Book Burned

Z.M. asked me about my novel, and internally I started freaking out. Didn't realize I'd feel that way, but I did. It's still like me baring my soul, even though it's just a story. It's just a story, it's just a story.

It's not just a story. It's potentially a validation of my existence. It's a tangible reminder of all my dreams, and a bulwark against the culmination of all my fears. It's a focus for my creativity. It's right now one of the few things, living and not, I actually give a damn about.

Damn it, I think it's a great story, I really do. I'm not going to pretend to be modest, it does have it's flaws, but I think it's an engaging world, interesting premise, and "realistic" characters (yes, they need to be more consistent in their motivations and mannerisms, but I'm getting there). Still, sometimes (most of the time) I'm not sure how to react, or if I can relate how I feel about it to other people. It makes me want to get another undergrad degree in English, just so I can be around people again that understand this, how it drives you crazy, how it consumes your waking moments, how you think it's crap, but keep doing it because else-wise, you'd die.

Scattered Rambling

Lie to me, tell me it's all gonna be OK. Sing those stupid nonsense songs that came out of nowhere in your mind. Hold me till the sun rises.

***

You have to hurt before you can empathize. Otherwise, you're just going through the motions without the underlying feeling.

***

People that bike in the middle of the street, I should just run over them. No, it doesn't matter if you pull your shirt down or not, I'm staring at your ass because your spandex shorts are old and ripped because your ass is too fat, not because you're sexually enrapturing.

***

I went clothes shopping on my own because I had to. This growing up shit is weird.

***

I expect too much of people. The standards need to be lowered.

Warcraft Addiction

It feels like much of my life is going to involve the struggle against starting World of Warcraft, again. It's such a time commitment. If I could get by on four hours of sleep a night, I would devote the extra four hours to World of Warcraft. But as it stands, I just don't have that sort of time. Would that there was a way to play the game without sinking so much time and energy into it, or if I could directly translate my efforts into something tangible.

It's not like I don't want to play. I do, badly sometimes. It's fairly simple, fairly straightforward. I know the basics, and I can play it fairly well. K.C. told me that J.L. recommended that I get back in, get power-leveled to maximum level, and go nuts. I actually toyed with talent builds for a little while, dreaming of What Might Be.

Of course, Wrath of the Lich King has to come out soon, and spell inscription is going to be one of the new features. That excites me, the ability to mod your spells. Damn, that is outright enticing. But, I just can't do it. I dare not do it, do I. Argh. Rest assured, if I did do it, I would not mention it in this space.

Animal Run

Yes. One is correct. I've also rocked number fifteen enough times that if you didn't realize I do that, you've probably been on the receiving end of it.

***

I went running, and there was a dead trout in the middle of the trail today. Yes, a fish. It couldn't have dropped from a great height, because it was still intact. So, the next question, who would drop a fish on a trail? Or, even worse, are the fish coming out of the water and coming for us? Damn them.

A few days past, a ladybug attached itself to my shirt while I was running. The thing just would not come off, no matter how fast I ran, though I didn't try to flick it. A good fifteen minutes it stuck to me. Why? I don't know. Maybe it liked me?

Japanese Television

Human Tetris. There's a version of this coming to America. Brilliant.

Ninja Warrior. This is so hard, every time someone beats the entire course, they remake it even harder. You have to watch people keep failing to get how hard this is.

Start a laugh, get a paddlin'. From the Simpsons, not entirely accurate, but from a Japanese game show host: "In the West, gameshows reward knowledge. Ours punish ignorance."

K-TV Song

I sang karaoke in a non-college, public setting for the first time in my life. We went to the bar to play pool and drink, but it so happened they'd set up for karaoke night. B.F. and myself decided to give it a go. He sang this, after five minutes of arguing with me as to the lyrics and tune. He did a bang-up job, it was pretty fucking impressive, and I must say he melted all of our panties. Yes, mine included, he was that sexy.

In between our goes, there was a man who requested a song, and I thought he sounded very strange, his voice halting and stuttery. At first, I thought he was deaf, and thought that it was pretty impressive. Well, when he started singing, it turned out he was actually mentally challenged. I feel kind of bad, but we all turned to each other, trying to repress laughter, not knowing how to react. I kept trying to pretend he was deaf, while someone else was insisting (correctly) that he was mentally challenged. Another little failure.

