Ursula

Ursula: "Did you just say 'love'?"
Mom: [alarmed] "No..."
Ursula: "You're right..."
Mom: "Ursula..."
Ursula: "I love him! I'm out of here."
Mom: "Ursula! You can't love him! Arthur, say something!"
Dad: "Be careful out there, honey."
- "George Of The Jungle"

To thine own self...

From here on out, for the next few years, I'm only posting bits of fiction here. Maybe complete works, but mostly snippets. Feel free to discuss, though. Feedback appreciated.

Schroedinger's student

Currently I'm in that bizzare land between accepted (almost a certainty) and not presently enrolled. Next semester I won't be bringing home half as much student aid, so I better make up for it with income.

No stress though.

Job prospect...

One of the local businesses has an opening for an intern. The pay is absolutely miserable, but it's working directly with/for the CEO of a publishing company. If I'm to have any sort of job in that industry, I could definitely do worse.

The chief magazine they publish is about yarn, or crafts, or crafts with yarn. I'm not thrilled about the subject matter either, but I'd hardly have anything to do with it.

Religion, an on-going thing...

The other day I brought up the hypocrisy that Christians in my area growing up seemed to embody. Like they were avatars of Juno. There was a lot of it, but this didn't seem to phase my wife.

So, here I am, reading the bible nightly with her now. It feels good. I don't have the tranquility I did a few days ago, but sitting with her and talking feels like home. I really need the comfort right now.

P.S. I'm earnest about the learning element of this. The Mrs. says that I should've done this first, and I'm trying hard to just take her hand and leap. So far it's working out pretty well.

Today...

I'm absolutely terrified of losing my wife. I know I've been closer than this recently, and we've made some good progress, but there's this gut-wrenching feeling that my world is going to be torn apart any second now.

I'm just scared.

Good evening...

Tonight me and the Mrs. stepped out with the two little ones (the oldest opted to stay at home and do his homework... a wise choice). It was cold, but very fun. The youngest displayed an amazing fear of dogs. Big dogs, little dogs, black and white dogs... and there was one house that he wouldn't go near unless I carried him. Even then he was very nervous (there were spooky noises and, were I him, I'd be scared too).

But, overall, I think the kids had a mess of fun, and they made out like bandits.

(More cuteness abounds, but you should see my wife's blog for details).

Our front porchlight was out, and we forgot to light the pumpkins, so not many people stopped by. Looks like we'll have to eat our candy all by ourselves. Darn it.

On the job front, I've discovered that Colleges and Universities are largely useless in the pursuit. I'm still trying, and they have guidebooks that I haven't utilized yet, but I'm not optimistic. I've had to withdraw from college for the semester (for reasons that are probably obvious), but I've put in for next semester and only have 20 HOURS left to go. Not 2 years. Not even, really, one year. If I were to go full time, I'd be done in 2 semesters (spring and summer). If I get a full-time job (which is most likely), it will probably take me between 3-4 years (3 credits per semester). I'm not really happy about that span, but I understand that we need income, and a full-time job actually offers that.

>sigh<

My wife

She who is married to me is the definition of womanhood. All that a woman should be, she embodies. Her heart shines with all of the qualities that I could ask for.

I love my wife.

Woohoo!

Got a date with my wife! These things are far too rare. By far.

Before I go...

Well, I have managed to struggle past some of the new security features over at Monster board, overcome the challenges of reviving some very old accounts, and have even managed to put in for a few jobs. Today hasn't been a total waste on that front. I think the job center has a fax machine, but they haven't let me use it yet.

Next time, Gadget! Next tiiiiiime!

Grrr...

It's like nothing got done today. I'm probably going to wind up taking the apartment (since I've not heard back from the friends I called), but everything else has been rather... most people asked me to come back at another time. Haircut is impending (11 am tomorrow). Job appointment has been put off until next week. I haunted Monster and Career without seeing anything interesting. My resume got a pretty good update, but I've passed it on to my wife for final approval (how much can I trust myself to have good judgement? I don't know, so I'm going to rely on her a bit.)

I've done a bit of running around, but next to jack-all has gotten the "Passed" stamp on it. Could probably use a planner, but I don't know if I'd actually write stuff down in it.

2nd day...

I'm still wired and trying to get stuff done. I tell you that most other people on campus are deterents to that goal. I'm still trying to finish my resume and every twit walking past tells me what I'm doing wrong. I give a 5 minute lecture on how my awesome wife assisted in the development of it and I'm just going to assume that she got it right (for reasons I list off, like writing for several years and knowing more about format and development of written communication than... well, anyone else).

If you've never heard it before...

I'm getting an apartment tomorrow. I have no desire to do so, but my hand (as well as my butt) has been forced. My friend has company coming and the only other people to offer me a place... I can't stay with them.

I could freeze, but that goes the Uncle Damien route (maybe. The guy used to tell us how self-sacrificing he was, but I've talked to his kids and I'm not sure). I don't want to disappear in a cloud of rumor and disdain. Blech.

My place is on hold for me, I just need to go get the keys and move in. Wish I could remember what all else I'm doing today and tomorrow.

Friday: Date with Scone. I haven't forgotten that.

Oh, the Humanity!

I'm a liberal arts student as of today. It, sadly, does not allow me to graduate immediately (still working on that), but the classes are all less taxing, more interesting, available online, and something that I can talk to my wife about.

The point at which I turned to my wife to discuss ideas and... well, she disagreed with my professors a lot. And I was forced to take their side (I asked about stuff in class, but ultimately had to relent).

I'll have an address tomorrow and a large influx of emergency back-up funds. It might just see me through. I hate having to pay rent, though.

I was recently reminded of my uncle, Damien. Damien had a wife and kids and then pretty much gave it away. From his side of things he said he was giving everything back to the kids and wife, but the state of Texas begs to differ. Regardless, the guy always looked like a dirt bag and didn't take care of himself at all. It hurt him and us.

Nobody knows where uncle Damien is now, and only a handful of people care.

I don't want to be him.

