Categories
art

Waiting for midnight

Want to help aid efforts for the tsunami victims? Don’t feel like you have enough moneys to spare? Buy one of these awesome prints from Clio Chiang. All moneys she gets from prints through Jan 10th go to the Red Cross. And the prints are simply beautiful. Buy eight. I will. She’s also holding an auction on an original piece, profits to go to tsunami relief. A bit more spendy, though.

Well. Happy New Year, everyone.
Party like it’s 2005! I love you all.
See ya next year.

Categories
dance humor personal poetic

??? ????? ?????? ? ????? ??????

And today, I blog in Russian! Hahahaha, just kidding.
Not that I wouldn’t, if I could. Though I got plenty of flak
for blogging in French. Please note such hate-filled comments as:
“SQRAWK!” Very Crookshanxian, exhibiting a smoldering inner rage.

So, as usual, I’ve been going dancing a whole lot.
You’d think I might get better from dancing so much, but
I really feel like I’m at a tough plateau right now,
and I haven’t been learning a whole lot of new stuff.
Granted, I’m still having plenty of fun, but I’d really
like to become better at it, for how much time I put in.
Theo and Kandace and I went up to Tacoma last night,
which makes two weeks consecutive now. We’ll probably keep
going up as it’s a lot of fun, and nice to meet a few new people.
The dance space in Tacoma is small, but friendly, and it’s
in a church! Devil’s music no more, I say!
I’m even thinking about going up to Seattle for some dancing,
or lessons. Of course, traffic to Seattle is about a thousand
times worse than traffic to Tacoma, so that may not happen.

Everyone knows about the tsunami by now.
Heather’s blog talks about what it’s like to be there.
You can imagine; not fun. She’s got some interesting pictures.
Google’s set up a good page with links to aid sites,
if you want to help out and donate some moneys.
For what it’s worth, I wish everyone the best over there.
It’s going to be awhile before this is something anyone can
move on from; at least for the people involved. I can’t imagine.

Keri says that my blog needs more sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.
So, ummmmmm … here you go:

God bless you, thank you, rock ‘n’ roll,
you make my days complete;
from all the sex you’ve given me
to all the shrooms I eat.

And though I now look eighty-two,
though I’m only twenty-four;
still, bless you, thank you, rock ‘n’ roll,
I think I’ll have some more.

With my deepest apologies. Blame Keri.

Categories
book cinema poetic

De nos amis des pays étranges

Beh oui. Aujourd’hui, je bloggerai en Francais. Parce que je peux, même si je ne peux pas très bien. Vous, les Francais et les Canadiennes qui viennent ici, soyez libre de me corriger. Je n’ai pas écrit en Francais depuis longuetemps. Alors …

J’ai lu une article intéressante à propos de Benoit Charest, le musicien qui a fait le chanson pour Les Triplettes de Belleville. Dans cet article, je le trouvais le plus intéressant que pour le projet prochaîne, Charest peut rencontrer encore avec Sylvain Chomet (le réalisateur de Belleville) pour un ou deux films: The Tale of Despereaux ou/et L’Illusionniste, d’après des scénerios de Jacques Tati. Sur IMDB, Despereaux et un autre film, Barbacoa, étaient annoncé pour Chomet, mais on ne sait pas si Charest va faire la musique ou non. Moi, j’adorait la musique de Belleville, et j’èspere que Charest ferai la musique pour Despereaux, au moins, parce que j’aimais très bien le livre de DiCamillo.

C’est tout pour aujourd’hui, en Francais. Les accents me fatiguent beaucoup. Les p’tits cons. Je vous laisse à rire; je traduis le Francais en Anglais mieux que j’écris, je le jure.

Categories
book cinema personal

King Weneseseslaaaas

Who was that king guy, anyway?

Watched Love Actually last night. Such a good, nice, warm film, even if it has its sappy and overly romantic bits. I like it. Played some cribbage and went to sleep after reading some Charles de Lint. It’s been many years, but I still remember believing in Santa; lying in bed pretending to sleep, ears straining to hear reindeer bells, or Santa shuffling about under the tree. Without fail, I always feel asleep within an hour (I was an active kid, and so a sleepy one come nighttime). Last night, I fell asleep with a simple feeling of contentment that felt unrufflable. It’s Christmas today, and it’s a good day. That’s enough.

