11 December 2008
Something New
Well, I've decided to try out for Google's AdSense team. I wonder how well this marketing ploy of theirs has paid off for people so far. I'm also curious to discover how relevant the information will be to my postings. It could be rather interesting. However, rules are rules, and I can't click on the ads myself. It's some form of cheating they won't tolerate. And I'm also not allowed to encourage others to click on the ads. So I won't. I just thought people might be curious as to why my blog suddenly has ads alongside it now.
21 November 2008
Input Session
For this post, I would ask one thing of my few readers: please comment regarding how things make you feel, specifically recently. Italicized words may be interpreted as necessary to meet your requirements and soothe your whims.
17 November 2008
The Master of Ceremonies Who Couldn't Shut Up
We had a little dealie at Open Door on Friday evening, where the youth group's worship band was to play a few songs (more specifically, six songs of our choosing). After we rehearsed the songs, we were informed that, in order to keep the event time to an hour--shouldn't be longer than that, or people would lose interest--we were to cut two of our songs.
That kind of thing happens all the time with musical performance, particularly if you're not the main act. Also, I discovered that the emcee was to pass the wireless mic to me after introducing the evening. He came over and said a lot of things, most of which I didn't quite understand because he just seemed to like talking for the sake of talking (which I should have taken for an omen, but didn't).
The thing I remember him saying to me, out of all of that, I only remember because it struck me as odd--he said he heard we were "dynamic" in our music. Not sure what he meant by that, but hey, I bet he didn't know either. Just seemed to be that type of person.
Well, he opened with a good deal of talking, plus a song of his own. Then passed the microphone my way. We did our newly reduced set and it went well enough. Really, it was extremely impressive, considering our drummer was dealing with a good bit of emotional turmoil, his grandfather having died that morning.
We left the stage, so back to the MC, lots of the MC, and mostly the MC. There were other performances throughout, and it would have been right around an hour if the MC hadn't decided to alter the order of things, invite people back up on stage after they were done, insert three more full-length songs of his own (plus a kids' church ditty he randomly remembered from when he was a young'un), and never stop jabbering about how great he thought he was--so very very great...because of Jesus, of course.
All in all, it was nigh on two hours of tedium and the cruel ministrations of Brother What's-His-Face. I don't remember his name, just that he referred to himself as brother so-and-so. A lot. Well, that's my story. Take it or leave it. I hope it wasn't such a tedious read as it was an experience.
Edit:
I was not the only person there to be the-whole-time thinking: we need a cast of British actors to yell "Get on with it." Scott told me at practice this evening that he'd been on precisely the same thought train.
That kind of thing happens all the time with musical performance, particularly if you're not the main act. Also, I discovered that the emcee was to pass the wireless mic to me after introducing the evening. He came over and said a lot of things, most of which I didn't quite understand because he just seemed to like talking for the sake of talking (which I should have taken for an omen, but didn't).
The thing I remember him saying to me, out of all of that, I only remember because it struck me as odd--he said he heard we were "dynamic" in our music. Not sure what he meant by that, but hey, I bet he didn't know either. Just seemed to be that type of person.
Well, he opened with a good deal of talking, plus a song of his own. Then passed the microphone my way. We did our newly reduced set and it went well enough. Really, it was extremely impressive, considering our drummer was dealing with a good bit of emotional turmoil, his grandfather having died that morning.
We left the stage, so back to the MC, lots of the MC, and mostly the MC. There were other performances throughout, and it would have been right around an hour if the MC hadn't decided to alter the order of things, invite people back up on stage after they were done, insert three more full-length songs of his own (plus a kids' church ditty he randomly remembered from when he was a young'un), and never stop jabbering about how great he thought he was--so very very great...because of Jesus, of course.
All in all, it was nigh on two hours of tedium and the cruel ministrations of Brother What's-His-Face. I don't remember his name, just that he referred to himself as brother so-and-so. A lot. Well, that's my story. Take it or leave it. I hope it wasn't such a tedious read as it was an experience.
Edit:
I was not the only person there to be the-whole-time thinking: we need a cast of British actors to yell "Get on with it." Scott told me at practice this evening that he'd been on precisely the same thought train.
14 November 2008
A Relaxing Stay at Shawnee Mission Medical Spa...ahem...Center
(Ooo, another disclaimer--Disclaimer: this post was written primarily last Friday during my short breaks at work. So, the time frame references might seem a little off. You know, by a few days.)
Juliet and I took a little trip to the ER last night. I was about to leave to go to Conversations, for once. She hadn't been feeling well, and thought a nap would help. But she woke up just before I left, in time to tell me that the pain in her side was worse after sleeping instead of better. So, we decided to call Ask-A-Nurse. Which in itself took a little while, and ended with a recommendation to hop on in for a checkup, in case it was something serious (like appendicitis or pancreatitis, I think is what they meant).
Juliet and I took a little trip to the ER last night. I was about to leave to go to Conversations, for once. She hadn't been feeling well, and thought a nap would help. But she woke up just before I left, in time to tell me that the pain in her side was worse after sleeping instead of better. So, we decided to call Ask-A-Nurse. Which in itself took a little while, and ended with a recommendation to hop on in for a checkup, in case it was something serious (like appendicitis or pancreatitis, I think is what they meant).
So, we headed over the not-so-many mile stretch between our place and the hospital. It took a little while to get signed in, and there were some other people around there in the waiting rooms and whatnot--a girl who had apparently broken her wrist playing field hockey or some such, still in uniform; a girl who looked to be in extreme pain, but with no idea of what exactly was wrong, there with her boyfriend; a little boy who'd come in with his mother to get a suture removed, but he seemed like any distracted little kid, so I think the pain from whyever he had the suture in the first place was either gone or far enough forgotten to not be a problem; there was an elderly black woman in a wheelchair who didn't say a word to anyone, even her family members who had brought her; and a few sparse others.
It wasn't too long before the nurse had a few questions for Juliet (the same ones she'd answered on her sign-in forms, the same ones the ER nurse asked once we were in a room, the same ones the doctor asked when he got there, the same ones the lead nurse asked when she came in to put in the IV where the other nurse couldn't find a way into the vein, the same ones the scan operator asked as well...you'd think they might have talked to each other or read the sign-in papers somewhere along the way, but maybe that's not how things work in the ER).
The first nurse was a very happy man. He talked to us for a bit, jolly as could be. Then he proceeded to stick a needle into both of Juliet's arms, hoping to find a vein that wasn't in the hand (because "the hand is painful, and this shouldn't be," he claimed). As I've mentioned, he couldn't get the 22--smallest needle for this purpose, apparently--into the vein, so he called in their head ER nurse, who got it into a vein in Juliet's wrist a bit later, while Juliet was distracted by the scan operator asking her more of the same questions.
There was a TV in the room, but we didn't know it had a volume control (on the hospital bed remote) until after the Computerized Axial Tomography scan was completed. Now, if you hadn't noticed, this post is not set up in exactly chronological order. This is mostly due to me not remembering the exact order things happened in. I was tired.
There was a period of about 45 minutes to an hour during which Juliet had to drink their contrast formula, which she declared wasn't so bad as others had claimed--it just tasted a bit like plastic. They gave her a bit of morphine through the IV. And I'm pretty sure that's the only reason they even gave her an IV, which I find a little bizarre, since the pain from getting that stuck in her arms and wrist seemed significantly worse than the pain in her side, even after the stuff kicked in.
We watched a little TV before and after the scan (after too, because them MDs had to interpret the results), including an episode of Robot Chicken. The ER team seemed a little jovial, as I've said, and maybe even overly happy, which I guess they might need because of the sometimes serious and depressing nature of their job. But that mirth was a little odd, nonetheless.
The results came back inconclusive, meaning they didn't know what was causing the pain. They said it was likely something intestinal, because that kind of thing apparently doesn't show up on a CAT scan. But they did say it definitely wasn't appendicitis or anything in that genre of maladies. So that's good. My guess is that it was just a leftover muscle strain from Juliet being so ill on Monday.
All in all, we were there for nearly four hours, from a little after 7:30 p.m. until somewhere in the ballpark of 11:20. The only real word to describe the experience is probably relaxing. Because that's what it was. We just sat there for a few hours and waited for things to happen, and that's pretty much all we did.