Sometimes...

Working the theater job was mostly grumbly because of customers. I really don't think the job itself was evil, nor the people (save the one insane drug addict). But it does seem to have a certain mindset to it that got worse when the newest manager took over: "Keep working!" >whipcrack<

I'll tell you something that I haven't told anybody yet. It's really not harmful in itself, and I don't know why I didn't bring it up with the Mrs., who deserved to know these things, but:

After shows or work I walked women to their cars or, on two occassions, homes, to make sure they arrived safely. Sometimes this took me a good distance from the car and increased the amount of time I was out. To be honest the night air felt good.

This does not excuse me, nor should I have done it. There are plenty of campus services that deal with that sort of thing, and the amount of time away from my family was hurtful.

On the meds...

Whoo! I'm not sure whether hyper was listed on the possible side-effects, or even whether it isn't just psychosomatic, but I'm running hard until I crash. Tell you what, though... I feel better.

Maybe it's knowing that there's hope for getting a handle on the situation. I really can't describe how awful I've been feeling (I still feel pretty bad, but it's not that bad.

There's a relative clarity that comes with it. Observe:

My friend, the one I'm occupying space with, says that I cannot occupy space with him for much longer. A few days, perhaps.

Another friend, a married woman with relationship problems, offers me her couch as a place to stay. During the dark times I probably would've said "sure, whatever." Now, I can look at that and see problems galore for a single man, let alone one in my current position.

Response? "Ummmm no."

I may have to take the college up on a dorm room, much as I despise the idea. I realize that my wife wants to make sure I'm okay to be back with the kids, but I also hope to shorten the time frame as much as possible. It makes gauging whether to take on a years lease kinda problematic. The school goes on a month by month basis, but I don't know whether she'll feel okay with me by Christmas (I really hope so, though... that one's going to be tough if I'm in no man's land.)

Another note on the band I've been running with. They did, apparently, start a suicide watch of sorts regarding me. I guess everyone knew I was depressed but me.

The only side effect I've noticed today is my eyeballs getting jiggly in the sockets (and possible hyperness). The rest of the stuff (headache, lethargy, etc.) was normal before.

Oy!

I'd forgotten how much time bus travel takes! Holy crud! And the people are still about as scuzzy. Some of them are alright, but every body who takes the bus has a bad hair day before they get on.

My CS instructor, mini-bill, turns out to be a decent fellow (if a little pre-occupied with the fear that I might commit suicide). He's going to press for an "I" in the class with the department head, and he thinks it's reasonable. I haven't spoken to the other instructors, but I'm looking at the same path, I think.

I think everything took about 4 hours. They moved the Wal-Mart further south than I'd anticipated, making getting the drugs a bit of a challenge.

Depression: the old Black

(Or: I see a red door and I want to paint it blue)

I get to take medication soon! My understanding is that the effects will be somewhat drastic until my body gets used to it, but one of the items on the list was that I would constantly be saying what's on my mind without a filter!

I'm surprised people aren't in line to find out what the results of this will be.

Rumour has it that there's a fast-track to determining depression (getting diagnosed) here on Grackle State campus, so I'll be trying to find that so my instructors become a bit more foregiving.

Facing the problem...

Until all of the recent events, I was barely aware of how badly I was treating my wife and kids. Arguably, I was barely aware. Then Mrs. Charlie suggested that I might be depressed after I mentioned suicidal thoughts the first time we spoke after... well, after things came to a head between us.

Friends confirmed this, but I'm totally in her hands regarding these things... I trust her completely. I feel much better, and I haven't managed to get the medication yet. I have managed to get counseling (both from my wife and from a counselor), and that has been life-changing. I've started trying to remove stressors from my life as well, and bad influences. Both efforts have proven fruitful and I'm much more clear headed than I was. I realize that I'm not 100% right now, but I have enough faculties to REALIZE that.

On a side note, I took a ride with my wife yesterday and cried like... well, I left snot all over the trim on her coat. I felt bad about that, but the crying was also very therapeutic. I know that we're in a rough spot right now, but I'm making every effort to come back and the support she's giving is beautiful. A lesser woman would have turned her back on me and let me sink. I would've deserved it.

My wife is the most wonderful woman ever. I know that with her we can be everything, and without her I am nothing. I need her in my life and will do everything and anything to get back what I've lost.

Whoops!

Forgot to post whether or not I'd be willing to turn to the LDS church for help. I think I've made it clear elsewhere, but I'm willing to do anything to right the wrongs. Stick my hand in lava, if need be.

Facing religion again

Many resources that have pointed out for me to deal with my issues have been within the LDS church, a church that... well, my recent history hasn't been sterling on many people's counts.

1) Pressure: I'm going to claim that, yes, there was pressure for me to join said church, but I generated it by attending every Sunday, watching people who seemed genuinely happy wander around the halls and remembering my youth and often feeling that way amongst family.

2) That small still voice: I'm not sure what it was, but I did feel something that said: "It's time. Join." That same voice told me that it needed to end, so I'm not sure what to make of that.

3) Hiding my efforts: Odd, I know, but no one actually saw me reading the BoM or anything. My prayers were kept completely confidential... that was probably stupid of me. If my wife knew I was making sincere efforts, she probably wouldn't have thought so little of me when I decided to drop out. Towards the end I was reading behind the stage curtain separating the priesthood meeting and the stage where the room holding my youngest was. It was probably the most intense period of reading I'd done in a while.

4) The hell: Later people would ask why I had joined, since I had clearly not been cut out for it from the beginning. Well, I joined because I'd felt that "ping" of desire that I assumed meant something. Why didn't people with doubts actually say something directly to me?

Why am I bringing this up now? Well, I feel that communication is going to be much more important in the future than I felt it was in the past. There was a point at which my wife and I only communicated via Blog, and then I stopped posting and stopped reading. Bad stuff happened. Maybe I can work backward through the process.

Dear Lord...

She's right, of course. I've been an ass.

This isn't who I was, this isn't who I want to be. If there is any hope... any hope. I'll take it.