I wouldn’t normally brag about Christmas loot, except that in this case it’s relative to the blog. My family pooled together and got me a digital camera, which means pictures on the blog! Woo! Woo woo! Yeay! A’ight! Yippee! I desist. You get the idea that I’m excited, non? I plan on getting myself a 1gig flash card, or at least 512MB, so stay tuned for some serious picture mayhem. Rock. On.

Categories
dance personal

Ain’t got no Christmas blues

For no particular reason, the holidays always bring me down a little bit. So if I have been neglecting my blogger duties, it’s because I’d rather not piss and whine about a feeling I can’t pinpoint; other than that sometimes, despite being surrounded by the best of friends and family, the universe leaves me feeling very cold and alone. But, you know, I still don’t want to piss and whine, so I’m not going to get into it.

We had our dance performance for our swing routine on Tuesday night here in Olympia, and then we performed it again last night up in Tacoma. It went well both nights, though I had a different partner each night. Oddly, I think the Tacoma crowd recieved it better than Oly did. But then, it was a smaller group and seemed more close-knit in general. Also, they weren’t expecting anything, so perhaps we just garnered some extra “neat surprise” value. In any case, I’m equally glad and sad that it’s over. December has been the month from hell for my schedule, and I’ll be more than happy when that mellows out and I can live according to some sort of regular schedule (yeah right), but at the same time I think I’ll miss a little bit being this active and busy. But not too much.

Tomorrow I’ll wake up early, go to the UPS store to send a box to Ohio (don’t worry, it doesn’t tick), and then mosy on up to Port Townsend for a few days to spend time with family. It’ll be quiet, laid back, relaxed; I plan on drinking coffee, reading, going for walks and enjoying some blackberry pie, among other things.

To all who stop by here occassionally, often, rarely, or never: I wish you a very big gigantic joyously stupendously Merry Christmas (or other preferred holiday). Peace on earth and good will towards everything. Yeay.

Categories
libraries work

Like a snow day, flipped

So today was my first full day working at the Tumwater Library. I tried my best not to be nervous about it, but in the end the fear of the unknown and the fear of failure combined their powers, and I shook a bit in the car on the way to work (reminded me of the first day at a new school; or any day in Middle School, for that matter). I started off the day by training with my supervisor in the new Library software we’ll be using, come mid-January. It was a breeze, and killed a few hours. Then I went to lunch at the DQ (yeah, I know, but I’m not supersized yet), and came back with a renewed confidence. The rest of the day was spent shelving, for the most part, and wishing I could stop shelving and just read all the neat books that caught my eye (the torture of working in a library). We closed up at five, and I boogied home to relax. Later I get to go eat some home-made lasagna. MMmMMmmmm … lasagna.

Categories
dance poetic work

How to dance properly

Worth a giggle, at least.

Quote of the day from Contemporary Poetry Review:

“It is the job of poetry to clean up our word-clogged reality by creating silences around things.” -Stéphane Mallarmé

And a bit more from Mallarmé:

“Oui, je sais qu’au lointain de cette nuit, la Terre
Jette d’un grand éclat l’insolite mystère
Sous les siècles hideux qui l’obscurcissent moins.”

Yes, I now know that far into the night the Earth
Is flinging a strange and mysterious shaft of light whose
Brilliance will only be increased as the grim centuries pass by.

Rather uplifting coming from him, I think.

I’ve been working all week at St. Martin’s. Tomorrow and Saturday, all day at Tumwater. My first full days out there, since working there once, for 5 hours. I’m nervous, yes, but I’m trying to be laid back about it. It’s just a job, after all, and not a particularly difficult one. Even so, shelving books for 8 hours of the day sounds particularly brain-numbing. I wish I could just work the reference desk here full-time. *grumble grumble*

Swing dancers can get cantankerous, particularly when they’re talking about choreography, and everyone wants it done their way. They seem so fun and pleasant on the outside; who knew?

