, I didn't...Oh no. No. I didn't kill him. The thing in the barn couldn't have been a man! It was crazy! The claws! Didn't you look at his hands?
I: We are still looking into possible explanations.
S: Have you thought it could be a...
I: A what?
S: Well, it's silly, but my daddy used to tell me an old indian legend about the Wendigo. I mean, it's just a child's tale, but after that night, well...
I: Have you signed the confidentiality agreement? Are you aware that there may be Fatal reprecussions for discussing anything you are told here?
S: Yah, of course, but I didn't think they were serious...
I: I'm afraid so. We belive that we are dealing, indeed, with a Wendigo, as you mentioned. We are unaware how to combat the problem.
S: The problem? But I ...oh...
[Silence- 35 seconds]
I: You may no longer contact anyone you know. You must give up your farm, although you may transfer the horses to a new location, provided no one you know can track them. You must remain with an agent at all times until you have remained in the service for two years. You will be employed with us. You will be given a badge and gun. You will be taught all you need to know. You will be provided with everything you need, but your life will essentially belong to the force. Sign here please.
[Pause of 2 minutes, including paper shuffling.]
I: Welcome to the force.
S: [heavy breathing]
I: Vanessa, it's not as bad as it seems. I promise.
S: I can keep the horses?
I: It will need to be an exclusive ranch, hidden from the public, and you will need to sell them under a pseudonem, and fire your ranch hands
S: hand. Only ever had the one.
I: Right. but other then that, you can run it how you like, assuming it doesn't interfere with your duties.
S: Which are?
I: You'll receive a full briefing after lunch.
S: Ah.
[Silence- 7 minutes]
I: You are smiling?
S: This is [laughs] kinda cool. I'm mean, I've always wanted an adventure.
I: You are really remarkable.
S: [laughs] Thanks, Brian.
I: I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to
[end of tape]
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Tao day at work
"Allow Tao to carve you into a vessel for Tao. Then you can serve the world without mutilating it." Upon reading this, I looked at my hands, so soft and pink. How could they serve anything?
By remaining open.
"Do by not doing. Act with inaction."
It is through silence that we may speak the loudest. By stillness we may find our way.
"What has equilibium is easy to maintain."
Favor neither one extreme nor the other. Strive for Harmony in all things.
"Heaven's secret is motherly love."
It takes effort to hate. Abandon such foolish notions.
"A good employer puts himself below his employees."
It is in humility that we may benefit.
"The sage isn't sick. He is sick of his sickness. Therefore he is not sick."
Releasing all pretenses, expectations, and fears leads to Tao.
"Because she contends with no one, no one can contend with her."
Do not play petty games. They mean nothing.
"When people find one thing beautiful, another consequently becomes ugly."
In acceptance of all things, there is freedom from judgement.
"Allow order to arise of itself."
Everything turns out alright in the end. You must trust.
"Too much talk about it evaporates your understanding, though. You must stay at the center of the circle."
By remaining open.
"Do by not doing. Act with inaction."
It is through silence that we may speak the loudest. By stillness we may find our way.
"What has equilibium is easy to maintain."
Favor neither one extreme nor the other. Strive for Harmony in all things.
"Heaven's secret is motherly love."
It takes effort to hate. Abandon such foolish notions.
"A good employer puts himself below his employees."
It is in humility that we may benefit.
"The sage isn't sick. He is sick of his sickness. Therefore he is not sick."
Releasing all pretenses, expectations, and fears leads to Tao.
"Because she contends with no one, no one can contend with her."
Do not play petty games. They mean nothing.
"When people find one thing beautiful, another consequently becomes ugly."
In acceptance of all things, there is freedom from judgement.
"Allow order to arise of itself."
Everything turns out alright in the end. You must trust.
"Too much talk about it evaporates your understanding, though. You must stay at the center of the circle."
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
M.M.B.B. (or Miles and Miles of Bloody Blog)
So now whenever I enter Chapters, all the Terrys are sold out. With this in mind it is only a period of time before Hollywood catches the scent and the machine reconfigures itself to crank out some Discworld (new and improved!). I have to get in on this. The main problem being creating a solid plan to break into the biz. I found Drama class to be like, to borrow a phrase, "breathing glue"; I.e. Way too hard when you know there's a simpler way.
My plan so far is to just show up to a few auditions. This leads to the second problem.
There aren't a lot of roles in the Discworld series I'd be suited for. Since I'm an attention madame (Like a whore, but better at it.), I'd need a fairly main piece. My physical appearance is a limitation (so many damn blondes) but well, you know the saying; "If it sucks, throw CGI at it."
Thus my options:
Susan Sto Helit
Pros:
-Awesome costumes
-Badass Character
Cons:
-That hair would keep me in makeup round the clock
-Scar makeup
-delivering lines to a CGI skeleton 90% of the time
Agatha X Nitt
Pros:
-Good hair
-Arguably most awesome plot
-Chance to sing
-work alongside Greebo's Human form (Mee-yow!)
Cons:
-Fat suit
-Greebo likely to be Antonio Bandaras
Delphin Angua Von Uberwald
Pros
-Cool unifrom
-likely to be made into action figure
-two words: Carrot Ironfoundersson
Cons:
-Dog CGI not sexy
-Uberstrong first character = likely to be typecast (Pro or con?)
Maladict/a (something long)
Pros:
-So badass it hurts
-Already have coffee addiction
-Awesome teeth
Cons:
-threat from Veteran's from "overly realistic flashback portrayal"
-Known in Hollywood as a boy
-unconscious for most of climax
Lady Sybil vimes nee Ramkins
Pros:
-Aristocratic
-Jolly fun with swords and attacking people
-Work with Vimes & call Vetinari, "Havelock"
Cons:
-Again, fat suit
-No hair
-Almost eaten by Dragon AND Werewolves
Cheri Littlebottom
Pros:
-Cultural Revolutionary
-High-heeled combat boots
-CSI in olde times
Cons:
-Itchy beard
-CGI to look hobbity
Queen of the Elves
Pros:
-Fabulous slinky wardrobe
-Permanently summer scenes
-PRETTY UNICORN
Cons:
-Lose 60 lbs (skinny B!^@#)
-Lose in the end
-fight crazed axe-wielding bride
I have a few ideas on wellknown actors that could portray other characters:
Samuel Vimes - Hugh Laurie - looks the part and can ACT
Magrat Garlick - Joan Cusack - Seen School of Rock? Straightlaced to wacked. Yes!
Lord Havelock Vetinari - Alan Rickman - Looks good in a chinstrap and in harem pants
Nobby Nobbs - Robin Williams - Hairy enough to be mistaken for a werewolf
On a finishing note Heath Ledger was found dead in an apartment yesterday. This means two things:
1. Batman movie terror level up to orange
2. Brokeback mountain now 50% more accurate
Well, I'd love to stay but some of us have carpets to glue.
My plan so far is to just show up to a few auditions. This leads to the second problem.
There aren't a lot of roles in the Discworld series I'd be suited for. Since I'm an attention madame (Like a whore, but better at it.), I'd need a fairly main piece. My physical appearance is a limitation (so many damn blondes) but well, you know the saying; "If it sucks, throw CGI at it."
Thus my options:
Susan Sto Helit
Pros:
-Awesome costumes
-Badass Character
Cons:
-That hair would keep me in makeup round the clock
-Scar makeup
-delivering lines to a CGI skeleton 90% of the time
Agatha X Nitt
Pros:
-Good hair
-Arguably most awesome plot
-Chance to sing
-work alongside Greebo's Human form (Mee-yow!)
Cons:
-Fat suit
-Greebo likely to be Antonio Bandaras
Delphin Angua Von Uberwald
Pros
-Cool unifrom
-likely to be made into action figure
-two words: Carrot Ironfoundersson
Cons:
-Dog CGI not sexy
-Uberstrong first character = likely to be typecast (Pro or con?)
Maladict/a (something long)
Pros:
-So badass it hurts
-Already have coffee addiction
-Awesome teeth
Cons:
-threat from Veteran's from "overly realistic flashback portrayal"
-Known in Hollywood as a boy
-unconscious for most of climax
Lady Sybil vimes nee Ramkins
Pros:
-Aristocratic
-Jolly fun with swords and attacking people
-Work with Vimes & call Vetinari, "Havelock"
Cons:
-Again, fat suit
-No hair
-Almost eaten by Dragon AND Werewolves
Cheri Littlebottom
Pros:
-Cultural Revolutionary
-High-heeled combat boots
-CSI in olde times
Cons:
-Itchy beard
-CGI to look hobbity
Queen of the Elves
Pros:
-Fabulous slinky wardrobe
-Permanently summer scenes
-PRETTY UNICORN
Cons:
-Lose 60 lbs (skinny B!^@#)
-Lose in the end
-fight crazed axe-wielding bride
I have a few ideas on wellknown actors that could portray other characters:
Samuel Vimes - Hugh Laurie - looks the part and can ACT
Magrat Garlick - Joan Cusack - Seen School of Rock? Straightlaced to wacked. Yes!
Lord Havelock Vetinari - Alan Rickman - Looks good in a chinstrap and in harem pants
Nobby Nobbs - Robin Williams - Hairy enough to be mistaken for a werewolf
On a finishing note Heath Ledger was found dead in an apartment yesterday. This means two things:
1. Batman movie terror level up to orange
2. Brokeback mountain now 50% more accurate
Well, I'd love to stay but some of us have carpets to glue.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Wawawewa
So I had my first solo (without a trainer) day at the Police division I volunteer at. Determined not to do anything stupid, I made myself somewhat obnoxious by second guessing myself constantly. I filled several collision reports, and mostly just puttered around. The constables were all very helpful and keen to assist me in whatever.
Now enter my big mouth.
One of the constables brought an energy sports type powder. He insists it's "crazy-good", going so far as to show that you should not shake the mixture, since it may lead to "dire consequences". I, in a show of brilliance, dismissed it all as a placebo effect. The constable bridled (in mock indignation) saying I wouldn't be saying that if I had tried it. Thus the inevitable occured. It was green, frothy and tasted like pixie sticks in coke. I think I might pick up a batch. It certainly carried out the promise of helping me with my energy. I felt like I could chew through a desk.
I have earned the title of "most hard-core volunteer". This makes me strangely pleased.
I also submit for your enjoyment, some of the random thoughts that floated through my sleepy brain during my patrol, after I had crashed off the powder.
Imagine Robin Williams. Now imagine him as a kid. Put him in a classroom. Have his teacher call him, "Robin". Weird, isn't it? Now put him in the DMV and have someone call him, "Mr. Williams". That's pretty weird too, isn't it? There are just some celebrities that you must know them by their full name. If you say, "Ah-nold", everyone knows who you are talking about, but to call Anthony Hopkins, "Anthony", feels a little racy, doesn't it?
If they can make Shrek look this realistic, why do those screen-saver fish still look like pieces of food left-over after I've washed the dishes?
Have you ever bitten into some chocolate that you thought was solid, but found something gooey, and had to desperatly hope that it was something disgusting? What if it was something gross? Would you spit it out? That's a terrible feeling, isn't it? It's like winning the lottery for the grand prize of a phone bill.
I hate tires. I really do. No matter where you go, at least four big points of contact are on the ground at all times. I think it's time for another paradigm shift. I'm hoping for ponies again.
Lots of Love
Michelle
Now enter my big mouth.
One of the constables brought an energy sports type powder. He insists it's "crazy-good", going so far as to show that you should not shake the mixture, since it may lead to "dire consequences". I, in a show of brilliance, dismissed it all as a placebo effect. The constable bridled (in mock indignation) saying I wouldn't be saying that if I had tried it. Thus the inevitable occured. It was green, frothy and tasted like pixie sticks in coke. I think I might pick up a batch. It certainly carried out the promise of helping me with my energy. I felt like I could chew through a desk.
I have earned the title of "most hard-core volunteer". This makes me strangely pleased.
I also submit for your enjoyment, some of the random thoughts that floated through my sleepy brain during my patrol, after I had crashed off the powder.
Imagine Robin Williams. Now imagine him as a kid. Put him in a classroom. Have his teacher call him, "Robin". Weird, isn't it? Now put him in the DMV and have someone call him, "Mr. Williams". That's pretty weird too, isn't it? There are just some celebrities that you must know them by their full name. If you say, "Ah-nold", everyone knows who you are talking about, but to call Anthony Hopkins, "Anthony", feels a little racy, doesn't it?
If they can make Shrek look this realistic, why do those screen-saver fish still look like pieces of food left-over after I've washed the dishes?
Have you ever bitten into some chocolate that you thought was solid, but found something gooey, and had to desperatly hope that it was something disgusting? What if it was something gross? Would you spit it out? That's a terrible feeling, isn't it? It's like winning the lottery for the grand prize of a phone bill.