I've been blinded to the beauty and wonder that was trying to wake me back up. I've been stupid and...

I can fix me... I know I can do that much. I can do more.

Heresy: the new black.

I quit going to church and returned to a state of grace and bliss.

That coincides with skepticism in anything resembling a god, let alone a singular god.

But, as it turns out, I haven't quit being a Mormon. That takes more effort than simply saying "your church is dumb and I'm not wasting my time with it any more." Apparently there's some paperwork.

I'm not sure how much I feel like dealing with their crap in order to completely sever ties.

Because I'm being bothered about it as I type:
A friend of mine by the name of Lori has been having self-image issues owing to her husband calling her "fat". Now, you have to understand that she stands at 5'6" and weighs under 200.

Mr. Hawthorne, another acquaintence of mine, is a fan of the full-figured woman. He has been trying to consoul Lori by telling her that she does not need to undergo surgery and that she is an attractive young lady, which is true. Her losing weight is actually going to, in my opinion, decrease her attractiveness. Maybe it's because of all the emotional scarring I suffered at the hands of cheerleaders.

At any rate, Mr. Hawthorne is currently demanding that I type the following sentence:
"Mr. Hawthorne would kill, or die, to see Lori naked."

Where've you been?

I have had many wondrous revelations and adventures since the last time I went a-postin' on this here blog. Doubt I'll bring up all of them, and certainly not at once.

1) Cleaning a theater, especially one that's been around since the 60's, is fun. Seriously, you'd never guess at some of the items dug up from within the bowels of ye old pit. And I've got the goods to proove it.

2) My kids continue to be awesome. They are... tumblers, if you take my meaning.

3) My brother continues his adventures to get employed. He's got three jobs, but I doubt he'll ever completely come out from the shadow of having lived by my parents graces. That would be unlike my wife and I... we live by her parents graces.

See you next time, when I divulge geekier vocabulary than thou, and maybe give you a hint as to the hidden meanings of the above.

Operetta

I've had an opportunity or so as of late to look over the various browsers... the big names. Those would be:

Explorer: With the most market share, Explorer is a serious player.
FireFox: Mozilla's salvo into the browser market isn't too shabby, and sports some innovations that kept MS on its toes.
Safari: As far as I know, Safari only works on Macs, and is the equivalent of Explorer in many regards. The other browsers I've only used on PCs.
Opera: I'm addicted, but it's a smaller name, with few interested in switching to it, for some reason.

I'll start into this with a bit of a disclaimer: I don't like Microsoft. Don't get me wrong: I understand why they do what they do, but I'm not a fan of folk that seem less innovative than Chimpanzees. Plus, as I sit here, Explorer keeps trying to open up some ads, and I feel like I'm being nasally raped by Bill Gates.
thpppt! The upside is that most sites run with this one in mind, so if you do a lot of browsing for, say, business needs, you'll probably be happiest with this.

Firefox, my browser of choice until recently, had tabs first, featured a supportive community, included widgets (which they may have picked up from Apple), and actually had some security to it that blew Explorer out of the water. The only reason I kept Explorer on my machine after Firefox came out was that I still wasn't certain about that whole "necessary component" thing. I use Firefox at work, but only because they don't want me to download Opera. This one gets more support, but both it and Explorer have their own standards. Expect some glitchy pages, but only a few.

Safari: Safari is pretty comparable to both Firefox and Explorer as far as "features" is concerned. I consider it more secure than Explorer, and the widget selection is better. I'd expect Apple to have better support, but the web community does not really care for Safari.,

Opera: Widgets? Tabs? So last week... have you seen speed dialing? The "browse from command line" option? Built-in note taker? Zoom function? You can validate code with a few hot keys... did you see that? Fully frickin' compliant with the W3C standards at the time of release?

This is not to say that Opera isn't without problems. I've noticed some glitches(the cursor suddenly relocates) while typing this that I attribute to either it or the random Explorer pop-ups. Either one is plausible to me. Even though Opera is fully W3C compliant, it isn't Explorer or Firefox compliant. You may still notice some differences on sites that use either as a basis.

Awright...

Don Herbert is one of those rare people that really shouldn't have died. He shouldn't have gotten cancer. He probably wasn't a saint (bombing runs in WWII suggests that people died), but he was a fine human being who kept plugging away at his dreams until he couldn't anymore.

The world needs more of that. And his dream was making the world smarter.

I'm gonna go cry.

Snoop Doggy-Dogg

I've been looking for a source of money that doesn't require me to work quite so many hours as of late. This has lead to my finding this opportunity. I don't know what the pay is, but I'm willing to bet the hours are flexible. Probably can't telecommute, though.

Thhhhpt!

Can-can do it!

I've been listening to music and enjoying some of the finer scripts that have ever seen production when I came to a realization.

I'm kinda into this entertainment thing.

Shocking, I know. Now, turn up the radio...

Musical chairs

I'm sure I've mentioned some of the music artists that I enjoy online. Mostly I groove on my own pack of CDs, but I truly do enjoy them individuals who've tried to make the internet a better place to be, as opposed to those monkeys that go around trying to make the world at large more difficult than necessary.

Try this on for size...

You don't know how to get a man?

Fear not! This will help you straighten up and get your breasts into the face of a good man.

Or not.

Thanks to "TAN" for finding this.

Work-related injury

One of my co-workers likes to add "your mom" into every conversation. Today I was describing my network difficulties when he interjected.

"Your mom has network problems."

To say that this was getting stupid would be to imply that it had some glimmer of intellect to begin with.

"Let me tell you something," I responded, "about your grandmother. She had sex. More than once. Odds are, she liked it."

Guy ran from me with his hands over his ears.

Charge Forward

There's plenty of things that have been happening over the past few months. I don't recall mentioning that I did well enough on my grades to keep plugging away at my chosen major(s).

I've performed at a party as a disc jockey. I've started showing films at the local theater, and I've seen an actual 35mm film splicer. In fact, I've seen a graffiti-riddled projector booth that dates back to the 60's. And bowling pins. I can't tell you how many of those things I've seen lately.