I need a day off … or a week. Either way.
*yawns sleepily and has a daydream about coffee*

I’d love some comments on yesterday’s story;
good, bad, long or short, any remarks are lovely.

Categories
dance poetic

Charlestown

The First Time
– Ahniwa Ferrari

I swung by your flat in Charlestown, shuffled about on your stoop before I tap-tap-tapped lightly on your door. My legs were jittery, my heart striking double-beat against my chest (snare on the even beats). The door, swinging open, revealed your face glowing in a soft electric light. We smiled in tandem, shyly hugged as you stepped aside to let me in. I led myself down the hall, turned right into your living room: soft colors and light plush with the stories you’ve spun, hanging in the air like whispers, just loud enough to get an idea, quiet enough to leave a mystery. You made a b-line to the kitchen, came back shortly with refreshments; cookies and milk as though we were in a black and white movie. I’d play Astaire to your Rogers.

We sat quietly for a moment, unsure of ourselves. I’d never done this before, either.

“So, is this your first time?” I dipped a bit of cookie into my milk, watched it absorb the white and cold and wet, drew it back before it dissolved and let it melt in my mouth.

Your hands clasped together, knuckles white, you watched my mundane cookie ritual. You stuttered a bit at first, “Ye… Yes, this is my first time. Is it your first- Oh, that’s a silly question, isn’t it? Of course this isn’t your first time.”

I finished my cookie and hopped out of my chair, trying to harness my nervous energy for what had to be done. “Actually, my first time teaching, one-on-one … yes.” I motioned for her to join me, standing in the middle of the room.

She stood up and took my hands as I offered them to her. Unsure where to look, her eyes wandered around until they decided that her feet would be the safest place. “Where do we start?” she asked, never looking up.

“Don’t look down. Your feet will just distract you.” She brought her head up, looked me in the eyes, smiled slightly. “We’ll start with the basic step; you on your right foot, me on the left, like this: step-step-rockstep. There you go, not bad. Just don’t look down.”

Categories
love personal

…in a handbasket, “S6 please.”

Reopening wounds that never really closed.
Unintentional, true, but it doesn’t make me much
less of a bastard. I should have known better.

Walking away each night with tears in my wake.
It’s no way to live. We try our best not to hurt
the ones we care for, and in the end, they’re the ones
we hurt the most; the most open to us, fragile.

Treat love like a butterfly’s wings: untouched.

The human dynamic; so complicated.

Thinking about perspectives. As we grow older,
we gain more perspective on life. Things that would
be bombs in our youth are just little raindrops
as we’ve gained experience. Not to say we don’t have
our own bombs dropped, now and again, no matter how
solid and wise we think we’ve become; but they occur less,
and we can move past them faster. But life can’t be
all wine and roses. If we’re to gain perspective (which
is in a sense, just wisdom), we’ve got to have some bombs
fall in our lives. We have to struggle, and we have to move past.
Otherwise, we’re just piano stops.

Categories
love music personal

All my little words

On repeat: The Magnetic Fields
“All My Little Words”

You are a splendid butterfly
It is your wings that make you beautiful
And I could make you fly away
But I could never make you stay
You said you were in love with me
Both of us know that that’s impossible
And I could make you rue the day
But I could never make you stay

Not for all the tea in China
Not if I could sing like a bird
Not for all North Carolina
Not for all my little words
Not if I could write for you
The sweetest song you ever heard
It doesn’t matter what I’ll do
Not for all my little words

Now that you’ve made me want to die
You tell me that you’re unboyfriendable
And I could make you pay and pay
But I could never make you stay

I stayed up until 4:30 in the morning,
searching for new music. I ended up with:

Black Heart Procession, Carissa’s Wierd, Colin Hay, Dan Bern, Dave Alvin, Eels, Ely Guerra, Emiliana Torrini, Eva Cassidy, Frou Frou, Goldfrapp, Gunther & the Sunshine Girls (Karla’s fault), Jeff Buckley, Johnny Cash (songs from American IV), Lovage, Matthew Good, Mazzy Star, Mylene Farmer, Social Distortion, The Album Leaf, The Magnetic Fields, The Polyphonic Spree, The Rapture, Weakerthans, Thievery Corporation, and Tosca. And some other, random stuff.