After we left, both rather needing to eat because of not having eaten lunch since around noon, we stopped by a McDonald's, which was closed yet still had all its lights on, then proceeded to drive across the way (the way being Shawnee Mission Parkway) to Wendy's. Mmm, food when you're severely hungry. Unless it causes the hiccups (sorry Juliet...didn't mean to add hiccups to your erstwhile ailments). Then off to home, where we stayed awake a bit longer. Heck, it was already late, not like we'd be much more tired than usual on a Friday workday. I actually feel a little more awake today than normal. Didn't this morning, but I do now. Nice is what it is. Ayuh.
Later:
This being Monday evening:
Juliet is all better now. I think my diagnosis was correct. Didn't yet receive a hospital bill, so I don't know how that's going to go. Fortunately, we have our insurance, so it should at least be bearable. But the important thing is it wasn't so serious as it could have been, and the pain is pretty much gone. Which we prayed for on the way to the hospital. Hm...nifty.
13 November 2008
Three Weeks
Anne, who until her recent hospital trip worked at the front desk where I work, died today. Three weeks ago, she was hospitalized (I believe it had something to do with an aggressive form of cancer she's been battling for I don't know how long).
I hadn't really noticed she was absent at all until they were sending around a get well card for us to sign. One that will never be sent. Not long after I signed the card, word began to spread that she had passed on. Bad news seeps quickly to every nook, it seems.
She was the main front desk person here. Others stepped in from time to time, but it was mostly her. She was the one who remembered my name after seeing me only once. She always seemed content, if a little concerned with something.
I don't know how many children she has, but her oldest is in high school--not sure what year. Please pray for their family. Thanks.
I hadn't really noticed she was absent at all until they were sending around a get well card for us to sign. One that will never be sent. Not long after I signed the card, word began to spread that she had passed on. Bad news seeps quickly to every nook, it seems.
She was the main front desk person here. Others stepped in from time to time, but it was mostly her. She was the one who remembered my name after seeing me only once. She always seemed content, if a little concerned with something.
I don't know how many children she has, but her oldest is in high school--not sure what year. Please pray for their family. Thanks.
The Water Is Foul
Linguistically speaking, I feel that water is insulted. We should call it life-force liquid. No. Something more profound. There must be a better name for it than simply water or dihydrogen monoxide (DHMO).
Perhaps you have a suggestion for a better, more unique, more reasonable name for the fluid that keeps us alive as long as it does. Maybe the manufacturers of water purifiers themselves would like to chime in on this important issue.
What say you, Pur? Et tu, Brita? Aquasana? Everpure? Anyone?
Perhaps you have a suggestion for a better, more unique, more reasonable name for the fluid that keeps us alive as long as it does. Maybe the manufacturers of water purifiers themselves would like to chime in on this important issue.
What say you, Pur? Et tu, Brita? Aquasana? Everpure? Anyone?
12 November 2008
Lungers
(By my title here, just to clarify, I mean that with the j sound for the g and not the ŋ sound that would denote something similar to a hawked wad of intermingled saliva and mucus. It's not referring to that type of lung-er. Not at all.)
Recently (and by that, I mean for the last couple months), I've noticed the occurrence of a rather bizarre trend out the window of my office at work. People, who (I assume) work in the building there, began to put on a show, of a sort. I don't know why, and I don't know where the idea came from, but they've started to do lunges across their parking lot. The take-a-step-too-big-for-you-and-then-squat-till-your-knee-touches-the-ground type.
It started out as just two or three people, lunging from near where their parking lot drops off into our unused (but well-manicured) lawn area some eight feet below their mostly unused lot to somewhere near the middle of said lot, where there is generally a 53' trailer parked, sometimes attached to a rig, more often not. Oh, but don't worry, there is a square-rod metal fence betwixt their lot and the drop to our grassbed.
But despite its meager beginnings, their lunging has, over the course of time, progressed to a daily routine--sometimes several times a day--where some person(s) from that building (still assuming that's where they're from) will lunge their way across the lot. No other form of exercise has ever been visible except the walking to and from their lunge area.
Sometimes it's been two or three people going at a time, but most often lately it's just been one. It's odd to me. I don't know why I find it so odd, but that is the case. I'm not going to postulate on their reasons for participating in this strange undertaking. I just thought it was unusual enough to write something about.
Question for you:
Why would you do lunges across half the parking lot of the company you work for, in clear view of the windows of employees from other surrounding businesses?
Recently (and by that, I mean for the last couple months), I've noticed the occurrence of a rather bizarre trend out the window of my office at work. People, who (I assume) work in the building there, began to put on a show, of a sort. I don't know why, and I don't know where the idea came from, but they've started to do lunges across their parking lot. The take-a-step-too-big-for-you-and-then-squat-till-your-knee-touches-the-ground type.
It started out as just two or three people, lunging from near where their parking lot drops off into our unused (but well-manicured) lawn area some eight feet below their mostly unused lot to somewhere near the middle of said lot, where there is generally a 53' trailer parked, sometimes attached to a rig, more often not. Oh, but don't worry, there is a square-rod metal fence betwixt their lot and the drop to our grassbed.
But despite its meager beginnings, their lunging has, over the course of time, progressed to a daily routine--sometimes several times a day--where some person(s) from that building (still assuming that's where they're from) will lunge their way across the lot. No other form of exercise has ever been visible except the walking to and from their lunge area.
Sometimes it's been two or three people going at a time, but most often lately it's just been one. It's odd to me. I don't know why I find it so odd, but that is the case. I'm not going to postulate on their reasons for participating in this strange undertaking. I just thought it was unusual enough to write something about.
Question for you:
Why would you do lunges across half the parking lot of the company you work for, in clear view of the windows of employees from other surrounding businesses?
11 November 2008
Internal Sabbatical
Oftener than I might warrant, my mind has made use of an internal switch that, until recently, I was in no wise aware of. This switch, which is flicked to ON more often than not while I am working--a bit of a misnomer for performing the functions of my position according the job description I am to follow as per my current place of employment. The switch, when it occurs, makes that term working even more of a misnomer.
It is a sort of short-circuit to my brain. My mind clicks off and I hum along (not the song though) in the silence, a boredom I cannot articulate passing by in a time frame I've lost track of exactly how to calculate. I suppose many would refer to this phenomenon simply as "zoning out", but I don't think that could be all it is, considering the consistency and oftenness with which it occurs.
It is a form of clearing out, really. My mind goes entirely blank for a space anywhere from a few seconds to ten or fifteen minutes. I don't usually know when it's happening until I start to come out of it. It is some form, I think, of a mental escape from my work. Work that I don't like because it feels unimportant and unimpactful.
I would like to be writing for a living, and I just can't seem to finish my novel. There's always some time blockage in the way. For the most part, I can say for sure, that time blockage is caused by my current job. But I can't quit or I wouldn't have the money for rent. Oh, dilemma, why do you pester me so?
Rant Series: Episode Redacted
Well, apparently that wasn't very influential to my consistent writing on here. Let's try something different.
Your task:
On occasion, ask whether I've been writing--not necessarily on here, but in general. It will be helpful. Plus, you'll eventually get a pretty good story out of it.
Your task:
On occasion, ask whether I've been writing--not necessarily on here, but in general. It will be helpful. Plus, you'll eventually get a pretty good story out of it.
02 May 2008
Rant Series: Episode 1
Well now, it has been a while rather, hasn't it? Well, yes; yes it has. La de da. So I had a thought not so very long ago about a blog post idea, and it's spiraled into being something a mite too large. So, all in all, I figured, hey, why not make it a series. In my four previous posts, I can see that I have not yet compiled an official series. So, here will be the instating of my first (and potentially--but I doubt it--last) series. So, now, to title this post. That is correct, I choose to title this, neither before nor after typing the post, but rather toward the end of Paragraph 1.
Unrelated quote:
"Sleeping is only a gateway drug to being awake again."
--TMBG (from "Wearing a Raincoat")
Related quote:
"I pretty much forgot what I was going to rant about just now because of that TMBG song."
--me (just now)
Post-pre-filler caption and episode title:
Here we go.
Rant 1: Board Games
Recently, a newfangled, perchance rejuvenated sweep of overbearing necessitation has overcome a vast majority of the collective I tend to spend a good deal of my spare time with, that being to partake in the nettlesome toil (in my mind's eye) that has been dubbed Settlers of Catan.
Now, a raising of hands for those offended?
Now, a raising of hands for those surprised at my lack of deference for said board game?
Now, a raising of hands for those confused by my unexpectedly collegiate vocabulary?
Doubt any of you are surprised about my dislike of this game. Some of you may be surprised on the why of it though, which I discussed in minor detail with Timothy yesternight amid our frustrations regarding weather-related quality-programming cancellations. So, here comes the long and short of it. Long first. Short (summary) after. Skip if you will, though it oughtn't be too very painful of a read.