Went tunnel exploring, finding new ways to get everywhere I could want to on campus.

I helped man sound for a 9 man (or so) gig outside.

Frankly, the A/V stuff is great. If I could just slide a little sideways, I think I'd be all over this.

Adult Entertainment

I'll bet you thought I was gone... not updating my blog anymore. Hah!

I now offer you THIS!

(Get your hands out of your pants!)

Evils of the future...

My children will be ready for the darkest scourges of their time:

DRaGoN: "Digital Rights Gone Nuts"

ORC: "Orbital Rickshaw Control"

But the most insidious evil known to man in this or any other age may well be:

COBOL: ... you know.

The local business school had some books on the topic, and being the omnivorous bibliophile that I am we now own one. I also picked up a book on VB.

"Vegepygmie Babies"

Wal-Mart blues (next month I go on tour!)

Would that I could afford an XBox 360 or PS2 and "Guitar Hero II", I doubt I'd ever leave home. As it is, I play that game about twice a week since the demo came out over at Wal-Mart. I can now respect the guitar work of Van Halen and mock that of Nirvana (although I recognize that both are better than I am, I can sometimes delude myself into thinking, in one instance, not by much).

Right next to this display is that of "God of War", a game that cannot be ignored by sheer virtue of the first fight is a man sized character (you) pitted against the Collosus of Rhodes. Every 5 seconds it spouts some inane line ("I AM the god of war!", "I WILL make you suffer", etc.) but the awesomeness of having an ancient Greek city quake about you while you do combat with something that nearly deserves, in every respect, the title "titan" really does make it a title I'd consider about 10 years ago.

Next to that is... a baseball game. Given the rest of the line-up, I don't have to tell you how awkward that is. Ultraboy liked it, the chance he had at it. He claimed it was very realistic and fun to watch as well as play (I think the system for that one was the WII, part of a plot to make the geeks of the world physically fit and talented, perhaps even envied by all around for their stunning good looks and range of skills... but I digress). Still, I can't fathom baseball being anywhere near as fun as playing the guitar.

This all reminds me that I recently encountered an ad for something similar to this singing game. What next? A drum game?

You really got me, now...

Summertime Blues

Semester is almost over, so let us assess the current situation:

1) Must not kill ex, who is taking Ultra to China in order to facilitate an adoption. I hope she comes back empty-handed, as subjecting another child to her crap is abhorrent.

2) Youngest is mostly potty trained. Also, very excited about his imminent birthday.

3) Superboy(tm) continues to learn and grow and an incredible pace. His birthday isn't far off, and in between all of this we get visits from various family members.

4) Mah Woman has a job, which will earn us some small amount of change, yo.

5) Ubermensch that I am, I have two jobs. Asserting my geekness by being both on the A/V/Theater squad and being a code monkey for the local business school. Both jobs are at the university, so I should ask if I can get a class out of this for free or something. It would just be so sweet to knock one more thing down.

You did it!

I managed to get a job of sorts working Audio/Visual for the local university (being a student has its privileges), and tonight was my first night. I set up and took down the equipment for a talent show that never happened.

Those people in charge of the show, who also intended on performing, didn't feel they could compete with some woman, Jane Goodall, and thus couldn't bring in the coin necessary to recoup the costs. These were costs they'd already incurred. I don't know if you're aware of this, but putting together a stage isn't easy. The curtains are seriously heavy as well, and I had to lug the speakers around. The person sent to help me had a broken foot and basically pointed at things and told me they needed doing.

We did get to place ourselves between men with beer and a basketball game, which didn't lead to some sort of fight. I deserve danger pay.

Anyway, I wandered down to the theater to put equipment away and ran into many an A/V tech trying to get a projector to work. I explained the situation, including the reason for the cancellation, and each of them said the same thing.

"Those damned, dirty apes!"

There was also talk about chimpanzees trying to get her to leave the jungle, her being like that houseguest that's too nice to eject but too annoying to let her stay on.

Spot the references!

You need
this. I think I've watched it about 40 times since yesterday.

Also, if anyone is thinking of getting the kids pretty cheap gifts, the youngest two would love some refills for our peep machine.

(I couldn't find the peep machine on Wham-O.com, so this was the next best.)

Hulk SMASH!

I have just discovered that, in the state of Colorado, a 67% majority of homeowners needs to vote for the dissolution of an HOA for it to be disbanded.

I can't imagine where I would get a list of disgruntled homeowners, but perhaps the treasurer might tell me.

BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

The coming elections.

As you know well by now, there are two serious contenders for the position of president during the upcoming elections:

Max and Cthulu.

I suggest that, though Cthulu definitely has a catchy slogan ("Why settle for the lesser evil?") and has a platform that covers all contingencies ("destroy everything"), he has not performed well in the polls. I believe this is primarily due to his unwillingness to give interviews or do much of anything that doesn't involve his island in the South Pacific.

Max, short-sighted though he may be, has been forthright in his stance ("What are 'tax dollars'?") and has the advantage of having been in the public eye*. I think Max would be a far more entertaining president. I'm not sure that Cthulu, as old as he is, would serve a whole term. I'm certain that we couldn't have him for two.

There you have it: My political views on this important topic. Of course, a late-comer to the races, Robin Williams, might have a shot.


*In the course of this research I discovered that one of my Sam and Max comics is going for a few hundred. It's about to be reprinted, though. A quick ebay search suggests that the market has dried up. Go figure.

Writing exercise

I have an assignment due on Monday, a writing exercise relating to distance.

I shall now write out the exercise:

The tall grass of Eckland field hid the two children as they tried to return to the castle and its secrets. The Germans would destroy it, but in 1920 it stood.

Sarah Mikleby and her brother, Ike, waded through the chest-high grass as they tried to return to Innsborough Castle.

Sarah and Ike pushed through the deep grass.

Dry grass penetrated the childrens' clothes, making them itch and leaning against them with the weight of a field and the long years it had stood, unchallenged.