I hate tires. I really do. No matter where you go, at least four big points of contact are on the ground at all times. I think it's time for another paradigm shift. I'm hoping for ponies again.
Lots of Love
Michelle
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Blob blog blot
If you've ever really wanted to see how I see myself, like through my own eyes, they've made a webcomic about it!
http://www.webcomicsnation.com/justinpie/wonderella/series.php?view=archive&chapter=23877&name=wonderella
*Warning: I will not be held accountable for any medical or psychological traumas resulting from clicking the above link. Or for not clicking. Or for anything. At all. Ever. WEE! Plausible denyability = my nail gun toy is ready for use!*
There you go. My post for today. and there's NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT!
P.s. Love you family!
http://www.webcomicsnation.com/justinpie/wonderella/series.php?view=archive&chapter=23877&name=wonderella
*Warning: I will not be held accountable for any medical or psychological traumas resulting from clicking the above link. Or for not clicking. Or for anything. At all. Ever. WEE! Plausible denyability = my nail gun toy is ready for use!*
There you go. My post for today. and there's NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT!
P.s. Love you family!
Friday, January 18, 2008
Primative day at Work
The loss of light heralds that I must offer another measure of dried beans to whatever God would take my soul and save my skin. The hunt begins anew.
The tribal elders tell of a Goddess given to us; Pax Mundus. She is playful, however, and would not stay confined in the mortal guise we had pinned her in. She flees from us, laughing, and we, her true warriors, of the order of Law, are charged with her search and capture. She is elusive, and demands that we must work to have her. Must be worthy of her.
Armed only with our ritual clothing, we track signs of her, and others, such as would seek to harm her. The clothing, through the magic of Psykoloji, protects us from the spirits and demons that are rife through our domain. We are like animals to them. They are like ghosts to us; Both equally unfathomable, and unquestionable.
I prepare scribs and scrolls at the onset of the night, hoping to protect myself and others should anything...occur. We are trained well, but sometimes all that stands for us is sheer luck. I have a pain in my stomach, like a gazelle threatening to kick through. I'm sure it means a bad omen. I spend some time meditating this unfavorable event.
Soon, however, it is time for me to go on the hunt. I start at the plains. Their serenity soothes me. Perhaps my stomach is nothing? I move to the watering hole, where we usually commune, now it stands empty.
I must listen to the chanting of the ancients today, they are howling strangely. I must interprete what this means. My guts tense. In order to properly understand, I must consult the wall markings. We are unsure where they come from, but they have shown us things we could know not. No mortal could know of. These are powerful majiks, but I must, to continue the fight.
People talk lately of a huge white bird that has engulfed our lands. I must hunt for it and kill it, but it may take months of preperation. Spiritual journeys, better weaponry, and more training. It is making my men jumpy however. We dislike things we cannot tame.
My muscles clench, sore from the last exhertion (but I was so close to her!). I take a strange sort of glee from this; A badge, a marking, a distinction within the tribe. I am marked as one of the elite. The chief knows as such. He is away, on a hunt in foreign lands, but will return. Hopefully with news. We have not had a campfire ceremony in a long while; That shows not well. The scholar I converse with, from a neighbouring tribe called Zhong, reassures me. I trust his council.
Yet, and yet, I feel wearied. Tired, like, I've been on a long scavenge, for sad scraps. This can be thankless work. And sometimes, I feel lost. Without civil human contact. Sometimes all I encounter are savages and monkeys.
Still, I am proud. Of who I am, and where I have come from. I cannot help but wonder where I am going though? I have heard talk of a huge tribe, with spells I can only dream of. I am thinking of applying for their ranks, but I am afraid. How strange that I would take on a 6 legged wildebeast with razor claws, but be afraid to put myself forward. I have also heard of a roaming nomadic tribe, all in blood red. I would hesistate to leave my homeland, but they, too, attract me. I suppose it matters not what tribal markings I wear. No matter where I go; I am a warrior.
(I really wish there was a way to use this joke in the blog, but there really isn't, so here it is;
"I know a man so tough he fights with rockets!"
"That's not so tough. Anyone can use a rocket launcher."
"No no no. He throws them!")Commence with the fun now! Read Pug Davis. So good.
The tribal elders tell of a Goddess given to us; Pax Mundus. She is playful, however, and would not stay confined in the mortal guise we had pinned her in. She flees from us, laughing, and we, her true warriors, of the order of Law, are charged with her search and capture. She is elusive, and demands that we must work to have her. Must be worthy of her.
Armed only with our ritual clothing, we track signs of her, and others, such as would seek to harm her. The clothing, through the magic of Psykoloji, protects us from the spirits and demons that are rife through our domain. We are like animals to them. They are like ghosts to us; Both equally unfathomable, and unquestionable.
I prepare scribs and scrolls at the onset of the night, hoping to protect myself and others should anything...occur. We are trained well, but sometimes all that stands for us is sheer luck. I have a pain in my stomach, like a gazelle threatening to kick through. I'm sure it means a bad omen. I spend some time meditating this unfavorable event.
Soon, however, it is time for me to go on the hunt. I start at the plains. Their serenity soothes me. Perhaps my stomach is nothing? I move to the watering hole, where we usually commune, now it stands empty.
I must listen to the chanting of the ancients today, they are howling strangely. I must interprete what this means. My guts tense. In order to properly understand, I must consult the wall markings. We are unsure where they come from, but they have shown us things we could know not. No mortal could know of. These are powerful majiks, but I must, to continue the fight.
People talk lately of a huge white bird that has engulfed our lands. I must hunt for it and kill it, but it may take months of preperation. Spiritual journeys, better weaponry, and more training. It is making my men jumpy however. We dislike things we cannot tame.
My muscles clench, sore from the last exhertion (but I was so close to her!). I take a strange sort of glee from this; A badge, a marking, a distinction within the tribe. I am marked as one of the elite. The chief knows as such. He is away, on a hunt in foreign lands, but will return. Hopefully with news. We have not had a campfire ceremony in a long while; That shows not well. The scholar I converse with, from a neighbouring tribe called Zhong, reassures me. I trust his council.
Yet, and yet, I feel wearied. Tired, like, I've been on a long scavenge, for sad scraps. This can be thankless work. And sometimes, I feel lost. Without civil human contact. Sometimes all I encounter are savages and monkeys.
Still, I am proud. Of who I am, and where I have come from. I cannot help but wonder where I am going though? I have heard talk of a huge tribe, with spells I can only dream of. I am thinking of applying for their ranks, but I am afraid. How strange that I would take on a 6 legged wildebeast with razor claws, but be afraid to put myself forward. I have also heard of a roaming nomadic tribe, all in blood red. I would hesistate to leave my homeland, but they, too, attract me. I suppose it matters not what tribal markings I wear. No matter where I go; I am a warrior.
(I really wish there was a way to use this joke in the blog, but there really isn't, so here it is;
"I know a man so tough he fights with rockets!"
"That's not so tough. Anyone can use a rocket launcher."
"No no no. He throws them!")Commence with the fun now! Read Pug Davis. So good.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Famous Song Titles Day at work
"Let's get it started" - Black eyed peas
"Confessions" - Usher
"Tubthumping" -Chumbawhumba
"Time is on my side" -Rolling Stones
"I'm on my way" -Cat Stevens
"These boots were made for walking" -Nancy Sinatra
"Thinkin' about you" -Norah Jones
"Blue Collar Hollar" -Stan Rogers
"Ah, Jus' push it" -Salt 'n' Pepa
"On top of Spaghetti" -Boy Scouts
"Winter" - Vivaldi
"Silent Sea"- KT Tunstall
"Sittin' on the dock of the bay"- Otis Redding
"Get out" -Jojo
"King of the Road" -the Proclaimers
"Bed" -J. Holiday
On an unrelated note here is the comic for today:
http://www.vgcats.com/comics/?strip_id=207
"Confessions" - Usher
"Tubthumping" -Chumbawhumba
"Time is on my side" -Rolling Stones
"I'm on my way" -Cat Stevens
"These boots were made for walking" -Nancy Sinatra
"Thinkin' about you" -Norah Jones
"Blue Collar Hollar" -Stan Rogers
"Ah, Jus' push it" -Salt 'n' Pepa
"On top of Spaghetti" -Boy Scouts
"Winter" - Vivaldi
"Silent Sea"- KT Tunstall
"Sittin' on the dock of the bay"- Otis Redding
"Get out" -Jojo
"King of the Road" -the Proclaimers
"Bed" -J. Holiday
On an unrelated note here is the comic for today:
http://www.vgcats.com/comics/?strip_id=207
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
War day at work
*Censor's warning; This post may contain explicit language. Reader discretion is advised*
We addressed the enemy after only an hour of being on the battlefield. They launched a surprise attack that killed several in the platoon. Morale is low. It is uncertain whether the enemy has taken any damage at all, despite heavy offensive.
We lunched the troops on Spaghetti and Star Trek. Morale improves.
Needless to say the situation with the enemy has advanced to a point that my platoon is incapable of dealing with it. I have been required to call in my reserve unit, but I am unsure if we can hold our position until they arrive. We are low on ammunition, low on morale, and do not have the advantage of simply berserking. I am unsure when things reached this critical point, but it must have happened suddenly.
Our diplomats and peacetalks (our main offensive) have all been returned bloodied, tortured, and beheaded. It is apparant that we have no recourse in speech. I, myself, have taken some wounds with my legs and pride severely damaged. They attack out of nowhere, with surprising savagery. Our intellegence is useless, all previous reports have been discarded.
If this continues, we may have to cecede the territory. This is less then optimal, given it involves abandoning the reserve unit, but perhaps drastic action must be taken.
I can feel my will to fight draining, but the time for confrontation is almost over. I should return my forces to rebuild war-torn areas, and help calm civil strife.
We do not have the resources to maintain a long-term siege, but we lack the firepower, due to the geneva convention, to wage an all out attack.
Holding for reinforcements.
We addressed the enemy after only an hour of being on the battlefield. They launched a surprise attack that killed several in the platoon. Morale is low. It is uncertain whether the enemy has taken any damage at all, despite heavy offensive.
We lunched the troops on Spaghetti and Star Trek. Morale improves.
Needless to say the situation with the enemy has advanced to a point that my platoon is incapable of dealing with it. I have been required to call in my reserve unit, but I am unsure if we can hold our position until they arrive. We are low on ammunition, low on morale, and do not have the advantage of simply berserking. I am unsure when things reached this critical point, but it must have happened suddenly.
Our diplomats and peacetalks (our main offensive) have all been returned bloodied, tortured, and beheaded. It is apparant that we have no recourse in speech. I, myself, have taken some wounds with my legs and pride severely damaged. They attack out of nowhere, with surprising savagery. Our intellegence is useless, all previous reports have been discarded.
If this continues, we may have to cecede the territory. This is less then optimal, given it involves abandoning the reserve unit, but perhaps drastic action must be taken.
I can feel my will to fight draining, but the time for confrontation is almost over. I should return my forces to rebuild war-torn areas, and help calm civil strife.
We do not have the resources to maintain a long-term siege, but we lack the firepower, due to the geneva convention, to wage an all out attack.
Holding for reinforcements.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Brevity: comprehension
Anticipation; Arrival
Preperation; Sojourn
Tension; Ceremony
Meditation; Solitude
Exchange; Embarkment
Crisis; Averted
Dusk; Bamboo
Strategizing; Idleness
Frustration; Inadequacy
Reflection; Tao
Citrus; Silt
Haste; Completion
Filing; Snack
Nourishment; Glee
Rebegin; Ozone
Reunion; Resignment
Escourt; Exhaust
Greet; Brief
Abandon; Exhale
Preperation; Sojourn
Tension; Ceremony
Meditation; Solitude
Exchange; Embarkment
Crisis; Averted
Dusk; Bamboo
Strategizing; Idleness
Frustration; Inadequacy
Reflection; Tao
Citrus; Silt
Haste; Completion
Filing; Snack
Nourishment; Glee
Rebegin; Ozone
Reunion; Resignment
Escourt; Exhaust
Greet; Brief
Abandon; Exhale
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Cooking day at work
Take one leg of lamb, marinate until reasonably mature. Be sure to tenderize just enough to make it crsipy on the outside, but somewhat soft inside.
Stud liberally with nuts, and spice slightly.
Slow cook in pot on low heat, stirring occasionally.
Take pile of various other wholesome ingredients and mix in seperate pot. Put in fridge.
These may be done in advance, to save time. On the day of cooking;
In a large mixing bowl, mix one batch of chopped onions, a cup of radishes, and a half a cup of lemon juice. Dump concoction into pot on stove with lamb.