Right now I’m particularly digging on Dan Bern, Eva Cassidy, The Magnetic Fields, and Weakerthans. But it’s a lot of new music to absorb all at once; it has to sink in a bit yet. So yeah, basically I went to the profiles of all the bloggers that I read and checked out what music they like. I have to admit, you all have good taste. Or perhaps I’m extremely eclectic. Or both. If anyone has any further suggestions, please feel free to let me know. I’ve always got an ear out for something new to fall in love with.

So I’ve come to realize that my mood is largely dependent on how nervous I am about any given thing, take your pick between: the swing routine, the new job, the relationship (and ensuing friendship, which is now going well, I think), Christmas, moving in the Fall. And etc…. So, I’m going to stop being nervous, and get on with my life. Tonight the swing practice went really well (we cut out the backflip, which makes me happy), and it put me in a really great mood. I’m going to do my best to stay in it, and not get so freaked out by every little thing. I’ve no idea where this tendancy came from. So, bring it on, world; I’m ready for ya. All the great music helps, too.

Categories
book dance love personal poetic

Local non-celebrity

I’ve had adventures too, rather beautiful adventures. –I came down the railroad cut at twilight. They had been gaining on me all day. My mouth tasted of sweat and black fear. It doesn’t do to let it go too long–You get mixed-up. You begin to think you know what is hunting you down. You begin to think that maybe the only thing which has the power to comfort you is to get caught, to lie helpless and meek before them. You begin to think that the only real escape is to give in, to offer them your life and your soul–because somewhere, in fire and glory, it was arranged that they should have them.
– Kenneth Patchen, from Sleepers Awake

Months ago, in the days of weekly poetry readings at Last Word Books with a vibrant crowd of local talent (I’ve talked it up plenty in past posts), I read a poem called Café Muse which particularly impressed a local poet named Amy. It’s an ode to the beauty and grace of the café barista, silly romantic and evidently (from the general reaction as I read it) pretty funny. Amy asked me for a copy of the poem, which I got to her some weeks later. I don’t see Amy often, but ran into her two days ago at the Swing Club meeting out at Evergreen. It was just her and Nick and Emily and Sam and I at the meeting, since most students are done out there or extremely busy with last-minute end of the quarter work. Sam, a fabulous musician, played music on the old piano in the room we use as a dance space. Mostly he played his songs (remeniscent of a male Fiona Apple, sort of), but he also played us a couple swing tunes, to which we gratefully danced.

I chatted with Amy a bit. She’d just arrived back from a trip to San Francisco. She took some great photos, which she showed me. We didn’t talk much, since the room greatly proliferated the echoes from the piano and we didn’t want to try and yell over it; but she told me she’d read Café Muse to a few people, in a few places, and everyone had liked it. She mentioned further that she had been invited to the Batdorf and Bronson (a local café) Christmas Party, and had been asked to read it there. I think this is all greatly amusing, as I’ve few aspirations to the greatness of my literary prowess, and no particular pride in the quality of this particular work, particularly. But hey, if people are enjoying it, I think that’s great. I can only imagine that she’s giving me credit (she was very considerate in asking me if it was okay that she was reading this poem to folks); perhaps one day I’ll meet someone for the first time, introduce myself, and they’ll say, “Ahniwa … Ahniwa. Hey, you’re the guy that wrote that Café Muse poem!” Heehee, as if. If anything, it makes me think I need to stop slacking on the creative writing. Which I do, I do.

My innocent companions, They imagine an earth, a sky; imagine that they are alive; and they die. – Kenneth Patchen

Some time ago, Jason swung through town toting a book of Patchen’s poetry. I skimmed through it, and since then the bastard’s been stuck in my subconscious. If you’re interested, you can read some of his work online: Let Us Have Madness & The Hangman’s Great Hands, The Orange Bears, and Excerpts from Sleepers Awake; and a further list here.