Grass. Itchy grass. Up your pants, through your shirt, and filling your lungs with the dust of ages.

Preview-ee.

Currently I'm working on another story, some of which may sound familiar to some of my readers:

Wayne sipped a Coca-cola as he waited for the guant man to finish the long walk from the Piggly-Wiggly and begin their journey. It was only 30 minutes to Centerpoint, but the ride would seem eternal with the one person in town he could not tolerate: his father.
His father entered the car and turned it on in one motion. The car had been his life since the divorce from Frannie, a woman of deep moral values and the brain of a deep-fried squirrel. Wayne didn't care for either of them and wondered if there was a way to jump ship from the family, but they were coming through for him in a pinch.
The draft had become a reality. Brian, a friend, had left to join the army, pre-empting any effort the government made to draft him. Wayne hadn't figured out how to avoid it, but he had decided to become less available.
"Can't say I approve," his father said as they drove down I-65, "but your mother says you can spend a bit of time with her folks while you figure this out. I say you should come to it on your own terms. It's not like they've called your number yet."

I'm still geeking out about it!

You may be asking yourself what, just what, could get Charlie so excited that he has to post twice in one day, even twice in a week?

This.

Phil Foglio is one of those creatures that just dominates gaming circles. His weight cannot be imagined. The man is like a Titan (1st edition rules). A behemoth (found originally in Dieties and Demigods). Where others just sit around talking about Sex in D&D, Phil is doing something about it.

Why vote for the lesser of two evils

Admittedly, my way of voting isn't for everyone. Some people like foreign policy, some people prefer domestic issues, and some people like "Ia! Ia! Cthulu ftagn!" Apocalyptic politics is, by nature, short-sighted, but if it works, everybody benefits equally!


Which means it's fair.

Recently ye olde Scratch representative (local #666) was talking to me while we waited to talk to a doctor about the possibility of Ultrason being ADD (or ADHD... whatever), and we involved said boy in the conversation:

Me (to hellspawn)): Would you let him get baptized?
Her: I would if he wanted it, which I don't believe he does?
Me: Could I get that in writing?
Her: Hey! Kiddo! Do you want to be baptized into the Mormon church?
Him (nervously): Not right now!
Her: How about coming to live with me?
Him: I... uh... mmm...
Her: Wouldn't that be fair?
Him: Well, I have lived with them (indicating me) for 9 years, so I guess you having me for next 9, would be...
Her: You can't live with me for 9.
Him: What?
Her: You'll be 18 in 6 years.
Me: 5.5, but no one's counting.
Him: I guess it would be fair.
(She smiles at me, as if she's won something)

He did stuff like that the entire time, not answering a single question directly. Everything was "not right now" or a complete redirecting of the answer. Of course, that she redirected it isn't his fault. And it wouldn't be fair to HIM. It would be fair to her.

After all, who cares about the boy?

Now that you mention it...

I'm readying myself to send an email to my ex explaining why she can't take my oldest for a year while trying not to say she's a frippin' psychopath, when my wife points me toward an activity to take my mind off:

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The first "P" is for "Personal"

I've been trying to set up a web server on one of our computers for the purpose of programming in php. I really should have done this ages ago, when I was planning on running Linux on that same machine just to see if I could do it.

Turns out that it's a little challenging to do. Eventually I'll get it right, although I'm currently working with a German tutorial and it's been ages since my conversational German was up to snuff, let alone my jargon (which always stunk).

For those of you close to me, I'll eventually get you the IP. If it becomes extremely useful to you, I'll see if I can't set up a larger and more efficient server in hopes of getting money off of it (although I don't know how, as of yet).

Old Coke

1st off, I wanna say that some of my fondest memories surround ancient shredded coconut that my brother and I found in the fridge. My mom would buy this stuff about once a year, use maybe half a cup, and then leave it for us to discover around July. By that time it was brick-like in nature and cold as the fridge, Retained temperature really well, and tasted like coconut.

Coconuts are like a health burst!

Rewrite

I'm sitting next to my wife, going over "Ed" for my class, when I'm stumped.

"Which doll is the one that likes to sit on the couch in a bathrobe and watch television all day," I ask my wife.

"Cheryl," she says without pausing.

And then she grins and buries her face in her magazine.

Right Next Door...

I'm finally adding Neil Gaiman's blog to my list (stage right). Neil is arguably one of the finest writers of my generation. Since he gets published, and I don't, I can't argue yet.

My dream is to sit on a panel with him, Wil Wheaton, Stephen King, and Howard Taylor. Since that'd have to be a pretty bizarre con (or whatever) I'm betting it never happens at one sitting. I've got to get hopping!

This one's for me bro'

I have no idea what I was going to say, excepting that Leira lives, yo.

Yo.

If I sit down to write something longer than a few paragraphs, there tend to be distractions. Naturally, this extends the writing process. It's not like I sit in a chair for days on end, a nub of a pencil stuck in my mouth while I consider just the right adjective to use.

And then there are the arguments. Every time I write more than a few paragraphs.

Finally, there is the total lack of ability for those that write to make enough money to support a 5 person family. I love writing. Truly, I do. But I also need security. At least, that's what I'm told.

At least I am not alone in my suffering.

Blurbs for Ed!

The critics speak!

Ed is:

"...masterful!"
-somebody in my class

"...comedic genius"
-somebody else

"...brilliantly disturbing! A real delight to read."
- a sycophant

"... the damnedest thing."
- my instructor.

Explaining Ed

I wrote a short story for my creative writing class. I'm not going to explain the story itself, but I do want to point out that it is now available, completely, on this blog, beneath this posting. It was posted in reverse order, so that you may begin with the next post (underneath this one), and read down until you come to the end. Feel free to comment... I wouldn't post the story if I couldn't take it.

Love,
Chuck.

New Ed

The city was gray, thick with smoke. The sidewalks were gray and pitted. Ed was gray. Partly because he was wearing a suit that made storm clouds look cheerful, but also because he moved down the sidewalk the way that a sack full of garbage slowly descends stairs when pushed… he slumped.