Slow simmer in a coffee base, while alternating leg of lamb between bitter onion mixture, and wholesome ingredients. While in wholesome ingredients, mix in a package of crackers, liberally crushed under multiple people's shoes.
Blanche leg of lamb in onion mixture, then suddenly scorch mixture under high heat, stirring periodically. Take care that the lamb and onion mixture DO NOT MIX PROPERLY. Continue to alternate between onion mixture and fridge. If the leg of lamb curdles, you must discard it, and try a new recipie.
After 8 hours, remove the leg of lamb, and mix it in with some warm chinese food, or marinate in alcohol. Any leftovers may be frozen to good effect.
The key to success with this recipie is to start with a good leg of lamb, and allowing it to cool fully wile in the fridge.
Happy Cooking
Stud liberally with nuts, and spice slightly.
Slow cook in pot on low heat, stirring occasionally.
Take pile of various other wholesome ingredients and mix in seperate pot. Put in fridge.
These may be done in advance, to save time. On the day of cooking;
In a large mixing bowl, mix one batch of chopped onions, a cup of radishes, and a half a cup of lemon juice. Dump concoction into pot on stove with lamb.
Slow simmer in a coffee base, while alternating leg of lamb between bitter onion mixture, and wholesome ingredients. While in wholesome ingredients, mix in a package of crackers, liberally crushed under multiple people's shoes.
Blanche leg of lamb in onion mixture, then suddenly scorch mixture under high heat, stirring periodically. Take care that the lamb and onion mixture DO NOT MIX PROPERLY. Continue to alternate between onion mixture and fridge. If the leg of lamb curdles, you must discard it, and try a new recipie.
After 8 hours, remove the leg of lamb, and mix it in with some warm chinese food, or marinate in alcohol. Any leftovers may be frozen to good effect.
The key to success with this recipie is to start with a good leg of lamb, and allowing it to cool fully wile in the fridge.
Happy Cooking
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Seuss Day at work
I was starting my day,
Just beginning my shift,
when I noticed my mind
was attempting to drift.
I forceably brought it
back down to the present,
but in it, my heart,
rather clearly, just wasn't.
Guarding my who-ville
from threats large and small
was a task that required
my brain and my all.
Thus, I set up a game
requirin' me to think;
Was rewarded by feeling
my anxieties shrink.
I'm off checking the team rooms,
cubicles, bathrooms and halls
while leaving my partner
at the desk fording calls.
We excel at maintaining
all serene and secure.
Site access problems?
We diagnose and then cure.
I also check boilers,
the heavy machinery too,
though if it broke down,
what the heck could I do?
In the stale boiler room,
feeling light hearted.
I happened to wonder,
had someone just farted?
I've quite often noticed,
as on foot I've patrolled
that the mechanical rooms
smell rather musty and old.
Damn. No more cake.
Someone took it away.
How can they expect me
to get through my day?
I guzzle my coffee,
It's flavor's improvin'
but my doc and my tummy
are sharply reprovin'.
Someone left notes comparin'
happiness to a hat.
That it's hollow and empty?
I don't think they meant THAT.
The people that work here
are funny and kind.
Leaving jokes and small toys,
even puzzles, I find.
My cell phone is dying,
the battery's toast.
Of the energy left,
I must make the most.
The packet of crackers'
still left on the stairs.
Doesn't the perp know
That this mess is theirs?
Lunch is still soup.
It makes my brain suck.
Few more lunches like this,
and I won't give a crap.
Okay, so my rhymes
are often quite dirty,
but trust my IQ
is one hundred and thirty
No nachoes today,
'cause I've run out of loonies
I could loan myself out,
"Watch your back for 2 toonies."
When I get home late,
my house is so freezin'
get out of bed later?
need one heck of a reason!
So I give you my efforts
be they awesome or poor
In the vague little hopes
that my blog, you'll adore.
But if anyone else
wants to try this as well;
please bear in mind,
I'm a Seuss-er, Profession'l.
Just beginning my shift,
when I noticed my mind
was attempting to drift.
I forceably brought it
back down to the present,
but in it, my heart,
rather clearly, just wasn't.
Guarding my who-ville
from threats large and small
was a task that required
my brain and my all.
Thus, I set up a game
requirin' me to think;
Was rewarded by feeling
my anxieties shrink.
I'm off checking the team rooms,
cubicles, bathrooms and halls
while leaving my partner
at the desk fording calls.
We excel at maintaining
all serene and secure.
Site access problems?
We diagnose and then cure.
I also check boilers,
the heavy machinery too,
though if it broke down,
what the heck could I do?
In the stale boiler room,
feeling light hearted.
I happened to wonder,
had someone just farted?
I've quite often noticed,
as on foot I've patrolled
that the mechanical rooms
smell rather musty and old.
Damn. No more cake.
Someone took it away.
How can they expect me
to get through my day?
I guzzle my coffee,
It's flavor's improvin'
but my doc and my tummy
are sharply reprovin'.
Someone left notes comparin'
happiness to a hat.
That it's hollow and empty?
I don't think they meant THAT.
The people that work here
are funny and kind.
Leaving jokes and small toys,
even puzzles, I find.
My cell phone is dying,
the battery's toast.
Of the energy left,
I must make the most.
The packet of crackers'
still left on the stairs.
Doesn't the perp know
That this mess is theirs?
Lunch is still soup.
It makes my brain suck.
Few more lunches like this,
and I won't give a crap.
Okay, so my rhymes
are often quite dirty,
but trust my IQ
is one hundred and thirty
No nachoes today,
'cause I've run out of loonies
I could loan myself out,
"Watch your back for 2 toonies."
When I get home late,
my house is so freezin'
get out of bed later?
need one heck of a reason!
So I give you my efforts
be they awesome or poor
In the vague little hopes
that my blog, you'll adore.
But if anyone else
wants to try this as well;
please bear in mind,
I'm a Seuss-er, Profession'l.
Space Day 2
Begin routine download of nutritional substances: Duration of One hour.
##My usual horrible soup is tempered by my favorite program; an old historical documentary called "Star Trek". I fondly recall seeing some of the actual equipment they used in the museum on a class trip when I was a larva.##
Continuing inspection of ship through podatric means: Remainder uneventful.
##I guess that's it for this cycle. Most crew are coming out of cryo now, and we're warming up for a heavy day of flying.##
End report. Please Repost to Series Delta569.
##Can get awful lonely here in the black. -Kaywinnet Lee##
##My usual horrible soup is tempered by my favorite program; an old historical documentary called "Star Trek". I fondly recall seeing some of the actual equipment they used in the museum on a class trip when I was a larva.##
Continuing inspection of ship through podatric means: Remainder uneventful.
##I guess that's it for this cycle. Most crew are coming out of cryo now, and we're warming up for a heavy day of flying.##
End report. Please Repost to Series Delta569.
##Can get awful lonely here in the black. -Kaywinnet Lee##
Space Day at work
Security Supervisor's log stardate: 080110
Id badge: 528197
Notes supplied by previous crew: Possible alien invasion suspected.
##I'm not really worried about this development. This girl could fly herself, and us, home.##
Checked computor diagnostics: Running well.
Relieved command of helm to Robot second. Proceeding to podatric duty, including external ports. Southern ports airtight.
##It's cold outside, but beautiful##
Disposal units, Recycling system, and Living quarters: Top notch
##Just a few of the items on my laundry list to keep this bird afloat. It's mostly blinking lights and wires though, too advanced for me to understand anymore. You could call me an electrical janitor, I guess.##
Proceeding to western wing.
##Sometimes I get too poetic about my job, but when you're stuck between a howling engine powering a system as big as a globe, and the vast silent terribleness of space, you think some. S'pose that's why I took this job way out here.##
Life Support units 1-4: Fine.
##I try not to think too much though. There are so many secluded storage units here. Too tempting to sit and just think. We had a guy last lunar cycle lose himself in the hologram room. Work is key to avoid existential crisis, which could easily prove fatal. My comm unit keeps buzzing at me, but I've got more pressing considerations##
Notify Maintenance and Engineering: North ports showing signs of stress.
##A friend of mine has left his projection system running while he's gone to stasis. Further inspection of the area reveals someone else has resurrected the lost art of Bay-King, and has given us a Caik. A singular treasure. I just hope my enzymes can process it.##
Transporter 3: Operational
##I'm always a little worried that one of these things will malfunction and little bits of me will get mixed with other little bits. I hear tell that people way back on earth used to work by the constant light of a sun. I wonder what that would be like, rather then working by the shine of all the chorme here?##
4100 systems: go
##Someone has spilled a carbohydrate packet on the manual access to deck two. Damn. I like that flavor.##
Check in with mothership: Automated positive response.
Male Gender identifying entities waste disposal and Bacterial removal unit: smells.
Excess data packets: Reassigned to quarters.
##Some of the previously beautiful alien fauna we've brought onboard has perished. The "godliness" technician is in at an unusual cycle. He's a member of the bipedal species called "humans", and my mouth cannot replicate his speech, but we nod to each other. A universal sign of solidarity in blank space. I'm lost again, out deck 3's transparency screen. All those tiny points of light. I guess I'll join them soon. I can feel it.##
Deck three's IDF room: Secure.
##I check out the new design specifics on some prototype mechs being displayed on someone's desk. Pretty good.##
Returning to helm to relieve second-in-command for scheduled maintenance.
##After ordering some auditory stimulation, I request some Nachos(tm) from the replicator machine. I still thank them back. Old habits die hard, I guess.##
Id badge: 528197
Notes supplied by previous crew: Possible alien invasion suspected.
##I'm not really worried about this development. This girl could fly herself, and us, home.##
Checked computor diagnostics: Running well.
Relieved command of helm to Robot second. Proceeding to podatric duty, including external ports. Southern ports airtight.
##It's cold outside, but beautiful##
Disposal units, Recycling system, and Living quarters: Top notch
##Just a few of the items on my laundry list to keep this bird afloat. It's mostly blinking lights and wires though, too advanced for me to understand anymore. You could call me an electrical janitor, I guess.##
Proceeding to western wing.
##Sometimes I get too poetic about my job, but when you're stuck between a howling engine powering a system as big as a globe, and the vast silent terribleness of space, you think some. S'pose that's why I took this job way out here.##
Life Support units 1-4: Fine.
##I try not to think too much though. There are so many secluded storage units here. Too tempting to sit and just think. We had a guy last lunar cycle lose himself in the hologram room. Work is key to avoid existential crisis, which could easily prove fatal. My comm unit keeps buzzing at me, but I've got more pressing considerations##
Notify Maintenance and Engineering: North ports showing signs of stress.
##A friend of mine has left his projection system running while he's gone to stasis. Further inspection of the area reveals someone else has resurrected the lost art of Bay-King, and has given us a Caik. A singular treasure. I just hope my enzymes can process it.##
Transporter 3: Operational
##I'm always a little worried that one of these things will malfunction and little bits of me will get mixed with other little bits. I hear tell that people way back on earth used to work by the constant light of a sun. I wonder what that would be like, rather then working by the shine of all the chorme here?##
4100 systems: go
##Someone has spilled a carbohydrate packet on the manual access to deck two. Damn. I like that flavor.##
Check in with mothership: Automated positive response.
Male Gender identifying entities waste disposal and Bacterial removal unit: smells.
Excess data packets: Reassigned to quarters.
##Some of the previously beautiful alien fauna we've brought onboard has perished. The "godliness" technician is in at an unusual cycle. He's a member of the bipedal species called "humans", and my mouth cannot replicate his speech, but we nod to each other. A universal sign of solidarity in blank space. I'm lost again, out deck 3's transparency screen. All those tiny points of light. I guess I'll join them soon. I can feel it.##
Deck three's IDF room: Secure.
##I check out the new design specifics on some prototype mechs being displayed on someone's desk. Pretty good.##
Returning to helm to relieve second-in-command for scheduled maintenance.
##After ordering some auditory stimulation, I request some Nachos(tm) from the replicator machine. I still thank them back. Old habits die hard, I guess.##
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Noir Day part 3
Lunch was soup that looked like whale blubber. I wished for the millionth time that the kitchen was open this late, but it was locked up tight, like everything else in this place.
A tinny program filtered through the air as I supplimented my soup lunch with Nacho chips. My doctor had drawn attention to my inappropriate diet; I had drawn attention to the fact that my biceps still looked like mangos. Only in size, not color.
Finishing up, I was back on the trail. People were beginning to get their days started.
Checking the site my undercover had mentioned, I was startled to find it empty. Where were the goods? She was reliable source, but maybe someone else had shaken her down already. It mattered little, in the grand scheme of things, since it would probably be full again by this time next week. Life's like that, I guess.