Florida is out for the holiday. Instead of sun and warmth I’ll marry myself to the rain and the constant thrum-thrum of noises muted in the dripping embrace of the evergreens’ branches. I’ll drive up the rainforest-lined peninsula, watch divers prepare their equipment along the side of the road, digging into the backs of their small pick-ups, and people spread out along the mud flats leading to the water, digging for clams and secret treasures forgotten but subconsciously in their childhood imaginings. I’ll sip a latté or mexican hot chocolate in the Silverwater while I watch raindrops splatter against the fountain across the street, and talk to people I knew when I was seventeen, when I worked for a year before college, trying to find something out about myself and the world. I’ll savor blackberry pie a la mode and remember days of that year I’d forgotten, and I’ll get sentimental but remain content. I’ll dig through the bookstore looking for treasures, wasting happy hours and walking away with either two full bags of books or none at all. I’ll try to skip rocks along the water, walking the beaches slick with mossy rocks and large logs that drifted in one day and have sat for years now, happy playthings of children and perches for lovers to sit and watch the waves. Perhaps I’ll see whales playing in the spray, and turning over rocks I’ll watch small crabs scuttle away to seclusion, annoyed with my human need to disturb things, and I’ll feel momentarily guilty.

Christmas morning will be quiet, but cheerful. Coffee and breakfast and a fire in the pellet stove; warm air blown out loudly by a fan that can be hard to talk over when you’re naturally soft-spoken. A small tree, not overdecorated, hugging the corner of the room, guarding presents neither numerous nor large, but picked out in a genuine spirit of caring.

I’m getting well ahead of myself.

Had coffee with Alexis last night after dropping Joseph off in the glen. She’d had a rough week, and then a rougher night, and needed some decent company. We smiled across the table at each other, drank our coffee and chatted. When we left, I took her back to her place and we watched about three minutes of cartoons before the TV died. I held her for awhile, trying to imbue her with all the positive energy I could muster so she could sleep without suffering through nightmares. I did my best to be supportive to her, and to be close, without offering more than I could give. As I left her house, tired and stumbling into the cold and wet, some of her warmth lingered, pressed against me like a blanket. I have missed her company, but I don’t want to hold open a wound that will close more easily in my absence. December will be busy, but perhaps afterwards it will be easier for us to hang out more often.

Categories
internet webcomics

Rainfall at a sixty degree angle

The last two days have been gloomy-gloomy,
with little hints of teasing sun, poking through;
an hour here, an hour there. It’s been chilly,
but I don’t dislike it. This is weather I know.

Poking through some old Diesel Sweeties today,
I ran across this and this, which I thought cute
enough to share with you, the rest of the world.
Yes, I’m thoroughly addicted to web comics.
They’re the best thing since ralley monkeys.

If you loved the 80s, you should buy a memento.
Had I the money, I would buy about a hundred of them.
Who knew I was such an 80s dork?

Categories
humor webcomics

Flaming liberals are incendiary

I really try to stay out of political debate. Everyone’s got their opinions, and most of them aren’t going to change. But I ran across this article from The Independent Weekly, and had to post it. I discourage any of my conservative friends from reading it, though I realize you will anyway.

Leaders like G.W. and (yes, it’s a fair comparison) Hitler rise to power by exploiting the support of the weak and stupid, so it’s in their interest to encourage weakness and stupidity. That’s where universal education becomes a threat. Education encourages creative thought. Creative thought empowers people. Fascists hate creative thought. So it’s incredibly convenient for the GOP that you folks actually want your kids to be dumb. Which is why the No Child Left Behind initiative you endorse has, in fact, done nothing! Happy? Perhaps ignorance really is bliss.

On a much, much lighter note, this made me shoot milk out my nose, if I’d been drinking milk, anyway. I mean, what’s lighter than Hello, Kitty? It’s so light, it’s almost gone all the way around to the dark side, really. Oh, and speaking of the dark side…

Categories
love music personal work

Like Clark Gable

So I got a brand new jobby-job. Yes indeed.