Then was my shot. This was the song. Remember, I hate people, so I stood there, arms crossed across my chest ("the best Russian karaoke singer in history"), my back leg shaking after about thirty seconds. Let me tell you, you can't really whisper a song and be heard. I had to belt that out, and did the best I could, given that I was also trying not to wet myself. In retrospect, I shouldn't have been that nervous, no one was really paying attention, or if they were, they weren't showing it. Well, personal growth and all that jazz, right?

Baby Talk

It's strange that there was a discussion about newborns and babies at lunch, though not entirely surprising. C.E. and C.L. are parents of relative newborns, while D.R. is expecting (which, by the way, we have several pools for, contact me at my work account if you want in on that action and you work with me). As with much of my life, I listen to what is important to everyone else, and feel disconnected from it. Someday, I'll want to raise two kids (single child is too lonely, which I learned the hard way, while three outnumbers the parents). However, best case scenario, it would be at least nine months and one day from now, and seeing as how I'm currently alone in my apartment, maybe nine months and two days is more realistic.

How do I relate? I've not had a pet since I was four. When I'm drinking with others, I'm usually keeping tabs on the drunkest, belligerent, "olympic champion" drunks, so it's sort of like taking care of a baby, but you can't leave a baby near a toilet and hope everything will be OK in the morning. I do what I can to make sure everyone, if not happy, is at least not outright dissatisfied with matters. I have no frame of reference.

This is what is referred to as an Outside Context Problem, though I exaggerate, as is my tendency. What should I do, aside from nod my head and say OK? Who knows? On a somewhat unrelated note, why would M.B. suggest that J.R. and Z.M. (now roommates) have a child together (keeping in mind they're both females and not lesbians)? That was quite possibly the most insane thing I've heard all week, and I live in my own mind.

Breast Fed

I was on the metro, and a mother tried to keep her crying baby quiet. After a little while, she laid the child down on her lap. I thought to myself that this would be a weird place to put a child to sleep, but whatever. Then, I saw her take out a blanket, and I thought, OK, she's going to cover the child to keep it warm. A little unusual, but whatever. Then, she started lifting up her shirt, and I go, what the f*ck?

On the jackass note, I think it's unfair that there's no drinking on the metro, yet the kid can drink to her heart's content. On the flipside, I understand what they're going for, and it's fine to breastfeed a child on the train. At the same time, damn, can you give more warning? My head hasn't swiveled that much since I was sitting on that nude beach.

Again, the metro's another place where you have to deal with strangers, for the most part. It's hard to ignore people, but when I looked around, maybe a third to a half of the riders had some form of earphone or headphone, trying to carve out their own private world in the midst of that cramped public space. Wish I had some video glasses, so I could watch something, anything else.

Sub Twenty-four

I ran three miles in twenty-three minutes, twenty-eight seconds. This breaks down to roughly a seven minute fifty second pace. At the same time, My first half mile split time was eight minutes, twenty seconds, so I was picking it up for the rest of the run. I do believe that's an all-time new record, running wise.

It turns out that running fills the void that video games filled, namely, the need to beat some challenge that involves numbers. This is somewhat scary, because it implies that if I became a mathematician, I'd be as happy as a duck in heat, getting it on with another duck. It also doesn't jibe with the whole writing thing, seeing as how that's as divorced from numbers as you can get.

Still, I'm now two minutes, twenty-nine seconds away from breaking a seven minute pace over three miles. Every so often, I'll throw up numbers here, partly (mostly) to brag, partly to remind myself that I am making some sort of progress. It's strange, I could easily go play a massively multiplayer online role-playing game and get obsessed over the numbers. Here, I get too tired to play for hours on end, but it's also keeping me from sitting around. Strange how that works.

Story Time

All my abortive attempts at writing a novel have finally led me somewhere. Despite what Stephen King says, I've got a basic outline for the story, because I just can't keep it all in my head and keep working. I know where this is going to go, and what's at stake. I don't know the exacts of it, but there is enough of a basic framework to hang the characters upon. I basically know who they are, what they want, and all I have to do is get them to clash.

This is one of those things where I need to take a two week vacation to make some inroads on this thing, though, realistically, if I took a two week vacation, I'd sleep the entire time. Still, there's a lot that needs to be put down, but it feels like a real story, a complete story. I can write this, yes I can.