I stopped in to see another informer of mine. He was alright; introduced me to a new friend of his. I couldn't stay long, if someone knew about my undercover, it might be risky to be seen together. As I walked away, I heard them talking about me. I was a POI, or person-of-interest. It seems that all my connections had been compromised. I wouldn't know for sure until the excrement hit the rotating climate control device.
Tired of running in circles, I returned to the office, replacing my partner at the desk. There was little else to do here, now, other then try and fix my busted surveillance system. A couple of wacks and even that was finished.
Looks like things were back to the old waiting game.
I thought about apple pancakes for breakfast, wondered if they'd go with the white wine I'd been saving. I had a contact to impress tonight, but I doubt he liked pancakes as much as I did. I might even have to go grocery shopping. I contemplated a menu while clipping my nails with scissors. Pure Class.
Another day, more questions, and less answers. Just what I'm used to.
A tinny program filtered through the air as I supplimented my soup lunch with Nacho chips. My doctor had drawn attention to my inappropriate diet; I had drawn attention to the fact that my biceps still looked like mangos. Only in size, not color.
Finishing up, I was back on the trail. People were beginning to get their days started.
Checking the site my undercover had mentioned, I was startled to find it empty. Where were the goods? She was reliable source, but maybe someone else had shaken her down already. It mattered little, in the grand scheme of things, since it would probably be full again by this time next week. Life's like that, I guess.
I stopped in to see another informer of mine. He was alright; introduced me to a new friend of his. I couldn't stay long, if someone knew about my undercover, it might be risky to be seen together. As I walked away, I heard them talking about me. I was a POI, or person-of-interest. It seems that all my connections had been compromised. I wouldn't know for sure until the excrement hit the rotating climate control device.
Tired of running in circles, I returned to the office, replacing my partner at the desk. There was little else to do here, now, other then try and fix my busted surveillance system. A couple of wacks and even that was finished.
Looks like things were back to the old waiting game.
I thought about apple pancakes for breakfast, wondered if they'd go with the white wine I'd been saving. I had a contact to impress tonight, but I doubt he liked pancakes as much as I did. I might even have to go grocery shopping. I contemplated a menu while clipping my nails with scissors. Pure Class.
Another day, more questions, and less answers. Just what I'm used to.
Noir Day part two
When my partner returns, we have a brief dicussion. I leave on my rounds, he stays at the office. It's better this way.
Entering the industrial area, there's a line of formless shapes behind a mesh fence. I try not to look at them. Close by is the kitchen. Makes some of the best grub known to man. Not as good as my momma's, but she's far away, and good food is hard to find. The staff here know my face, know what I like, help me drown my sorrows in apple pancakes. The blonde skirt running the show is one you don't wanna mess with. We understand each other. I don't mess with her turf, and she doesn't ask questions. I like her.
People 'round here like to post things on their walls. Little sayings. Reminders that we're human. I read 'em. Least I can do.
I check out a couple of the usual joints on my duty. They're cold and empty. Kinda like me. I got a headache coming, probably cause I haven't had a drink in so long. I stop at my favorite watering hole, but it's not enough. It's never enough. Soon I get the ground beneath my feet again. Heading to where I'm not supposed to be. I'm in there everyday. Mostly to check for trouble, but also to show them that I can. And to show myself that I can.
Little noises pull my attention to a room packed with boxes, stuffed with who-knows-what. My badge gets me into everywhere, even some places I don't wanna go. Sometimes it's lonely out here. Being one man, the only line between order and chaos.
It's foggy outside. A lone car stands in the pool of lamplight. I know the guy says he owns it, says he'll be back for it. We'll see.
Nursing a drink, I consider the issue rising between my partner and I. I wonder if I'll have to involve the boss. My boss is a looker. Someone more foolish than me might mistake him for another pretty face, but I've see him in action. He gets the job done, and I respect that. He stays out of my way, and I like that.
'Round 2 o'clock I get the feeling that it's going to be a quiet night, although I'm not sure if it's instinct or hope. I got a deadline to be back at the office by. Hope I make it. Checking out the cartel on my way back, a man in a dress stares at me. I try not to stare back. I'm not sure if he'd like it, or not. Another man is eating a plate of garlic. He is every time I see him. I wonder why. I smile at him. He never smiles back.
There's a land war over some nearby territory. I don't know the players, but I guess I don't need to. I just need to know the winner. Right now? Could go any way.
I take my badge off to answer the call of nature. It's the only way I can. Little about this gig is natural.
I sign my name on my report with enough time to make it back to the office. Even some time to grab some of the swill I call "coffee". I stop in at the Lady L's. I need comfort and her place always provides. Let the office wait. I do.
Back behind my desk, I type up a report on some problems I've found. I wonder if the perp will ever be punished. Probably not. That's how it always goes. I turn my mind from the issue to the little lady waiting for me at home. Hope she's safe. Just got her back from the hospital today, and I'm a little worried about losing her again. She's seen me at my worst, and still seems to love me.I wonder what I did to deserve her. Probably something in a previous life, I decide.
The crooner nearby insists that some chicky has him "lifted, gifted, higher then the ceiling". It's been a while since I've heard this one. I wonder if he'll play it again.
Takes me four tries to remember the new password.
Entering the industrial area, there's a line of formless shapes behind a mesh fence. I try not to look at them. Close by is the kitchen. Makes some of the best grub known to man. Not as good as my momma's, but she's far away, and good food is hard to find. The staff here know my face, know what I like, help me drown my sorrows in apple pancakes. The blonde skirt running the show is one you don't wanna mess with. We understand each other. I don't mess with her turf, and she doesn't ask questions. I like her.
People 'round here like to post things on their walls. Little sayings. Reminders that we're human. I read 'em. Least I can do.
I check out a couple of the usual joints on my duty. They're cold and empty. Kinda like me. I got a headache coming, probably cause I haven't had a drink in so long. I stop at my favorite watering hole, but it's not enough. It's never enough. Soon I get the ground beneath my feet again. Heading to where I'm not supposed to be. I'm in there everyday. Mostly to check for trouble, but also to show them that I can. And to show myself that I can.
Little noises pull my attention to a room packed with boxes, stuffed with who-knows-what. My badge gets me into everywhere, even some places I don't wanna go. Sometimes it's lonely out here. Being one man, the only line between order and chaos.
It's foggy outside. A lone car stands in the pool of lamplight. I know the guy says he owns it, says he'll be back for it. We'll see.
Nursing a drink, I consider the issue rising between my partner and I. I wonder if I'll have to involve the boss. My boss is a looker. Someone more foolish than me might mistake him for another pretty face, but I've see him in action. He gets the job done, and I respect that. He stays out of my way, and I like that.
'Round 2 o'clock I get the feeling that it's going to be a quiet night, although I'm not sure if it's instinct or hope. I got a deadline to be back at the office by. Hope I make it. Checking out the cartel on my way back, a man in a dress stares at me. I try not to stare back. I'm not sure if he'd like it, or not. Another man is eating a plate of garlic. He is every time I see him. I wonder why. I smile at him. He never smiles back.
There's a land war over some nearby territory. I don't know the players, but I guess I don't need to. I just need to know the winner. Right now? Could go any way.
I take my badge off to answer the call of nature. It's the only way I can. Little about this gig is natural.
I sign my name on my report with enough time to make it back to the office. Even some time to grab some of the swill I call "coffee". I stop in at the Lady L's. I need comfort and her place always provides. Let the office wait. I do.
Back behind my desk, I type up a report on some problems I've found. I wonder if the perp will ever be punished. Probably not. That's how it always goes. I turn my mind from the issue to the little lady waiting for me at home. Hope she's safe. Just got her back from the hospital today, and I'm a little worried about losing her again. She's seen me at my worst, and still seems to love me.I wonder what I did to deserve her. Probably something in a previous life, I decide.
The crooner nearby insists that some chicky has him "lifted, gifted, higher then the ceiling". It's been a while since I've heard this one. I wonder if he'll play it again.
Takes me four tries to remember the new password.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Noir day at work
The coffee's cold again. It always is.
I grimace, remembering the previous morning, barreling out the door in a panic to avoid being late for my four-legged friend's appointment. The broad on the line sounded like she didn't like waiting, and I had to get it done today. Dame was in a hurry. They always are. Sometimes it's just best to play their game.
I suffer through the old run-off, moving down the dimly lit stairway to receive a briefing from the last shift. They're tired, and want to go home. Hell, we all do.
"The password's changed. Don't forget." I study it carefully before crumpling it into illegibility. Security. It's what we do.
My partner grabs the master-key, heading out to patrol the area, scoping for trouble spots. I take over the desk, staring at the wall, like I've done a million times before. Outside, the lights illuminate dull, wet areas of street, people moving through them like zombies; Business man worried about his paycheque, young couple clinging to each other, shifty-eyed man moving quickly.
I shuffle through my papers, each looking like a photograph of the previous day's. Suddenly, something caught my eye; Some property we'd loaned out previously hadn't been returned. That was bad. When things got late enough to come over to my shift? There was trouble.
I radioed my partner, crackling over the static to keep an eye out. For what? anything unusual. We had a case on our hands, and it had to be dealt with. I decided to search up the usual suspects. I'd named them all in my head: Mugsy, Shorty, Lefty. Dunno why they all sounded alike. Maybe 'cause they all looked alike. In this line of work, people all blend together after a while. I'd started to suspect people in my sleep. What were they doing? What had they done? Tossing it over in my mind until I woke up in a cold sweat, the cat licking my face.
I had settled into my desk when the door flew open and in marched a scary looking man. He had something in his grip; I lept to my feet, ready for action. He thrust it into my hands, "Here.", and left without a word. I unwrapped the package, fearing the worst. Maybe I shouldn't have let the rookie out alone? But it was the property we'd loaned out. Safe and sound. I couldn't help wondering why had it come back so late? Was something going down?
After filling in my partner, I sat down to do some heavy research. If something was happening in my territory, I had to know about it. And soon.
*To be continued*
I grimace, remembering the previous morning, barreling out the door in a panic to avoid being late for my four-legged friend's appointment. The broad on the line sounded like she didn't like waiting, and I had to get it done today. Dame was in a hurry. They always are. Sometimes it's just best to play their game.
I suffer through the old run-off, moving down the dimly lit stairway to receive a briefing from the last shift. They're tired, and want to go home. Hell, we all do.
"The password's changed. Don't forget." I study it carefully before crumpling it into illegibility. Security. It's what we do.
My partner grabs the master-key, heading out to patrol the area, scoping for trouble spots. I take over the desk, staring at the wall, like I've done a million times before. Outside, the lights illuminate dull, wet areas of street, people moving through them like zombies; Business man worried about his paycheque, young couple clinging to each other, shifty-eyed man moving quickly.
I shuffle through my papers, each looking like a photograph of the previous day's. Suddenly, something caught my eye; Some property we'd loaned out previously hadn't been returned. That was bad. When things got late enough to come over to my shift? There was trouble.
I radioed my partner, crackling over the static to keep an eye out. For what? anything unusual. We had a case on our hands, and it had to be dealt with. I decided to search up the usual suspects. I'd named them all in my head: Mugsy, Shorty, Lefty. Dunno why they all sounded alike. Maybe 'cause they all looked alike. In this line of work, people all blend together after a while. I'd started to suspect people in my sleep. What were they doing? What had they done? Tossing it over in my mind until I woke up in a cold sweat, the cat licking my face.
I had settled into my desk when the door flew open and in marched a scary looking man. He had something in his grip; I lept to my feet, ready for action. He thrust it into my hands, "Here.", and left without a word. I unwrapped the package, fearing the worst. Maybe I shouldn't have let the rookie out alone? But it was the property we'd loaned out. Safe and sound. I couldn't help wondering why had it come back so late? Was something going down?
After filling in my partner, I sat down to do some heavy research. If something was happening in my territory, I had to know about it. And soon.
*To be continued*
Friday, January 04, 2008
Happy New Year
Well, it's a new year now.
I dunno.
Was expecting something else, I guess.
Started pretty rocky with some panicking around 2 in the morning, but it seems to have straightened out.
Irritated that I just cancelled one of my paycheques that was MIA, only to come to work and discover it had been picked up and dropped off at work THAT DAY.
I don't feel as witty as I usually do.
Pretty, dumb, actually...
Siiiigh.
I dunno.
Was expecting something else, I guess.
Started pretty rocky with some panicking around 2 in the morning, but it seems to have straightened out.
Irritated that I just cancelled one of my paycheques that was MIA, only to come to work and discover it had been picked up and dropped off at work THAT DAY.
I don't feel as witty as I usually do.
Pretty, dumb, actually...
Siiiigh.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Volunteering
WEll, my references all passed the test, I passed the interview, and now sat through training.
