One for the Road

Unreal Tournament

The guys at work tend to get together for LAN parties on occasion, so I figured I'd pick up some first-person shooter games and try my hand at it so I could join in. This is definately one of those games that, after a certain point, you just have to play with other people, otherwise it starts to get real old real fast.

OK, that's not really fair. I'm having far too much fun, actually. This is the reason I do not, as a rule, play a lot of video games. They can eat my life. But you know, when you can't go out kickboxing for real, there's nothing better than blowing up your enemies into tiny bits.

Also, there are butch badass women to choose from; in fact, quite a few female characters to choose from, and I always appreciate that. Also, there are fun gaming lines in here, and it makes for good research. That's write, I'm doing *research* for game writing, yo.

Plus, blowing up my enemies into tiny bits.

Mmmm delicious.

The Mod Workshop

Some people collect comic books. Some people collect GI Joes. Some people collect those little fake knights that you paint.

I collect.... well, MLPs. I also create pony mods, an art with a short but glorious history.

Steph and the Old Man have a big basement, and Stephanie has set up a nice little quilting corner on her side of the basement for herself:



And on my side of the basement... well, I set up my pony modding workshop and was finally able to display all the ponies (mods and standards) that I've had to keep boxed up because I didn't have any shelves for them (Friday was my first Real Money pay day since, you know, I was laid off in December).



Why yes, those are ponies in various states of disassembly there on the table:




I haven't been at this very long, so I'm not up to making stuff like this, this or this, but I'm working with what I've got, and I have a lot of fun with it. When you get really good, pony mods go for anywhere from $20-$110, but if you try and break it down in time and materials, believe me, it's not a real investment. It's like writing short fiction, actually.

A few where the pics actually turned out:

My Nyx Mod





Misc.:







In my actual collection, I have some goodies (flutters w/wings - $20 a pop if they're in good condition):



But I'd wager the whole collection isn't worth more than $600 or so, as I don't have a $500 collection of these (though I wouldn't mind one).


So if you were every burningly curious about what I do when I'm not working, writing, learning French, applying for jobs at the UN, watching Netflix movies, reading books about middle eastern history and violence, playing video games, or obsessively hitting my "Stumbleupon" button, well...

Wonder no more.

Fuller Hips = Fuller Life!

Peace Be With You

... Toward a Morality Based on Honesty and Consent

They hate themselves for wanting what they want and doing what they do . . . so they preach against it, and propose legislation against it, and do everything in their power to relocate their guilt out in the world instead of inside their own treacherous minds and bodies. They may even feel that, in fighting the scourge of homosexuality or whatever, they’re somehow making up for their own misdeeds. I even have some compassion for them, although I’d have a whole lot more if they weren’t screwing things up for the rest of us.

And this is just one more reason we need to work for a new sexual morality – to shift it away from a guilty freakout over which tab goes in what slot, and towards a morality based on honesty and consent.

State of the Gimp

"Wow, that's a really great hematoma you've got there!" my podiatrist exclaimed.

"Um, yeah."

"How did you do this? You did a really great job on this."

"Ummmm....." Scaling the Great Wall of China! Bungee Jumping! Saving a small kitten! "Running to catch the bus," I said.

"No kidding?"

Yeah. So, it'll be another 3 weeks in my air cast, which isn't so bad because I can walk in it and I don't need crutches anymore, and I'm hardly taking any Ibuprofen anymore. The bad news is, 3 more weeks (at LEAST) with no kickboxing classes or up-and-down step exercises like the elliptical here at home. She recommended I take up yoga and pilates in the meantime, which is great, but I pay $89 a month for frickin' kickboxing classes that I now can't take until after Switzerland.

Blast.

Basically, she said that I did some severe trauma to a couple of my tendons, and if I jumped back into anything too quickly - like kickboxing - that I'd end up snapping the tendon and have to do something really fun like, you know, tendon surgery.

And you know: I've had enough of hospitals, thanks.