He turned from the sidewalk and down a set of stairs leading to his basement apartment. It was a sickly home. Years of polishing, finishing, and waxing the wooden floors had not concealed the diseased wood that made up the floor. The ceiling leaked in the bedroom from the bathroom directly above it, and Ed had decided early on that he did not want to know whether it was the tub or the toilet that was the source of the leak.

He hung his coat on the rack and set about cleaning his counters. He was focused, intent on removing the dust of the day. Later he would sit in front of his television, the apartment clean enough for his desires. He would try not to think of his recent promotion and the headaches that came with quality control.

Ed finished with the counter and went to his coat. He pulled free a doll, a tiny homunculus, from a sleeve where it had been hidden most of the day. The factory he worked at made them. Vast numbers of them every day. His job allowed him to look over them for hours, assuring that they were all consistently the same. The same plastic shell with airbrushed makeup and shallow, shiny eyes. Later, at another plant, they would apply one of a series of dresses to them.

This one was different, and he was supposed to report it and return it to its base components for correction. He couldn’t. Something about it was appealing. Maybe it was the dull look to its eyes, or the way the blush had missed it altogether It’s hair was out of sorts as well, having a disheveled, bed-head, look. All it needed was some fixing.

He set it on his couch and corrected it. Brushed the hair. Carefully applied the paint that was used for blush. As time went on he forgot his appointment with the television and night fell.

Ed grew tired and took down a box he had stored socks in. He set the socks carefully into his drawer next to the ones he had calculated he would need for the remainder of the year. The empty box became a nest for the doll, carefully collected tissue paper surrounded her.

He looked upon her with the warmth of having created something. She was his contribution to humanity, beyond his toil. When others looked upon her they would know something of his soul. She needed a name. “Belle,” he said with a smile as he placed her next to his bed in her box. He left the lid off and the light from a flickering streetlamp flickered across her face.

The morning sun did not have the angle to enter the small window, but Ed draped a silken handkerchief over Belle, knowing that noon would come and strike her down with its vicious rays.

He made breakfast and a lunch to take (cucumber sandwiches, with the crusts cut off, just like his mother used to make), before leaving his home. The rising sun made progress against the cityscape, and Ed’s ashen suit did nothing to aid it.

A week passed with Ed hovering over Belle. Her hair had become like a model’s… perfectly coiffed. Her plastic had taken on the tone of life, with the blush of blood vessels hinted at beneath the surface. Tonight he had set her on the couch, and they had watched television together: “The Wizard of Oz.”

Middle of Ed

As the movie ended, Ed noticed a drop of water that had traced itself down Belle’s makeup and was clinging to her chin. He went to the kitchen to retrieve one of his carefully stored and folded handkerchiefs and returned to find that the drop had fallen onto the gingham dress she’d worn for the occasion. “Bother,” he said.

He wiped her face gently, careful to not muss her hair or smudge her makeup. “I’ve a surprise for you,” he whispered. He went back to his coat. He pulled another doll from the sleeve.

The doll had rather thick eyebrows, and the hair was easily better, but otherwise it was identical to Belle. For the rest of the evening, Ed fixed the new doll, whom he’d dubbed, “Margaret.” Belle watched on in silence. The new doll, if one ignored the eyebrows, became more beautiful than Belle under the delicate and precise hand of Ed.

Ed had prepared this time, and had brought home a special box for Margaret. It had scrollwork along the sides and was made of dark stained oak. Ed had little he had to spend his money on and, having saved for a better place to live, had a well padded bank account from which to draw.

Ed introduced the two of them congenially. “Belle… this is Margaret. Margaret… Belle.” He then left them on the couch to become better acquainted while he prepared a light dinner.

Ed served dinner. Belle and Margaret didn’t argue… but they did stare coldly across the table, without touching their food. Ed ate cheerfully until he noticed the awkward silence and slowly lost his appetite. He eventually crawled to bed, leaving the others to stare at each other in the moonlight.

When Ed awoke in the morning, the boxes were occupied, and the dishes had been put away. He decided not to disturb what was, no doubt, a late night for them, and quietly went about his morning routine before going to work.

Even with the tension of that night, over the next few weeks Ed brought home several more dolls. Pat, a sexually androgynous doll that preferred to wear trousers and had thick curly blond hair, was the first. Miko’s skin was not the standard color. Ed dressed her in a kimono for the first day, but Miko insisted on a leather jacket and jeans… and he acquiesced. Cheryl was the unassuming short, plump one with a bob cut that Ed had spent almost an entire week on. One of the last to join them was Denise. Denise had hair like Pat’s but lacked the ambiguous sexual nature. In fact, it was quite possible that there was no aberration that could be detected with Denise. Yet Ed had to fix her.

For the first time Ed manicured a doll, including nail polish, before completing his work with her. In the end, although she was made of the same cheap plastic as the other dolls, she looked like she was made of china. If there was perfection amongst the population, Denise was it.

When he arrived home, Ed had been worn by work. In his hand was a small note from his boss, which he had read at stop lights:

“To: Quality Control

Re:

It has come to our attention, over time, that several dolls have gone missing. Far be it from us to point fingers, however, our recycling process has had to suggest that our profits could be up this quarter by 3/4ths of a cent, were it not for the absence of these dolls. We hope that whoever has taken them returns them to the recycling unit (bin #33-42) and that we do not see a repeat of these events.”

This note had depressed Ed, as he was certain they knew about him, and that the finger of justice was firmly planted on his head… ready to squash him. Still, he couldn’t return them if it meant certain death; which it did.

These thoughts were predominant when Ed opened the door, note in hand. What he saw was perhaps the most shocking thing he’d ever witness. On the floor, face down, was the body of Margaret.

Ed, thinking quickly, threw the note on the couch while he ran across the room. He knelt next to her and took up her wrist, checking for a pulse. Nothing. He carefully rolled her over, hoping that there wasn’t a spinal injury, before checking her breathing. Still nothing.