The instructor was FABULOUS! So witty and obviously in love with what he does; the training was perfect (exactly what I needed, and not one thing more then necessary)and he made it all relevent, light-handed (even with some more sobering topics), and humerous.
I highly recommend volunteering.
Other then that, my CPO designation will have to wait till january. Darnit, and I had those buisness cards all made up;
"Michelle Ernst, BA. CPO. Solider of fortune and Outrageous liar"
Last big thing being christmas. Can't wait for family to arrive, then the holidays really start!
The instructor was FABULOUS! So witty and obviously in love with what he does; the training was perfect (exactly what I needed, and not one thing more then necessary)and he made it all relevent, light-handed (even with some more sobering topics), and humerous.
I highly recommend volunteering.
Other then that, my CPO designation will have to wait till january. Darnit, and I had those buisness cards all made up;
"Michelle Ernst, BA. CPO. Solider of fortune and Outrageous liar"
Last big thing being christmas. Can't wait for family to arrive, then the holidays really start!
haiku two
painful cord
no sword could ever
sever?
"Thief" he says; say I,
"Think not of value judgements,
but of needs met."
The bright sky’s eye sees
Our bodies wrapped into twine
The world sees one eye
lucky cricket
tangled bed sheets
one and two are i
no sword could ever
sever?
"Thief" he says; say I,
"Think not of value judgements,
but of needs met."
The bright sky’s eye sees
Our bodies wrapped into twine
The world sees one eye
lucky cricket
tangled bed sheets
one and two are i
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
haiku
try out my hand
clapping out the syllables
make me sweat
sun on fat drops
lick the water pavement
perfect peace
we paused for stars
short hours later
metal dead
change and hope
glass and fruit
chew carefully
clapping out the syllables
make me sweat
sun on fat drops
lick the water pavement
perfect peace
we paused for stars
short hours later
metal dead
change and hope
glass and fruit
chew carefully
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
OH BOY OH BOY!
Christmas soon!
A pithy thought to mull over mulled cider:
Do you ever have difficulty figuring out if a question is rhetorical or not?
Seriously though, there is one saying which never fails to confuse me;
"That which does not kill me, makes me stronger."
Where do bubble-baths fit in? They don't really do either. Or chocolate chip cookies? I propose a change,
"That which does not make me stronger, kills me."
In the respect that if something is not helping you improve, or grow, it is slowly contributing to your downfall.
Boy. I feel smart today. :)
A pithy thought to mull over mulled cider:
Do you ever have difficulty figuring out if a question is rhetorical or not?
Seriously though, there is one saying which never fails to confuse me;
"That which does not kill me, makes me stronger."
Where do bubble-baths fit in? They don't really do either. Or chocolate chip cookies? I propose a change,
"That which does not make me stronger, kills me."
In the respect that if something is not helping you improve, or grow, it is slowly contributing to your downfall.
Boy. I feel smart today. :)
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Anthem of a Reluctant Prophet
New novel I'm reading. Very well done.
Sometimes, when things strike me, and change, it doesn't ever really feel like I'm changing. It feels like I'm being reminded, remembering. Like a dance I was taught years and years ago, and my body is just remembering the steps. Being introduced again to an old friend, falling into the easy pattern of familarity. Like life is one long connection, the circles coming full, making sense only later. I wonder what else this dance holds?
Sometimes, when things strike me, and change, it doesn't ever really feel like I'm changing. It feels like I'm being reminded, remembering. Like a dance I was taught years and years ago, and my body is just remembering the steps. Being introduced again to an old friend, falling into the easy pattern of familarity. Like life is one long connection, the circles coming full, making sense only later. I wonder what else this dance holds?
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
If comics are any indication...
The thing I'm going to like the most about the future is the food.
No, I'm serious. Read "Transmetropolitan" and tell me some of that food doesn't sound crazy good. Or My second favoritest webcomic, "Templar, Arizona":
"I'd like a coke, please."
"Honey Garlic, Cayenne Chocolate, or Yogurt Plum?"
Oh yes.
Perhaps it is simply that I can not identify with the subject's lifestyle, it being so strange from my own, but Eating is somewhat universal. I cannot guess what it tastes like, but I can speculate.
Maybe I'm just writing this post because I believe everyone should read Transmet and Templar.
Oh well.
No, I'm serious. Read "Transmetropolitan" and tell me some of that food doesn't sound crazy good. Or My second favoritest webcomic, "Templar, Arizona":
"I'd like a coke, please."
"Honey Garlic, Cayenne Chocolate, or Yogurt Plum?"
Oh yes.
Perhaps it is simply that I can not identify with the subject's lifestyle, it being so strange from my own, but Eating is somewhat universal. I cannot guess what it tastes like, but I can speculate.
Maybe I'm just writing this post because I believe everyone should read Transmet and Templar.
Oh well.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Enough is the hell enough.
I work nights. It's true. I am up from midnight to eight in the morning.
I am also heavily involved in several other endeavors in my life including Kung Fu, Police volunteering, and Secretary of animethon. I'm pretty busy. I don't usually get a lot of sleep. Sleeping during the day makes it especially tempting to cut short my sleeping hours to get more things done during daylight hours.
When, however, did it become socially acceptable, even considered "a joke", to tell me I look tired?!
I don't tell people when they look ignorant, or hungry, or anything else wrong, but at least once a day a person I don't know will say, "You look tired.".
I actually make the effort to do my hair, make sure my uniform is clean and tidy, and make sure my manner is bright, and pleasant.
So Why the hell do people tell me this?!
And how the hell do I respond?! My usual response is, "I'm fine, thank you, how are you?" But I think perhaps it is time for a crusade against this rude casual remark. I wish I could respond with, "and you look stupid, but in a minute both of us will look angry."
Siiigh. What I wouldn't give for a mandatory "social graces" course.
I am also heavily involved in several other endeavors in my life including Kung Fu, Police volunteering, and Secretary of animethon. I'm pretty busy. I don't usually get a lot of sleep. Sleeping during the day makes it especially tempting to cut short my sleeping hours to get more things done during daylight hours.
When, however, did it become socially acceptable, even considered "a joke", to tell me I look tired?!
I don't tell people when they look ignorant, or hungry, or anything else wrong, but at least once a day a person I don't know will say, "You look tired.".
I actually make the effort to do my hair, make sure my uniform is clean and tidy, and make sure my manner is bright, and pleasant.
So Why the hell do people tell me this?!
And how the hell do I respond?! My usual response is, "I'm fine, thank you, how are you?" But I think perhaps it is time for a crusade against this rude casual remark. I wish I could respond with, "and you look stupid, but in a minute both of us will look angry."
Siiigh. What I wouldn't give for a mandatory "social graces" course.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Flames to dust, Lovers to Friends, why do all good things come to an end?
STOP TRIVIALIZING THE LADY SHORTCAKE! SHE DOES NOT ACCEPT YOUR PUNY ATTEMPTS AT HUMOR! Her reign will rule over all in a flood of sugary tears and gnashing of cavity filled teeth! At her right hand, Mistress Muffin will march forth with a licorice fist to crush the uprising! The seas will boil to deep fry all who resist!Their families will be baked in the heat of the desert, then frosted and devoured! The world shall be razed, and used as a mixing bowl to further refine the treacle mined in the pits of other planets! All shall work until they are consumed! Then you will know the true power of Strawberry! AND DO NOT SQUEEZE THE PROPHETESS CHELLE! SHE IS THE BEARER OF THE WORD MADE ICING! DAMNIT STOP LAUGHING!
On a more serious and happy note; I have an interview with the police force for Saturday to determine my suitability for volunteering with them. They have even started to pohone my references. I'm so excited!!
On a more serious and happy note; I have an interview with the police force for Saturday to determine my suitability for volunteering with them. They have even started to pohone my references. I'm so excited!!
Thursday, November 08, 2007
By the pricking of my thumbs,
These past few days have been running. Constant running.
I seem to have fallen off the edge of my little paper world, and I'm not sure where to find it again, twisting in this void.
I sense a looming something. I have that feeling of change, like glass and fruit in my mouth. I'm not sure what, or where.
There was a pinpointable moment, when I missed my connection bus day before yesterday, when a violin string was prepped, and now it is just spooling out, gaining in tension, and all I can do is be on guard for when it snaps.
Perhaps it is the change in weather that effects my mood. The snow makes me think logically, but angrily. A sort of frigid villiany. I am happy, don't mistake me, but also aggressive. Like a flame-filled ice-cube.
I seem to have fallen off the edge of my little paper world, and I'm not sure where to find it again, twisting in this void.
I sense a looming something. I have that feeling of change, like glass and fruit in my mouth. I'm not sure what, or where.
There was a pinpointable moment, when I missed my connection bus day before yesterday, when a violin string was prepped, and now it is just spooling out, gaining in tension, and all I can do is be on guard for when it snaps.
Perhaps it is the change in weather that effects my mood. The snow makes me think logically, but angrily. A sort of frigid villiany. I am happy, don't mistake me, but also aggressive. Like a flame-filled ice-cube.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Othello
I almost forgot.
Othello, the ballet.
Brilliant costumes colored in pink, red, maroon, burgundy, gold, a set which was perfect in it's simplicity featuring airy swaths of fabric suggesting eveything from walls to stormy skies, and the choreography was pleasant. The dancer playing Iago was perfectly heinous. A true villian from his black jerkin to the tip of his gyrating toe. The only character which came close was Casio's love interest, Bianca, who coveyed sheer lust so effectivly, that her applause was loudest, despite having maybe 7 minutes on stage. She sashayed, she strutted, she tango-ed, Hell, I think she may have even rhumba-ed. With two huge flowers in her hair, she frolicked her way on stage, and made off with the audience's heart. The love affair between her and Casio threatened to steal the show were it not for the fact that the main couple was soon to die afterwards.
The only problems; The actor playing Othello wasn't black. The only important detail about the characters at all, and they botch it.
The funny thing was, in the play, Othello suffers from seizures. When Iago convinces him that Desdemona is cheating on him, he has a fit. I assumed this would be conveyed in subtle dance tones, and perhaps imaginative lighting. Oh no. Hell no. The actor threw himself on stage and had a seizure. (probably not a real one). I was awestruck. My jury is still out as to whether this was brilliant, or inept.
All in all, totally worth seeing.
Othello, the ballet.
Brilliant costumes colored in pink, red, maroon, burgundy, gold, a set which was perfect in it's simplicity featuring airy swaths of fabric suggesting eveything from walls to stormy skies, and the choreography was pleasant. The dancer playing Iago was perfectly heinous. A true villian from his black jerkin to the tip of his gyrating toe. The only character which came close was Casio's love interest, Bianca, who coveyed sheer lust so effectivly, that her applause was loudest, despite having maybe 7 minutes on stage. She sashayed, she strutted, she tango-ed, Hell, I think she may have even rhumba-ed. With two huge flowers in her hair, she frolicked her way on stage, and made off with the audience's heart. The love affair between her and Casio threatened to steal the show were it not for the fact that the main couple was soon to die afterwards.
The only problems; The actor playing Othello wasn't black. The only important detail about the characters at all, and they botch it.
The funny thing was, in the play, Othello suffers from seizures. When Iago convinces him that Desdemona is cheating on him, he has a fit. I assumed this would be conveyed in subtle dance tones, and perhaps imaginative lighting. Oh no. Hell no. The actor threw himself on stage and had a seizure. (probably not a real one). I was awestruck. My jury is still out as to whether this was brilliant, or inept.
All in all, totally worth seeing.
Kung Fu
I had always believed that Kung Fu was in fact, a myth. A term made up to describe a child's fascination with "ass-kicking". I have recently come to discover, in my endeavor to learn a martial art, that this is not so.
After attending a few dojos, I found one which suits my liking, at the university of Alberta. The program teaches Wing Chun style Kung Fu (oh you know I feel badass just saying that) and numbers over 50 strong. it is a seriously huge class. I'm gratefied to note that I am not the oldest one present, as was the case with the last class I had attended.
The style itself is rather beautiful, featuring a series of blocks and blows that originate from the sternum, aiming at the opponenet's sternum. It is a style of subtle turns, shifts, and redirection. The blocks become almost effortless. Although it is aimed at being a strictly function, energy-efficient style, they are teaching us a few stances that simply look pretty, and focus one's energy. I have learned so far the: Horse stance (much like riding a horse), Bow stance (Like a lunge at full-forward), the cat stance (all weight on one back, bent leg, the front leg slightly bent and gracefully curved. Crazy tiring), and the monkey stance (consisting of a series of stances and moves which, when put together, look "really bitchin'"). I am sore all over, but I can't wait for the next class. The instructors are patient, and the timing is good; if I am sensible, I can stop at home, from the class, for a half-hour, then depart to catch my bus for work. If I'm not sensible, I can just bring my uniform and lounge in the gym showers for a half-hour or more.