Of course, there's that fear that I may get this done, get this done great, and no one will publish it. You think you've seen me flip out? You ain't seen nothing yet.

Away Messages

I've become known at work not for the quality of my work, nor for my personality, but for my Gtalk away messages. It started, as so many traditions do, as a joke. I put a lot of people on my Gtalk list and realized they didn't know who I was, so I had to put up an away message stating I was a newhire. Then, I realized that was boring, so I got the "jeenius" idea to put up movie quotes and replace one word with the name of my company.

That was around 9 months ago.

Every single work day, unless I can't get access to the intarwebs, I post a new quote. People are kind of amazed, wonder where I get them from. It's really just whatever the first movie is that comes to mind when I hit www.imdb.com. Not that hard, and apparently it brings a lot of people fifteen seconds of joy every day. That's a lot more than I was able to give my last girlfriend, but I digress.

There are a few people that complain, but they're outnumbered by the silent majority, whom I follow. If nothing else, it's also a way to ensure tha tI haven't been fired, and my job is safe for another day. Kind of a code, or a secret message. Which is amusing, because T.F. remarked to me the other day when I made an offhand comment that he'd been wondering for the better part of a year what it meant. He just didn't want to appear stupid for asking.

Waiting Around

Elevators are fun. You're trapped for about thirty seconds with complete strangers. I've been on both sides, trying to completely ignore them, and interacting as if they were old friends. It's strange how some people are able to put you at ease immediately, while other people make you wish you'd never had to stand around them.

I wonder what's the greatest amount of time you're surrounded by strangers and doing your best to ignore them. It's probably the waiting room at the doctor's, or the emergency room. Suffering people, ailing people, you're probably ailing also. When I had the flu this winter, and I went to the doctor because I was coughing up blood, there was an overwhelming imperative in my mind: Just survive. Didn't feel like talking to anyone.

What is the greatest amount of time you could be around a stranger, and still not know them? Some argue there are marriages that operate in that fashion. How much would it suck to devote your life to a complete stranger? And I don't mean in the charitable fashion, there's something honest, noble, meet, right in that. I mean devoting yourself, your soul, to a complete stranger. That would suck.

Less Gaming

I now no longer play video games unless in the presence of others. This is a disturbing turn of events. This is maturity? Couldn't it have manifested in any other fashion? Why couldn't I have just developed a desire to donate blood, or plant a tree, or something else, and held on to my game-playing ways?

There's no desire whatsoever. Maybe if another game comes out that really entrances me, I might be enticed to stumble back into the game playing. Maybe the Star Wars game coming out for the Wii in September. Maybe not. Right now, I'm going to pretend I still play video games, so my coworker won't keep asking to borrow my Xbox. Or, I could just say that there's no reason I don't want to loan him the console, aside from the simple reason that I don't want to.

Social video games are great. I think I could play video games multiplayer in the same room or rooms all the freaking time, but it's just so sterile over the internet, or by myself. Digital masturbation at its finest.

Serious Dickism

If you have to keep saying "I'm really not an asshole" over and over again, are you trying to convince us, or yourself? I got to play poker with seven really nice people, and one complete dick. From the start, he was trying to lord both his extensive knowledge of the rules and his superior skill over us. Only problems were that some of his statements weren't necessarily true, and yours truly knocked his ass out of the game in sixth place.

One of my favorite moments was when I'd folded a hand to him, and he showed me what he had. Then, he told me I had him beat preflop, but he had me beat after the flop. The dick asked me what I had, in order to confirm his suspicion. I didn't ask to see his cards, so I certainly wasn't going to tell him what I had.

K.T.: Five kings.
The Dick (T.D.): What?
K.T.: I had five kings.
T.D.: There are only four in the deck.
K.T.: Yeah, I had five.
T.D.: You can't have five cards.
K.T.: Five on the table, I had five kings.

I'd forgotten that when I have my serious face on, people take me absolutely seriously. He then told me he felt sorry for me, and wasn't going to show me any more of his cards. Thanks, jackass.

Sweetest moment of the night, I had a king and a jack, and two jacks fell on the flop. I went all in, he called. He flipped a jack and a three. A king fell to give me a full house, but more importantly, that king shut him up. Five minutes later, when he left the table, I traded fist pounds and hand slaps with everyone. From that point on, the game got fun, because nobody was a dick. Kids, let that be a lesson.

