Dear jackasses,
No one cares about your spam. No one is fooled by your half-cocked, pointless, and poorly written spam notes with links to more spammy goodness.
But congratulations. Thanks to you, anonymous posting on my blog is now over. Because I've been gone long enough for somebody to think they can just take up permanent spam residence here. They are mistaken.
Daddy is home. And it is time to clean house.
Showing posts with label the universe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the universe. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Thursday, December 31, 2009
A simple pair of lists...
What I did this year:
What I plan to do next year:
- Reconnect with old friends
- Make new friends.
- Say goodbye to some friends far too soon.
- Finally say a few things to certain people that I never thought I would get the chance to say.
- Start my own podcast (for better or worse).
- Keep up my blog, despite some dry spells (for better or worse).
- Continue writing, most notably completing my Script Frenzy and NaNoWrimo goal (mostly for sheer insanity).
What I plan to do next year:
- Continue to learn from the mistakes of my past.
- (As always) try to be a better friend, a better son, a better brother, and a better person in general than last year.
- Try to have more of what resembles a social life, despite sometimes just liking quiet evenings at home.
- Finally get around to publishing something.
- (As always) try to have a better year than the last year.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
As Time Goes By...
Okay, color me stupid here.
I don't think that a month has gone by when I haven't actually thought to myself in idle passing, "What are you going to do for the one year anniversary of House Rules?" I was probably thinking about it after the first few weeks, the first few months... heck. Two months ago I was trying to figure out if I was going to make a compilation book of some sort.
So it comes as a shock to me as I pondered what I was going to post this month and how to squeeze it in between bouts of mad writing sessions, that I would stumble across fellow blogger Ivan celebrating his six year anniversary (and congrats to you again on making it this far... your site rocks). And as it reminded me of what I should do when I achieve my meager but still impressive goal of one year in, it also reminded me of yet another thing...
That happened two weeks ago.
October 19, 2008. The first post at Casa de House (albeit a repost of a previous post from another page. Still, it was the start of this whole thing, and even if it wasn't, the first post after that would still have been in October. So I missed my 1 year anniversary this year. I'm sorry, baby. Do you forgive me?
Anywho, I'd be a lot more formal about this (and maybe I will later), but the truth is I just don't have the time to spare on it right now. But thanks to the many people, here and there, near and far, gone and yet to come, that have made the creation of my little corner of cyberspace worth the effort by checking it out from time to time.
I don't think that a month has gone by when I haven't actually thought to myself in idle passing, "What are you going to do for the one year anniversary of House Rules?" I was probably thinking about it after the first few weeks, the first few months... heck. Two months ago I was trying to figure out if I was going to make a compilation book of some sort.
So it comes as a shock to me as I pondered what I was going to post this month and how to squeeze it in between bouts of mad writing sessions, that I would stumble across fellow blogger Ivan celebrating his six year anniversary (and congrats to you again on making it this far... your site rocks). And as it reminded me of what I should do when I achieve my meager but still impressive goal of one year in, it also reminded me of yet another thing...
That happened two weeks ago.
October 19, 2008. The first post at Casa de House (albeit a repost of a previous post from another page. Still, it was the start of this whole thing, and even if it wasn't, the first post after that would still have been in October. So I missed my 1 year anniversary this year. I'm sorry, baby. Do you forgive me?
Anywho, I'd be a lot more formal about this (and maybe I will later), but the truth is I just don't have the time to spare on it right now. But thanks to the many people, here and there, near and far, gone and yet to come, that have made the creation of my little corner of cyberspace worth the effort by checking it out from time to time.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Revisionist History: Part 2b
(This is the second part of an excerpt of the major huge deal writing project I took on last year. I went back to edit it, but was surprised at how solid the thing was untouched. I still touched it up a bit, though. When we last left our fateful pair, youthful Hunter newbie Dani Brightstar was taking a measure of abuse at the hands of clan sponsor Edith Fortunado. Of course, we have yet to hear Dani's side of things...)
"Mrs. Fortunado," Danielle tried to give her response a tone of civility. "I come from a long line of tribal people. I don't expect many people that live outside of that world to understand what it's like, and I'm sure that given your last comment you certainly wouldn’t fall into the category of the understanding type..."
"Now wait..." Edith started, but was stopped short by a brief hand raised by the still speaking Danielle.
"But what I would expect you to understand," Danielle continued, "Is that in that place, among my people, we have a certain set of beliefs. And among those is the belief that you're chosen for a task, but not necessarily the task that you choose. Now, I'm hardly the first one to say that I believe each and every thing that has been taught to me over the years..." She paused for a brief moment of self-reflection before continuing, "But I certainly do believe that the task that I was given was to come here and attempt to help out to the best of my ability. Frankly, if you didn't think it was at least worth the time to have me here, you could've refused my request like many others did."
"Hmmph..." Edith puffed on her tiny cigar, which now had become all but a useless flickering stub. If she was offended by the last part of Danielle's comment, she didn't show it. Instead, she just spat the nub of half dead leaves in her mouth into the trash can next to her desk and smiled. "Fair enough, lady." She leaned forward into her seat again, the elevated chair creaking slightly as she pressed her weight against the edge of the desk. "Now then, as far as your 'mentor' goes..."
The moment of relief that Danielle had was short lived. She had half expected to be tossed out of the office after the little speech she had made, but even after having gotten away with that, she was about to hear about her least favorite subject of the time. Unfortunately, there wasn't really much she could say about the man. The little that she knew about him had already been covered. He was a bit odd, and he had apparently ditched her. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't help but frown at the mention of him.
Edith noted the frown and responded with a short, gruff smirk of her own. "Listen, I'm not going to lie to you. Lake O'Bannon... well, the guy's not the cheeriest of sorts. And he's kind of rude at times. And inconsiderate. And he's just as likely to blow your head off as he is to shake your hand some days. And I realize that I'm not making much of a pitch for him right now, but hear me out....
"There's really only two things you need to know about Lake O'Bannon. The first thing is that it's all an act. The rudeness, the not seeming to care who lives or dies... It's all just a big show he puts on so he won't be bothered as much. Somewhere along the way, he figured out that that's how he can get by in life, so that's what he does. Deep down, he's really just a sensitive guy that wants to do the right thing. I know what I told the other guys, but I wouldn't have put you with him if I didn't think he would give you a fair shake."
"Some fair shake..." Danielle mumbled.
Edith smiled again. "Well, see... that's just the thing. You hang around him long enough, and you'll start to understand how he thinks. For example, he acts like he doesn't care about his job, but that doesn't mean that he'd go out of his way to do something that would get him fired. Especially when he could just half-step it and get away with it."
Danielle blinked. "I don't get what you mean."
Edith sighed softly. "Take this little 'test' he's giving you. He called it a 'test', didn't he?" She took Danielle's nod as confirmation and continued, "Now see, he probably laid out what seemed like an impossible task for you, but he knows full well that I'd chew him to pieces if he really did that, so he's probably already got an out. So no matter how impossible whatever he gave you to do might sound, they'll be some way to accomplish it."
Danielle went over it again in her head, thinking aloud, "I don't really think so. I mean, all he said was I had to find him in three hours..."
"Three hours? That's all he said?"
"Yeah, three hours. He said that I had three hours to find him, or else..." Danielle stopped as a thought slowly started to slip into her head. "That's not... that's not all he said."
"It's not, is it?"
"No. He said that pass or fail, I should meet him at Celestial Park at noon. In the food court." Danielle still felt like she was forgetting something, but she also felt like she was right on the verge of figuring something out.
Edith glanced at the ceiling for a second, then smirked as she leaned back in her chair. "I think this might be the most retarded thing he's ever pulled." She paused for moment to glance towards Danielle and offer, "No offense to you, mind you. I might have fallen for it, too, if I didn't have on a watch..."
"A watch..." Danielle parroted. It hadn't even occurred to her before that she wasn't wearing a timepiece. It wasn't the kind of thing that she'd find terribly useful with her tribe, and it hadn't occurred to her to purchase one before she got into town. Come to think of it, she hadn't really concerned herself with time at all until she was given a deadline by... Her face flushed as the last bit of realization sank it.
"Ah," Edith moaned. "I think you get it now, don't you?"
"I didn't even think about it... I never would have thought about it..." Danielle stammered. It hadn't once occurred to her to think about what time it was since she went past the checkpoint at the gate. Once the meeting location got moved to the Gold Harpy, she hadn't worried about being on time. And she had spent so much time running around and checking to see where Lake might have gone off to after he disappeared that by the time she thought to check on the time, it had been a good 10-15 minutes, at least. "Nine twenty..." She mumbled, almost to herself.
"What's that?" Edith asked, seeming to have a good idea of the answer already.
"All the running around I did... it was 9:20 before I checked what time it was. But I couldn't have been looking for more than 15 minutes or so..."
Edith chuckled. "If I had to guess, knowing the man like I do, he disappeared around 9:02."
"9:02..." Danielle repeated again. Which meant, she finally realized, that Lake never had any intention of her being able to find him. As ridiculous as it sounded, he had set the stage so that his "test" would end at 12:02, exactly two minutes after noon. If she had been paying attention, and if she had been patient, it would have occurred to her that all she had to do was meet him at the food court on time and she would "pass". Danielle stared at the floor as she mumbled, "But that's... that's just..."
"Crazy?" Edith shook her head. "Yeah, pretty much. But it's the kind of crap I'd expect from him. He's probably been there the whole time. If you quit, and I made a big fuss about it, he'd just point out how you could have figured it out if you had thought about it. Or if you had even had the guts to face him at the food court." She clucked her tongue a few times before adding, "Of course, the decision is yours now."
"Decision?"
"Yeah. Decision." Edith was the parrot this time. "You've managed to figure out what he was up to, but it's still up to you to figure out what to do about it. It's not like he can actually fail you over a lame stunt like this, but he is one of the people assigned to assess you. It’s probably in your best interest to show up at the food court on time. Assuming, that is, that you weren't just blowing smoke up my ass with all of that 'task I was given' crap before."
Danielle pressed her leg against the edge of her staff. If it hadn't before, it was bound to leave an impression when she finally went to stand up. She truly had meant every word she had said to Edith earlier. Danielle had her reasons for being here, and it wasn't part of her plan at all to give up. She could imagine that someone would look at her and think that she wasn't cut out for the job, but that didn't necessarily mean that she shouldn't do it. On top of that, she had felt more reassured than discouraged by the conversation she had here. She wasn't sure that was what Edith intended, but it made her feel better all the same.
"Yeah," Danielle said. "Yeah, I think I'll go there."
"Good," Edith replied. "Good for you. Now, you better haul butt over there. You don't have a lot of time to make it."
Danielle glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that there were roughly fifteen minutes left before noon. "Right," she uttered as she stood up and picked up her staff. She smiled and nodded politely as she turned to walk out of the room. She opened the door, then paused and turned back towards Edith. "What was the other thing?"
Edith, who had started to relax a hair as Danielle was leaving, perked up her eyebrows. "Huh? What that?"
Danielle turned on a heel so that she could better face Edith at the doorway. "You said before that there were two things I needed to know about Lake O'Bannon. The first was that the whole insensitive thing as an act. What's the second thing?"
"Oh, that." Edith smiled. "The second thing you need to know about Lake O'Bannon... is that he's a very good actor."
Danielle found herself inexplicably smiling after the comment. She turned to head out of the door.
"Brightstar?"
"Yes."
"Do yourself a favor and buy a watch, will ya?"
"Right. Right. Thanks."
...
(One of the things that I wanted to establish after having Dani take the brunt of first Lake's attitude, then Edith's is that Dani isn't exactly a pushover. Yes, her inclination is to approach new things timidly, but she's more than willing to stand her ground when need be. It doesn't hurt that Edith pushed a specific set of hot buttons for Dani, which inclined Dani to snap back a little.
As for Lake's little "test"... sure, it's actually a stupid trick, but it's the kind of thing that I'd be inclined to do in a roleplaying session to see if anyone was paying attention to detail. Dani in this unfortunately represents a large chunk of roleplayers who so readily dive into a task or challenge that they ignore the relevant details.
In this case, though, Edith tosses Dani a clue. This is, quite possibly the nicest thing you will ever see Edith do. She not only steers Dani in the right direction, but gives her a little insight into the nature of would-be mentor Lake O'Bannon. Not that said insight will necessarily help her.
It should be noted, though, that I consider Edith's "two things" comment to be a quintessential definition of Lake's character. That I let Edith say it is a testament to how well she knows the man, despite the fact that she would never admit any of that to him in public.