Now to gush like a child;
When I used to watch Mulan, (yes, the disney movie, shush)I loved the shoes they wore for training. Little, black, almond shaped with a gold stripe around the bottom, I thought they were adorable. and, like Kung Fu, I had thought them fake. They totally aren't. Silly me. I need to obtain a pair cause, damn. SO CUTE. Couple them with the uniform of Kung Fu, and I'm sure I'll feel legitimate!
Ah, I jest. I've picked it up remarkably quickly, and the instructor has had only a few brief suggestions during class for me. I feel gratified. :) My next class is tonight, but I may be unable to attend, due to bad timing with my Certified Protection Officer training, which I thought had been moved to Thursday. Now I'm so confused I don't know what's what.
ANYWAY,
More later.
After attending a few dojos, I found one which suits my liking, at the university of Alberta. The program teaches Wing Chun style Kung Fu (oh you know I feel badass just saying that) and numbers over 50 strong. it is a seriously huge class. I'm gratefied to note that I am not the oldest one present, as was the case with the last class I had attended.
The style itself is rather beautiful, featuring a series of blocks and blows that originate from the sternum, aiming at the opponenet's sternum. It is a style of subtle turns, shifts, and redirection. The blocks become almost effortless. Although it is aimed at being a strictly function, energy-efficient style, they are teaching us a few stances that simply look pretty, and focus one's energy. I have learned so far the: Horse stance (much like riding a horse), Bow stance (Like a lunge at full-forward), the cat stance (all weight on one back, bent leg, the front leg slightly bent and gracefully curved. Crazy tiring), and the monkey stance (consisting of a series of stances and moves which, when put together, look "really bitchin'"). I am sore all over, but I can't wait for the next class. The instructors are patient, and the timing is good; if I am sensible, I can stop at home, from the class, for a half-hour, then depart to catch my bus for work. If I'm not sensible, I can just bring my uniform and lounge in the gym showers for a half-hour or more.
Now to gush like a child;
When I used to watch Mulan, (yes, the disney movie, shush)I loved the shoes they wore for training. Little, black, almond shaped with a gold stripe around the bottom, I thought they were adorable. and, like Kung Fu, I had thought them fake. They totally aren't. Silly me. I need to obtain a pair cause, damn. SO CUTE. Couple them with the uniform of Kung Fu, and I'm sure I'll feel legitimate!
Ah, I jest. I've picked it up remarkably quickly, and the instructor has had only a few brief suggestions during class for me. I feel gratified. :) My next class is tonight, but I may be unable to attend, due to bad timing with my Certified Protection Officer training, which I thought had been moved to Thursday. Now I'm so confused I don't know what's what.
ANYWAY,
More later.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Discworld Guide by Terry Pratchett
I would really love to inflict the Discworld series on everyone I know, but it gets difficult to explain everything about them all to a new reader. So I've banged out this reference to help people make an informed choice about what to read first.
To best select which you should start with, you need to answer a couple questions. His Discworld ones, the most famous and prolific, have several running story lines, all with different themes and feelings. The main ones, and best to start with are: The witches of Lancre, The City Watch, Rincewind, Death and his relatives, or the Industrial Revolution.
The witches’ series is mainly philosophical, with an emphasis on the absurdity of our society and beliefs, and helping to understand our own history of paganism and such. Also focuses quite heavily on morality, (Arguably my favorite brain read). If you read any in order, it is these ones I would recommend to do so; ESPECIALLY the trilogy of Wyrd sisters, Witches abroad, and Lords and Ladies.
The City watch is my current favorite, mostly due to my interest in the military and police work. Focuses on the development of Ankh-Morpork (the main Discworld city), and explores the nature of existentialism, the self, and also Justice. Also includes the bonus character of Vetinari the ruler of Ankh-Morpork, who is arguably the most fascinating character on the Disc. He really steals the show. But then he makes is better, more organized, and sort of gives it back, while still maintaining complete control, and tells you it’s all yours again, but you have to run it exactly how he says because If you don’t, well, nothing bad would happen, but think of your delightful children, and wonderful wife, currently residing at (insert address here)? Wouldn’t they be disappointed in you? Plus he calls himself a tyrant. Rincewind is the best series to start with if you want to understand the climate of the whole Disc. Also discusses the nature of the magic on the Disc and the relationship between our science and the Disc. Includes a focus on the idiosyncrasies of our love for heroes.
Last, but not least, the Death series (ha ha). An all encompassing view of the Discworld (Death himself is present in every novel), with an interest to examining the nature of death, life, the human condition, as well as fate and destiny. Another good series to read in order, as the evolution of the primary two characters, Death and his granddaughter Susan, is quite fascinating. Death actually grows, learns, and changes markedly throughout.
Finally, the Industrial Revolution is a series of books examining the nature of Cities, economics, and, well, revolutions. Also focuses on the development of ankh-Morpork, with a view to the minuet everyday life of the average denizen.
If you wish to start with the Witches, they are the longest running series, starting with Equal Rites, moving into Wyrd sisters, Witches abroad, Lords and Ladies, Carpe Jugulum, then Masquerade, also involving the City watch somewhat, then Wee free men, Hat Full of sky, and Wintersmith. This series includes two short stories I have been unable to locate called “The Little Fish and the sea” and some other one possibly involving pink.
To start the City Watch series, you should begin with Men at Arms, Guards! Guards!, Feet of Clay, Jingo (my longest running favorite), The Fifth Elephant, Nightwatch, then Thud!. If you would like to mesh them, Masquerade would be read in between Jingo and The Fifth Elephant.
The Rincewind novels start with the first Discworld novel, but have not been updated in a while. They begin Color of Magic, The Light Fantastic, Sorcery, Faust (Eric), Interesting Times, The Last Continent, and finally The Last Hero. This series, if read with the Witches, should be read in an alternating fashion. For the witches and wizards meet in Lords and Ladies and there is some confusion over headmasters at Unseen University (the main place for the Rincewind series). Equal Rites should be read after Color of Magic but before Sorcery, as the head Witch takes a trip to the University and meets the headmaster. The Last Hero should be read in between The Fifth Elephant and Nightwatch as it involves a main City Watch character.
The Industrial Revolution series is short, Moving Pictures, The Truth, Monstrous Regiment, Going Postal, then the newest addition, Making Money. This should not be started until after Jingo, Interesting Times, and Masquerade, since it will affect your perception of Ankh-Morpork.
The Death Series, although he is in every book, is primarily: Mort, Reaper man, Soul Music also involving the wizards, Hogfather, then Thief of Time. Soul Music should be read before Interesting Times, and Hogfather should be read after Jingo.
There are a few random books which sort of have an order; Pyramids and Small Gods should be read before Thief of Time, and Carpe Jugulum. The Science books (The science of Discworld I, II, III) can be read any time after The Last Continent. The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents should be read by candlelight in the tub, to achieve the full effect, but other than that, go nuts.
To best select which you should start with, you need to answer a couple questions. His Discworld ones, the most famous and prolific, have several running story lines, all with different themes and feelings. The main ones, and best to start with are: The witches of Lancre, The City Watch, Rincewind, Death and his relatives, or the Industrial Revolution.
The witches’ series is mainly philosophical, with an emphasis on the absurdity of our society and beliefs, and helping to understand our own history of paganism and such. Also focuses quite heavily on morality, (Arguably my favorite brain read). If you read any in order, it is these ones I would recommend to do so; ESPECIALLY the trilogy of Wyrd sisters, Witches abroad, and Lords and Ladies.
The City watch is my current favorite, mostly due to my interest in the military and police work. Focuses on the development of Ankh-Morpork (the main Discworld city), and explores the nature of existentialism, the self, and also Justice. Also includes the bonus character of Vetinari the ruler of Ankh-Morpork, who is arguably the most fascinating character on the Disc. He really steals the show. But then he makes is better, more organized, and sort of gives it back, while still maintaining complete control, and tells you it’s all yours again, but you have to run it exactly how he says because If you don’t, well, nothing bad would happen, but think of your delightful children, and wonderful wife, currently residing at (insert address here)? Wouldn’t they be disappointed in you? Plus he calls himself a tyrant. Rincewind is the best series to start with if you want to understand the climate of the whole Disc. Also discusses the nature of the magic on the Disc and the relationship between our science and the Disc. Includes a focus on the idiosyncrasies of our love for heroes.
Last, but not least, the Death series (ha ha). An all encompassing view of the Discworld (Death himself is present in every novel), with an interest to examining the nature of death, life, the human condition, as well as fate and destiny. Another good series to read in order, as the evolution of the primary two characters, Death and his granddaughter Susan, is quite fascinating. Death actually grows, learns, and changes markedly throughout.
Finally, the Industrial Revolution is a series of books examining the nature of Cities, economics, and, well, revolutions. Also focuses on the development of ankh-Morpork, with a view to the minuet everyday life of the average denizen.
If you wish to start with the Witches, they are the longest running series, starting with Equal Rites, moving into Wyrd sisters, Witches abroad, Lords and Ladies, Carpe Jugulum, then Masquerade, also involving the City watch somewhat, then Wee free men, Hat Full of sky, and Wintersmith. This series includes two short stories I have been unable to locate called “The Little Fish and the sea” and some other one possibly involving pink.
To start the City Watch series, you should begin with Men at Arms, Guards! Guards!, Feet of Clay, Jingo (my longest running favorite), The Fifth Elephant, Nightwatch, then Thud!. If you would like to mesh them, Masquerade would be read in between Jingo and The Fifth Elephant.
The Rincewind novels start with the first Discworld novel, but have not been updated in a while. They begin Color of Magic, The Light Fantastic, Sorcery, Faust (Eric), Interesting Times, The Last Continent, and finally The Last Hero. This series, if read with the Witches, should be read in an alternating fashion. For the witches and wizards meet in Lords and Ladies and there is some confusion over headmasters at Unseen University (the main place for the Rincewind series). Equal Rites should be read after Color of Magic but before Sorcery, as the head Witch takes a trip to the University and meets the headmaster. The Last Hero should be read in between The Fifth Elephant and Nightwatch as it involves a main City Watch character.
The Industrial Revolution series is short, Moving Pictures, The Truth, Monstrous Regiment, Going Postal, then the newest addition, Making Money. This should not be started until after Jingo, Interesting Times, and Masquerade, since it will affect your perception of Ankh-Morpork.
The Death Series, although he is in every book, is primarily: Mort, Reaper man, Soul Music also involving the wizards, Hogfather, then Thief of Time. Soul Music should be read before Interesting Times, and Hogfather should be read after Jingo.
There are a few random books which sort of have an order; Pyramids and Small Gods should be read before Thief of Time, and Carpe Jugulum. The Science books (The science of Discworld I, II, III) can be read any time after The Last Continent. The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents should be read by candlelight in the tub, to achieve the full effect, but other than that, go nuts.
The new spring love
I love
because
sunset is like warm autumn fury,
the clouds like sticky sweet cherubs;
and if I close my eyes , the wind, like a new lover,
whispers me into a newborn child,
amazed at the colors and laughing at the birds.
because
sunset is like warm autumn fury,
the clouds like sticky sweet cherubs;
and if I close my eyes , the wind, like a new lover,
whispers me into a newborn child,
amazed at the colors and laughing at the birds.
Friday, October 19, 2007
A preponderance of words
This was just too funny, so I had to post it.
The day after I had written the previous post, complaining that a tank could've fallen on my friend, Mike, and I would never know, he phoned. To say a tank had almost fallen on his friend.
What had happened is, typically mechanics are issued Pistols, rather then the rifles that everyone else, barring clerks, is assigned. However, they had a limited number, so some mechanics had rifles. Apparantly Mike's team had a tank propped up for fixing, when the jack failed, and it began to fall on them. Everyone scattered, except Mike's friend who tripped over his rifle! He managed to pull himself upright and scurry off in time, but wow. Talk about close calls.
(I'd saved this email for a few days, hoping to add to it, but things had just been so crazy that now it's kinda outta date. But I guess my readership won't know it unless I tell them, so I won't...aw crap.)
The opera. Carmen was good. Not fabulous. I realized later, that I'd expected good acting, which is not the point of the Opera. Silly me. But I was already familiar with the music enough that it wasn't a surprise anymore. So.
I managed to get an eye surgery consultation, in which they vouchsafed that, yes, I am admissable for surgery and , holy crap, don't I have big pupils? However, after gushing to a friend that I was admissable, and now I'm well on my way to a police career the following exchange occurred;
Friend: "Where did you go to?"
Myself: "Lasik MD. Why?"
F: "Oh please, don't go there. I hate them so much. My op spends all his time fixing their botched jobs!"