Fantastic Football

For those of you that are following this and care about the football: damn, it was fun. For those of you following this that don't care about the football, you might wanna go elsewhere today.

We've all gotten really out of shape, as evidenced by T.F. walking down to the field with a cigarette in his mouth and a Rockstar energy drink in his hand. Yes, this clearly is the choice of champions.

Thus, it was pretty funny that T.F. served as all-time offense, since we had seven people, and he was getting run all over the field. S.F., B.F. and D.F. comprised one team, whereas T.G., E.B. (yeah, he's still alive) and myself comprised the other.

It wasn't even close. We blew them out six touchdowns to two. We would have made it seven, but T.F. had to go collapse. The basic strategy? Short pass to T.G. and massive yards after carry for a touchdown, short pass to K.T. and massive yards after carry for a touchdown. all around short passes in a no-huddle offense. Contrast this with S.F.'s elaborate schemes which more often than not ended in failure (but when they worked, ooh, baby, were the completions pretty).

My personal bragging moment for this game came when I'd caught a short pass, then proceeded to pinball back and forth across the field three times in succession to get open. The blocks that my teammates laid down were sick. Honestly, I was so freaked out and afraid of getting hurt, it was like everything was standing still, and I was ready to avoid everything. Soon as I broke the third time, I made a beeline for the end zone, having seen sunlight.

The second game shifted me onto all-time offense, and put T.F. in my place on the team. This was actually kind of fun because I could either catch the short passes, or burn the person defending me, but me catching the long bombs was hopeless. Stone hands, fleshy heart. Thankfully, this cost both teams, and this game ended on a sweet S.F. to B.F. pass when the game was tied up. One turnover on each team kept things lively.

My personal "Oh, snap" moment in this game came when I had caught a pass and juked around T.F. I'm barreling towards the left cone, and E.B. is fading in my sights. All of a sudden, T.G. is on a direct intercept course, and I see he's going to catch me. Just before the out of bounds line, I stop, and he slams into me with a forearm shiver against my back. In the span of half a second, I think the following: "Crap, [T.G.] caught me. E.B. is going to kill me. Wait, there's room between them. T.G. didn't close his arms around me." Bam, I pull off a spin move, slip between them, touchdown.

T.F. became so demoralized, later in the game, I caught a short pass, ran towards him, and he just looked at me and said "I'm not going to even try to stop you." This actually threw me off, as I was planning to jump around him when he closed. Thus, I had to rejigger my gait and barely slid in for the tee-dee.

Things got a little awkward when some middle and high schoolers wanted to play. The middle schoolers especially had filthy mouths, and the high schoolers were a lot shorter than I remembered (though they may have been freshmen). We had to shift to two-hand touch, despite their pleas to play tackle (E.B. would have destroyed them). Then, several cars honked, and they all left. Ah, memories.

Final injury count: sore neck, sore right hand, aching left knee, fat lip. Apparently, when my teeth were coated in blood, I looked quite dangerous, as there was also salivary foam around my mouth at the time.

Hummingbird Heartbeat

Today was my caffeine overload day. It happens every so often, I get on a run, and need caffeine desperately. Hence, eight o'clock, and I'm at Starbucks buying a venti caramel frappucino. Then, at work, two cokes. It was strange how I felt like the caffeine had changed my world, how the mental fuzz just dissolved. There is a strong possibility that I will not be sleeping for a while.

***

I've learned that I'm fairly good at observing details, and absolutely awful at interpreting them.

***

If you hadn't figured out, I'm doing a lot more extracurricular writing, and the blog was the first thing to lose time.

Morning Insomnia

I've been up since four this morning, because I scraped the back of my hand earlier yesterday. Rather than coat it antiseptic and bandage it, I figured a few germs are good for my immune system. Well, it also turns out that my hand moves in the night at random, and a simple move would hit that scrape. At four, I couldn't ignore it, and got up.

There's something about being up that early, and that something is called stupidity. I kept trying to go back to sleep, and finally managed for about an hour, but it was one of those sequences where I was dreaming, but still awake. Almost went to get a giant frappucino from Starbucks, but that probably would've wreaked havoc for my sleep tonight.

Aside from being cranky all day, it didn't have too many deleterious effects on me. They say you can train yourself to sleep less, within reason. I'm not sure I could get by on five hours a night, without going kind of insane.