Which brings us back to Lake. Despite my love for one of my creations, he did need to step back at points in time in this story. And even though it was supposed to be his story, Dani ends up taking most of the spotlight. The story just worked better that way. But that doesn't mean that I won't get back to him very shortly...)
"Mrs. Fortunado," Danielle tried to give her response a tone of civility. "I come from a long line of tribal people. I don't expect many people that live outside of that world to understand what it's like, and I'm sure that given your last comment you certainly wouldn’t fall into the category of the understanding type..."
"Now wait..." Edith started, but was stopped short by a brief hand raised by the still speaking Danielle.
"But what I would expect you to understand," Danielle continued, "Is that in that place, among my people, we have a certain set of beliefs. And among those is the belief that you're chosen for a task, but not necessarily the task that you choose. Now, I'm hardly the first one to say that I believe each and every thing that has been taught to me over the years..." She paused for a brief moment of self-reflection before continuing, "But I certainly do believe that the task that I was given was to come here and attempt to help out to the best of my ability. Frankly, if you didn't think it was at least worth the time to have me here, you could've refused my request like many others did."
"Hmmph..." Edith puffed on her tiny cigar, which now had become all but a useless flickering stub. If she was offended by the last part of Danielle's comment, she didn't show it. Instead, she just spat the nub of half dead leaves in her mouth into the trash can next to her desk and smiled. "Fair enough, lady." She leaned forward into her seat again, the elevated chair creaking slightly as she pressed her weight against the edge of the desk. "Now then, as far as your 'mentor' goes..."
The moment of relief that Danielle had was short lived. She had half expected to be tossed out of the office after the little speech she had made, but even after having gotten away with that, she was about to hear about her least favorite subject of the time. Unfortunately, there wasn't really much she could say about the man. The little that she knew about him had already been covered. He was a bit odd, and he had apparently ditched her. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't help but frown at the mention of him.
Edith noted the frown and responded with a short, gruff smirk of her own. "Listen, I'm not going to lie to you. Lake O'Bannon... well, the guy's not the cheeriest of sorts. And he's kind of rude at times. And inconsiderate. And he's just as likely to blow your head off as he is to shake your hand some days. And I realize that I'm not making much of a pitch for him right now, but hear me out....
"There's really only two things you need to know about Lake O'Bannon. The first thing is that it's all an act. The rudeness, the not seeming to care who lives or dies... It's all just a big show he puts on so he won't be bothered as much. Somewhere along the way, he figured out that that's how he can get by in life, so that's what he does. Deep down, he's really just a sensitive guy that wants to do the right thing. I know what I told the other guys, but I wouldn't have put you with him if I didn't think he would give you a fair shake."
"Some fair shake..." Danielle mumbled.
Edith smiled again. "Well, see... that's just the thing. You hang around him long enough, and you'll start to understand how he thinks. For example, he acts like he doesn't care about his job, but that doesn't mean that he'd go out of his way to do something that would get him fired. Especially when he could just half-step it and get away with it."
Danielle blinked. "I don't get what you mean."
Edith sighed softly. "Take this little 'test' he's giving you. He called it a 'test', didn't he?" She took Danielle's nod as confirmation and continued, "Now see, he probably laid out what seemed like an impossible task for you, but he knows full well that I'd chew him to pieces if he really did that, so he's probably already got an out. So no matter how impossible whatever he gave you to do might sound, they'll be some way to accomplish it."
Danielle went over it again in her head, thinking aloud, "I don't really think so. I mean, all he said was I had to find him in three hours..."
"Three hours? That's all he said?"
"Yeah, three hours. He said that I had three hours to find him, or else..." Danielle stopped as a thought slowly started to slip into her head. "That's not... that's not all he said."
"It's not, is it?"
"No. He said that pass or fail, I should meet him at Celestial Park at noon. In the food court." Danielle still felt like she was forgetting something, but she also felt like she was right on the verge of figuring something out.
Edith glanced at the ceiling for a second, then smirked as she leaned back in her chair. "I think this might be the most retarded thing he's ever pulled." She paused for moment to glance towards Danielle and offer, "No offense to you, mind you. I might have fallen for it, too, if I didn't have on a watch..."
"A watch..." Danielle parroted. It hadn't even occurred to her before that she wasn't wearing a timepiece. It wasn't the kind of thing that she'd find terribly useful with her tribe, and it hadn't occurred to her to purchase one before she got into town. Come to think of it, she hadn't really concerned herself with time at all until she was given a deadline by... Her face flushed as the last bit of realization sank it.
"Ah," Edith moaned. "I think you get it now, don't you?"
"I didn't even think about it... I never would have thought about it..." Danielle stammered. It hadn't once occurred to her to think about what time it was since she went past the checkpoint at the gate. Once the meeting location got moved to the Gold Harpy, she hadn't worried about being on time. And she had spent so much time running around and checking to see where Lake might have gone off to after he disappeared that by the time she thought to check on the time, it had been a good 10-15 minutes, at least. "Nine twenty..." She mumbled, almost to herself.
"What's that?" Edith asked, seeming to have a good idea of the answer already.
"All the running around I did... it was 9:20 before I checked what time it was. But I couldn't have been looking for more than 15 minutes or so..."
Edith chuckled. "If I had to guess, knowing the man like I do, he disappeared around 9:02."
"9:02..." Danielle repeated again. Which meant, she finally realized, that Lake never had any intention of her being able to find him. As ridiculous as it sounded, he had set the stage so that his "test" would end at 12:02, exactly two minutes after noon. If she had been paying attention, and if she had been patient, it would have occurred to her that all she had to do was meet him at the food court on time and she would "pass". Danielle stared at the floor as she mumbled, "But that's... that's just..."
"Crazy?" Edith shook her head. "Yeah, pretty much. But it's the kind of crap I'd expect from him. He's probably been there the whole time. If you quit, and I made a big fuss about it, he'd just point out how you could have figured it out if you had thought about it. Or if you had even had the guts to face him at the food court." She clucked her tongue a few times before adding, "Of course, the decision is yours now."
"Decision?"
"Yeah. Decision." Edith was the parrot this time. "You've managed to figure out what he was up to, but it's still up to you to figure out what to do about it. It's not like he can actually fail you over a lame stunt like this, but he is one of the people assigned to assess you. It’s probably in your best interest to show up at the food court on time. Assuming, that is, that you weren't just blowing smoke up my ass with all of that 'task I was given' crap before."
Danielle pressed her leg against the edge of her staff. If it hadn't before, it was bound to leave an impression when she finally went to stand up. She truly had meant every word she had said to Edith earlier. Danielle had her reasons for being here, and it wasn't part of her plan at all to give up. She could imagine that someone would look at her and think that she wasn't cut out for the job, but that didn't necessarily mean that she shouldn't do it. On top of that, she had felt more reassured than discouraged by the conversation she had here. She wasn't sure that was what Edith intended, but it made her feel better all the same.
"Yeah," Danielle said. "Yeah, I think I'll go there."
"Good," Edith replied. "Good for you. Now, you better haul butt over there. You don't have a lot of time to make it."
Danielle glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that there were roughly fifteen minutes left before noon. "Right," she uttered as she stood up and picked up her staff. She smiled and nodded politely as she turned to walk out of the room. She opened the door, then paused and turned back towards Edith. "What was the other thing?"
Edith, who had started to relax a hair as Danielle was leaving, perked up her eyebrows. "Huh? What that?"
Danielle turned on a heel so that she could better face Edith at the doorway. "You said before that there were two things I needed to know about Lake O'Bannon. The first was that the whole insensitive thing as an act. What's the second thing?"
"Oh, that." Edith smiled. "The second thing you need to know about Lake O'Bannon... is that he's a very good actor."
Danielle found herself inexplicably smiling after the comment. She turned to head out of the door.
"Brightstar?"
"Yes."
"Do yourself a favor and buy a watch, will ya?"
"Right. Right. Thanks."
...
(One of the things that I wanted to establish after having Dani take the brunt of first Lake's attitude, then Edith's is that Dani isn't exactly a pushover. Yes, her inclination is to approach new things timidly, but she's more than willing to stand her ground when need be. It doesn't hurt that Edith pushed a specific set of hot buttons for Dani, which inclined Dani to snap back a little.
As for Lake's little "test"... sure, it's actually a stupid trick, but it's the kind of thing that I'd be inclined to do in a roleplaying session to see if anyone was paying attention to detail. Dani in this unfortunately represents a large chunk of roleplayers who so readily dive into a task or challenge that they ignore the relevant details.
In this case, though, Edith tosses Dani a clue. This is, quite possibly the nicest thing you will ever see Edith do. She not only steers Dani in the right direction, but gives her a little insight into the nature of would-be mentor Lake O'Bannon. Not that said insight will necessarily help her.
It should be noted, though, that I consider Edith's "two things" comment to be a quintessential definition of Lake's character. That I let Edith say it is a testament to how well she knows the man, despite the fact that she would never admit any of that to him in public.
Which brings us back to Lake. Despite my love for one of my creations, he did need to step back at points in time in this story. And even though it was supposed to be his story, Dani ends up taking most of the spotlight. The story just worked better that way. But that doesn't mean that I won't get back to him very shortly...)
Friday, July 24, 2009
Revisionist History: Part 2a
(So I've decided to revisit my much ballyhooed NaNoWriMo project, and since I can't manage to find a more reasonable chunk of this particular passage to use, I've decided to break it into parts. In this first part, clan sponsor Edith Fortunado meets for the first time with potential trainee hunter Danielle Brightstar...)
Edith Fortunado settled into the worn seat behind her desk. Having spent the better part of the morning following the weekly meeting completing forms, reports and other assorted business minutiae, she was looking forward to spending the better part of the next few hours sitting in her locked office and acting like she was busy working. It was one of the few perks that her position as clan sponsor allowed her. She was right on the verge of finding a nice section of newspaper to read through when she heard the knock on her door.
"Oh, for the love of..." she mumbled to herself before shouting annoyedly, "What?"
"Um, sorry ma'am." Barnard's weasely voice strained through the wooden frame of the door. "I know you didn't want to be bothered, but... she's here."
"She?" Edith asked through clenched teeth. "Who on earth is 'she'?"
"The blacko... ahem... the, er, walkabout, ma'am," Barnard answered with a bit of a stammer. "I could tell her you're busy if you'd like. She doesn't have an appointment..."
Edith pondered the idea for a moment before shaking her head. "Nah. I might as well get this out of the way now. Tell her to come in." Edith leaned forward in her seat with a bit of a scowl. She took a few moments to scatter enough of the items on her desk to make it look like she was busier than she ever could have been before taking a deep breath and forcing a faint smile. Sociable enough, she thought to herself as the door opened.
The woman Edith saw enter the room wasn't unpleasant on the eyes. She wasn't very remarkable either, but such is the case with some people. The short cut crop of dark brown hair on top of the woman's head wasn't helping her to look any more feminine, but at least she did have some sort of shape to her. The ensemble of a top and skirt, both made of animal skins, was only bound to make the woman stand out in the city in the long run. But truth be told, Edith thought through her assessment, that can be just as big a plus as it could be a minus.
The first thing Danielle noticed as she turned the knob and opened the door was how old the office looked. She understood more than anyone that in this day and age almost any given person could have his or her own sense of style or culture. She herself came from a place where many of the modern conveniences of the world were ignored in lieu of simpler things. But still, she really expected something less... vintage than the room that she was entering.
Maybe it was just that she expected something different from the leader of the clan she had applied for a permit from. She's not sure why she felt that way, considering the reception she had met earlier in the day in her "mentor". Appearances could obviously be deceiving in cases like this. The leader in question, Danielle assessed, certainly had to have something up her sleeve.
As diminutive as Edith Fortunado was (was midget the correct term?), she must have had some interesting history to end up the head of a clan of Hunters. Her lightly wrinkled face gave way to her age, and her black hair had a thick streak of gray along the left side. The staunch little woman couldn't really do much in the line of intimidating someone in a confrontation, but that, Danielle imagined, could have its positives, too.
Edith decided to get the ball rolling by offering a seat to the entering Danielle. "Welcome. Please sit down." Upon noticing the woman's walking stick she added, "Nice staff."
Danielle started to say something with regards to the comment, but decided instead to just simply sit in the seat offered to her across from Edith. The desk itself was a solid oak, worn by time and buckled gently by what had to be the weight of various files and other items. She sat her staff so it rested between the armrest and her leg, then tried her best to get comfortable in the seating. It was an uphill battle.
"So..." Edith shuffled through a pair of files on her desk before finding the sheet that she was looking for. "Danielle, is it? You mind if I call you Dani?"
"... fine."