M: "*sigh* information that could've been brought to my attention YESTERDAY!"
But, at least I know now I am okay to get it done. I'll try at some other places first though, and see what they say.
All in all, life is getting marginally better. I have pancakes now, and a strange urge to put random shit into them. like pecans and bananas.
Cat still dumb.
The day after I had written the previous post, complaining that a tank could've fallen on my friend, Mike, and I would never know, he phoned. To say a tank had almost fallen on his friend.
What had happened is, typically mechanics are issued Pistols, rather then the rifles that everyone else, barring clerks, is assigned. However, they had a limited number, so some mechanics had rifles. Apparantly Mike's team had a tank propped up for fixing, when the jack failed, and it began to fall on them. Everyone scattered, except Mike's friend who tripped over his rifle! He managed to pull himself upright and scurry off in time, but wow. Talk about close calls.
(I'd saved this email for a few days, hoping to add to it, but things had just been so crazy that now it's kinda outta date. But I guess my readership won't know it unless I tell them, so I won't...aw crap.)
The opera. Carmen was good. Not fabulous. I realized later, that I'd expected good acting, which is not the point of the Opera. Silly me. But I was already familiar with the music enough that it wasn't a surprise anymore. So.
I managed to get an eye surgery consultation, in which they vouchsafed that, yes, I am admissable for surgery and , holy crap, don't I have big pupils? However, after gushing to a friend that I was admissable, and now I'm well on my way to a police career the following exchange occurred;
Friend: "Where did you go to?"
Myself: "Lasik MD. Why?"
F: "Oh please, don't go there. I hate them so much. My op spends all his time fixing their botched jobs!"
M: "*sigh* information that could've been brought to my attention YESTERDAY!"
But, at least I know now I am okay to get it done. I'll try at some other places first though, and see what they say.
All in all, life is getting marginally better. I have pancakes now, and a strange urge to put random shit into them. like pecans and bananas.
Cat still dumb.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Takin' the training wheels off...
This building is so thin I can hear people cough in the room upstairs. It's useful because I can monitor my surroundings more effectivly, it's discouraging cause, well, when I'm busting out "proud mary" at 3 in the morning, I don't really need everyone critiquing my singing. ( seriously people, It's not meant to be sung well, it's meant to be sung ANGRILY!)
I've my first meeting with a financial advisor tomorrow. I'm less terrified then I thought I'd be, but still aware that it will be 10:30 and I will not have had sleep for a bit, and my body will be all-ready for bed by then. I may have to censor myself heavily.
I also have an appointment with a laser eye surgery clinic in the city to be assessed for my surgery suitability. I'm exacted, but still tense. If I'm disqualified, my Police career will end before it starts as well. I have no reason to be nervous, but I am aware of the possibility for a lot of hurt.
Speaking of hurt. I have a cat. Her name is Xiao-mei (a mess of chinese that I like to think translates to "tiny younger sister". Since the only chinese-speaker I have asked about it thought I had named her Chowmein, I have decided I don't care if it translates well or not) She is, unfortunatly, a bundle of energy wrapped in pointy tiny claws. My arms bare the marks of a thousand flying leaps. She is practically death-defying in her aerial acrobatics to get onto my shoulders. However, she is soothing to me, and relief when I come home and she's there. I managed to clip two of her claws today. Not two paws. Two claws. I consider this a triumph.
In other news, my job is going well. Many prospects for new training, and I've fully adapted to the nightshift now. the new gentleman I am working with is really great to work with, although his english is a tad slow. I've been debating learning some spanish, to help meet him halfway. On the plus side, he's quick to correct himself, and eager to do whatever. I am happy.
I am melancoly however, from missing so many people that are so important in my life; Mike in Wainwright, Tim in Gagetown, Tobe's fallen off the world, Edmund still persistantly in Toronto, my family in High Level. I also haven't even heard from Mike in WEEKS. MIKE, If you are reading this, bloody well call me! You could've had a tank fall on you, and I likely wouldn't know! This makes me grumpy!
The last, most exciting recent new thing is Opera tickets! I have a ticket to Carmen (!!) next Tuesday and Othello (!!!) on November 3. Ohh I'm tingly all over!
Well, that's all. Probably.
Love to everyone who cares to update this.
I've my first meeting with a financial advisor tomorrow. I'm less terrified then I thought I'd be, but still aware that it will be 10:30 and I will not have had sleep for a bit, and my body will be all-ready for bed by then. I may have to censor myself heavily.
I also have an appointment with a laser eye surgery clinic in the city to be assessed for my surgery suitability. I'm exacted, but still tense. If I'm disqualified, my Police career will end before it starts as well. I have no reason to be nervous, but I am aware of the possibility for a lot of hurt.
Speaking of hurt. I have a cat. Her name is Xiao-mei (a mess of chinese that I like to think translates to "tiny younger sister". Since the only chinese-speaker I have asked about it thought I had named her Chowmein, I have decided I don't care if it translates well or not) She is, unfortunatly, a bundle of energy wrapped in pointy tiny claws. My arms bare the marks of a thousand flying leaps. She is practically death-defying in her aerial acrobatics to get onto my shoulders. However, she is soothing to me, and relief when I come home and she's there. I managed to clip two of her claws today. Not two paws. Two claws. I consider this a triumph.
In other news, my job is going well. Many prospects for new training, and I've fully adapted to the nightshift now. the new gentleman I am working with is really great to work with, although his english is a tad slow. I've been debating learning some spanish, to help meet him halfway. On the plus side, he's quick to correct himself, and eager to do whatever. I am happy.
I am melancoly however, from missing so many people that are so important in my life; Mike in Wainwright, Tim in Gagetown, Tobe's fallen off the world, Edmund still persistantly in Toronto, my family in High Level. I also haven't even heard from Mike in WEEKS. MIKE, If you are reading this, bloody well call me! You could've had a tank fall on you, and I likely wouldn't know! This makes me grumpy!
The last, most exciting recent new thing is Opera tickets! I have a ticket to Carmen (!!) next Tuesday and Othello (!!!) on November 3. Ohh I'm tingly all over!
Well, that's all. Probably.
Love to everyone who cares to update this.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Vancouver
This past weekend (september 27-30th) I had the good fortune to travel with a group of close friends to the lovely city of Vancouver to see some friends wed themselves.
As is customary for myself, let me gush about the hotel first.
The sunset inn.
Relatively close to everything we needed,and including a kitchen (yes!) a living room and full cable t.v. (more then at home : P) the feature that won me over completely was the bed. It was massive. Seriously huge. The pillows and comforter were like marshmellow spread, except not sticky, and significantly less fattening. It took up almost the ENTIRE bedroom (and yes, there was a seperate room for the bedroom. wonderful!) It was somewhat inconvenient to sneak around in the dead of night when needing to pee, but I think I didn't care.
Thursday night, the night of our arrival, we rented a minivan SUV to ferry 7 of us to the hotel. Even with all our luggage we were only a petite bit cramped. Surprisingly, despite the late hour, we all were pretty restless, and went out for congee (a thick chinese soup characterized by large chunks of green onion on top). This marks the first occasion I have ever had to try ostrich meat. (as far as I recall...). Tasted like beef. moving on.
Friday, despite the forecast of rain, was beautiful. Clear skies marked by lazy fat clouds, warm sun, and a slight breeze. A perfect day for a wedding. After planting a box of viagra on the proposed wedding night bed, we disembarked for Alvin the groom's house. Watching the tea ceremony, where the bride and groom serve tea to the groom's family (serving to the bride's family was a more private affair to which I was not privy) was quite moving. In fact, once it was over, despite the fact that the justice of the peace had not even arrived to make it lawful, it seemed pretty obvious that they were married. the formality and paperwork came later, with my less laughter and fanfare, I think. It was beautiful, the whole ceremony.
The reception took place at Kirin restaurant downtown. I can't even fathom the expense taken to host this. Everyone, all 150-odd guests, was served Shark fin soup. (This is a crazy expensive dish). There were around 12 courses, and I swear I ate until I died, then ate until I was resurrected again. There were speeches, and jokes, and wedding games, and fun. The wedding slideshow of the couple moved me to tears, and the whole evening passed blissfully.
We regretfully called the evening short to race home and undo some of the more odious pranks played on the honeymoon suite (including ice cubes in the bed and the lightbulbs unscrewed); hoping to save the exhausted bride and groom from complete irritation.
The saturday was spent shopping for nicknacks and such, having lunched in a fabulous gay bar which served shepard's Pie that I must have been very good to deserve. The evening was the real treat though. We all joined (all 17 of us) at a sushi restaurant for all-you-can-eat sushi. The bill came to $500. Awesome. Really Awesome. We have some marvellous pictures of Joseph and Alvin smashing sashimi into each other's mouths (I do mean smashing) and I now have the memory of Alvin managing to scoop a whole bowl of jello into his mouth in one swift movement while fending off Joseph. A rousing success. : )
Sunday morning was spent meeting Joseph's Aunt and Uncle for Dim sum. However, I was mildly embarassed when his uncle ordered me a knife and fork. I am still unsure if this was courtesy, or if my chopstick skills are that bad... any insight is welcome.
The afternoon and evening were spent getting home, and harassing each other.
All in all, an incredible trip.
I apologize for the lack of grace in this post, but I'm rather tired, and need to conserve energy for the 7 hour shift still ahead of me.
Love all
As is customary for myself, let me gush about the hotel first.
The sunset inn.
Relatively close to everything we needed,and including a kitchen (yes!) a living room and full cable t.v. (more then at home : P) the feature that won me over completely was the bed. It was massive. Seriously huge. The pillows and comforter were like marshmellow spread, except not sticky, and significantly less fattening. It took up almost the ENTIRE bedroom (and yes, there was a seperate room for the bedroom. wonderful!) It was somewhat inconvenient to sneak around in the dead of night when needing to pee, but I think I didn't care.
Thursday night, the night of our arrival, we rented a minivan SUV to ferry 7 of us to the hotel. Even with all our luggage we were only a petite bit cramped. Surprisingly, despite the late hour, we all were pretty restless, and went out for congee (a thick chinese soup characterized by large chunks of green onion on top). This marks the first occasion I have ever had to try ostrich meat. (as far as I recall...). Tasted like beef. moving on.
Friday, despite the forecast of rain, was beautiful. Clear skies marked by lazy fat clouds, warm sun, and a slight breeze. A perfect day for a wedding. After planting a box of viagra on the proposed wedding night bed, we disembarked for Alvin the groom's house. Watching the tea ceremony, where the bride and groom serve tea to the groom's family (serving to the bride's family was a more private affair to which I was not privy) was quite moving. In fact, once it was over, despite the fact that the justice of the peace had not even arrived to make it lawful, it seemed pretty obvious that they were married. the formality and paperwork came later, with my less laughter and fanfare, I think. It was beautiful, the whole ceremony.
The reception took place at Kirin restaurant downtown. I can't even fathom the expense taken to host this. Everyone, all 150-odd guests, was served Shark fin soup. (This is a crazy expensive dish). There were around 12 courses, and I swear I ate until I died, then ate until I was resurrected again. There were speeches, and jokes, and wedding games, and fun. The wedding slideshow of the couple moved me to tears, and the whole evening passed blissfully.
We regretfully called the evening short to race home and undo some of the more odious pranks played on the honeymoon suite (including ice cubes in the bed and the lightbulbs unscrewed); hoping to save the exhausted bride and groom from complete irritation.
The saturday was spent shopping for nicknacks and such, having lunched in a fabulous gay bar which served shepard's Pie that I must have been very good to deserve. The evening was the real treat though. We all joined (all 17 of us) at a sushi restaurant for all-you-can-eat sushi. The bill came to $500. Awesome. Really Awesome. We have some marvellous pictures of Joseph and Alvin smashing sashimi into each other's mouths (I do mean smashing) and I now have the memory of Alvin managing to scoop a whole bowl of jello into his mouth in one swift movement while fending off Joseph. A rousing success. : )
Sunday morning was spent meeting Joseph's Aunt and Uncle for Dim sum. However, I was mildly embarassed when his uncle ordered me a knife and fork. I am still unsure if this was courtesy, or if my chopstick skills are that bad... any insight is welcome.
The afternoon and evening were spent getting home, and harassing each other.
All in all, an incredible trip.
I apologize for the lack of grace in this post, but I'm rather tired, and need to conserve energy for the 7 hour shift still ahead of me.
Love all
Friday, September 21, 2007
Conclusive evidence
Speaking of God,
I now have solid proof that not only does a deity exist, but He also loves me very much and wants me to be happy.
Othello, the ballet, is coming to Edmonton and I can totally afford tickets. And I have the day free. And the dress I bought for vancouver will match flawlessly.