What It Is
All in all, I've realized it's not so much the games that bother me. I can stand games, board games, even. Some days, I actually like to play them. In fact, I had quite a good time the other weekend with Timothy and Jeremy McKean playing Vegas Showdown. 'Twas a new game, even, one I'd never played. Yes, I enjoyed it. Yes, it was fun. But it's not something I'd suggest as a large group activity...and not because of the player limit either.
I find board games are best when there are four or fewer participants. And I suppose, in this, I should define "best." That would mean, in this case, at least for me: the most interactive, most fun, best learning environment, most interesting, right amount of things to pay attention to whilst yet being able to hold a coherent conversation about something not involving the game, best environment for learning how competitors develop strategy, etc.
So, when a group of five or six people asks me to join a game that I barely even know how to play (this referring specifically to Settlers), to which they've devoted--ahem*wasted*cough--a certain number of years of each of their lives, yes, I am a bit wary of such a proposal. I generally decline, and whenever I have accepted the offer, I have received little help in developing any sort of strategy, or really any help whatever, besides Timothy explaining or re-explaining the basics of the rules (which I do appreciate, by the way). This lack of assistance is partly because they are so devoted to their own portion of the gameplay, but I believe it is partially also because my diminutive knowledge of the game is at a level low enough that none of them even remember being there.
I mean, really, I didn't even know there were "development cards" involved in the game until the fifth or sixth time I played, because (a) I never saw a one of them in my possession (or at all) during gameplay, and (b) no one ever thought to mention them or their apparent importance or how to get them--actually, I've yet to receive an explanation on that one. Bah, well.
What Else It Is
In my very brief discussion of these things with Timothy, I mentioned feeling about board games similar to the way he feels about watching movies: this being that they are not community-building activities, but rather just something to do. Now, I realize some of you would readily disagree with this sentiment, but that disagreement would be inherently ignorant. Playing board games can enhance a community, yes, but this will generally only happen if two factors are in play. Factor 1: the players have to be either at the same level of knowledge of the game or all be playing at whatever level the most inexperienced player happens to be on at the time. Factor 2: everyone playing should have the same interest within the game, the same reason for playing (e.g., we're playing this because it's fun for us; or, we're playing this because it's outright ridiculous; or, we're playing this to see if it really takes over 60 hours to finish...)
If the play is not at the same level, those more experienced will generally have an easier time of it, leaving the inexperienced participants nothing but frustrated. If those playing are playing for different reasons, well, pretty much of the time everyone would get frustrated. So, really, it only builds community in rather specific circumstances, if that is your goal of it. Which it probably isn't.
On the other side of things, movies never really frustrate me. So, one point for motion pictures.
Subterranean Societies
Another thing that bothers me especially about this is, when I refuse the offer to play Settlers or some ridiculous game I've never heard of, I often catch a very clear sense of scorn emanating from those already committed to playing. I'm not sure why this is, but it seems to be some underlying taboo to refuse a game when most of the people present want to play it. This is a taboo I refuse to be controlled by, and yet it still bothers me. Just a bit. Not for what it is in itself, but more because these selfsame people would never, in any other circumstance, look at me with such snobbish condescension in their eyes, nor be so consistently annoyed with my opinion on something.
It shouldn't bother you that I don't feel like being crushed in a game that I'm not much a fan of to begin with. I'm pretty sure I've never actually won a board game against any of you (unless you count backgammon, which I don't--it's more a box game). And I've definitely never even come close to winning Settlers. Against anyone. So, I really don't understand the supercilious reactions I've gotten. It has an almost cultish feel...as though I were a member trying to disengage and sever ties with an underground sect, rather than someone who doesn't feel like wasting time on something that I feel would be a waste of my time. Yes. Repetition. Yes. For effect. I don't understand it at all. I do understand this: I don't like it. It's like bottle-arrogance, the way an alcoholic views a sober citizen as being uneducated in the ways of the world. I'm not sure, but I may have just coined a term. Anyhow, I suppose it's on to the next thing now, a less important thing.
Why Settlers Is Monopoly
1. It's a board game.
2. Six-sided dice are rolled, so that chance will decide some of what happens that turn.
3. Players attempt to own more/better property than the others, with upgrades, even (a la houses-to-hotels).
4. There is a negative side to the Chance cards, being that if a seven is rolled, something not so great generally happens to one or more of the players...almost like a GO TO JAIL card.
5. The winner is the one who gets the most the fastest.
6. I have less respect for this game than I have for Monopoly, which inherently makes it Monopoly, from what I've learned from my conversations with serious gamers.
Final Touch of Realism
Personally, physical activity ranks about four hundred times higher than board games on my "Things I Find Interesting" list. Video games are in between there somewhere, far higher than board games. Learning to knit and crochet is higher than board games. What else is higher? Well, naps, food, doodling, reading, smelling some unknown substance to determine what it is, being slide tackled, trying to have a serious conversation with Yulia Mishchenko (the Amazing/Evil)...not sure on her last name now, since she's married and all. An innumerable amount of things would just about cover things I'd prefer to board games, and an innumerable number of board games would fall into a list above Settlers.
Also, yes, I have had a serious conversation with Yulia, believe it or not. It was only one, but it did happen.
Promised Summary
Board games are better in groups of no more than four. You should help people understand games if you want them to play games. Stop being jerks. Settlers of Catan=Monopoly. And there are so many thousands of things I'd rather do than play board games.
That's my take. Yours? (I have personally reserved the Comments section for your words on the matter).
Unrelated quote:
"Sleeping is only a gateway drug to being awake again."
--TMBG (from "Wearing a Raincoat")
Related quote:
"I pretty much forgot what I was going to rant about just now because of that TMBG song."
--me (just now)
Post-pre-filler caption and episode title:
Here we go.
Rant 1: Board Games
Recently, a newfangled, perchance rejuvenated sweep of overbearing necessitation has overcome a vast majority of the collective I tend to spend a good deal of my spare time with, that being to partake in the nettlesome toil (in my mind's eye) that has been dubbed Settlers of Catan.
Now, a raising of hands for those offended?
Now, a raising of hands for those surprised at my lack of deference for said board game?
Now, a raising of hands for those confused by my unexpectedly collegiate vocabulary?
Doubt any of you are surprised about my dislike of this game. Some of you may be surprised on the why of it though, which I discussed in minor detail with Timothy yesternight amid our frustrations regarding weather-related quality-programming cancellations. So, here comes the long and short of it. Long first. Short (summary) after. Skip if you will, though it oughtn't be too very painful of a read.
What It Is
All in all, I've realized it's not so much the games that bother me. I can stand games, board games, even. Some days, I actually like to play them. In fact, I had quite a good time the other weekend with Timothy and Jeremy McKean playing Vegas Showdown. 'Twas a new game, even, one I'd never played. Yes, I enjoyed it. Yes, it was fun. But it's not something I'd suggest as a large group activity...and not because of the player limit either.
I find board games are best when there are four or fewer participants. And I suppose, in this, I should define "best." That would mean, in this case, at least for me: the most interactive, most fun, best learning environment, most interesting, right amount of things to pay attention to whilst yet being able to hold a coherent conversation about something not involving the game, best environment for learning how competitors develop strategy, etc.
So, when a group of five or six people asks me to join a game that I barely even know how to play (this referring specifically to Settlers), to which they've devoted--ahem*wasted*cough--a certain number of years of each of their lives, yes, I am a bit wary of such a proposal. I generally decline, and whenever I have accepted the offer, I have received little help in developing any sort of strategy, or really any help whatever, besides Timothy explaining or re-explaining the basics of the rules (which I do appreciate, by the way). This lack of assistance is partly because they are so devoted to their own portion of the gameplay, but I believe it is partially also because my diminutive knowledge of the game is at a level low enough that none of them even remember being there.
I mean, really, I didn't even know there were "development cards" involved in the game until the fifth or sixth time I played, because (a) I never saw a one of them in my possession (or at all) during gameplay, and (b) no one ever thought to mention them or their apparent importance or how to get them--actually, I've yet to receive an explanation on that one. Bah, well.