Edith wasn't sure why the young woman would agree to something in such low spirits, but it's not like Edith really cared that much about it. "So, Dani... how was your trip? It looks like you made it to the city all right."
"Oh, yes. Not much to say about the trip. It was pretty... peaceful." Danielle's answer was guarded but optimistic.
"Get through the checkpoint okay? No hangups with getting your travel passes or anything?"
"Oh, no. That was just fine, too."
"And how was your meeting? I heard it got moved..."
"Oh, that?" Danielle hedged gently as she leaned to the right in her chair. "I guess I'd say that went fine, too."
"Uh huh..." Edith pressed on, "And your 'mentor'? Everything going fine with him?"
"Mr. O'Ban...er, Lake? He's a little... well, he's not what I'd expe... what I mean to say is that I'm sure that he's a nice enough guy, but...."
Edith's face bent into a wrinkled little smile, "He ditched you, didn't he?"
Danielle all but fell out of her chair at the sudden interjection. "Wha? He... I wouldn't say that...I mean, I don't think that he...” Why exactly was it that she was trying to defend the man, again? Danielle let out a small huff. "Yes. He ditched me."
Edith smiled in earnest, leaning back in her seat. "Yeah, he tends to do that. I'm surprised you actually thought to come here first. Most people would have run around the city like a chicken with its head cut off for a few hours."
Danielle forced out a broken chuckle. The last thing she wanted to do was to admit that she had, in fact, spent the better part of two hours running around the city like a chicken with its head cut off. She had checked every business along the stretch of Main Street where Lake had disappeared. She was halfway through the city gate before she figured that there was no real way that he could have or would have gone to the outside. And she had even resorted to going person to person and asking random strangers if they had seen the man. Which, she mused to herself, was fairly deserving of the laughter that she had received from most of the people she ran into.
Edith stared at the young woman in front of her. She could see on the girl's face that she wasn't entirely comfortable with the topic of conversation. Edith hadn't meant to strike a nerve, but at the same time she wasn’t going to pull her punches either. This was as much an assessment of Danielle's resilience as it was her capability, and before it would be over, there would be far worse in store for the potential trainee than a few hurt feelings
Edith leaned forward and opened a drawer on the left side of her desk. Reaching in, she retrieved a small, tight rolled cigar and popped the end into her mouth. Without so much as an ounce of consideration for whether or not it might disturb her office mate, Edith promptly lit the cigar with a match and took a few short puffs.
Danielle wasn't sure if she was supposed to be doing a better job with this interview. In reality, she hadn't figured out why she had even bothered coming to the guild office. Part of her desperately wanted to find a group of laughing comrades there just waiting to let her in on the fact that she had been the butt of an elaborate joke. 'I can't believe you'd fall for something like that!' they'd chuckle. 'Welcome to the Guild, newbie!' they'd smile. There would also be cake.
Having arrived and finding some of the pointing and laughing but none of the prank-worthy camaraderie she was looking for, Danielle had seriously considered giving up. If she couldn't hack the first few hours of the day, how could she hold up for a week? A month? How was she ever supposed to etch out a life for herself in a city full of mages, psychos, robots and everything in between if she couldn't handle the first few hours? This was only the twelfth time she had asked herself that, and it was starting to feel like a personal mantra. She hadn't exactly expected Edith Fortunado to be a heaping pile of consolation, but Danielle couldn't help but think that the woman could be a little more considerate if she wanted to.
Edith took another pair of puffs from her cigar before propping herself back up into her chair. She looked across the desk at Danielle and vented a stream of smoke from her nostrils.
"What you have to understand..." Edith started with a tinge of sincerity, "Is that a lot of the people around here are worthless. Scum, really. All that pomp and glamour they try to put on the jobs we do is just a spit shine on a crap cracker." She took a moment to assess if that was anywhere near a proper analogy before continuing. "What I mean to say is that this is a hard life choice. It's not for everyone, and it's certainly not for someone that can find work doing something safer. Taking this job will put your life in constant peril. Even when you're not on the job, someone... or something... might try to take a shot at you. Yes, you should be well protected, and once you're with a clan, they'll always have your back, but you have to accept the fact that just by signing up for this job, you're probably cutting your life span in half. There isn't much a of a retirement plan because frankly, not many people make it to retirement age."
"The reason that those guys out there probably treated you like crap is because... well, they generally view walkabouts as bad luck. ‘Blackouts’ is what they call them. Because for some reason, any time one of them shows up, it seems like someone ends up getting killed over it. And that's on top of the usual nonsense that gets people killed around here."
“What I guess I'm trying to say, Dani, is... have you really thought this through? I'm sure that you could make a nice living selling beaded necklaces or horn jewelry or whatever passes for a safe occupation around your neck of the woods."
...
(It should be noted at this point int he story, Dani shows opening frustration because she constantly runs into people who say, "Nice staff," to her (neither she nor the reader understands why at this point) and is almost always asked if she can be called Dani (which she really would prefer not to be called). And yes, Edith is in fact everyone's dream boss. But fear not. This section is specifically designed to spotlight Edith's edge against Dani's seemingly gentle nature, almost as much as the next section is designed to do the opposite.
And yes, Edith is a little person. Not a dwarf, gnome, leprechaun or any other interesting thing she could be. Don't ask me why I went with that choice. I think it was just simple aesthetics.)
Edith Fortunado settled into the worn seat behind her desk. Having spent the better part of the morning following the weekly meeting completing forms, reports and other assorted business minutiae, she was looking forward to spending the better part of the next few hours sitting in her locked office and acting like she was busy working. It was one of the few perks that her position as clan sponsor allowed her. She was right on the verge of finding a nice section of newspaper to read through when she heard the knock on her door.
"Oh, for the love of..." she mumbled to herself before shouting annoyedly, "What?"
"Um, sorry ma'am." Barnard's weasely voice strained through the wooden frame of the door. "I know you didn't want to be bothered, but... she's here."
"She?" Edith asked through clenched teeth. "Who on earth is 'she'?"
"The blacko... ahem... the, er, walkabout, ma'am," Barnard answered with a bit of a stammer. "I could tell her you're busy if you'd like. She doesn't have an appointment..."
Edith pondered the idea for a moment before shaking her head. "Nah. I might as well get this out of the way now. Tell her to come in." Edith leaned forward in her seat with a bit of a scowl. She took a few moments to scatter enough of the items on her desk to make it look like she was busier than she ever could have been before taking a deep breath and forcing a faint smile. Sociable enough, she thought to herself as the door opened.
The woman Edith saw enter the room wasn't unpleasant on the eyes. She wasn't very remarkable either, but such is the case with some people. The short cut crop of dark brown hair on top of the woman's head wasn't helping her to look any more feminine, but at least she did have some sort of shape to her. The ensemble of a top and skirt, both made of animal skins, was only bound to make the woman stand out in the city in the long run. But truth be told, Edith thought through her assessment, that can be just as big a plus as it could be a minus.
The first thing Danielle noticed as she turned the knob and opened the door was how old the office looked. She understood more than anyone that in this day and age almost any given person could have his or her own sense of style or culture. She herself came from a place where many of the modern conveniences of the world were ignored in lieu of simpler things. But still, she really expected something less... vintage than the room that she was entering.
Maybe it was just that she expected something different from the leader of the clan she had applied for a permit from. She's not sure why she felt that way, considering the reception she had met earlier in the day in her "mentor". Appearances could obviously be deceiving in cases like this. The leader in question, Danielle assessed, certainly had to have something up her sleeve.
As diminutive as Edith Fortunado was (was midget the correct term?), she must have had some interesting history to end up the head of a clan of Hunters. Her lightly wrinkled face gave way to her age, and her black hair had a thick streak of gray along the left side. The staunch little woman couldn't really do much in the line of intimidating someone in a confrontation, but that, Danielle imagined, could have its positives, too.
Edith decided to get the ball rolling by offering a seat to the entering Danielle. "Welcome. Please sit down." Upon noticing the woman's walking stick she added, "Nice staff."
Danielle started to say something with regards to the comment, but decided instead to just simply sit in the seat offered to her across from Edith. The desk itself was a solid oak, worn by time and buckled gently by what had to be the weight of various files and other items. She sat her staff so it rested between the armrest and her leg, then tried her best to get comfortable in the seating. It was an uphill battle.
"So..." Edith shuffled through a pair of files on her desk before finding the sheet that she was looking for. "Danielle, is it? You mind if I call you Dani?"
"... fine."
Edith wasn't sure why the young woman would agree to something in such low spirits, but it's not like Edith really cared that much about it. "So, Dani... how was your trip? It looks like you made it to the city all right."
"Oh, yes. Not much to say about the trip. It was pretty... peaceful." Danielle's answer was guarded but optimistic.
"Get through the checkpoint okay? No hangups with getting your travel passes or anything?"
"Oh, no. That was just fine, too."
"And how was your meeting? I heard it got moved..."
"Oh, that?" Danielle hedged gently as she leaned to the right in her chair. "I guess I'd say that went fine, too."
"Uh huh..." Edith pressed on, "And your 'mentor'? Everything going fine with him?"
"Mr. O'Ban...er, Lake? He's a little... well, he's not what I'd expe... what I mean to say is that I'm sure that he's a nice enough guy, but...."
Edith's face bent into a wrinkled little smile, "He ditched you, didn't he?"
Danielle all but fell out of her chair at the sudden interjection. "Wha? He... I wouldn't say that...I mean, I don't think that he...” Why exactly was it that she was trying to defend the man, again? Danielle let out a small huff. "Yes. He ditched me."
Edith smiled in earnest, leaning back in her seat. "Yeah, he tends to do that. I'm surprised you actually thought to come here first. Most people would have run around the city like a chicken with its head cut off for a few hours."
Danielle forced out a broken chuckle. The last thing she wanted to do was to admit that she had, in fact, spent the better part of two hours running around the city like a chicken with its head cut off. She had checked every business along the stretch of Main Street where Lake had disappeared. She was halfway through the city gate before she figured that there was no real way that he could have or would have gone to the outside. And she had even resorted to going person to person and asking random strangers if they had seen the man. Which, she mused to herself, was fairly deserving of the laughter that she had received from most of the people she ran into.
Edith stared at the young woman in front of her. She could see on the girl's face that she wasn't entirely comfortable with the topic of conversation. Edith hadn't meant to strike a nerve, but at the same time she wasn’t going to pull her punches either. This was as much an assessment of Danielle's resilience as it was her capability, and before it would be over, there would be far worse in store for the potential trainee than a few hurt feelings
Edith leaned forward and opened a drawer on the left side of her desk. Reaching in, she retrieved a small, tight rolled cigar and popped the end into her mouth. Without so much as an ounce of consideration for whether or not it might disturb her office mate, Edith promptly lit the cigar with a match and took a few short puffs.
Danielle wasn't sure if she was supposed to be doing a better job with this interview. In reality, she hadn't figured out why she had even bothered coming to the guild office. Part of her desperately wanted to find a group of laughing comrades there just waiting to let her in on the fact that she had been the butt of an elaborate joke. 'I can't believe you'd fall for something like that!' they'd chuckle. 'Welcome to the Guild, newbie!' they'd smile. There would also be cake.
Having arrived and finding some of the pointing and laughing but none of the prank-worthy camaraderie she was looking for, Danielle had seriously considered giving up. If she couldn't hack the first few hours of the day, how could she hold up for a week? A month? How was she ever supposed to etch out a life for herself in a city full of mages, psychos, robots and everything in between if she couldn't handle the first few hours? This was only the twelfth time she had asked herself that, and it was starting to feel like a personal mantra. She hadn't exactly expected Edith Fortunado to be a heaping pile of consolation, but Danielle couldn't help but think that the woman could be a little more considerate if she wanted to.
Edith took another pair of puffs from her cigar before propping herself back up into her chair. She looked across the desk at Danielle and vented a stream of smoke from her nostrils.
"What you have to understand..." Edith started with a tinge of sincerity, "Is that a lot of the people around here are worthless. Scum, really. All that pomp and glamour they try to put on the jobs we do is just a spit shine on a crap cracker." She took a moment to assess if that was anywhere near a proper analogy before continuing. "What I mean to say is that this is a hard life choice. It's not for everyone, and it's certainly not for someone that can find work doing something safer. Taking this job will put your life in constant peril. Even when you're not on the job, someone... or something... might try to take a shot at you. Yes, you should be well protected, and once you're with a clan, they'll always have your back, but you have to accept the fact that just by signing up for this job, you're probably cutting your life span in half. There isn't much a of a retirement plan because frankly, not many people make it to retirement age."