*hyperventilates into paperbag*
It is my favorite Shakespeare. His tragedies have always been an interest of mine, although mostly a passing fancy. Othello, however, was like heaven in misery for me. Brilliant plot, incredible characters, and everyone dies in the end. Perfection. Not only that, but it is certainly the easiest of Shakespeare's to put on stage, since all the action revolves around the characters and one white handkerchief. Simplicity itself.
Ohhh Ecstacy of Brilliance
I now have solid proof that not only does a deity exist, but He also loves me very much and wants me to be happy.
Othello, the ballet, is coming to Edmonton and I can totally afford tickets. And I have the day free. And the dress I bought for vancouver will match flawlessly.
*hyperventilates into paperbag*
It is my favorite Shakespeare. His tragedies have always been an interest of mine, although mostly a passing fancy. Othello, however, was like heaven in misery for me. Brilliant plot, incredible characters, and everyone dies in the end. Perfection. Not only that, but it is certainly the easiest of Shakespeare's to put on stage, since all the action revolves around the characters and one white handkerchief. Simplicity itself.
Ohhh Ecstacy of Brilliance
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
The Lobby
Sometimes, due to the crazy amount of pressure buildup in this building, when someone opens a door, the wind rushes through in a tremendous hurricane and all I can think is:
"God is passing by..."
"God is passing by..."
Friday, September 07, 2007
Night Shift
Things are going exceptionally well in my new job. I really enjoy it. The slight responsability, the calmness, the few people, the time to catch up on my reading, the time to think about things. It's good pay, with a good chance to move up and very little unpleasantness. I've even adjusted to the strange hours I now demand my body keep. It will happily accept 4 hours of sleep one day, then 9 hours the next. This is good.
Coming up I have a Chinese wedding in Vancouver. I'm relaly excited, and am using it as an excuse to buy myself something pretty to wear with the money I received from selling the Tempo. I'm just not sure what type to buy. Is it too stereotypical to buy a mandarin style dress? Do I care if it is?
I've also decided to pay off my condo and buy my own place in the next three years. It feels good to have a goal in mind. Jared's not a bad roommate, but when I come home,and it's empty and I have the place to myself, I just feel so happy. It's feasible to pay it off in this time, plus by them I'll have had the same job for over 2 years, so I will likely be able to get a mortgage on my own, and hopeful the housing market will have calmed down. I also need to consider when I should get my eyes done, however. I have decided to get lazer eye surgery, as this is the only way I will be accepted into the police force, my vision is so bad. I'm just not sure how to go about it, I know so little about it.
I'll refrain from posting here about my relationships because, right now, they're very confusing, and there's not much I can do that will unconfuse them. It seems right now in life, the best thing I can do is just wait...I'm not very good at this however.
I miss my family terrible though. I hope they come back soon. When is Thanksgiving again anyway?
Stephen is still not walking, despite being over a year old now. He seems to be talking however, "mama" and such. So endearing.
I'm really jealous of all the people starting classes this semester for some reason. I have no idea why. Maybe it's cause I had scarecely considered the idea that one day I would be out of school. It's scary out here.
Anyway.
Coming up I have a Chinese wedding in Vancouver. I'm relaly excited, and am using it as an excuse to buy myself something pretty to wear with the money I received from selling the Tempo. I'm just not sure what type to buy. Is it too stereotypical to buy a mandarin style dress? Do I care if it is?
I've also decided to pay off my condo and buy my own place in the next three years. It feels good to have a goal in mind. Jared's not a bad roommate, but when I come home,and it's empty and I have the place to myself, I just feel so happy. It's feasible to pay it off in this time, plus by them I'll have had the same job for over 2 years, so I will likely be able to get a mortgage on my own, and hopeful the housing market will have calmed down. I also need to consider when I should get my eyes done, however. I have decided to get lazer eye surgery, as this is the only way I will be accepted into the police force, my vision is so bad. I'm just not sure how to go about it, I know so little about it.
I'll refrain from posting here about my relationships because, right now, they're very confusing, and there's not much I can do that will unconfuse them. It seems right now in life, the best thing I can do is just wait...I'm not very good at this however.
I miss my family terrible though. I hope they come back soon. When is Thanksgiving again anyway?
Stephen is still not walking, despite being over a year old now. He seems to be talking however, "mama" and such. So endearing.
I'm really jealous of all the people starting classes this semester for some reason. I have no idea why. Maybe it's cause I had scarecely considered the idea that one day I would be out of school. It's scary out here.
Anyway.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Have you had your daily dose of irritation?
If not, simply follow this link!
http://www.deathball.net/notpron
It's guaranteed to leave you pulling your hair out!
The object is just to get to the next screen. Number one? Brain-dead easy. Number two? requires a few neurotransmitters to die. Number 3? with a twist of creativity, you're on your way. Number 4? Get lucky or just nit-pick. Number 5? Here's where the sickness begins.
They're so addictive, but God they get hard! It's very easy to cheat, and it ruins the game, so don't.
Just, keep trying.
http://www.deathball.net/notpron
It's guaranteed to leave you pulling your hair out!
The object is just to get to the next screen. Number one? Brain-dead easy. Number two? requires a few neurotransmitters to die. Number 3? with a twist of creativity, you're on your way. Number 4? Get lucky or just nit-pick. Number 5? Here's where the sickness begins.
They're so addictive, but God they get hard! It's very easy to cheat, and it ruins the game, so don't.
Just, keep trying.
Friday, August 17, 2007
More gut-wrenching fun!
1. Joseph was in a car accident today.
2. I discovered 6 more grey hairs.
These events may seem unrelated, but they are not.
He's fine. His car is honestly not that bad, bumper may need replacing, but, hopefully it won't be too bad.
My sister graciously loaned me her car so I could go see him (sometimes you just gotta hold someone, huh?) and I mostly spent the day running around like a chicken with my head cut off.
I really hate cars.
2. I discovered 6 more grey hairs.
These events may seem unrelated, but they are not.
He's fine. His car is honestly not that bad, bumper may need replacing, but, hopefully it won't be too bad.
My sister graciously loaned me her car so I could go see him (sometimes you just gotta hold someone, huh?) and I mostly spent the day running around like a chicken with my head cut off.
I really hate cars.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Day two of the Second Chronical of the Epic Tales of Chelle the (not only) Supermarket Security Chick
I've had 6 hours of constantly interrupted sleep this morning, and I'm feeling pretty damn good.
I think I'm really going to like this job. The first time I wrote "Security Supervisor" instead of "Security Officer" gave me a chill I had not experienced since finding half of something in my lettuce. In a good way, of course.
The day itself was marked by coffee with my good friend Toban, espousing how confusing relationships are. we finished off with Ice cream. It doesn't make relationships less confusing, but it certainly feels great.
This site is less gratifying then the other site, in that there is less feedback (in the form of meat-filled baskets abandoned instead of stolen, although if they were stolen, how would I know? Another perk.), but it is more relaxing. My tinny radio filters through the pipe-filled front room.
Unfortunatly, a lot of it is waiting. When I wait, I think. When I think, I worry. When I worry, I make plans. When I make these plans, bad things occur.
I've brought my chinese book in the hopes of distracting my monkey brain long enough for it not to stress.
Wish me luck, all.
I think I'm really going to like this job. The first time I wrote "Security Supervisor" instead of "Security Officer" gave me a chill I had not experienced since finding half of something in my lettuce. In a good way, of course.
The day itself was marked by coffee with my good friend Toban, espousing how confusing relationships are. we finished off with Ice cream. It doesn't make relationships less confusing, but it certainly feels great.
This site is less gratifying then the other site, in that there is less feedback (in the form of meat-filled baskets abandoned instead of stolen, although if they were stolen, how would I know? Another perk.), but it is more relaxing. My tinny radio filters through the pipe-filled front room.
Unfortunatly, a lot of it is waiting. When I wait, I think. When I think, I worry. When I worry, I make plans. When I make these plans, bad things occur.
I've brought my chinese book in the hopes of distracting my monkey brain long enough for it not to stress.
Wish me luck, all.
Second Chronical of the Epic tales of Chelle the (not only) Supermarket Security chick!
So I've napped twenty minutes in the desperate hope of convincing my body or brain that it is now morning, that I'm not tired at all, that this is a normal day. I think the blackness around my head confuses it, but otherwise, it's duped.
I've fooled my body.
I'm not sure this makes me happy or not.
Animethon has passed this weekend. The chaos, excitement, and hope of it makes me desperatly want to be a part, and I think I annoy more then a few people in my attempt to assist. I vow to volunteer (or even staff) next year.
I've biked to work, 2 in the morning, on the empty, soothing, road. Somehow, the glee of conquering the angry asphalt that eat tires and spits out fumes wakes me. It might be the cold. By the time I hit work, I'm feeling cocky.
The officer I'm replacing will work again at the end of my shift, so he grabs his well-loved star wars pillow and heads for the quiet nurse's office. He's a good man. I like him.
It's just me and the radio, the empty foyay making my typing loud enough to sound responsible, maybe even legitimate? I'd taken my contacts out for an hour or two previously to this, but now they scratch, and there's a muscle between my shoulder blades that won't unclench.
Despite all this, I'm quite euphoric. Might be the coffee, might be the memory of the weekend my boyfriend and I spent, which could have easily proven disasterous, but seems to have worked out, in the weird way our things seem to resolve, leaving me feeling hopeful, and sated.
I still recall the cotton hakima pants and top that my friend lent me, to emulate Kikyo from "Inuyasha", an anime I enjoy. Channeling Kikyo, I felt bolder. Perhaps it was the lengthy black wig, covering my face (anonymity is a friend to many), or the knowledge that the outfit was worn by so many before in history, connecting the motions I make to the long-ago tales, the yellow,worn, pages of antiquity, which always seem so insubstantial; Whatever the cause, I am acutely aware of the steps I take forward in my life. This awareness makes it difficult to not run, since charging headlong is not the best idea for now, when caution, patience, and sense are my closest friends.
Anyway, I can learn.
I've fooled my body.
I'm not sure this makes me happy or not.
Animethon has passed this weekend. The chaos, excitement, and hope of it makes me desperatly want to be a part, and I think I annoy more then a few people in my attempt to assist. I vow to volunteer (or even staff) next year.
I've biked to work, 2 in the morning, on the empty, soothing, road. Somehow, the glee of conquering the angry asphalt that eat tires and spits out fumes wakes me. It might be the cold. By the time I hit work, I'm feeling cocky.
The officer I'm replacing will work again at the end of my shift, so he grabs his well-loved star wars pillow and heads for the quiet nurse's office. He's a good man. I like him.
It's just me and the radio, the empty foyay making my typing loud enough to sound responsible, maybe even legitimate? I'd taken my contacts out for an hour or two previously to this, but now they scratch, and there's a muscle between my shoulder blades that won't unclench.
Despite all this, I'm quite euphoric. Might be the coffee, might be the memory of the weekend my boyfriend and I spent, which could have easily proven disasterous, but seems to have worked out, in the weird way our things seem to resolve, leaving me feeling hopeful, and sated.
I still recall the cotton hakima pants and top that my friend lent me, to emulate Kikyo from "Inuyasha", an anime I enjoy. Channeling Kikyo, I felt bolder. Perhaps it was the lengthy black wig, covering my face (anonymity is a friend to many), or the knowledge that the outfit was worn by so many before in history, connecting the motions I make to the long-ago tales, the yellow,worn, pages of antiquity, which always seem so insubstantial; Whatever the cause, I am acutely aware of the steps I take forward in my life. This awareness makes it difficult to not run, since charging headlong is not the best idea for now, when caution, patience, and sense are my closest friends.
Anyway, I can learn.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Life turns
I've started a new job as night supervisor with G4 Security. I'm really excited about it, but well, I'm sort of weary.
Is this all there is to life?
I've been denied the military.
My eyesight may rule me out from police service.
How can I make a difference?
I find the idea of continuing this strange path for years and years incredibly tiring. Where can I find some meaning in this world?
there may only ever be the meaning I put into it, but this depresses me. Does nothing really matter? Or does it only matter enough? Is that enough? Will anything ever be enough?
Dark space open in front of me. For the first time, my path is not clear. How often do I have to kick open doors to try and find a new path? Doors that close so firm in my face.
Is this all there is to life?
I've been denied the military.
My eyesight may rule me out from police service.
How can I make a difference?
I find the idea of continuing this strange path for years and years incredibly tiring. Where can I find some meaning in this world?
there may only ever be the meaning I put into it, but this depresses me. Does nothing really matter? Or does it only matter enough? Is that enough? Will anything ever be enough?
Dark space open in front of me. For the first time, my path is not clear. How often do I have to kick open doors to try and find a new path? Doors that close so firm in my face.
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