What Else It Is
In my very brief discussion of these things with Timothy, I mentioned feeling about board games similar to the way he feels about watching movies: this being that they are not community-building activities, but rather just something to do. Now, I realize some of you would readily disagree with this sentiment, but that disagreement would be inherently ignorant. Playing board games can enhance a community, yes, but this will generally only happen if two factors are in play. Factor 1: the players have to be either at the same level of knowledge of the game or all be playing at whatever level the most inexperienced player happens to be on at the time. Factor 2: everyone playing should have the same interest within the game, the same reason for playing (e.g., we're playing this because it's fun for us; or, we're playing this because it's outright ridiculous; or, we're playing this to see if it really takes over 60 hours to finish...)
If the play is not at the same level, those more experienced will generally have an easier time of it, leaving the inexperienced participants nothing but frustrated. If those playing are playing for different reasons, well, pretty much of the time everyone would get frustrated. So, really, it only builds community in rather specific circumstances, if that is your goal of it. Which it probably isn't.
On the other side of things, movies never really frustrate me. So, one point for motion pictures.
Subterranean Societies
Another thing that bothers me especially about this is, when I refuse the offer to play Settlers or some ridiculous game I've never heard of, I often catch a very clear sense of scorn emanating from those already committed to playing. I'm not sure why this is, but it seems to be some underlying taboo to refuse a game when most of the people present want to play it. This is a taboo I refuse to be controlled by, and yet it still bothers me. Just a bit. Not for what it is in itself, but more because these selfsame people would never, in any other circumstance, look at me with such snobbish condescension in their eyes, nor be so consistently annoyed with my opinion on something.
It shouldn't bother you that I don't feel like being crushed in a game that I'm not much a fan of to begin with. I'm pretty sure I've never actually won a board game against any of you (unless you count backgammon, which I don't--it's more a box game). And I've definitely never even come close to winning Settlers. Against anyone. So, I really don't understand the supercilious reactions I've gotten. It has an almost cultish feel...as though I were a member trying to disengage and sever ties with an underground sect, rather than someone who doesn't feel like wasting time on something that I feel would be a waste of my time. Yes. Repetition. Yes. For effect. I don't understand it at all. I do understand this: I don't like it. It's like bottle-arrogance, the way an alcoholic views a sober citizen as being uneducated in the ways of the world. I'm not sure, but I may have just coined a term. Anyhow, I suppose it's on to the next thing now, a less important thing.
Why Settlers Is Monopoly
1. It's a board game.
2. Six-sided dice are rolled, so that chance will decide some of what happens that turn.
3. Players attempt to own more/better property than the others, with upgrades, even (a la houses-to-hotels).
4. There is a negative side to the Chance cards, being that if a seven is rolled, something not so great generally happens to one or more of the players...almost like a GO TO JAIL card.
5. The winner is the one who gets the most the fastest.
6. I have less respect for this game than I have for Monopoly, which inherently makes it Monopoly, from what I've learned from my conversations with serious gamers.
Final Touch of Realism
Personally, physical activity ranks about four hundred times higher than board games on my "Things I Find Interesting" list. Video games are in between there somewhere, far higher than board games. Learning to knit and crochet is higher than board games. What else is higher? Well, naps, food, doodling, reading, smelling some unknown substance to determine what it is, being slide tackled, trying to have a serious conversation with Yulia Mishchenko (the Amazing/Evil)...not sure on her last name now, since she's married and all. An innumerable amount of things would just about cover things I'd prefer to board games, and an innumerable number of board games would fall into a list above Settlers.
Also, yes, I have had a serious conversation with Yulia, believe it or not. It was only one, but it did happen.
Promised Summary
Board games are better in groups of no more than four. You should help people understand games if you want them to play games. Stop being jerks. Settlers of Catan=Monopoly. And there are so many thousands of things I'd rather do than play board games.
That's my take. Yours? (I have personally reserved the Comments section for your words on the matter).
07 March 2008
Other Days Are Just Slightly Better
Well, I realized, after a bit of rest and coming most of the way back to normalcy within my brain, that I forgot to mention a couple things in my last post. And forgot one important thing altogether until just yesterday (it relates to my Tuesday evening rant and my third ado on Monday...also most of Thursday's description). An almost quick timeline of events for this past week:
Monday:
Took Juliet to the doctor; took her to get a prescription; and went by the bank to request a replacement card, as there was a tear in the corner of my debit/credit card making it difficult to use.
Tuesday:
In the evening, began developing signs of this sickness nonsense. Also in the evening, paid a Mission, KS (all of the police there should be imprisoned for at least a year) traffic ticket, for a traffic violation that I didn't even commit...but hey, I can't prove that I didn't run a stop sign any more than the jerk who ran two of them to pull me over could prove that I did, so I paid the ticket--online, since it was an option listed on the ticket. Then I went to bed feeling a bit ill.
Wednesday:
Started feeling like crap, so I went to the doctor myself to get some antibiotics. Also noticed my debit/credit card no longer working as a credit card--only debit. Thought this was weird. Also (unrelated), here's the thing I forgot to mention: when I was about to leave for the bank on this day, I went into the kitchen to take my antibiotics, did so, then came back to my computer to close the internet applications that were running. Apparently, I had built up some static electricity, for when my finger came near to the metal casing of my laptop's speakers, alas, a slight blue spark danced off it and into the realm of computer-world, somehow immediately turning off my computer (usually I have to hold the power button for five full seconds in order to shut it down in any semblance of this manner). It was strange.
Thursday:
Feeling better, for the extra sleep I'd acquired the prior evening. Sleep is good when you're sick, make no mistake. I went to work and had a grand (ish) time of it. Came home, checked the mail, and lo and behold, what should be in the mailbox? A notice. The notice read as follows:
"MUNICIPAL COURT
City of Mission
(some of my personal information)
Date of notice: 3/5/2008
READ CAREFULLY: A WARRANT MAY BE ISSUED FOR YOUR ARREST
You have failed to respond to the citation described in this notice by appearing in court on 3/4/2008 or paying the fine within the prescribed time limit.
Failure to appear on 4/1/2008 at 6:00:00 PM, or to pay the fine 24 hours prior to that time will result in a notice to the licensing authority in your state to suspend your drivers license and a warrant will be issued for your arrest. If you are licensed to drive in the state of Kansas we will collect a reinstatement fee of $50.00 per citation in addition to any fine assessed.
DO NOT SEND CASH. PAYMENT MAY BE MADE BY CHECK OR MONEY ORDER.
(citation and fine information)..."
I was very confused about this, being that I paid the ticket the day it was due and there was no prescribed time limit listed on the ticket, so I figured I would be safe. Stupid Mission, KS, I thought to myself, over and over--it has been a recurring thought in the past, as well, since the police there do not believe in giving warnings, even for the most minor things, like not knowing what time it was after being frazzled by an apparently 2.5 hour job interview while also being unaware that there was a NO LEFT TURN BETWEEN 4 AND 6 PM sign on a street I'd never driven before in my life. Send them all to jail, says I. They're abusing every ounce of authority they have.
Friday:
On waking in the morning, and my head being a bit clearer, I made the connection that it wasn't just the money-hungry jerks in Mission that had been the cause of my payment not being processed "in time." I realized that since my debit/credit card had been deactivated Monday, the payment had not gone through at all. So, tonight, I had to resubmit it. Bah. A pox on both their houses (that is, the Mission, KS municipality/precinct's dwelling and that of the incompetent people at Visa).
On the other hand, my bank did still pull through in a lot of ways...like figuring out the whole fiasco of the credit card nuisance for me. It was also through my bank that I was still able to make debit payments with my card, which did come in quite handy.
Also, I received my new debit/credit cards in the mail today. No, not a typo there. I said cards. They sent me two. I assume the guy who ordered the new one for me (or someone along the line) double-clicked where they were supposed to single-click. So, I gave one to Juliet to use if she was in dire (or some) need of money at any point in the future (well, the future up until January 2010). They're both the same card, so they should both work just fine. Hooray about that.
I've been gradually feeling better, but it's more of a three levels up, two levels down sort of better. I'll get back to normal soon, I do believe. I hear there's things afoot tonight, but have yet to decide if I'm up to going out. It's a tough call. Well, I should do something productive now in the meantime. Juliet is at the gym, and will be back shortly. She usually goes earlier, but she "accidentally" took a nap today. She also drove to Lawrence today and had to pay for the meter, which wasn't quite as expensive as she thought it would be, especially since she left several hours before she was planning on.
Well, I don't want to keep you too very long today. Maybe I'll have something more substantive and interesting to discuss later. Also, I'm not sure what you were referring to with that outdated website link in your comment (Adam). Could you clarify what you meant by that. It rather confused me. Thanks.