He had no recourse but to dial 911 and hope that it wasn’t too late.

“911 Emergency Services,” the civil employee said in a tired tone through the static-laced line. “What is the nature of your emergency.”

“I… I think she’s dead. I’m not getting a pulse and she’s not breathing.”

“Just hang on sir, tell me… where are you at?”

“At home,” he said before stammering off the address. It was still a shock, but he was trying to be calm.

“Is there something I can do?”

“You could try CPR until the ambulance, sir. Do you know how to perform CPR?”

“It’s just… her body is so tiny!” Ed was in tears, his heart breaking that he could not save her.

“Is this a child, sir?”

“No… she’s fully grown… she’s just small!”

“Calm down, sir, everything will be all right. Can you give me any further information?”

“She’s about 2’ long, 3 lbs…”

“Three pounds? Sir, are we describing a human being?”

“…”

“Sir?”

“She’s a doll.”

“Are you aware of the penalties for prank calling the emergency services?”

“I…”

“Good day, sir.”

The End of Ed

The operator hung up on him, leaving him on the floor with Margaret’s lifeless body. There was no way that he could let this go. Somehow… some way… she had passed beyond this world. He would have to find out how. No one else would help him. He set to interviewing the others. Everything was written down with the same meticulous care that he’d used with everything in his life.

Miko had been bathing… her music was on (she preferred older heavy metal bands), and so she was unable to hear anything. It had an odd feel to it. Miko was hiding something… but what?

The others had been together in pairs, each alibi hard to refute. Belle and Denise had been arguing in the kitchen, loud enough so that Pat had heard Belle scream across the apartment. Pat and Cheryl had been in Ed’s bedroom, reading a fascinating volume on human anatomy that Ed had acquired some time ago and never bothered to get rid of.

It occurred to Ed that there was nothing he could do in regards to this injustice when there was a knock at the door.

“Sir? It’s the police. Would you mind opening up? We’d like to talk.”

Ed opened the door. The voice on the other side of the door was imposing, but not half as imposing as the man who possessed it. His badge was proudly displayed with the shine of a newly recruited officer. For a moment Ed wondered if a partner would be around. His question was answered shortly by a woman, withered in years and seasoned in the way that police officers often are… by pain and duty. Her hair wanted to go gray, but she’d not let it. She spoke next.

“We understand that you have a homicide?” It was a bored question, but it gave Ed hope that this was being taken seriously by someone.

“I… I found her on the floor,” he said as he gestured to Margaret, who was now inside of a carefully marked outline. “I didn’t touch anything…” He offered her his notebook, “but I took notes. Interviewed everyone.”

She looked over the notes, raising an eyebrow with every turned page. “A bit predictable, but good work. Figured out who did it yet?”

“N-no.” He blinked.

The ancient officer pointed to the kitchen, which only had a counter separating it from the living room where the body was found. “Denise did it. Miko and Belle were making out in the bathroom, but Belle was only doing it to give Denise time.”

The larger man blinked. He’d been certain they had come to read the guy the riot act for calling up on what was perhaps the slowest day he’d worked on. He’d only worked for 2 weeks, but he still expected Trish to be more heavy handed than that. She gave him a warning look not to say a word, but spoke herself.

“Our justice can’t help you,” she said to Ed, “but you might consider writing it out and turning it over at my desk when you’re done. I’ll see what I can do.”

“He’s not hurting anyone,” she said to her partner, before shutting the door.

Ed, dutifully, wrote down everything that happened. He turned it over to Patricia Closkey’s desk at Precinct 13 very quietly. He was fired from his job at the doll factory. Patricia’s uncle proved to have some clout with a publisher and got Ed’s novel a viewing, which went over well… mysteries often sell well. Ed never did manage to move out of the basement apartment that he occupied with the dolls, but he did live alright off of his savings and the income from the books, which he kept writing. Not all of them were mysteries, of course… dolls lead such interesting lives.

You could try this...

You probably won't check out Steve Gibson's site, but I'll tell you that it's worth a poke once in a while to see how you stand, security-wise.

I just checked it and came up "full stealth mode" or something.

It's the most wonderful time of the year...

Immediately following Christmas there are specials galore and the ever-present air of barter... I love it so.

However, there is a season even more dear to my heart: Valentine's. I'll call it a season because Wal-Mart makes it so. But Wal-Mart isn't for my wife. No dime-store floozy she! No, I shall find a gem of rare quality to gift the beauty and wonderfulness that my wife possesses. To show her what she means to my life, I must seek out things that no mere mortal may lay hands upon.

This year I'm looking for an Artifact/Holy Avenger +7/+12 vs. Frost Giants and Former bosses. (Formir bosses? Hmmmm...)

Good morning!

On top of the usual grief I suffer, my wife is sick today. Was sick yesterday. I had to leave our youngest with a woman that can barely lift her arm in order to get everyone to school (self-included).

Oh, and I'm sick.

So the kids wake up late (on account of my hitting the snooze button about 6 times) and we're all late, and I'm rushing out the door and I kiss my wife and I'm just about in tears because I can't move but I have to and I can only imagine what that poor woman is going through since I don't even have the worst of it, and I change the youngest and make sure the dishes get done and I didn't have breakfast and lunches are made and ohmygosh we're going to be soooo late and I drive off and get a ticket.

Oh, but the value of the ticket was not assessed at the time, which I found interesting, but I know that it was because I couldn't find proof of insurance so I have to go to court in order to provide said proof.

-CAPTAIN RUN-ON!

Ubergeekery

Oft times I can find myself floating the web looking hither and yon, and it occurs to me that I might be the geekiest person I know.

This and the people I hang out with.

I blame Picard

You are THE OCCASIONAL USELESS GAL
Take Which Useless Man are you? today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Personality Test Generator.

You are THE OCCASIONAL USELESS GAL, using biting sarcasm and venomous barbs to keep men in line. The men do not understand your sarcasm, and just think you are either a) hormonal, or b) PMS ing, or c) both. Offers of ice cream for a peace offering are just ploys to get some make up sex. Mainly, if you are THE OCCASIONAL USELESS GAL, it is because you are a girl.