"The reason that those guys out there probably treated you like crap is because... well, they generally view walkabouts as bad luck. ‘Blackouts’ is what they call them. Because for some reason, any time one of them shows up, it seems like someone ends up getting killed over it. And that's on top of the usual nonsense that gets people killed around here."
“What I guess I'm trying to say, Dani, is... have you really thought this through? I'm sure that you could make a nice living selling beaded necklaces or horn jewelry or whatever passes for a safe occupation around your neck of the woods."
...
(It should be noted at this point int he story, Dani shows opening frustration because she constantly runs into people who say, "Nice staff," to her (neither she nor the reader understands why at this point) and is almost always asked if she can be called Dani (which she really would prefer not to be called). And yes, Edith is in fact everyone's dream boss. But fear not. This section is specifically designed to spotlight Edith's edge against Dani's seemingly gentle nature, almost as much as the next section is designed to do the opposite.
And yes, Edith is a little person. Not a dwarf, gnome, leprechaun or any other interesting thing she could be. Don't ask me why I went with that choice. I think it was just simple aesthetics.)
Saturday, July 4, 2009
The Story of My Week
Man, it's been a week.
Mind you, when I say that, I don't by any stretch of the imagination mean to imply that there was a terrible tragedy in my life this week. In fact, I can honestly say that one could consider themselves blessed to have only had to deal with the particular brand of crazy that I have over the past week.
There are highlights to the insanity. In particular, the odd adventure of the apparently deaf/mute man who first borrowed my lawnmower while only half asking, then managed to get 10 bucks out of me (and I'm still not clear on what it was for), then finished it all off by banging on my door at 3AM that same night looking for more money (which I did not provide).
This was one of many different side trips and distractions that somehow left me worn, sleep deprived, and wondering just how I got through an entire week's worth of work without pulling my hair out. It probably helped that I got my hair cut this week, preventing it from being anywhere near grasping length.
But even though I had a few minor additional stress factors, an abnormal amount of physical fatigue, and at one point I entered a state of emotional instability that I hadn't hit since high school (which is as glorious as it sounds like it might be), I really feel like I accomplished some things this week. What, you ask?
1) I learned that, despite what I may have convinced myself over the course of several years, I am still capable of feeling major emotions. Mind you, that sword swings both ways, but it's still kind of refreshing to know that.
2) I learned that I still have a pretty handy set of friends around that have my back. Mind you, some of my friends have an awful tendency to be unavailable when I sometimes think I need them, but I have a fairly stable corps of people of varying backgrounds and experience, and somehow the combination was just enough to get me through some stuff. But then really, sometimes you just need an ear to listen.
3) I think, but I'm not completely certain, that I may have become a better friend myself. Maybe getting more in tune with myself just makes me more likely to do the same with others, but I'd like to think... no really hope... that if I haven't returned the favor of being there to someone yet, that I will at some point in the future.
4) When you fall asleep with your lights on, strange people will see that as an invitation to knock on your door at 3AM. Although to be fair, the last time a weirdo did that, I'm pretty sure all of my lights were off. There shouldn't be a lot of people doing that, you know?
So what now? I couldn't say. Honestly, I feel fairly good for someone that had the week I did. And while I know that I'm always just one rogue event away from entering yet another cycle of self doubt and/or anxiety, I feel like I should have a better grip on it now. And it's very rare to say that in the course of a week, you can actually feel like you may have grown as a person.
(Although I'm inclined to note, strictly for gambling purposes, that the over/under for this new enlightened age of being is 14 days. Man, Vegas will take odds on anything...)
Friday, May 29, 2009
A Brief Primer on Leaving Comments
Now, don't get me wrong. I love a good comment as much as anyone. In fact, probably more than anyone. Nothing makes my day more than seeing that a post I've made has a comment attached to it. I almost always try to post a reply (for people that might stop back by), and I'm usually so thrilled that someone's dropped by out of the blue that I will visit their page(s) and even follow them if I so choose. But that doesn't mean that I'm not paying attention to what gets said. As such, I'd just like to make this clear for the official record:
1) Any and all comments are welcome, so long as they are the opinion of the commenter and don't contain any excessively vulgar or offensive language. I retain the right to loosen or restrict this policy as needed (although I doubt I'll need to).
2) I'm perfectly fine with links being provided in comments, so long as A) they are in some way related to the post and B) they are not blatantly obvious spam posts/links. Again, this is at my discretion, but it's fairly obvious when someone has or hasn't bothered to read a post prior to making a comment.
3) Along those same lines, I could not be bothered to care about a ridiculously long rant someone generates over... well, anything. Especially if it looks like they just did a mass search for related topics, then cut and pasted said comment into every place they possibly could. Especially if they do so anonymously.
In fact, while I love a good anonymous post as much as the next person, but it goes without saying that they may come under more scrutiny. I shouldn't have bothered with this, since I know that anyone that bothers breaking any of these rules won't manage to read this anyway, but I figured I'd just put it out there.
1) Any and all comments are welcome, so long as they are the opinion of the commenter and don't contain any excessively vulgar or offensive language. I retain the right to loosen or restrict this policy as needed (although I doubt I'll need to).
2) I'm perfectly fine with links being provided in comments, so long as A) they are in some way related to the post and B) they are not blatantly obvious spam posts/links. Again, this is at my discretion, but it's fairly obvious when someone has or hasn't bothered to read a post prior to making a comment.
3) Along those same lines, I could not be bothered to care about a ridiculously long rant someone generates over... well, anything. Especially if it looks like they just did a mass search for related topics, then cut and pasted said comment into every place they possibly could. Especially if they do so anonymously.
In fact, while I love a good anonymous post as much as the next person, but it goes without saying that they may come under more scrutiny. I shouldn't have bothered with this, since I know that anyone that bothers breaking any of these rules won't manage to read this anyway, but I figured I'd just put it out there.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Unfiltered: Project Nano - Chapter 2
(After the overwhelming response to last week's installment (when I said read it in parts, I didn't mean to take a month... sheesh...) we continue with excerpts from my Nanowrimo project. In this installment, we meet Danielle Brightstar, the would-be sidekick who ends up more of protagonist than I expected her to. Behold the opus that is tentatively entitled: Enter the Walkabout...)
“You have to stand behind the line, ma’am.”
“I’m sorry?”
The man behind the counter made a pushing gesture with his hands. “Behind the line, ma’am. It’s for safety purposes.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Danielle took a small step back to accommodate the clerk, bumping into the person behind her in the process. She offered a quick apology to the disgruntled woman, who responded with a series of odd clicks from beneath her cloth-wrapped face. Danielle tried to play it off and focus on what was ahead of her: the city. It was an entirely new concept for her. She had heard the word and seen the pictures, but to actually be at the gates of one was a completely overwhelming feeling. She made a futile attempt at remaining calm as she waited behind the line for her chance to get her pass. In her mind she tried to convince herself that if she couldn’t keep it together long enough to get through the gates, she couldn’t possibly handle what was past them.
No. That’s not an option... She adamantly told herself. She had set out to prove that she could make this work, and it was the exact wrong time to start having doubts about it.
“Ma’am?”
“… Yes?”
“It’s your turn, ma’am.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Danielle bit the edge of her lip at having lost focus long enough to lose track of being next. She wasn’t even inside the city gates and she had already managed to irritate a man behind a glass and a female… she still wasn’t quite sure what the thing was behind her, except to glean that it was female. Or at least she thought it was. This would take some getting used to.
* * * * * * * * *
Having cleared the main gates, Danielle made her way out of the visitor’s center and into the city proper. If she had any prior knowledge of things like stadiums or coliseums, she might be inclined to compare the walkway with the entrance to one of those. As it was, she was more able to equate it with a clearing at the end of a forest trail. She would, naturally enough, have been disappointed had what met her at the end of the walkway been as simple as a field of lilies. Needless to say, she was not disappointed.
The confining nature of the visitor’s center only led to amplify the effect of being in the city’s open space. It was like letting out a big breath to be exposed to the open air again, and Danielle found herself stopping for a moment just to take it all in. The city spanned outward into streets and buildings of various sorts, the first ones being the obvious ones you’d expect to see at a city entrance. The main street (named appropriately enough Main Street) split the city in half as it ran in a straight-line north. Side streets led off to the east and west, as the wall’s curvature made the ones nearest to it simply fade into the distance. The vendors and the wares they had for sale were both varied, spanning from the mundane and practical to the flamboyant and bizarre.
Danielle fought the voice in the back of her head trying once again to convince her that this was a big mistake. She tugged awkwardly at the edge of her animal skin skirt as she watched the various individuals make their way into and out of the area. She had figured that with the city’s diverse cultural background she wouldn’t feel quite out of place in her tribal garb, but she couldn’t help but feel that way as she watched the way things moved about.
“Hey. Nice staff.”
Danielle heard the comment from behind her and turned her head to grasp what the source was. She almost expected the individual to be addressing someone else despite the fact that she was carrying a rather large wooden staff. She was so used to carrying it with her that half the time she barely remembered that she had it. Danielle regarded the man who had come up behind her with an odd expression. “I’m sor…" She stopped herself short of saying that same phrase for what felt like the one hundredth time and instead offered a gently spoken, "Excuse me?”
“I said, ‘Nice staff.’” The frail looking man darted his head around in an attempt to avoid eye contact. By his manner, he seemed worried about what he’d just said.
Danielle had noticed as she turned her head that the man had not been looking anywhere near the vicinity of her staff. In fact, his need to repeat himself seemed more an attempt to make her clear that he had said staff, although why he’d need to do so she wasn’t entirely sure. She couldn’t think of any words that sounded like staff that she might have confused with something lewd, but she didn’t have the largest vocabulary when it came to that particular dialogue. She decided to ignore the fact that the guy had been staring at her and focus more on the fact that he chose to speak. “Can I… help you with something?” Danielle offered as a safe avenue of conversation.
The man squirmed around the issue, his head continuing the same darty movement it had before. It only helped to emphasize his uncertainty. “Are you… Bright-Star?” He chanced to look her directly in the eye for a second before darting his gaze away again. “I asked the girl with a tail and the Amazon lady, but they weren’t Bright-Star. So, um… are you her?”
Danielle turned to face the man fully. Her staff, as it had many times before, pressed into the ground next to her as she planted her feet again. Her face pressed into a soft state of confusion as she replied, “I am. Did the Guild send you?”
“Guild?” The man treated the word like it was an obscenity. “I ain’t part of no stinkin’… uh…” He tried to adjust his tone along with his response. “No, no. I’m not with the Guild. Although the guy… you’re supposed to meet a… he said to… I…”
“Just relax,” Danielle interjected with the start of a smile. “So, Mr.…”
“Weasel. Not Mr.… They… just call me Weasel.”
She could at least see where he got the name. “So, uh, Weasel… someone sent you here, right?”
Weasel bobbed his head in a weak nod.
“And the person is connected with the Guild, right?”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
“Okay. So why did they want you to meet me here? I thought I was supposed to meet my Guild sponsor at the hall.”
“You are. You were. There was a change of plans.”
Danielle’s grip on her staff tightened a little. “Change of plans? What kind of change of plans?”
Weasel shifted a little as he noticed the slight change in the woman’s demeanor. Just when he looked like he was about to dart off, he began to blabber again, “O’Bannon. He said to tell you… change of plans… new meeting… since he’s not there… He’s supposed to…”
“Calm. Down.”
Weasel snapped to attention at the slow talk like it set off some kind of trigger in his head. He took a deep breath, then started over, “O’Bannon. He’s the guy that you were supposed to meet at the hall. He told me to find you and tell you to meet him somewhere else. Somewhere closer. More convenient. For him, anyway. Uh… but I wasn’t supposed to tell you that last part.” Weasel tried to play off his miscue with a weak chuckle.
Danielle surveyed the man cautiously. For all of the things he seemed to know, she really had no idea that anything he said was true. The guy had a nature that made you feel like he shouldn’t be trusted, but at the same time he didn’t seem to be all that dangerous, either. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt for the time being.
“All right. Where does he want me to meet him?”
(Yes, Danielle's entrance is deliberately designed to offset the initial dread felt by an entire clan's worth of hardened bounty hunters. Of course, maybe her presence in the city really is the beginning of something hazardous. Time will tell. Ooh, suspense...)
“You have to stand behind the line, ma’am.”
“I’m sorry?”