Also, anyone other than Timothy interested (see previous post and comments)? I mean, I'd be okay with it starting small, but two people isn't generally considered much of a discussion/literature/writing group.
Monday:
Took Juliet to the doctor; took her to get a prescription; and went by the bank to request a replacement card, as there was a tear in the corner of my debit/credit card making it difficult to use.
Tuesday:
In the evening, began developing signs of this sickness nonsense. Also in the evening, paid a Mission, KS (all of the police there should be imprisoned for at least a year) traffic ticket, for a traffic violation that I didn't even commit...but hey, I can't prove that I didn't run a stop sign any more than the jerk who ran two of them to pull me over could prove that I did, so I paid the ticket--online, since it was an option listed on the ticket. Then I went to bed feeling a bit ill.
Wednesday:
Started feeling like crap, so I went to the doctor myself to get some antibiotics. Also noticed my debit/credit card no longer working as a credit card--only debit. Thought this was weird. Also (unrelated), here's the thing I forgot to mention: when I was about to leave for the bank on this day, I went into the kitchen to take my antibiotics, did so, then came back to my computer to close the internet applications that were running. Apparently, I had built up some static electricity, for when my finger came near to the metal casing of my laptop's speakers, alas, a slight blue spark danced off it and into the realm of computer-world, somehow immediately turning off my computer (usually I have to hold the power button for five full seconds in order to shut it down in any semblance of this manner). It was strange.
Thursday:
Feeling better, for the extra sleep I'd acquired the prior evening. Sleep is good when you're sick, make no mistake. I went to work and had a grand (ish) time of it. Came home, checked the mail, and lo and behold, what should be in the mailbox? A notice. The notice read as follows:
"MUNICIPAL COURT
City of Mission
(some of my personal information)
Date of notice: 3/5/2008
READ CAREFULLY: A WARRANT MAY BE ISSUED FOR YOUR ARREST
You have failed to respond to the citation described in this notice by appearing in court on 3/4/2008 or paying the fine within the prescribed time limit.
Failure to appear on 4/1/2008 at 6:00:00 PM, or to pay the fine 24 hours prior to that time will result in a notice to the licensing authority in your state to suspend your drivers license and a warrant will be issued for your arrest. If you are licensed to drive in the state of Kansas we will collect a reinstatement fee of $50.00 per citation in addition to any fine assessed.
DO NOT SEND CASH. PAYMENT MAY BE MADE BY CHECK OR MONEY ORDER.
(citation and fine information)..."
I was very confused about this, being that I paid the ticket the day it was due and there was no prescribed time limit listed on the ticket, so I figured I would be safe. Stupid Mission, KS, I thought to myself, over and over--it has been a recurring thought in the past, as well, since the police there do not believe in giving warnings, even for the most minor things, like not knowing what time it was after being frazzled by an apparently 2.5 hour job interview while also being unaware that there was a NO LEFT TURN BETWEEN 4 AND 6 PM sign on a street I'd never driven before in my life. Send them all to jail, says I. They're abusing every ounce of authority they have.
Friday:
On waking in the morning, and my head being a bit clearer, I made the connection that it wasn't just the money-hungry jerks in Mission that had been the cause of my payment not being processed "in time." I realized that since my debit/credit card had been deactivated Monday, the payment had not gone through at all. So, tonight, I had to resubmit it. Bah. A pox on both their houses (that is, the Mission, KS municipality/precinct's dwelling and that of the incompetent people at Visa).
On the other hand, my bank did still pull through in a lot of ways...like figuring out the whole fiasco of the credit card nuisance for me. It was also through my bank that I was still able to make debit payments with my card, which did come in quite handy.
Also, I received my new debit/credit cards in the mail today. No, not a typo there. I said cards. They sent me two. I assume the guy who ordered the new one for me (or someone along the line) double-clicked where they were supposed to single-click. So, I gave one to Juliet to use if she was in dire (or some) need of money at any point in the future (well, the future up until January 2010). They're both the same card, so they should both work just fine. Hooray about that.
I've been gradually feeling better, but it's more of a three levels up, two levels down sort of better. I'll get back to normal soon, I do believe. I hear there's things afoot tonight, but have yet to decide if I'm up to going out. It's a tough call. Well, I should do something productive now in the meantime. Juliet is at the gym, and will be back shortly. She usually goes earlier, but she "accidentally" took a nap today. She also drove to Lawrence today and had to pay for the meter, which wasn't quite as expensive as she thought it would be, especially since she left several hours before she was planning on.
Well, I don't want to keep you too very long today. Maybe I'll have something more substantive and interesting to discuss later. Also, I'm not sure what you were referring to with that outdated website link in your comment (Adam). Could you clarify what you meant by that. It rather confused me. Thanks.
Also, anyone other than Timothy interested (see previous post and comments)? I mean, I'd be okay with it starting small, but two people isn't generally considered much of a discussion/literature/writing group.
05 March 2008
Some Days Are Not Good Days
Today is one of them. I woke up feeling somewhat refreshed, despite the soreness in my throat. Things seemed to just go downhill from then on. Well, I suppose there were a few positive notes in there, but not for how my body is feeling. The illness that's been finding its way around our group of family and friends (including Juliet, Amanda, Jill, Martha, Nicholas and who knows who else...) has finally found me after several weeks of searching. It starts out as a sore throat and gets progressively worse and worse, from what I've heard. So, at the first signs of actually getting it, I decided it was time to visit the doctor (instead of waiting for it to get any worse, since I'm pretty sure I already know what this thing is).
However, I did go to work this morning, and stayed for about four and a half hours to get a certain project done. That project would've probably normally taken me under three hours, but my head started hurting and whatnot throughout the midst of it. So, on my morning break, instead of reading (sad) I went to Target in hopes of some remedial remedies. I found some that helped, but only slightly. Also, as I was leaving, the card machine wouldn't accept my payment...well, not as credit anyhow. So I ran it as a debit, which worked fine. I thought it was unusual, but hey. There is a tear in my card that could've had something to do with it.
So, after finishing the project at work, I left for a 1:10pm appointment, leaving a note for my boss, since for some reason he had disappeared for awhile. Maybe he went to lunch. But he usually doesn't go to lunch until 1:30, and I left at 12:40 or so. Strange. Also, he gets an hour lunch, whereas we get a half-hour. I don't get it. It's not even an option for us, although I have suggested it.
Anyway, in my headache-induced delusional half-stupor, I turned the wrong way and lost myself along the way to a place I used to go at least frequently enough that I should remember how to get there. On turning around and finding the place--the doctor's office--I went in and had to fill out paperwork because I'd changed insurance since the last time I was there (umpteen months ago). Then I went upstairs, which was odd, since I'd never been upstairs before. I didn't have much of a wait, but everyone seemed to be in such a huge rush...I have no idea why. When I took Juliet to the doctor on Monday, they seemed to be all in a rush as well. Until this week, I've never seen doctoral staff in such a hurry--and that's coming from someone who used to only go to the free clinic for medical care.
As I was leaving, their machine also rejected my Visa credit/debit card. Three times. Ridiculous, I say. They said they would bill me, since I don't ever carry around any other form of payment. So, I was off home, then off to the nearest CVS (it was closer than Walgreens, and I like it better overall...this parenthetical reference is directed towards Brett, because I told him I was going to Walgreens) to pick up my prescription. Generic Omnicef. Cefdinir, to be specific. I didn't get the all-out normal penicillin because, as I said, the doctor was overanxious to be done and had asked if what Juliet was taking would be okay with me. I said yes, trying not to be a bother, and trying not to talk so very much as it hurts a bit to do.
So, I go to pay at CVS, and it takes my card immediately. Odd, no? But it did automatically process it as a debit payment, so I figured that had something to do with it. I also began to be suspicious that my ordering of a new card on Monday (the card hasn't arrived yet) had something to do with the aforementioned problems, and that it wasn't just the tear in the card being more of a nuisance than it usually is.
When I arrived home, there was something I wanted to purchase online, so I tried to update my PayPal account with my current card information (since I hadn't used the account since before my last card expired). But, it came up with a display stating that my card was rejected by my financial institution or some such mumbojumbo. I decided, after taking my first dose of antibiotics (I seriously hope this is bacterial and not viral), that I would drive in my dazed state to the bank. At the bank, I completely baffled the teller with the small bit of my story I told her--she was under the impression that things never happened this way and that, if anything, it should have successfully processed as credit and not as debit if the card was acting all screwy like it was. So I talked to a personal banker (nice to have, and I must say I hold my UMB representatives in high regard...at least the ones who work on 87th street), and she called the card company on my behalf...I should have probably just called the company myself, but I wasn't exactly thinking clearly, what with this sickness and all.