In the meantime, I'm watching a lot of movies, working at learning some new video games, and getting my pony mod workshop in the basement set back up now that all the ceiling tiles have been ripped out.

It could have been a lot worse, I know. I'm just glad I didn't break anything and all my tendons are intact.

Also, all this time lying around the house means those fucking edits got done, and the latest version of the book will get out the door to the appropriate editor and agent by the 31st.

Sometimes it takes a kick in the ass.

P.S. It's also worth noting that, according to the podiatrist, my sprain was healing up "right on track." Being a diabetic means that stuff usually takes a lot longer to heal for us than other people, so it's a testament to my 1) great numbers 2) relative youth that it's healing up just like it's supposed to. Stuff like this is one of the reasons I strive to have really great numbers, and why I'm so strict about what I eat (people love to give me shit about all the stuff I avoid, but... well, this is why).

Better Than an iPhone

For me, anyway. And if they can make an iPhone, they can make one of these. It's not hard, yo.

(thanks, David)

And to Think I Loved Her

Bloody brilliant.

The Writing Push

I've finished all the GW edits for this push, so now I get to start my week of writing vacation; things may be a little quiet here, too. My brain's pretty fried, but the book's better, and after a week to set, I'll read it over one last time and get it out the door just before I leave for Switzerland.

And now... a week-long writing break full of French lessons and Netflix movies and video games.

Mmmmmmm.

Mystery Solved

I ran out of vicoden, so I switched to the massive Ibuprofen prescription the doctor gave me. Sometime during my yawning and eye-rubbing sessions today after getting over 8 hours of sleep last night, I looked at the fine print on the prescription bottle and read that "may cause drowsiness" warning.

Man. You know, the vicoden didn't hit me this way; I guess my body has no love for high doses of Ibuprofen.

Rough Cut

OK, adding that war scene in Azam? Far too much fun, and might be just filler, but it means I can write things like this added excerpt from God's War:

------

Rhys heard a low whine start up from outside, too high for the muezzin. He cocked his head. He knew the sound, but couldn’t place it.

Anneke turned to look out the window, and Khos pushed himself away from the wall.

“Fucking incoming!” Nyx yelled, and before Rhys had time to understand what she was yelling about, he was on a pallet on the floor with Nyx on top of him.

A heavy thud and whump shook the whole house, and something rained against the unfiltered glass.

Anneke scrambled across the floor in front of him toward a gear bag stowed against the far wall. Nyx pulled herself off Rhys, and he realized his face was wet with her sweat. His whole body tingled. There was some bug in the air, something… He looked toward the window and saw centipedes crawling along the outside.

“Anneke!” Nyx said, and she had pulled off her burnous and pulled a duel-barreled acid rifle from one of the gear bags.

Anneke threw Rhys a scattergun.

Rhys shook his head. “I don’t –“

“They’re coming in ground!” Nyx said, her shoulder pressed against the gauzy window frame, one eye on the world outside.

“Ground?” Rhys said.

“Means Nasheenians are in the city,” Anneke said, scrambling past him, shotgun slung over her shoulder, sniper rifle in hand.

Khos said, “You see them?”

“I’ve got a scout in the alley,” Nyx said. “Cancel that. He’s waving his fucking squad through. Fuck.”

Khos pulled both pistols.

Rhys’s hands were shaking. He raised one arm, closed his eyes, looked for a swarm. Several responded. Four wild, and two locked and specialized. Whatever squad was coming down the alley, they had at least one magician with them.

“Don’t fire unless I call it,” Nyx said.

“Boss?” Anneke said.

“They’re Nasheenians. Don’t fire without my call.”

“Nyx – “ Khos said.

“Nyxnissa,” Rhys said, opening his eyes. He saw the sweat beading her forehead, her glistening bare arms. The gun was heavy, and as she stood against the window frame in her short tunic and knee-high trousers, baldric too tight, he saw the power in her arms, the muscle under her flesh. He had felt it when she pushed him to the floor, the weight of her.