The man behind the counter made a pushing gesture with his hands. “Behind the line, ma’am. It’s for safety purposes.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Danielle took a small step back to accommodate the clerk, bumping into the person behind her in the process. She offered a quick apology to the disgruntled woman, who responded with a series of odd clicks from beneath her cloth-wrapped face. Danielle tried to play it off and focus on what was ahead of her: the city. It was an entirely new concept for her. She had heard the word and seen the pictures, but to actually be at the gates of one was a completely overwhelming feeling. She made a futile attempt at remaining calm as she waited behind the line for her chance to get her pass. In her mind she tried to convince herself that if she couldn’t keep it together long enough to get through the gates, she couldn’t possibly handle what was past them.
No. That’s not an option... She adamantly told herself. She had set out to prove that she could make this work, and it was the exact wrong time to start having doubts about it.
“Ma’am?”
“… Yes?”
“It’s your turn, ma’am.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Danielle bit the edge of her lip at having lost focus long enough to lose track of being next. She wasn’t even inside the city gates and she had already managed to irritate a man behind a glass and a female… she still wasn’t quite sure what the thing was behind her, except to glean that it was female. Or at least she thought it was. This would take some getting used to.
* * * * * * * * *
Having cleared the main gates, Danielle made her way out of the visitor’s center and into the city proper. If she had any prior knowledge of things like stadiums or coliseums, she might be inclined to compare the walkway with the entrance to one of those. As it was, she was more able to equate it with a clearing at the end of a forest trail. She would, naturally enough, have been disappointed had what met her at the end of the walkway been as simple as a field of lilies. Needless to say, she was not disappointed.
The confining nature of the visitor’s center only led to amplify the effect of being in the city’s open space. It was like letting out a big breath to be exposed to the open air again, and Danielle found herself stopping for a moment just to take it all in. The city spanned outward into streets and buildings of various sorts, the first ones being the obvious ones you’d expect to see at a city entrance. The main street (named appropriately enough Main Street) split the city in half as it ran in a straight-line north. Side streets led off to the east and west, as the wall’s curvature made the ones nearest to it simply fade into the distance. The vendors and the wares they had for sale were both varied, spanning from the mundane and practical to the flamboyant and bizarre.
Danielle fought the voice in the back of her head trying once again to convince her that this was a big mistake. She tugged awkwardly at the edge of her animal skin skirt as she watched the various individuals make their way into and out of the area. She had figured that with the city’s diverse cultural background she wouldn’t feel quite out of place in her tribal garb, but she couldn’t help but feel that way as she watched the way things moved about.
“Hey. Nice staff.”
Danielle heard the comment from behind her and turned her head to grasp what the source was. She almost expected the individual to be addressing someone else despite the fact that she was carrying a rather large wooden staff. She was so used to carrying it with her that half the time she barely remembered that she had it. Danielle regarded the man who had come up behind her with an odd expression. “I’m sor…" She stopped herself short of saying that same phrase for what felt like the one hundredth time and instead offered a gently spoken, "Excuse me?”
“I said, ‘Nice staff.’” The frail looking man darted his head around in an attempt to avoid eye contact. By his manner, he seemed worried about what he’d just said.
Danielle had noticed as she turned her head that the man had not been looking anywhere near the vicinity of her staff. In fact, his need to repeat himself seemed more an attempt to make her clear that he had said staff, although why he’d need to do so she wasn’t entirely sure. She couldn’t think of any words that sounded like staff that she might have confused with something lewd, but she didn’t have the largest vocabulary when it came to that particular dialogue. She decided to ignore the fact that the guy had been staring at her and focus more on the fact that he chose to speak. “Can I… help you with something?” Danielle offered as a safe avenue of conversation.
The man squirmed around the issue, his head continuing the same darty movement it had before. It only helped to emphasize his uncertainty. “Are you… Bright-Star?” He chanced to look her directly in the eye for a second before darting his gaze away again. “I asked the girl with a tail and the Amazon lady, but they weren’t Bright-Star. So, um… are you her?”
Danielle turned to face the man fully. Her staff, as it had many times before, pressed into the ground next to her as she planted her feet again. Her face pressed into a soft state of confusion as she replied, “I am. Did the Guild send you?”
“Guild?” The man treated the word like it was an obscenity. “I ain’t part of no stinkin’… uh…” He tried to adjust his tone along with his response. “No, no. I’m not with the Guild. Although the guy… you’re supposed to meet a… he said to… I…”
“Just relax,” Danielle interjected with the start of a smile. “So, Mr.…”
“Weasel. Not Mr.… They… just call me Weasel.”
She could at least see where he got the name. “So, uh, Weasel… someone sent you here, right?”
Weasel bobbed his head in a weak nod.
“And the person is connected with the Guild, right?”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
“Okay. So why did they want you to meet me here? I thought I was supposed to meet my Guild sponsor at the hall.”
“You are. You were. There was a change of plans.”
Danielle’s grip on her staff tightened a little. “Change of plans? What kind of change of plans?”
Weasel shifted a little as he noticed the slight change in the woman’s demeanor. Just when he looked like he was about to dart off, he began to blabber again, “O’Bannon. He said to tell you… change of plans… new meeting… since he’s not there… He’s supposed to…”
“Calm. Down.”
Weasel snapped to attention at the slow talk like it set off some kind of trigger in his head. He took a deep breath, then started over, “O’Bannon. He’s the guy that you were supposed to meet at the hall. He told me to find you and tell you to meet him somewhere else. Somewhere closer. More convenient. For him, anyway. Uh… but I wasn’t supposed to tell you that last part.” Weasel tried to play off his miscue with a weak chuckle.
Danielle surveyed the man cautiously. For all of the things he seemed to know, she really had no idea that anything he said was true. The guy had a nature that made you feel like he shouldn’t be trusted, but at the same time he didn’t seem to be all that dangerous, either. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt for the time being.
“All right. Where does he want me to meet him?”
(Yes, Danielle's entrance is deliberately designed to offset the initial dread felt by an entire clan's worth of hardened bounty hunters. Of course, maybe her presence in the city really is the beginning of something hazardous. Time will tell. Ooh, suspense...)
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
"Missed it By That Much..."
So the story of interest today isn't what you missed at the start of the week but what missed you.
As reported by CNN.com and other sites, an asteroid 40 yards wide just missed hitting the planet on Monday night. By just missed, I mean that it was roughly 40,000 miles away from us. Which seems like a long way away, but in astronomical terms is pretty freaking close.
And while many people seem to play it off, I feel the need to point out a handful of factoids that continue to make me nervous. First of all, this particular asteroid, while not large enough to take us out like the dinosaurs went, was still large enough to cause a serious boom had it hit land anywhere. Second, since it came as close to the Earth as it did, some astronomers believe that Earth's gravity may well affect it to the point that we will continue to have near misses with it. Good stuff. But on the bright side, we should have plenty of warning next time. After all, we had... wait, what? Three days? We had three days warning this thing nearly half the size of a football field was on its way past us? Sheesh. I feel comforted.
And lastly, while I can't prove this is related at all to it, cell phone calls have been randomly riddled with static the past few days. And paranoid me is always more afraid of a near missing celestial body accidentally irradiating us than it hitting us. But hey, it's not like we can really worry about it. And if worse comes to worse, well, you know how the drill goes...
(And yes, I've had this song stuck in my head since I read this story earlier this afternoon...)
As reported by CNN.com and other sites, an asteroid 40 yards wide just missed hitting the planet on Monday night. By just missed, I mean that it was roughly 40,000 miles away from us. Which seems like a long way away, but in astronomical terms is pretty freaking close.
And while many people seem to play it off, I feel the need to point out a handful of factoids that continue to make me nervous. First of all, this particular asteroid, while not large enough to take us out like the dinosaurs went, was still large enough to cause a serious boom had it hit land anywhere. Second, since it came as close to the Earth as it did, some astronomers believe that Earth's gravity may well affect it to the point that we will continue to have near misses with it. Good stuff. But on the bright side, we should have plenty of warning next time. After all, we had... wait, what? Three days? We had three days warning this thing nearly half the size of a football field was on its way past us? Sheesh. I feel comforted.
And lastly, while I can't prove this is related at all to it, cell phone calls have been randomly riddled with static the past few days. And paranoid me is always more afraid of a near missing celestial body accidentally irradiating us than it hitting us. But hey, it's not like we can really worry about it. And if worse comes to worse, well, you know how the drill goes...
(And yes, I've had this song stuck in my head since I read this story earlier this afternoon...)
Monday, March 2, 2009
Finding the Balance
So Sam Johnson decides, almost eerily, to comment on the nature of his blog and how it does and doesn't embrace factors of his life. I say eerily because I've been nursing my own commentary on the matter for the past month or so. So I figure now might be as good a time as any to explain the nature of my page.
Many times, my blog is kind of a sticky board for my travels around the web. It's useful because I used to find myself running across cool, funny, or just plain informative things and then forgetting to recheck them or revisit them. You know how it is. You screw around and that funny clip you meant to tell everyone about slips out of your mind and your web history, never to be seen again. Not to mention as things that entertain me, they do say a good deal about me and who I am. So while it might be considered a cheat of sorts, I also consider them a form of my own expression.
And certainly, I have my page as a place that I can talk about my life. I do so mainly because talking about my life is yet another way to express myself. Not to mention that there are sometimes thoughts and stories that due to lack of time or contact I just don't get around to mentioning to the people around me. I can at least point them to here when I get the chance or just speak to my invisible friend, the Phantom Reader (I bet someone has that name copyrighted, too... dang) and get it out of my system.
But like Sam, there are things I just won't talk about. In general, I won't talk about my job, except in passing or to comment that I am or have been working. Part of that is just me being professional and not dragging any potential work issues into the open, and part of that is just common sense. My page is, after all, open to just about anyone. Given my job, it just isn't practical or wise to publicize anything related to it to the public. (And no, I am not a spy like my profile claims I may be.)
Likewise, because this is public, there are things I simply don't wish to share. I like to think that the small group of people I've alerted to the site's presence (who actually bother to stop by on occasion.... guilt trip!) are trustworthy enough not to go blabbing my useless business where it isn't needed, but all the same there are some times I won't roll the dice on that. I'm still debating whether or not I should have been so open about my political views, but I stand by that as a means of coping with a political environment whose logic was testing my sanity. Not that it's gotten much better. But I digress...
And of course there is a time issue. There are weeks when I've gotten so tied up with other stuff that I haven't bothered posting things that I've already got written. Now that's just sad.
So that's it in a nutshell. I try to express myself a little and be as open as possible about the little world I live in, but you're only going to get so much out of me. Live with it. Or don't. I'll get by either way.
Many times, my blog is kind of a sticky board for my travels around the web. It's useful because I used to find myself running across cool, funny, or just plain informative things and then forgetting to recheck them or revisit them. You know how it is. You screw around and that funny clip you meant to tell everyone about slips out of your mind and your web history, never to be seen again. Not to mention as things that entertain me, they do say a good deal about me and who I am. So while it might be considered a cheat of sorts, I also consider them a form of my own expression.
And certainly, I have my page as a place that I can talk about my life. I do so mainly because talking about my life is yet another way to express myself. Not to mention that there are sometimes thoughts and stories that due to lack of time or contact I just don't get around to mentioning to the people around me. I can at least point them to here when I get the chance or just speak to my invisible friend, the Phantom Reader (I bet someone has that name copyrighted, too... dang) and get it out of my system.
But like Sam, there are things I just won't talk about. In general, I won't talk about my job, except in passing or to comment that I am or have been working. Part of that is just me being professional and not dragging any potential work issues into the open, and part of that is just common sense. My page is, after all, open to just about anyone. Given my job, it just isn't practical or wise to publicize anything related to it to the public. (And no, I am not a spy like my profile claims I may be.)
Likewise, because this is public, there are things I simply don't wish to share. I like to think that the small group of people I've alerted to the site's presence (who actually bother to stop by on occasion.... guilt trip!) are trustworthy enough not to go blabbing my useless business where it isn't needed, but all the same there are some times I won't roll the dice on that. I'm still debating whether or not I should have been so open about my political views, but I stand by that as a means of coping with a political environment whose logic was testing my sanity. Not that it's gotten much better. But I digress...
And of course there is a time issue. There are weeks when I've gotten so tied up with other stuff that I haven't bothered posting things that I've already got written. Now that's just sad.
So that's it in a nutshell. I try to express myself a little and be as open as possible about the little world I live in, but you're only going to get so much out of me. Live with it. Or don't. I'll get by either way.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Why My Mom is Cool
Okay, so there are a million stories about the mom that I could tell, and they'd all be worthy. Plus, this story is more about me, anyway, but bear with me.
Last week, my mom reminded me of why I sometimes think that even though she often acts like she doesn't, she actually does get me. I had just stopped by my grandmother's house to visit my mom who was there and I was about to bootleg some food for the trip home when I started going off on a random rambling about something or other (I think, oddly enough, it was about birth control... it made sense at the time, trust me...).