It turns out that they canceled my card when the other one was ordered, and it was their mistake, and I'm not going crazy. Well, maybe I am going crazy, but they said that this whole declining my credit card business wasn't my fault, which is good to hear. At least I know I didn't do anything so financially incompetent that it would have been my fault. Well, hopefully.
So that should be all fixed now. Well, apparently it is, since I was able to make that online purchase I wanted to make. But that, in joint with feeling incompetently sickly, made for a not very great day.
In other news, I have decided not to attend youth group (in reference to the one I work with as a youth leader...hopefully I didn't confuse you about my age) this evening, for fear of infecting those in attendance, and through them, a dozen or so junior highs and high schools. It wouldn't be pretty, I'm sure. So now, I sit at home alone whiling away the time here. I'm hungry, but I think eating may just hurt my throat at this point. Might as well try anyhow.
Or perhaps Juliet is home. Yes. That would be it. Hooray.
But now she is off again. Off to her busyness and schoolwork and spending time with Katie Carder and suchlike things. And I am here again typing more lines onto a post I already finished. I should definitely go eat now. But we don't have so much food for the making, and I really am not feeling up to going anywhere. I do want to apologize to those of you who have come to expect links from my page to interesting articles and websites. But I never promised that I would do those on every post. So, your expectations had no real foundation, especially if you based them only on my two initial posts. That's not much of a test group, even for modern statistics.
And now, I will go try to get some rest. Maybe I'll go to bed after I find something to eat. Yes, in sickness, bedtime at six-thirty in the evening sounds quite lovely.
P.S. I hate fever-sweat; I wish it was colder.
However, I did go to work this morning, and stayed for about four and a half hours to get a certain project done. That project would've probably normally taken me under three hours, but my head started hurting and whatnot throughout the midst of it. So, on my morning break, instead of reading (sad) I went to Target in hopes of some remedial remedies. I found some that helped, but only slightly. Also, as I was leaving, the card machine wouldn't accept my payment...well, not as credit anyhow. So I ran it as a debit, which worked fine. I thought it was unusual, but hey. There is a tear in my card that could've had something to do with it.
So, after finishing the project at work, I left for a 1:10pm appointment, leaving a note for my boss, since for some reason he had disappeared for awhile. Maybe he went to lunch. But he usually doesn't go to lunch until 1:30, and I left at 12:40 or so. Strange. Also, he gets an hour lunch, whereas we get a half-hour. I don't get it. It's not even an option for us, although I have suggested it.
Anyway, in my headache-induced delusional half-stupor, I turned the wrong way and lost myself along the way to a place I used to go at least frequently enough that I should remember how to get there. On turning around and finding the place--the doctor's office--I went in and had to fill out paperwork because I'd changed insurance since the last time I was there (umpteen months ago). Then I went upstairs, which was odd, since I'd never been upstairs before. I didn't have much of a wait, but everyone seemed to be in such a huge rush...I have no idea why. When I took Juliet to the doctor on Monday, they seemed to be all in a rush as well. Until this week, I've never seen doctoral staff in such a hurry--and that's coming from someone who used to only go to the free clinic for medical care.
As I was leaving, their machine also rejected my Visa credit/debit card. Three times. Ridiculous, I say. They said they would bill me, since I don't ever carry around any other form of payment. So, I was off home, then off to the nearest CVS (it was closer than Walgreens, and I like it better overall...this parenthetical reference is directed towards Brett, because I told him I was going to Walgreens) to pick up my prescription. Generic Omnicef. Cefdinir, to be specific. I didn't get the all-out normal penicillin because, as I said, the doctor was overanxious to be done and had asked if what Juliet was taking would be okay with me. I said yes, trying not to be a bother, and trying not to talk so very much as it hurts a bit to do.
So, I go to pay at CVS, and it takes my card immediately. Odd, no? But it did automatically process it as a debit payment, so I figured that had something to do with it. I also began to be suspicious that my ordering of a new card on Monday (the card hasn't arrived yet) had something to do with the aforementioned problems, and that it wasn't just the tear in the card being more of a nuisance than it usually is.
When I arrived home, there was something I wanted to purchase online, so I tried to update my PayPal account with my current card information (since I hadn't used the account since before my last card expired). But, it came up with a display stating that my card was rejected by my financial institution or some such mumbojumbo. I decided, after taking my first dose of antibiotics (I seriously hope this is bacterial and not viral), that I would drive in my dazed state to the bank. At the bank, I completely baffled the teller with the small bit of my story I told her--she was under the impression that things never happened this way and that, if anything, it should have successfully processed as credit and not as debit if the card was acting all screwy like it was. So I talked to a personal banker (nice to have, and I must say I hold my UMB representatives in high regard...at least the ones who work on 87th street), and she called the card company on my behalf...I should have probably just called the company myself, but I wasn't exactly thinking clearly, what with this sickness and all.
It turns out that they canceled my card when the other one was ordered, and it was their mistake, and I'm not going crazy. Well, maybe I am going crazy, but they said that this whole declining my credit card business wasn't my fault, which is good to hear. At least I know I didn't do anything so financially incompetent that it would have been my fault. Well, hopefully.
So that should be all fixed now. Well, apparently it is, since I was able to make that online purchase I wanted to make. But that, in joint with feeling incompetently sickly, made for a not very great day.
In other news, I have decided not to attend youth group (in reference to the one I work with as a youth leader...hopefully I didn't confuse you about my age) this evening, for fear of infecting those in attendance, and through them, a dozen or so junior highs and high schools. It wouldn't be pretty, I'm sure. So now, I sit at home alone whiling away the time here. I'm hungry, but I think eating may just hurt my throat at this point. Might as well try anyhow.
Or perhaps Juliet is home. Yes. That would be it. Hooray.
But now she is off again. Off to her busyness and schoolwork and spending time with Katie Carder and suchlike things. And I am here again typing more lines onto a post I already finished. I should definitely go eat now. But we don't have so much food for the making, and I really am not feeling up to going anywhere. I do want to apologize to those of you who have come to expect links from my page to interesting articles and websites. But I never promised that I would do those on every post. So, your expectations had no real foundation, especially if you based them only on my two initial posts. That's not much of a test group, even for modern statistics.
And now, I will go try to get some rest. Maybe I'll go to bed after I find something to eat. Yes, in sickness, bedtime at six-thirty in the evening sounds quite lovely.
P.S. I hate fever-sweat; I wish it was colder.
04 March 2008
A Dedication and a Call
The Dedication:
Today's post is dedicated to the memory of one E. Gary Gygax.
While I do realize that I'd never heard the man's name before today, I do know that, in his collaborative efforts with Dave Arneson, he has brought many people together in unexpected ways, including some of my semi-immediate family members. Gary and Dave's creation not only spawned an entire subculture of gamers, but elevated nerdhood into a sort of role-playing ideal for many who, before then, were merely shunned and outcast. Although many of them are still seemingly shunned and outcast. But now, as I've already indicated my lack of thorough knowledge on the subject, I will cease this and perhaps allow someone who knows more about it than I do to pick up on the eulogistic banter.
But now, I have a few comments regarding a recent post of that same someone. Timothy mentioned in his blog today that he has fallen into the realm of lacking inspiration when it comes down to novel-writing. And man, do I know what that's like. I have been nitpicking (and even with that, not so very enthusiastically) my own novel-in-progress, and I'm rather certain that I'm at a place a few rungs, a trip, and a twelve-story fall down off that ladder and scaffolding. Why did I put a ladder on scaffolding? I mean, really.
Not feeling motivated--or more specifically, not feeling inspired--is probably the hardest thing a writer faces. Some refer to it as "writer's block"...a horridly misguided comparison. What it is, more or less, is that (speaking in first person, since this is my experience with it) I falter in thought on what I should write next, or what I had intended to write next, or what would work better in the context of what I'm writing. At that point, tangential thought begins its meandering in infinite probable and improbable directions until I give up for the time being. There are some cases, like the aforementioned novel-in-progress, wherein I look at where I left off and am entirely discouraged, because I don't know exactly what should go next. I let my unsureness build into perhaps even a slight degree of despair, and I respond to that, as I normally respond to despair, with apathy. Then the apathy overtakes and enfolds me within its blessed (cursed, really) ignorance.