Formerly just:

Ahniwa Ferrari: Library Assistant II, Reference
Saint Martin’s College

And now also:

Ahniwa Ferrari: Library Aide
Tumwater Timberland Library

Okay, so it’s not flashy. Nor is it particularly elegant.
But it’s MINE! Today shelving, tomorrow the world.
The irony is that I’ve never been to the Tumwater Library,
and now I have half an hour between jobs to find it,
and try to eat lunch. Good thing I’m a library employee,
and therefore resourceful. Anyway, I’m only going to be
working a grand total of 34 hours a week, give or take;
so I’m not high-rolling, but I’m sure it will seem like
a lot for awhile. Even working 19 hours a week, I never
felt like I had that much free time. And now it
will almost be true. I prefer the busy; I’ll adjust.

I want so badly to believe that “there is truth, that love is real”
And I want life in every word to the extent that it’s absurd
I know you’re wise beyond your years, but do you ever get the fear
That your perfect verse is just a lie you tell yourself to help you get by?

– The Postal Service, “Clark Gable”

Thinking about that shiny green bit at the center of us,
about connections and comfort and reciprocation.
We’re all so strange to each other.

I think relationships have to connect both emotionally and practically. But it’s difficult and rare for those two to go together. In my case, too often: emotional beginnings, practical endings. I yet believe that there is truth, that love is real.

I’ve got a shiny green bit: infinite strong, hopelessly fragile.

Categories
humor work

Bava is a horror original

Some mad philosphers had a link to this on their message board.
Hilarity ensued.

Googlisms for Bava:
bava is always at his best in chase sequences
bava is at his gruesome “best” as killings are accomplished in every manner possible
bava is to step silently through a mausoleum filled with beautiful corpses
bava is the withholding of the killer’s identity
bava is for you
bava is £21 for uk and eu countries
bava is only concerned with style and the art of murder
bava is scheduled to speak at the economic club luncheon at 11
bava is a mystery to me
bava is credited as the director
bava is teaching students of all ages
bava is a master of light and shadow
bava is the remaining story
bava is no doubt suggesting the ugly reality
bava is a non

Googlisms for Camus:
camus is the existentialist
camus is right to say that life is absurd
camus is the family at the heart of the town
camus is interested in pursuing a third possibility
camus is a cat with attitude
camus is right in this degree
camus is a writer for posterity

Googlisms for Sartre:
sartre is as unfashionable as loon pants
sartre is that there is nowhere to look for guidance about how to use it
sartre is and you will most likely get a frowned look
sartre is having a quick smoke
sartre is wrong
sartre is the cogito
sartre is like going to a shrine
sartre is yet more complicated
sartre is that elusive existential concept of freedom
sartre is a contradiction that may not be overcome

And finally, Googlisms for the library:
the library is on fire
the library is your friend
the library is the whole world
the library is open all night
the library is open to all indiana residents
the library is able to correctly determine that you are in africa
the library is modified by someone else and passed on
the library is actually a number of feet higher than the architect’s original design
the library is not sinking
the library is updating its strategic plan
the library is a garden of ideas
the library is looking for a youth librarian who enjoys
the library is not sinking oh that sinking feeling
the library is destroying thousands of books because it is short of space
the library is giving way to a new era of promise and uncertainty
the library is complete

What’s up with libraries sinking?

My friend Nick has started a blog for his EQII character, Vdou Quel`Anon. Yeah, he’s crazy. If you enjoy roleplay rantings with a little black mage spice, then you might also want to look here.

When I got home from work yesterday, I had a message on the machine from the Tumwater Library. I didn’t manage to get back in touch with them yesterday (I will when I get home today), but if they called, then they hired me (almost positively), so here’s to some premature celebration …



… YEAY!

Go me.

Categories
game love music personal

We will become silhouettes

On the big speakers: The Postal Service
My current obsession: Vaenu Pa’riya

Nearly a week since my last entry. Not because of EQ2, as one might guess, but because I’ve needed the time to mull things over. I wanted to pay what happened with Alexis more than just passing lip service, but honestly I don’t know what to say. I’ve got very mixed feelings about what happened. She came over last night and we talked about things; mostly she tried to convince me that I was making a horrible mistake. I admitted that she could very well be right, but for now I still feel like it was the right decision, and I’m not going to change my mind. Not that it wasn’t hard. My god; my body was shaking, and she leaned against me and took my hand and stared into my eyes and even while melting I told her that I couldn’t do what she wanted me to do. It remains the right decision, but not an easy one.