Anyway, I was heading from the bedroom to the kitchen when I heard my mom comment to the few family members assembled there that she thought I could do stand-up comedy.
I understand what you're thinking. Why should I care about a comment as irrelevant and unimportant as that? Well, truth be told, I sometimes wonder about whether I should take a shot at it myself. But see, I understand the task of a stand up comedian enough to realize that it's not that simple.
I'm not afraid of performing. I've been on stage before (although not recently) both alone and with groups, and I could even say that I thrived there for the most part. But that's practiced stage performing or even improv (which isn't practiced, but isn't nearly as random as some people would have you believe).
I know that I'm funny. Maybe not to all people and about all things, but I'm pretty sure that most of the people I've met in life and spent time with (aside from maybe a few work contacts) would attest to my having some type of comic timing. So yeah, it could work.
But it's you against the audience. And even if they're willing and encouraging, they can be a fickle and unforgiving bunch. And that's assuming you're not in front of a bunch of drunk and half-drunk people (which you probably are). So yes, even the fearless performing heart that is mine feels a little bit of trepidation over giving that a shot.
But still, it's nice to hear my mom say that she thinks I could probably do it, since it means that if I ever wanted to try, I'd have her support. I'd probably have it regardless, but at least now I think she might actually be encouraging about it. And of course, the whole thing reminds me that I'm supposed to get around to doing some type of performing again at some point in my life. Some minor theater work, an open mic night, some impromptu improv... heck, I might even break down, find one of those fancy video camera things and venture into that YouTube thing all the hip kids are talking about.
Or all they all about the MySpace now? I can never keep up with those hip kids.
Last week, my mom reminded me of why I sometimes think that even though she often acts like she doesn't, she actually does get me. I had just stopped by my grandmother's house to visit my mom who was there and I was about to bootleg some food for the trip home when I started going off on a random rambling about something or other (I think, oddly enough, it was about birth control... it made sense at the time, trust me...).
Anyway, I was heading from the bedroom to the kitchen when I heard my mom comment to the few family members assembled there that she thought I could do stand-up comedy.
I understand what you're thinking. Why should I care about a comment as irrelevant and unimportant as that? Well, truth be told, I sometimes wonder about whether I should take a shot at it myself. But see, I understand the task of a stand up comedian enough to realize that it's not that simple.
I'm not afraid of performing. I've been on stage before (although not recently) both alone and with groups, and I could even say that I thrived there for the most part. But that's practiced stage performing or even improv (which isn't practiced, but isn't nearly as random as some people would have you believe).
I know that I'm funny. Maybe not to all people and about all things, but I'm pretty sure that most of the people I've met in life and spent time with (aside from maybe a few work contacts) would attest to my having some type of comic timing. So yeah, it could work.
But it's you against the audience. And even if they're willing and encouraging, they can be a fickle and unforgiving bunch. And that's assuming you're not in front of a bunch of drunk and half-drunk people (which you probably are). So yes, even the fearless performing heart that is mine feels a little bit of trepidation over giving that a shot.
But still, it's nice to hear my mom say that she thinks I could probably do it, since it means that if I ever wanted to try, I'd have her support. I'd probably have it regardless, but at least now I think she might actually be encouraging about it. And of course, the whole thing reminds me that I'm supposed to get around to doing some type of performing again at some point in my life. Some minor theater work, an open mic night, some impromptu improv... heck, I might even break down, find one of those fancy video camera things and venture into that YouTube thing all the hip kids are talking about.
Or all they all about the MySpace now? I can never keep up with those hip kids.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
My "This makes sense at 3AM" Thought of the Week
Why do I hate Pete Wisodm so much? Sure he has that stupid "bad boy" image. And yes he almost literally ruined a decent X-Men favorite of mine by being in a relationship with her. And he does have those dumb powers and the stupid accent...
Oh my gosh! No wonder I hate him. He's British Gambit! It's a wonder that I don't hate him more...
Oh my gosh! No wonder I hate him. He's British Gambit! It's a wonder that I don't hate him more...
Sunday, February 1, 2009
The Ride: A Story of Redemption
... Okay, not really, but it sounds better than "How I got Home from Work: A Story You Won't Care About." But you should, because it nears epic status with regards to my failure.
It all begins with my Super Bowl plans. No, I don't have plans to attend a party, and to be fair my only true celebrating came down to the tortilla chips and salsa that I bought at the store earlier this week (which strangely remained untouched during taco night) and the 3-D glasses that I picked up on yesterday.
At this point, you probably realize that I don't really care about who wins the game (although I do tend to root for an underdog by default). No, my only ardent wish is to check out the two 3-D ads set to air at the end of the half. The only obstacle I have to this is the fact that I'm slated to work through 7PM (including 4 hours of overtime... yay...), clearly after the game is set to start. But I figure I'll probably have just enough time to drive myself home before the half ends and a little to spare. But of course, I wouldn't start this story if it ended like that, now would I?
So here's where things start to fall apart. My coworker that's relieving me comes in at about the absolute latest time that she could possibly come in and still be on time. This cuts into my safety buffer, so I decide to do something I don't normally do and take the back way home. The back way, in this case, is a trip down Chatham Parkway not towards 17 but towards Telfair. It's a back road trip that I don't normally make when it's dark (for obvious reasons), but it shaves a good five minutes off my trip time home because it's a straighter shot to pass by the train station. Unless...
I see the red flashing lights and immediately remember what I always forget with regards to this path: if a train is crossing the road, you're generally screwed. Why I never seem to remember this unless and until I head this way I'll never know. So having lost the initial game of Train Roulette (which I didn't realize I was playing), I decide to play a game Crossing Roulette. This is where I decide that instead of actually turning around and heading back the other way (a trip you know will take at least the 15 minutes it was going to and then some), I'll try to wait it out and hope that the train in question doesn't stall out on the tracks like so many freight trains are wont to do.
You know what happened there.
So I suck it up, turn around and head back the other way. Only before I get back to good old HW17, I have to pass I-16. Now, I never, and I should stress this, never take I-16 home. Not only do I not like interstate driving at night, but also I've already determined that it normally doesn't save me any time. But screw it, right? How could it possibly get any worse?
And I'd love to tell you a delicious anecdote about the pile-up that cost me the whole can of beans, but it really was a run of the mill drive the rest of the way to my house. I'm running the contingency plans through my head on the way there, just in case this really is close. No time for taking my stuff out of the car. I'll just go in and turn on my TV. That way, I can always pause my DVR and catch whatever's left of the whole thing after I get my stuff. (And yes, I did actually think this through that far. I got that bored when I was driving.)
The rest is just a little colorful nonsense. I get out of my car and close the door on my seat belt for the umpteenth time, an action that annoys me because the door doesn't close all the way but closes just enough that I have to unlock the door to get the seat belt out. But screw you, seat belt. You'll wait the 20 seconds just like the stuff in my trunk will. And of course, I end up not having to have worried about anything, since the rest of the second quarter took way more time than I figured. So happy endings all around, I got to see my stupid 3-D effects (which were marginally successful), and I got home from work safe and sound, which is always a good thing. You'll note that I really don't care about the game, since I've spent most of the second half composing this story that I openly admit really wasn't all that epic after all. But it is, as it always is... my life.
It all begins with my Super Bowl plans. No, I don't have plans to attend a party, and to be fair my only true celebrating came down to the tortilla chips and salsa that I bought at the store earlier this week (which strangely remained untouched during taco night) and the 3-D glasses that I picked up on yesterday.
At this point, you probably realize that I don't really care about who wins the game (although I do tend to root for an underdog by default). No, my only ardent wish is to check out the two 3-D ads set to air at the end of the half. The only obstacle I have to this is the fact that I'm slated to work through 7PM (including 4 hours of overtime... yay...), clearly after the game is set to start. But I figure I'll probably have just enough time to drive myself home before the half ends and a little to spare. But of course, I wouldn't start this story if it ended like that, now would I?
So here's where things start to fall apart. My coworker that's relieving me comes in at about the absolute latest time that she could possibly come in and still be on time. This cuts into my safety buffer, so I decide to do something I don't normally do and take the back way home. The back way, in this case, is a trip down Chatham Parkway not towards 17 but towards Telfair. It's a back road trip that I don't normally make when it's dark (for obvious reasons), but it shaves a good five minutes off my trip time home because it's a straighter shot to pass by the train station. Unless...
I see the red flashing lights and immediately remember what I always forget with regards to this path: if a train is crossing the road, you're generally screwed. Why I never seem to remember this unless and until I head this way I'll never know. So having lost the initial game of Train Roulette (which I didn't realize I was playing), I decide to play a game Crossing Roulette. This is where I decide that instead of actually turning around and heading back the other way (a trip you know will take at least the 15 minutes it was going to and then some), I'll try to wait it out and hope that the train in question doesn't stall out on the tracks like so many freight trains are wont to do.
You know what happened there.
So I suck it up, turn around and head back the other way. Only before I get back to good old HW17, I have to pass I-16. Now, I never, and I should stress this, never take I-16 home. Not only do I not like interstate driving at night, but also I've already determined that it normally doesn't save me any time. But screw it, right? How could it possibly get any worse?
And I'd love to tell you a delicious anecdote about the pile-up that cost me the whole can of beans, but it really was a run of the mill drive the rest of the way to my house. I'm running the contingency plans through my head on the way there, just in case this really is close. No time for taking my stuff out of the car. I'll just go in and turn on my TV. That way, I can always pause my DVR and catch whatever's left of the whole thing after I get my stuff. (And yes, I did actually think this through that far. I got that bored when I was driving.)
The rest is just a little colorful nonsense. I get out of my car and close the door on my seat belt for the umpteenth time, an action that annoys me because the door doesn't close all the way but closes just enough that I have to unlock the door to get the seat belt out. But screw you, seat belt. You'll wait the 20 seconds just like the stuff in my trunk will. And of course, I end up not having to have worried about anything, since the rest of the second quarter took way more time than I figured. So happy endings all around, I got to see my stupid 3-D effects (which were marginally successful), and I got home from work safe and sound, which is always a good thing. You'll note that I really don't care about the game, since I've spent most of the second half composing this story that I openly admit really wasn't all that epic after all. But it is, as it always is... my life.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
This Was My Day
So I get home from work first thing this morning and I try to figure out the sequence of events I need to pull off to make my dentist appointment at noon. It's a not so complicated list that centers around eating breakfast and taking some sort of nap. At some point, I figure I should brush my teeth, too, even though I've always found the whole notion a bit odd. I mean, you're going to get your teeth cleaned, right? Why would you clean them before you get there? If anything, I should be eating corn cobs and gummy bears and any other things I can think of to cram in there. You're earning that insurance premium today, baby!
Ahem. Sorry.
Anywho, I'm a little bummed out because when I changed my appointment to this Tuesday it didn't once occur to me that it would be right smack dab in the middle of the Innauguration ceremony. But no loss, because that's what the DVR is for, and it's not like it won't be replayed in perpetuity for the next week.
So I go to the dentist with little incident, and I stop by the store to pick up some supplies to cook dinner. Beef stir fry for the win (don't worry, I won't be writing any songs about it). So I come home and I prep a few things, and I'm well into planning out the rest of my afternoon when it hits me. We have a new President.
You had to know that would come up sooner or later, didn't you? But this wasn't quite the epic, "Change is here" moment that so many people will say overcame them at points in the day. I think I'm all momented out for the time being. But this was the first time that the gravity of the shift in power really hit me. The guy that was in charge isn't in charge anymore, and a new guy is in charge. I've been around to see a change or two as an adult, but it's a bit obvious that this time there is a little bit more going on in the world.
So yes, I did have a moment yesterday where I felt like things were a bit different. It just took a little while to set in, is all.
Ahem. Sorry.
Anywho, I'm a little bummed out because when I changed my appointment to this Tuesday it didn't once occur to me that it would be right smack dab in the middle of the Innauguration ceremony. But no loss, because that's what the DVR is for, and it's not like it won't be replayed in perpetuity for the next week.
So I go to the dentist with little incident, and I stop by the store to pick up some supplies to cook dinner. Beef stir fry for the win (don't worry, I won't be writing any songs about it). So I come home and I prep a few things, and I'm well into planning out the rest of my afternoon when it hits me. We have a new President.
You had to know that would come up sooner or later, didn't you? But this wasn't quite the epic, "Change is here" moment that so many people will say overcame them at points in the day. I think I'm all momented out for the time being. But this was the first time that the gravity of the shift in power really hit me. The guy that was in charge isn't in charge anymore, and a new guy is in charge. I've been around to see a change or two as an adult, but it's a bit obvious that this time there is a little bit more going on in the world.