I can't honestly say that I have looked at that unfinished novel recently with any full-blown intent to work on it. I know that there are some good friends, family, and colleagues who are looking forward to the finished product, but I don't seem to heed that as motivating. When someone mentions that I should work on it, my mind immediately falls back on sulking about how I would work on it if I had the time (even though I don't bother to make time for it). I was averaging probably over 2,000 words a week on it when I first started...and in that case, it was because it was new and exciting (and for a class). But I haven't added a single word probably in months. And all the little "encouragements" people try to give me, although I know how purely well-meaning these are, are having an unwitting recusant effect.
It's not that I don't appreciate the encouragement. I really do need it. But before it will be worthwhile, I need to have started working on the story again. I need to actually be writing in order for others' encouragement to write to become effective. "So do it, then" I can hear someone saying in reply to my nonsense...I only hear this in my head because it was spoken aloud to me at one point in my trying to get myself back into writing. Why doesn't the attempted motivation inspire me to action? Well, I really don't know. It's just how my mind processes things, I suppose. I would like to spend my time writing extensively, and having a job that provides absolutely no time for writing whatsoever is somehow the greatest motivator I have at the moment.
Weird, huh? I have supportive people all around me, I want to do this, it's a life's dream, it would be my ideal job, I'm good at it, and so on and so forth. But none of this motivates me nearly as much as not having the time to do what I would like to do. My current job consists of proofreading for approximately 7.5 hours each weekday (I do get 15 minute morning and afternoon breaks, but I use those for reading whatever book I'm trudging through at the moment). So, there's not much time for me to get down to this writing business, especially with only having a half-hour lunch. Don't get me wrong--I do like my job. Most days. But it's not the job I want to end up with. I don't know how much longer it will be my job. Awhile for sure, because the insurance and benefits are rather good overall. And because I told them I'd stay for at least a year in my initial interview and want to make good on that.
But I am hoping that my writing will take off so that I can build some residual income and be able to afford things without being employed by the corporate world. Sometimes, I wish we could go back to the days of apprenticeship--the pre-Industrial Revolution era. Charlie Chaplin had some quite good points on that matter, for sure. But I do also enjoy many of the results of that same revolution. Maybe that seems unrelated, but here's the link: if I could be a writer's apprentice, I would very much prefer that over struggling through corporate stratagems while trying to tie myself to the unconnected apprenticeship of some of the great authors with whom I will likely never commune in the slightest. My job would be to work on developing my writing skills. Writing wouldn't be a side project. It would be the main, and I would be forced to do it to earn my keep. Maybe that's what I need, after all. Merely to be financially forced to write. But hey, maybe it isn't. Maybe I just need a mentor in the realm of authorship. Or maybe I need to be a mentor myself. Mayhap both?
The Call:
Which brings me to an idea that's been rattling my mental sprockets (notice the reference to industrialization again--in comedy, that's known as a callback) for some time now. I'd like to collect and form a writing guild (or group, if you prefer) of sorts, in the manner of the Inklings, although it won't necessarily entail meeting at a pub and it won't necessarily consist of only males. I think it would be wise for the writers (and those aspiring or desiring to write) among us. I believe I have mentioned this in passing before now, but I wanted to know who is actually interested, as well as any additional ideas for this undertaking--but, as for dissensions, I don't want to hear any of it. So, if you're going to just point out problems with the idea, then keep mum. Right then.
I do suppose that's all I have to say at the moment. Hm...I think that may well have been longer than my last post. I should probably keep this paragraph short then, yes? Okay, I will. Thanks for reading.
Today's post is dedicated to the memory of one E. Gary Gygax.
While I do realize that I'd never heard the man's name before today, I do know that, in his collaborative efforts with Dave Arneson, he has brought many people together in unexpected ways, including some of my semi-immediate family members. Gary and Dave's creation not only spawned an entire subculture of gamers, but elevated nerdhood into a sort of role-playing ideal for many who, before then, were merely shunned and outcast. Although many of them are still seemingly shunned and outcast. But now, as I've already indicated my lack of thorough knowledge on the subject, I will cease this and perhaps allow someone who knows more about it than I do to pick up on the eulogistic banter.
But now, I have a few comments regarding a recent post of that same someone. Timothy mentioned in his blog today that he has fallen into the realm of lacking inspiration when it comes down to novel-writing. And man, do I know what that's like. I have been nitpicking (and even with that, not so very enthusiastically) my own novel-in-progress, and I'm rather certain that I'm at a place a few rungs, a trip, and a twelve-story fall down off that ladder and scaffolding. Why did I put a ladder on scaffolding? I mean, really.
Not feeling motivated--or more specifically, not feeling inspired--is probably the hardest thing a writer faces. Some refer to it as "writer's block"...a horridly misguided comparison. What it is, more or less, is that (speaking in first person, since this is my experience with it) I falter in thought on what I should write next, or what I had intended to write next, or what would work better in the context of what I'm writing. At that point, tangential thought begins its meandering in infinite probable and improbable directions until I give up for the time being. There are some cases, like the aforementioned novel-in-progress, wherein I look at where I left off and am entirely discouraged, because I don't know exactly what should go next. I let my unsureness build into perhaps even a slight degree of despair, and I respond to that, as I normally respond to despair, with apathy. Then the apathy overtakes and enfolds me within its blessed (cursed, really) ignorance.
I can't honestly say that I have looked at that unfinished novel recently with any full-blown intent to work on it. I know that there are some good friends, family, and colleagues who are looking forward to the finished product, but I don't seem to heed that as motivating. When someone mentions that I should work on it, my mind immediately falls back on sulking about how I would work on it if I had the time (even though I don't bother to make time for it). I was averaging probably over 2,000 words a week on it when I first started...and in that case, it was because it was new and exciting (and for a class). But I haven't added a single word probably in months. And all the little "encouragements" people try to give me, although I know how purely well-meaning these are, are having an unwitting recusant effect.
It's not that I don't appreciate the encouragement. I really do need it. But before it will be worthwhile, I need to have started working on the story again. I need to actually be writing in order for others' encouragement to write to become effective. "So do it, then" I can hear someone saying in reply to my nonsense...I only hear this in my head because it was spoken aloud to me at one point in my trying to get myself back into writing. Why doesn't the attempted motivation inspire me to action? Well, I really don't know. It's just how my mind processes things, I suppose. I would like to spend my time writing extensively, and having a job that provides absolutely no time for writing whatsoever is somehow the greatest motivator I have at the moment.
Weird, huh? I have supportive people all around me, I want to do this, it's a life's dream, it would be my ideal job, I'm good at it, and so on and so forth. But none of this motivates me nearly as much as not having the time to do what I would like to do. My current job consists of proofreading for approximately 7.5 hours each weekday (I do get 15 minute morning and afternoon breaks, but I use those for reading whatever book I'm trudging through at the moment). So, there's not much time for me to get down to this writing business, especially with only having a half-hour lunch. Don't get me wrong--I do like my job. Most days. But it's not the job I want to end up with. I don't know how much longer it will be my job. Awhile for sure, because the insurance and benefits are rather good overall. And because I told them I'd stay for at least a year in my initial interview and want to make good on that.
But I am hoping that my writing will take off so that I can build some residual income and be able to afford things without being employed by the corporate world. Sometimes, I wish we could go back to the days of apprenticeship--the pre-Industrial Revolution era. Charlie Chaplin had some quite good points on that matter, for sure. But I do also enjoy many of the results of that same revolution. Maybe that seems unrelated, but here's the link: if I could be a writer's apprentice, I would very much prefer that over struggling through corporate stratagems while trying to tie myself to the unconnected apprenticeship of some of the great authors with whom I will likely never commune in the slightest. My job would be to work on developing my writing skills. Writing wouldn't be a side project. It would be the main, and I would be forced to do it to earn my keep. Maybe that's what I need, after all. Merely to be financially forced to write. But hey, maybe it isn't. Maybe I just need a mentor in the realm of authorship. Or maybe I need to be a mentor myself. Mayhap both?
The Call:
Which brings me to an idea that's been rattling my mental sprockets (notice the reference to industrialization again--in comedy, that's known as a callback) for some time now. I'd like to collect and form a writing guild (or group, if you prefer) of sorts, in the manner of the Inklings, although it won't necessarily entail meeting at a pub and it won't necessarily consist of only males. I think it would be wise for the writers (and those aspiring or desiring to write) among us. I believe I have mentioned this in passing before now, but I wanted to know who is actually interested, as well as any additional ideas for this undertaking--but, as for dissensions, I don't want to hear any of it. So, if you're going to just point out problems with the idea, then keep mum. Right then.