She turned to them, outlined in the blue haze of the coming night, and in her face, the hard jaw and suddenly flat, fathomless eyes, he saw the woman who had burned at the front. He was suddenly breathless.

“I said you don’t fire without my call. Those are my boys,” Nyx said.

------------------

Sometimes I just can't help myself.

Conferring Status

Why do so many forms in Ohio ask for my "marital status"? Is this something I'm just noticing now because I've been to so many doctors the last year, or is this something you see more often in Ohio?

Maybe I'm just annoyed at the idea of describing myself based on a legal relationship. I mean, I'm not planning on getting married, so does that mean I'll be perpetually single my whole life? I don't mind this, of course, since I do live an effectively single life (minus some important bits, obviously), but I don't see what my marital status has to do with the current state of my health or the symptoms I'm suffering from.

When I went into the ER for my ankle, the admitting nurse asked me if I was "currently in a living situation with people I trust." This seems to be a better question to ask someone receiving care than whether or not they're single. Just because they're married doesn't mean they trust or live with their partner, and just because they're single doesn't mean they don't live with and/or don't trust their partner (and I have no idea what bearing "divorced" or "separated" would have, either and especially).

And no, it's not under the "insurance" heading, so I can't really see what the purpose is.

Dear Internets:

Why am I so bloody fucking tired?

Discuss.

Mmmm Corporate Porn!

(click for a readable version)

Fewer Things Make You Feel Like a Bigger Idiot...

... than spilling coffee all over yourself first thing in the morning.

I will now reek of coffee all damn day.

%^$#*&$^*##@!! Book

Why, yes, the line edits I actually *wrote down* are in for all 500 pages.

Is the latest rewrite "done"? No, no of course not, because I have about four notes still in my head and then another printing because there's extraneous infodumping that can now come out, somewhere, somehow, because this book should not be over 100K and it's topping out at nearly 108K.

And I am tired and my eyes want to bleed.

Oh, they BLEED.

BLEED, I TELL YOU.

(on the upside, I only paid $70 for meds today! It was a bloody fucking miracle. I gave them the card, and it was $70! I've never gotten out of there for under $150! Huzzah!)

BLEED, I TELL YOU.

Edit til Your Eyes Bleed

I don't actively HATE God's War yet, but I'm telling you, with 150 of 500 pages of line edits still to enter, it's starting to get to me.

I must be almost done.

Why I'm A Power Feminist

Because until the world is perfect, you sometimes still have to play dirty:

Armed with my new tips and tricks, I laced up my skates and headed out to face the jungle that is childhood. When the boys confronted me again, I dared them to mess with me. One ballsy kid lunged towards me with the intent of pushing me down. Quickly, I kicked that kid squarely between the legs with my skate. He crumpled to the ground as I hysterically screamed at his friends, “I’LL EAT YOUR EYES! I’LL EAT ALL OF YOUR EYES!” Terrified, those boys got up and ran like Hell. I’ve never felt so empowered in my entire life.

When You're Just Wasting My Time...

I am happy, or at the very least willing, to debate whether or not a certain act, behavior, word, or belief is inherently sexist or misogynistic. I am not, however, willing to debate the importance or necessity of feminism. Honestly, if you really truly think feminism is wrong, or that women just have it made these days and that we should suck it up and be grateful for the rights men have already granted us, then you’re a complete fucking tool. Period. No discussion necessary. I won’t ever entertain the notion, no matter how passionately you argue or how solid you think your points are. To try and argue with me about this would be like trying convince Neo that there is no Matrix....

Pretending to be open to the possibility that I’m a fool for believing what I do is wrong, dishonest, and disrespectful to everyone involved. Being polite and feigning interest, when I’m really thinking “Holy crap, what an indoctrinated, privileged prick he is. Where’s my beer?” is simply no good. Watching an ESPN poker game that I’ve already seen 3 times would be a far more productive, enjoyable, and and honest thing to do.