Capes Abound

We're defined by our enemies. Look at superheroes from the four-colors. To have them apply their powers towards the everyday mundane is ridiculous. No, they need a threat worthy of their elevated skills. Otherwise, Batman is just some random jackass in tights. All of the educational superheroes came off as lame, because fighting illiteracy, while incredibly important, is just not that cool. Look at the fools Reader-Man might have had to combat. High School Dropout, you never learned how to read because the system used you for your athletic ability until you blew your knee out? Horrors!

We've all, at one time or another, wanted to be more. The problem is doing so in a fashion that highlights the depths of your neediness. You're in a costume, and you're telling people, on the Metro, to use the Metro? Shouldn't you be locked up in an asylum of some sort? It's not a matter of where the heroes went, but more why we don't recognize the people trying to make a difference. And part of the problem is using the word "hero" so freely. The definition is watered down and meaningless.

What is it these people want? A little glamour, the chance to make a difference, a little attention. But then, look at the things they're doing. You're cutting the wheel clamps off cars. That's useful, I suppose. In terms of impact, you can look at it from a quality or a quantity standpoint. Most of these people are doing neither, because this alter-ego they assume is a stand-in for their daily self, the one they felt was not strong enough to carry this message of theirs. The true heroes go unmasked, unrecognized by the masses, and woefully underappreciated. Theirs are the stories that fade away from the hearts and minds of most, and shimmer for a select few. People may think that what's going on is that becoming one of these costumed crimefighters makes them a better person, forgetting that in the comics, these people were already strong individuals.

Omitted Guilt

I saw an elderly woman crossing into a grocery store, and rather than help her, I just walked faster and pretended not to notice. It's not my duty to help her get inside, and people will stop for her. After talking to A.A. about the legalities of proffering help as a licensed physician at an accident, he and I came to the conclusion that he was better off not saying anything, due to the possibility of getting sued. The long and short? It's safer and easier to omit an action, to do nothing.

Legally, you can't get in trouble for doing nothing in many cases. Tort law, at it's cold, dark heart, is based on negligence, which relies heavily on causation. If you weren't the cause, you can't be at fault. Morally, you can get in trouble, but morality only ever cost people their souls. The law costs people money, and you can't make more of that. It's a finite quantity.

Think about how much better the world would be if we didn't have to do things for each other, if we could all live in our own little bubbles. This is sort of what happens in New York City, anyway, or on the internet. Our society is gearing up towards severe isolation. Soon as reproduction without contact between the parents becomes a reality, we're all screwed.

Iron Man

Iron Man is the greatest movie in the history of ever. Well, no, it isn't. It is a very good movie, on par with Batman Begins and the original Spider-Man, in terms of superhero goodness. Sets a good tone for the rest of the summer movies.

The great thing about the movie, Tony Stark is a flawed man, and we can identify with him. Hell, we might even become him, if given enough money and intelligence and time (so, not even really becoming him). Same thing with Batman, the need for vengeance drove an ordinary human to become extraordinary. That's what makes Superman hard to make into a movie. We can't identify. It's Clark Kent that we identify with.

Of course, the other thing we must remember is that Iron Man = kaboom, and that's what we're all about: big explosions.

Magnetic Fields

I have two meetings a week for my project. These meetings, as with all meetings, sometimes get tedious. One of my interim solutions is to bring some of my office toys into the meeting. (I suppose that I should mention that my tendency to keep stuff in my office has resulted in me filling my office with so many knick knacks and "flair" that I've had to start moving some of it out to the lobby because it was getting to the point where people would come into my office and just play. All day long.)

Perhaps the most fun everyone had was with Magnetix, a series of ball bearings and magnetic tubes which can be settled into different shapes. I brought them into today's meeting, and P.G., almost upon sitting down, immediately snatched some up and started playing. The things he made were so abstract. I've never seen one man giggle so much at watching magnets hang over the side of a desk.

The best moment? We were on a conference call, and A.M. asked a question. P.G. rolled a few magnets past the phone, and M.M. was forced to respond "I'm sorry [A.M.], I can't hear you when [P.G.] and [K.T.] are rolling magnets past the phone." Yes, these magnets were strong enough to kill the speaker from six inches away. Or, to put it in an old-school fashion, I HAVE THE POWER!