I do suppose that's all I have to say at the moment. Hm...I think that may well have been longer than my last post. I should probably keep this paragraph short then, yes? Okay, I will. Thanks for reading.
29 February 2008
“Existence was given us for action. Our worth is determined by the good deed we do, rather than by the fine emotions we feel.”
Good words from a wise man who has earned much of my admiration and respect. I have been meaning to get back into this whole "blogging" thing for some while now, but I was simply rather lazy about it, in truth. I didn't feel like I had the time to put into it. But, as a good friend of mine said not so very long ago, to become a better writer, one must write. I have been feeling a bit antsy wanting to start writing on here...but then it seemed there was a whole bandwagon-type occurrence where everyone and their roommate started blogging all at once. I didn't want to seem too much a follower of such a trend, if only because I prefer rather to set trends. But really, if I'm not jumping on the bandwagon of friends, how am I to expect to end up with any friends coming along for the ride? More on that in paragraph three.
Of late, I have been reading a good bit of work by one George MacDonald (thanks for the borrow, Mister Adam), and I thought it quite rightly fitting that a quote from him (George, not Adam--albeit many a word of Adam has proven inspirational) would spur me into action on something I've been putting off for far too long.
To my credit, if I can call it that, I did start blogging on this "Blogger" mechanism before anyone else I knew. This is probably also why I quit using it and, to my discredit, deleted my only existing post (from over a year ago), simply because no one was around to read it. So, yeah, I hopped off the wagon; but apparently, it's made its rounds by now and I just managed to pull myself up over the side as it passed this time through--although I did need that rather phantastic push from I almost knew not whence to help me up.
So, about the title, I don't think that the man who wrote this probably sometime in the mid- to late-1800s meant it to be inspiration for me to start blogging (what with Al Gore not even being alive to invent the internet yet...that I know of); however, I do believe he meant to inspire anyone who read it to action, rather than to trifling with thoughts or perhaps even intended actions. And, reading anything he wrote, it has such an intrinsic intuitive quality into the way thoughts and perceptions are formed that I felt I needed to share a bit of it. Often, in the midst of a novel, he falls into soliloquy regarding the innermost nature of man or something of equal relevance and importance, although it is most often suggested (or disguised) as merely some realization of one of the characters. On the surface, it appears as though he wouldn't mind if the reader just skimmed over these lines to get on with the story, but the words have made me stop reading entirely at times, merely to ponder the perfection of timing and eloquence and depth in how he put something so necessary into writing that I hadn't even realized was necessary before that very moment.
Now, if your preponderant tendencies in reading fall toward short prose and a lot of white space, you might be a bit disillusioned by this particular posting of mine (save that there does seem to be a whole lot of white space). I do not have any intent on how long my posts are going to be or how often I will update this, but I do think that the length of each post will vary significantly, and if you've made it this far into my first (second technically, I suppose) post, you apparently have found it at least entertaining, if not provocative of thought.
It is my hope, for my part in all of this, that I will be encouraged, even in the very writing of something, to continue my endeavors in the realm of fiction and poetry, each of which are also now being shaped in my mind by C.S. Lewis's master--and J.R.R. Tolkien's hero--of writing (that is, again, one George MacDonald, and again, not Adam--I have yet to read anything written by Adam, but would be interested to know if he has any such projects underway, or perhaps even finished?)
Although I feel that I would get more use out of this night if I were doing something a bit more physically active, this writing bit seems quite a worthwhile way to pass a little chunk of time. And besides, sometimes you have to just let your battles choose you because, in all truth, sometimes you don't get to choose your battles. Or at least, sometimes I don't get to choose mine. But I am rather certain that this is not an individualized phenomenon that has singled me out, but is more widespread among the human populace.
In other news, I, for one, am excited about the potential for a new Lestat book. Although Anne Rice seems to have directly contradicted what she had previously stated regarding her Vampire Chronicles, I do look forward to seeing her incorporate the idea of redemption into the series. I was rather certain it was inherently headed in that direction anyhow. If you haven't read them, I would recommend reading Anne Rice's Lestat series at least (the first five books of the chronicles; that is: Interview With the Vampire, The Vampire Lestat, The Queen of the Damned, The Tale of the Body Thief, and Memnoch the Devil). It is a good chunk of reading, and some of it a bit heavy at times. But it's also good writing, and I think the progression of the books and everything said in them represents rather well the progression of the internal struggle of what Anne Rice's subconscious mind was trying to persuade her of as she (very, very slowly) turned from devout atheism back to Catholicism.
Odd note to leave you all on, I'm sure, especially since I doubt any of you (except Timothy, of course) have read much or any Anne Rice at all. But, I'm going to leave you on that note anyhow. Thanks for reading.
P.S. No puzzles on this blog...at least not for a good long little while.
Of late, I have been reading a good bit of work by one George MacDonald (thanks for the borrow, Mister Adam), and I thought it quite rightly fitting that a quote from him (George, not Adam--albeit many a word of Adam has proven inspirational) would spur me into action on something I've been putting off for far too long.
To my credit, if I can call it that, I did start blogging on this "Blogger" mechanism before anyone else I knew. This is probably also why I quit using it and, to my discredit, deleted my only existing post (from over a year ago), simply because no one was around to read it. So, yeah, I hopped off the wagon; but apparently, it's made its rounds by now and I just managed to pull myself up over the side as it passed this time through--although I did need that rather phantastic push from I almost knew not whence to help me up.
So, about the title, I don't think that the man who wrote this probably sometime in the mid- to late-1800s meant it to be inspiration for me to start blogging (what with Al Gore not even being alive to invent the internet yet...that I know of); however, I do believe he meant to inspire anyone who read it to action, rather than to trifling with thoughts or perhaps even intended actions. And, reading anything he wrote, it has such an intrinsic intuitive quality into the way thoughts and perceptions are formed that I felt I needed to share a bit of it. Often, in the midst of a novel, he falls into soliloquy regarding the innermost nature of man or something of equal relevance and importance, although it is most often suggested (or disguised) as merely some realization of one of the characters. On the surface, it appears as though he wouldn't mind if the reader just skimmed over these lines to get on with the story, but the words have made me stop reading entirely at times, merely to ponder the perfection of timing and eloquence and depth in how he put something so necessary into writing that I hadn't even realized was necessary before that very moment.
Now, if your preponderant tendencies in reading fall toward short prose and a lot of white space, you might be a bit disillusioned by this particular posting of mine (save that there does seem to be a whole lot of white space). I do not have any intent on how long my posts are going to be or how often I will update this, but I do think that the length of each post will vary significantly, and if you've made it this far into my first (second technically, I suppose) post, you apparently have found it at least entertaining, if not provocative of thought.
It is my hope, for my part in all of this, that I will be encouraged, even in the very writing of something, to continue my endeavors in the realm of fiction and poetry, each of which are also now being shaped in my mind by C.S. Lewis's master--and J.R.R. Tolkien's hero--of writing (that is, again, one George MacDonald, and again, not Adam--I have yet to read anything written by Adam, but would be interested to know if he has any such projects underway, or perhaps even finished?)
Although I feel that I would get more use out of this night if I were doing something a bit more physically active, this writing bit seems quite a worthwhile way to pass a little chunk of time. And besides, sometimes you have to just let your battles choose you because, in all truth, sometimes you don't get to choose your battles. Or at least, sometimes I don't get to choose mine. But I am rather certain that this is not an individualized phenomenon that has singled me out, but is more widespread among the human populace.
In other news, I, for one, am excited about the potential for a new Lestat book. Although Anne Rice seems to have directly contradicted what she had previously stated regarding her Vampire Chronicles, I do look forward to seeing her incorporate the idea of redemption into the series. I was rather certain it was inherently headed in that direction anyhow. If you haven't read them, I would recommend reading Anne Rice's Lestat series at least (the first five books of the chronicles; that is: Interview With the Vampire, The Vampire Lestat, The Queen of the Damned, The Tale of the Body Thief, and Memnoch the Devil). It is a good chunk of reading, and some of it a bit heavy at times. But it's also good writing, and I think the progression of the books and everything said in them represents rather well the progression of the internal struggle of what Anne Rice's subconscious mind was trying to persuade her of as she (very, very slowly) turned from devout atheism back to Catholicism.
Odd note to leave you all on, I'm sure, especially since I doubt any of you (except Timothy, of course) have read much or any Anne Rice at all. But, I'm going to leave you on that note anyhow. Thanks for reading.
P.S. No puzzles on this blog...at least not for a good long little while.
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