So yes, I did have a moment yesterday where I felt like things were a bit different. It just took a little while to set in, is all.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Why Can't Some Things Go Away?
You know, the fact that I may never in my lifetime achieve anything that resembles widespread noteriety is both relieved and antagonized when things like this occur:
Joe The Plumber is putting down his wrenches and picking up a
reporter’s notebook.The Ohio man who became a household name during the presidential
campaign says he is heading to Israel as a war correspondent for the
conservative Web site pjtv.com.
Why? Why, of all the human beings on earth you could pick to send overseas to do reporting, would you send Joe/Samuel/Dumbo on said assignment? The man has zero credentials, and the only television appearances he's made thus far have only gone to confirm that he's a blithering idiot. That's rhetorical, of course. The obvious answer is ratings. A second rate site will no doubt pull in tons of viewers who are either fans of Joe, enemies of Joe looking for ammunition, or random observers who need to sate their idle curiousity. I mean, hey, look at me. I wasted time talking about it this week.
I guess at least now when he decides to talk about Israel being in danger, he can maybe have some idea of what he's talking abou... nah. Nah. Can't do it. I can't find a positive way to spin this. Maybe if he took Joe Six-Pack and the rest of his buddies and formed an actual news cabal over there. JoeTV: all Joe, all the time. Hmm. Nah, that won't work either.
But I guess one day, when I bother to sell three copies of a book or get some random screen time as an aside on some third rate cable show, I'll have to accept that the world just isn't a fair and balanced place. And a small-minded nobody from the midwest can end up having to file for a passport and going on a trip across the ocean. Only in America.
Unfiltered: What Makes a Black Panther Not a Black Panther?
Reviewing my flash drive like I did at the end of last year reminded me of one important thing. I tend to start many a dialogue and rant without ever properly finishing them up or polishing them off. There are many times I fully intend to do this and post messages, and other times that I decide that whatever I'm working on just isn't up to the standard. Then I realized that I don't have a standard, and the six people (yes, I think it's up to six now for no reason at all) can't care about it that much.
So I now present my new topic set called Unfiltered. A place where I can toss out incomplete or just plain blind ranting with no regrets. Here is part one of said topic, a rant related to upcoming changes in Marvel's Black Panther comic that I started years ago...
Okay, so earlier this week, I was breaking down my fake lineup of "Dark Avengers" when someone alerted me to the fact that Black Panther is getting the treatment in upcoming months. For those not on the uptake, Marvel has plans to replace the T'Challa we know and love with a woman. Of course, which woman is under the mask hasn't come up yet, but that would wreck the mystery.
Now honestly, I want to approach the issue with my unending fanboyism and shout, "Nooooooooo!" as loud as I can, but the truth is that it wouldn't change anything. Allow me to explain why.
For the better part of the past few years, Black Panther's solo title has been written by Reginald Hudlin. Hudlin has been writing a good deal of that book like garbage since he came on board. Not all of it, mind you, but a good deal of it.
But to really say that, I have to explain that BP has two dedicated fanbases. One is the old school comic head that cares about such geekish things as continuity and consistency in writing (those guys exist?), and the other is the group of people who could care less about those things and just likes seeing BP "handle his business". Mind you, it is possible to be a member of both groups.
The important part comes with understanding a subset of the latter group: brothers and sisters (and I don't mean a family connection there). I have run into a good number of black men and women who sincerely only follow Black Panther in his book and will love that he will occasionally go over the top on someone. Not that it should surprise you to learn that Black Panther has a black following, but I'm just pointing out that many of the readers and/or buyers of BP are not, ahem..."traditional comic readers". This is important because once you understand that, you'll realize that the core readership of the book doesn't necessarily care if T'Challa properly follows or falls into normal Marvel continuity. They are literally there to see BP do his thing and move on with their lives.
Having said that, I don't begrudge anyone in the latter group. If you just want to see BP be the baddest man on the block, that's fine. In fact, I'd argue that you're the target demographic for this the book to begin with. But for the old school comic heads (like myself), a lot of what happens in that book makes you go "WTF?" That's unfortunately where I end up more often than not (and one of the reasons I ended up dropping the title way back when).
The impetus on having quality work coming out of the title falls on two fronts. The first would be with Hudlin himself, who has made it clear that he doesn’t particularly care what anyone thinks of his book so long as people buy it. He gets this attitude from the second tier of responsibility in his company: the editorial department. In particular, he gets it from editor-in-chief Joe Quesada, who pushes a good many books with the concept “We don’t care if it makes you mad, so long as it makes us money.”
What you have to understand is that Quesada pushing the book goes exactly with what I've been saying. He will push the crap out of anything he thinks will sell issues, especially if he can stir up some buzz (positive or negative) about it. What Quesada doesn't do, however, is generally care if the book has any quality storytelling or not. And really, why should he, so long as he makes his money? He can piss off an old school head like me indefinitely with his book so long as he gets one new person to be interested enough to pick up the issue I drop.
The problem comes in when your hype starts to fade and you have to make a choice. Create new hype (which may or may not alienate your new, possibly more fickle reader with no guarantee that the old reader will come back) or maintain the status quo (which may bore your new reader and guarantee your old reader won't come back).
To draw a more relevant analogy, it's like trying to balance energizing your base with reaching out to independents. And I guess maybe I see Quesada as more of a McCain than an Obama.
...
Dang. I just put way too much thought into this.
(Ed. Note: As evidenced by the last comment, I clearly started writing this long before my moratorium on political commentary at the end of the year. Not that said moratorium is even remotely official or going to last. I just have a feeling…)
So I now present my new topic set called Unfiltered. A place where I can toss out incomplete or just plain blind ranting with no regrets. Here is part one of said topic, a rant related to upcoming changes in Marvel's Black Panther comic that I started years ago...
Okay, so earlier this week, I was breaking down my fake lineup of "Dark Avengers" when someone alerted me to the fact that Black Panther is getting the treatment in upcoming months. For those not on the uptake, Marvel has plans to replace the T'Challa we know and love with a woman. Of course, which woman is under the mask hasn't come up yet, but that would wreck the mystery.
Now honestly, I want to approach the issue with my unending fanboyism and shout, "Nooooooooo!" as loud as I can, but the truth is that it wouldn't change anything. Allow me to explain why.
For the better part of the past few years, Black Panther's solo title has been written by Reginald Hudlin. Hudlin has been writing a good deal of that book like garbage since he came on board. Not all of it, mind you, but a good deal of it.
But to really say that, I have to explain that BP has two dedicated fanbases. One is the old school comic head that cares about such geekish things as continuity and consistency in writing (those guys exist?), and the other is the group of people who could care less about those things and just likes seeing BP "handle his business". Mind you, it is possible to be a member of both groups.
The important part comes with understanding a subset of the latter group: brothers and sisters (and I don't mean a family connection there). I have run into a good number of black men and women who sincerely only follow Black Panther in his book and will love that he will occasionally go over the top on someone. Not that it should surprise you to learn that Black Panther has a black following, but I'm just pointing out that many of the readers and/or buyers of BP are not, ahem..."traditional comic readers". This is important because once you understand that, you'll realize that the core readership of the book doesn't necessarily care if T'Challa properly follows or falls into normal Marvel continuity. They are literally there to see BP do his thing and move on with their lives.
Having said that, I don't begrudge anyone in the latter group. If you just want to see BP be the baddest man on the block, that's fine. In fact, I'd argue that you're the target demographic for this the book to begin with. But for the old school comic heads (like myself), a lot of what happens in that book makes you go "WTF?" That's unfortunately where I end up more often than not (and one of the reasons I ended up dropping the title way back when).
The impetus on having quality work coming out of the title falls on two fronts. The first would be with Hudlin himself, who has made it clear that he doesn’t particularly care what anyone thinks of his book so long as people buy it. He gets this attitude from the second tier of responsibility in his company: the editorial department. In particular, he gets it from editor-in-chief Joe Quesada, who pushes a good many books with the concept “We don’t care if it makes you mad, so long as it makes us money.”
What you have to understand is that Quesada pushing the book goes exactly with what I've been saying. He will push the crap out of anything he thinks will sell issues, especially if he can stir up some buzz (positive or negative) about it. What Quesada doesn't do, however, is generally care if the book has any quality storytelling or not. And really, why should he, so long as he makes his money? He can piss off an old school head like me indefinitely with his book so long as he gets one new person to be interested enough to pick up the issue I drop.
The problem comes in when your hype starts to fade and you have to make a choice. Create new hype (which may or may not alienate your new, possibly more fickle reader with no guarantee that the old reader will come back) or maintain the status quo (which may bore your new reader and guarantee your old reader won't come back).
To draw a more relevant analogy, it's like trying to balance energizing your base with reaching out to independents. And I guess maybe I see Quesada as more of a McCain than an Obama.
...
Dang. I just put way too much thought into this.
(Ed. Note: As evidenced by the last comment, I clearly started writing this long before my moratorium on political commentary at the end of the year. Not that said moratorium is even remotely official or going to last. I just have a feeling…)
Monday, December 29, 2008
End of the Year HouseKeeping
So, the year's on the close, and since everyone else is doing their own highlight reels I might as well fake mine, too.
Of course, I have three days and not as much material to work with, so mine will be terribly shortsighted and zany. Which I'm sure will be terribly surprising for anyone who stops here.
At any rate, look for my "2008: Best Of..." series. Coming soon, as it has no choice but to do so. Also, I'm sure I'll do one big wrap-up post somewhere around the end of the year (or possibly the first of next year; no need to tie my hands too much, here...).
Of course, I have three days and not as much material to work with, so mine will be terribly shortsighted and zany. Which I'm sure will be terribly surprising for anyone who stops here.
At any rate, look for my "2008: Best Of..." series. Coming soon, as it has no choice but to do so. Also, I'm sure I'll do one big wrap-up post somewhere around the end of the year (or possibly the first of next year; no need to tie my hands too much, here...).
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Adventures in Baking Part 1
So the morning starts out and I finish the first stages of my baking tear. That's right, I occasionally bake. Want to make something of it? While my cooking skills are generally solid, I pride myself in being a pretty good baker when I apply myself. So around the holidays, in addition to other gifts (and sometimes in lieu of them), I'll put together some baked goods for friends and family (and of course for myself).
I spent the better part of the morning working with the sugar cookie dough that I had made and chilled the previous night. In truth I could have rolled it then, but it was getting late, and I didn't feel like staying up just to bake cookies (go figure). My first endeavor into cookie-making this week left me with a drier dough than I wanted and resulted in more of a shortbread than the true cookie I aspired for, so I had to go back to formula (and yes, I did spend part of the morning scowling, "Back to formula?!" ala Mr. Dafoe...) and hit up a new recipe.
Luckily for me, the fine people at Crisco have a good handful of sugar cookie recipes to choose from (why I'm not sure), and I went with one that was more egg and more sugar (also more flour and more overall yield, but you don't really care about that, and it doesn't sound nearly as awesome as more sugar does...). This left me with a considerable amount of chilled dough, and a rather large round of baking to do. I could have just took my time and done it little by little, but since I was up early I decided I might as well knock it all out this morning. One less thing to do tomorrow morning.
This gave me time to goof off in general, but since I was working I spent most of it watching TV and clearing my DVR of West Wing reruns (why I let that show drag me in, I'll never know). At some point I run out of stuff to check out on my DVR and I end up watching/listening to Comedy Central. Gary Gulman's stand up special is on, which I find disturbingly amusing (the disturbing part being that I find it amusing... an actual funny comic that was on Last Comic Standing? What are the odds?). Anyways, he starts to go into the cookie portion of his routine, which is funny because it covers something I was thinking about just an hour earlier: how the sugar cookie isn't a real cookie.
Now, I have to admit that for the longest time, I was in this camp. Until I really fooled around with them, the sugar cookie to me was just what I assumed was the result of not finding anything worthwhile in your cabinet. "No chocolate chips, no nuts, no oatmeal, not even any peanut butter? **** it. I'll just make sugar cookies..."
But once you get into cookie baking for a while, you get to realize that most basic cookie designs can all be made from the same base. And that base, more often than not, is just a modified form of... you guessed it: the sugar cookie. So the sugar cookie isn't really the red headed stepchild of cookies so much as it is the grandfather of all cookies. Or maybe the godfather of cookies, collecting the goodies of the other cookies to make its own. I'm losing the point, here...