As I dropped her off in the glen, she kissed me. Three times. I didn’t stop her, but I didn’t let it go any further. She told me I was stupid (for letting her go; a theme of the night) and then left. I drove away, confused and feeling pretty stupid. My brain still feels a bit addled, but I’ll keep my resolve. If I don’t, I suspect it will just lead to more people getting more hurt later on. In the Autumn I need to make a journey by myself; this supersedes all else.

To occupy my thoughts:

  • My father is probably moving to Reno.
  • I may go to Florida for Christmas, but I’m waiting to hear about the new job and see how my schedule might work out. Christmas is just around the corner, though.
  • We’ve got seven swing practices planned before we have to perform our routine. We perform on the 21st, and I’m nervous about the aerials.
  • My schedule is completely fucked since I can’t work over the holidays and I have to make up the hours somehow.
  • Everquest 2 is the best crack since Everquest, and better. It makes me shiver.
  • I desperately want a digital camera, and I desperately can’t afford one.
  • I may buy myself one anyway.
  • I secretly yearn for snow. I blame this on Ohio.
  • I worry that the application process for grad school in a different country will be complicated and difficult, and that I won’t be able to get the aid required to allow me to go.
  • I still haven’t heard about the second job, and I’m getting nervous now.
  • That’s more than enough, I imagine.

I’ll do my best to update more regularly.
I always feel better for doing so.

I wanted to walk through the empty streets
And feel something constant under my feet,
But all the news reports recommended that
I stay indoors
Because the air outside will make our cells
Divide at an alarming rate until our shells
Simply cannot hold all our insides in,
And that’s when we’ll explode
(and it won’t be a pretty sight)


– The Postal Service, We Will Become Silhouettes

Categories
game

EQ II: Revenge of the Evercrack

I vacillated. I hedged. I spent hours in Best Buy just to leave empty-handed. I questioned what I’d really like to do in my free-time and came up with some rather inconclusive premonitions. And then I broke. I was a man on a mission. I wouldn’t be stopped. I bought Everquest 2. Weep for me.

I won’t go into it too much, except to say that it’s fun. It’s lush, enjoyable, and captivating. That (almost) every NPC has a voice makes the experience that much more involving. It’s a much different feel than Everquest, and so far, I like it entirely too much. Even so, I won’t allow my life to get sucked into another MMPORG abyss. I’d like to feel I’m beyond that now; this is simply an enjoyable distraction. Hah. I’ll put up some screenshots once I get over my initial awe and can function again.

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cinema montreal work

The ne plus ultra of the blogging world

That is, perhaps, the weirdest expression that I had never, until now, heard. As far as I can tell, in literal translation, it’s like saying no one’s better. But I dunno, those French.

Good things have been happening. My interview on Monday kicked ass, and from what I can tell the people that interviewed me think that I kick ass, so I should finally have another job soon. In the land of health, I am feeling much improved. At my current job, I received a completely unexpected raise of 6%; I’m now making 34% more than I’ve ever made in a previous job (per hour, at least) and that makes me feel vaguely important. (It’s nice to have a feeling of financial progression, at least. It’s as though as I get older I become more valuable to the world. That’s a nice thought.) Other good things, in small arenas. I’ve been particularly enjoying the conversation and company of my friends, lately, both near and far. I feel like Emily and I are on the best terms yet since our break-up, and that the world, in general, is full of beautiful and interesting people.

An interesting note about my interview: the director of the Olympia Timberland Library, who was one of the two interviewers from Olympia (of 6, altogether) attended McGill University, my predetermined escape route to Montreal. She invited me to come down and talk to her about it sometime, which I plan to do soon. I’m excited to know what she thought about the school, and in general it seems like a positive omen.

Spider-Man 2 is now available on DVD, and my roommate Tim picked it up. Arrived home from dancing, we began to watch it last night (after I read Tim my previous, scathing review from having watched it in the theater.) My previous review stands.

Life is good. Today the sun shone,
and I wore the sunglasses of contentment.
A bagel and coffee at Otto’s to start the day,
like we used to do in years past.