Yesterday, all my troubles seemed...

As you may have noticed, the Mrs. posted a list of events from her birthday, as reported by Wiki.

Not to be outdone, I've selected a few items for your consideration. The date? September 17.

1394 - King Charles VI of France orders all Jews expelled from France.
1630 - Boston, MA founded.
1787 - The U.S. Constitution is signed.
1859 - Joshua A. Norton declares himself Emperor Norton I of the United States.
1908 - Lieutenant Thomas Selfridge dies as a passenger of the Wright Flyer. He is the first airplane fatality.
1916 - The Red Baron wins his first aerial combat.
1928 - Third deadliest natural disaster in US history, the Okeechobee Hurricane, strikes southeast Florida.
1956 - Television first broadcast in Australia
1972 - first episode of M*A*S*H
1976 - first Space Shuttle, Enterprise, unveiled.
1988 - Opening ceremony of XXIV Olympiad in Seoul, South Korea.
1991 - First version of Linux kernel released to internet.
2006 - The WB TV network goes off the air.

Births:
64 - Julia Flavia.
1677 - Stephen Hales - geek.
1730 - Friedrich Wilhelm von Steuben - Prussian officer.
1739 - John Rutledge, Chief Justice of the U.S.
1826 - Bernhard Riemann... you know the guy.
1860 - Billy the kid.
1907 - Warren Burger, Chief Justice of the U.S.
1923 - Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaank Williams.
1928 - Roddy McDowall.
1931 - Anne Bancroft
1939 - David Souter... another Chief Justice of the U.S.
1948 - Jeff MacNelly (cartoonist... creater of Shoe)
1956 - Rita Rudner. Yes, she's that old.
1962 - Baz Luhrmann, Director ("Strictly Ballroom")
1965 - Bryan Singer, Director ("X-men", "Superman Returns)
1966 - Doug E. Fresh, with a name like that... comedian.
1994 - Taylor Ware, Yodeler

Deaths:
1179 - Hildegard Von Bingen
1997 - Red Skelton

Mostly, entertainers. The list of deaths wasn't particularly sad (Spiro Agnew? Who?), so I pretty well skipped it.

Holidays:
Sacrifice a pig for the fourth day of Eleusinian Mysteries! Whoo!
Feasts of Saint Lambert! - RC Saints (martyrs) Also, Hildegard Von Bingen! Sweet!
National Heroes Day! in Angola!
Constitution Day, Citizenship Day, and Von Steuben Day here in the U.S!

It's all about the Pentiums

I have a job now. It's only 6 hours a month until Summer, when it becomes full-time until the Fall.

I have a desk. With, indeed, a dumb little placard.

The guy next to me has more books on Java than have been published this year. He claims to have read them all.

During the semester I'll still need to look for jobs that aid us in getting through (mostly I'll be stuffing envelopes*)

I think I work at something like "Humid Packers," or something. Except that it's all dry and cold.

And there's a gold computer case on my way in to work.

*My apologies** for my hand in the following:

Japan's mass mailings of Dish Network CDs.
Little envelopes with Tom Hanks' ear** in, descending on parts of Texas.
"Sports" magazines to West Palm Springs (although you get a free energy bar, so it's not all bad.)

**I do not apologize for mailings to other companies or subsidiaries of companies. You pretty much have to suck it up. Or sue.

Praise Allah!

Gas prices are down around here. Used to be something like $2.95, but now we're hovering around $2.10.

Since no good comes from our government, it must be theirs that did it.

Black Birds

Kensington Gardens, if you'll recall, is a place for little boys who won't grow up. It's often enough that boys don't want to grow up. Adulthood is a scary place, with monsters well beyond the nightmares they suffer. They get the beautiful.

Apfen Furnaces is for those who cannot grow up. It's a dark and ugly place, slick with oil and smelling of coal.

They have a saying...

My son has just watched the TV movie "In The Beginning". It is, in essense, an episode of Babylon 5*. When he was finished he said, "it... it makes me want to watch more."

I cannot tell you how glad I was to hear that. He knows the power of a good story, even if he doesn't know he knows. Now all I have to do is get all 5 seasons on DVD. Woe is me.**



*I promised my father that link. If he visits, he'll get it.

**I already have season 4, by some odd bit of luck. And I wouldn't purchase, for my family, more than one season per year anyway... so I must wait out the long hall to my birthday, when I will purchase Terry Pratchett's latest book and wonder what it was I thought I needed so badly.***

***Knowing yourself this well is a curse. Self ignorance may well be the true path to inner happiness.

Proving grounds

My son has been asked to sing "White and Nerdy" for his classmates. By his classmates. Well, by golly, I won't have him facing that kind of thing without good reason.

This year we start his trek with the Klingon Dictionary.

I will not, however, purchase for him, nor anyone else, a fanny pack. And I shudder to think of the uses he'd put bubble wrap to. He's already been a member of chess club, so I can't say we're really starting here. I bet we can reinforce the heck out of it. I'm also working on my programming logic skills so I can probably get him working on JavaScript.

We already own copies of season one for ST:(TOS and TNG). So, we can, in a years time, ask him which Captain he prefers (perhaps subjecting him to a few movies as well).

I doubt Satan will permit him to attend the RenFest they have down her way, but she'd probably be happy to put his name on his underwear... as long as I don't suggest it.

I'm the beta-test geek

I'm not Alpha geek, and I recognize this, but I'm the geek that you pass things to, and if I react positively to it you can be certain that other geeks (of a given subset of 'geek' (i.e. "drama geek") will react in a similar manner.

But I'm not sure I'm geek enough for toys. I certainly wouldn't react positively to this.

Just because I fantasized about it as a child, drooling over the packaging for it and similar does not mean I'm excited about the mere existence of these things.

(Don't ask me what I was doing on those sites. Must've wandered over from Da Wiki or something.)