So I go through about 4-5 dozen cookies, including the last of the, ahem, weaker batch (in my opinion) from Monday. For some reason, I dyed this bunch red ('tis the season, I guess), which for the record makes it that much harder to figure out when they're done. A good baker will tell you that cookies are more about timing than checking for browning, but it doesn't hurt if you can see it happening. At this point, I decide to screw around with making some frosting. I figure it can't hurt, and most people will let you get away with baking cardboard so long as you slap some frosting on top of it.
The cookie recipe I was using just happens to have a frosting recipe (which I don't get since the cookies are so freaking great on their own), not that you really need a recipe. Powdered sugar plus a little milk plus random ingredient will net you frosting on a good day. I throw some together, and I openly admit that I think its just okay (really, is anyone that much of a frosting guru...?), but I figure it will dress up the cookies just fine. I pull off a few spoonfuls (there's practically a tub for the recipe) and play around with some green food coloring because I figure it will go well with the red cookies ('tis the season or whatever). I toy with a drop of blue or two since the frosting ended up a little yellow, then a little green to end up with a light lime of a frosting. I wasn't thrilled with it, but it did go okay with the red cookies (especially after adding some candy sprinkles). I throw the rest of the green machine on some regular cookies just to use it up, and because I paid money for these sprinkles, so I'm gonna use 'em.
So in all, I'm left with 4 varieties of the same cookie:
1 dozen (more or less) red with green frosting
1 dozen plain with green frosting
2 dozen (more or less) plain w/red and green sugar sprinkles, and
3 dozen just plain sugar cookies
Not a bad haul for a few hours work. That's more than enough to give out to my family tomorrow, to have for gifts to others as need be, and to make unfortunate snacks out of. Now to answer the greater questions, like did I remember to add vanilla to the dough mix? And what will I do with all of this leftover frosting? Clearly, more baking is in order...
I spent the better part of the morning working with the sugar cookie dough that I had made and chilled the previous night. In truth I could have rolled it then, but it was getting late, and I didn't feel like staying up just to bake cookies (go figure). My first endeavor into cookie-making this week left me with a drier dough than I wanted and resulted in more of a shortbread than the true cookie I aspired for, so I had to go back to formula (and yes, I did spend part of the morning scowling, "Back to formula?!" ala Mr. Dafoe...) and hit up a new recipe.
Luckily for me, the fine people at Crisco have a good handful of sugar cookie recipes to choose from (why I'm not sure), and I went with one that was more egg and more sugar (also more flour and more overall yield, but you don't really care about that, and it doesn't sound nearly as awesome as more sugar does...). This left me with a considerable amount of chilled dough, and a rather large round of baking to do. I could have just took my time and done it little by little, but since I was up early I decided I might as well knock it all out this morning. One less thing to do tomorrow morning.
This gave me time to goof off in general, but since I was working I spent most of it watching TV and clearing my DVR of West Wing reruns (why I let that show drag me in, I'll never know). At some point I run out of stuff to check out on my DVR and I end up watching/listening to Comedy Central. Gary Gulman's stand up special is on, which I find disturbingly amusing (the disturbing part being that I find it amusing... an actual funny comic that was on Last Comic Standing? What are the odds?). Anyways, he starts to go into the cookie portion of his routine, which is funny because it covers something I was thinking about just an hour earlier: how the sugar cookie isn't a real cookie.
Now, I have to admit that for the longest time, I was in this camp. Until I really fooled around with them, the sugar cookie to me was just what I assumed was the result of not finding anything worthwhile in your cabinet. "No chocolate chips, no nuts, no oatmeal, not even any peanut butter? **** it. I'll just make sugar cookies..."
But once you get into cookie baking for a while, you get to realize that most basic cookie designs can all be made from the same base. And that base, more often than not, is just a modified form of... you guessed it: the sugar cookie. So the sugar cookie isn't really the red headed stepchild of cookies so much as it is the grandfather of all cookies. Or maybe the godfather of cookies, collecting the goodies of the other cookies to make its own. I'm losing the point, here...
So I go through about 4-5 dozen cookies, including the last of the, ahem, weaker batch (in my opinion) from Monday. For some reason, I dyed this bunch red ('tis the season, I guess), which for the record makes it that much harder to figure out when they're done. A good baker will tell you that cookies are more about timing than checking for browning, but it doesn't hurt if you can see it happening. At this point, I decide to screw around with making some frosting. I figure it can't hurt, and most people will let you get away with baking cardboard so long as you slap some frosting on top of it.
The cookie recipe I was using just happens to have a frosting recipe (which I don't get since the cookies are so freaking great on their own), not that you really need a recipe. Powdered sugar plus a little milk plus random ingredient will net you frosting on a good day. I throw some together, and I openly admit that I think its just okay (really, is anyone that much of a frosting guru...?), but I figure it will dress up the cookies just fine. I pull off a few spoonfuls (there's practically a tub for the recipe) and play around with some green food coloring because I figure it will go well with the red cookies ('tis the season or whatever). I toy with a drop of blue or two since the frosting ended up a little yellow, then a little green to end up with a light lime of a frosting. I wasn't thrilled with it, but it did go okay with the red cookies (especially after adding some candy sprinkles). I throw the rest of the green machine on some regular cookies just to use it up, and because I paid money for these sprinkles, so I'm gonna use 'em.
So in all, I'm left with 4 varieties of the same cookie:
1 dozen (more or less) red with green frosting
1 dozen plain with green frosting
2 dozen (more or less) plain w/red and green sugar sprinkles, and
3 dozen just plain sugar cookies
Not a bad haul for a few hours work. That's more than enough to give out to my family tomorrow, to have for gifts to others as need be, and to make unfortunate snacks out of. Now to answer the greater questions, like did I remember to add vanilla to the dough mix? And what will I do with all of this leftover frosting? Clearly, more baking is in order...
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Hype Machine: Canine Heroes Edition
Now that I've dusted off the old Hype Machine, I might as well put it to good use and actually, you know, hype something of some import. Or at least of relevance to someone else.
I know a young man by the name of Rashad Doucet. He's a cool enough guy. He's sensible, funny, and a Clix compatriot (although clearly, I am the superior Clix warrior... but I digress). The important thing here is that he's an artist, a very good one in fact. And after years of practicing his craft, he has a product.
The book is entitled "My Dog is a Superhero" and is published by Artic Wolf Publishing. And while many of you will assume that's self explanatory and move on, I will indulge you and quote the product description:
I know a young man by the name of Rashad Doucet. He's a cool enough guy. He's sensible, funny, and a Clix compatriot (although clearly, I am the superior Clix warrior... but I digress). The important thing here is that he's an artist, a very good one in fact. And after years of practicing his craft, he has a product.
The book is entitled "My Dog is a Superhero" and is published by Artic Wolf Publishing. And while many of you will assume that's self explanatory and move on, I will indulge you and quote the product description:
Ashleigh Bryce was just you average 10 year-old fashion diva wannabe until she discovered a cute little blue dog, who turned out to be the kid hero WOLFBOY. Together the two must set aside their differences and catch evil aliens disguised as pets. In this volume: All Ashleigh wants to do is go to school, and then to a concert featuring her favorite pop-star, but along the way she and Wolfboy bump into the villainous KID SQUID, the super-fast SABER SQUIRREL, and the just plain mean FROGBOY. It just may end up being, the LONGEST DAY EVER!Now, I haven't had the pleasure of reading said book yet, but it sounds cool enough. And hey, the guy's a pretty good artist so far as I can tell. I'm no expert, but check out a few preview pics of his book for yourself:
You can check out some more preview pics (and a bit more of Rashad's work) here in his gallery or at his webpage. My Dog is a Superhero is on sale at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. For the more locally inclined, it apparently is also on sale at the Waldenbooks at Savannah Mall. So toss a little local support for an up and coming artist, pick up a book that looks like it might be cool to you, or just burn some cash on it because you're inexplicably inclined to do whatever I tell you. I've got a few copies on the way, and I'll no doubt be talking about the book a few more times before it's all over with (that is, after all, what good Hype Machines do).
Monday, December 8, 2008
(Don't) Believe the Hype.
I'll be the first to admit that I don't particularly care if the old blog ever really picks up heavy traffic. It's more a side project and an outlet for my occassional need to express myself. If anything, I consider it writing practice and a good place to keep ideas in case I ever really do want to put them somewhere of import.
Still, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want some attention. And I don't mean direct attention. People proclaiming it the best place to be and the like is just rhetoric and wouldn't be true, anyway. Not so long as there's so many pR0n sites out there. Wait. Must not remind people about the pR0n...
It's not like I don't get people here. I have two followers, I have at least one other person that said that they might add me to their watch list, and I swear someone said that they check my blog sometimes and that someone else they know does, too. That means that up to 5 whole people may actually look at my blog in any given week. And almost half of that group might actually read something that I post here. Scary, huh?
Anywho... I've decided to give the old hype machine a good cranking (not a euphemism, get the pR0n out of your heads...). And as all good hype machines must, I should use pointless statistics and useless and easily disputable information in this effort. It is for that reason that I hereby declare this blog, House Rules!, the 857th greatest blog dedicated to comics, gaming, television, and/or other stuff in all of the interwebs.
Now I know what you're thinking. There have to be at least a few thousand other blogs about comics. Thousands upon thousands of gaming blogs. 18 billion TV blogs. 14 quadrillion blogs dedicated to games and gaming. But I ask you this: how many cover "other stuff"? And of those that cover other stuff, how many cover things in Thomas Houston's life? That's right... three (I assume that everyone has at least one stalker out there...). And of all of those many, many places, how many cover it not as an and, but as an or? Or an and/or?
(I know, confusing. But stick with me, because this is where I bring it home...)
So House Rules! is not only the 857th greatest blog dedicated to comics, gaming, television, and/or other stuff, it is also THE Source for all things Thomas Houston. No one else can tell you that... unless my mom started blogging when I wasn't looking. I can't put anything past her...
Search your heart. You know that it's true. I just made a vague reference to Star Wars. That's a movie. I didn't even talk about how I sometimes cover movies. Suck it, Roger Ebert! Did I just tell Roger Ebert to suck it? Holy crap, I must be controversial, too.
Look out world! Controversial blog writer Thomas "HouseT" Houston, presents House Rules!, the 857th greatest blog in the world dedicated to comics, gaming, television, and/or other stuff and THE Source for all things Thomas Houston. And the ride don't stop now. Look out number 856, because I's a'comin' for you!
...
No, I don't feel particularly bored. Why do you ask?
Still, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want some attention. And I don't mean direct attention. People proclaiming it the best place to be and the like is just rhetoric and wouldn't be true, anyway. Not so long as there's so many pR0n sites out there. Wait. Must not remind people about the pR0n...
It's not like I don't get people here. I have two followers, I have at least one other person that said that they might add me to their watch list, and I swear someone said that they check my blog sometimes and that someone else they know does, too. That means that up to 5 whole people may actually look at my blog in any given week. And almost half of that group might actually read something that I post here. Scary, huh?
Anywho... I've decided to give the old hype machine a good cranking (not a euphemism, get the pR0n out of your heads...). And as all good hype machines must, I should use pointless statistics and useless and easily disputable information in this effort. It is for that reason that I hereby declare this blog, House Rules!, the 857th greatest blog dedicated to comics, gaming, television, and/or other stuff in all of the interwebs.
Now I know what you're thinking. There have to be at least a few thousand other blogs about comics. Thousands upon thousands of gaming blogs. 18 billion TV blogs. 14 quadrillion blogs dedicated to games and gaming. But I ask you this: how many cover "other stuff"? And of those that cover other stuff, how many cover things in Thomas Houston's life? That's right... three (I assume that everyone has at least one stalker out there...). And of all of those many, many places, how many cover it not as an and, but as an or? Or an and/or?
(I know, confusing. But stick with me, because this is where I bring it home...)
So House Rules! is not only the 857th greatest blog dedicated to comics, gaming, television, and/or other stuff, it is also THE Source for all things Thomas Houston. No one else can tell you that... unless my mom started blogging when I wasn't looking. I can't put anything past her...
Search your heart. You know that it's true. I just made a vague reference to Star Wars. That's a movie. I didn't even talk about how I sometimes cover movies. Suck it, Roger Ebert! Did I just tell Roger Ebert to suck it? Holy crap, I must be controversial, too.
Look out world! Controversial blog writer Thomas "HouseT" Houston, presents House Rules!, the 857th greatest blog in the world dedicated to comics, gaming, television, and/or other stuff and THE Source for all things Thomas Houston. And the ride don't stop now. Look out number 856, because I's a'comin' for you!
...
No, I don't feel particularly bored. Why do you ask?
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