Saturday, December 31, 2011

Quizzes, Resolutions, and a Mini-update.

Answer these questions with pictures you have saved on your computer:





How do you see yourself?:

What's your physical build like?:

How do you think others see you?:

What do you see in your dreams?:

What sort of fashion appeals to you?:

How do you feel today?:

What happens if everything goes wrong?:

What do you seek in a best friend?:

What's your ideal partner like?:

What are your hobbies?:

Describe your father with one image:

Describe your mother with one image:



What's your dream house?:

What's your dream car?:

Where do you see yourself in twenty years?:

What do you want to be when you grow up?:

What's a perfect world like?:

What's a bad day like for you?:

What are/were you like as a student?:

What are your political leanings?:

Skip ahead twenty years. What do you look like?:


Now that that's taken care of, my resolutions are...

Enroll.
Get to California at least once.
Get abs.
Get a car.
Have steady income.

Rather than pretend these are new goals, I'm giving them deadlines.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

+‿+

I make a kind of lousy Smile.
Merry Christmas. Happy New Year's. Happy Birthday to Lina and Alex, too. And probably like, three other people I'm overlooking.

I'm standing at the edge of something great. The trouble is, I'm still standing at the edge. I'm tired of progress being impending and not being able to spring headfirst into everything again. I'm sorting through all sorts of red-tape and when I'm not sorting, I'm hoop-jumping. I want to have a day where I flop over exhausted again. I want to toil and know I'm moving.

I don't know. I'm just getting restless.

Christmas was odd for me as I celebrated alone. I hoofed it down to a cafe and had a slice of pumpkin pie and a cup of eggnog, and that was kind of it for me. It was subdued but really manageable. I don't think I have any real regrets with how I spent it. It rained a lot on Christmas, and I spent the evening running in it.

The snow's just arrived. When I'm stressed, I walk down the Lamplight District and watch the snow pass the old Victorian-era gas-lamps. It's pretty, and soothing. I'm a fan of street-lights because they were the symbol of safety and beauty in my childhood when playing in the dark, or just watching moths swarm them.

They have Street-Light Jungles, too - did you know?
I just saw a photo of one, and it blew my mind - I'd love to have one of those nearby.

I'm not certain about my resolutions. I'm certain about a few, but they're really just Goals that I'm going to give a deadline. I'll list them when I've got them.

I woke up with a ravenous craving for cucumber. I dumped a peeled half of one into a blender with a ginger-ale, pureed it, and strained it. It was just what I needed to start my day, and I had the other half for breakfast after dousing it in vinegar and peppering it.

I don't really know where the Smile thing came about. Hjalmar said I'd make an okay one, despite my short hair, so I kind of gave it a shot.

In the later hours of the day, I'm getting sullen. I might go to Lamplight and pretend I'm not noticing the prominence of Defense of the Ancients 2 and Skyrim amongst my friends.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Why Does This Keep Happening to Me?

Let me show you something kind of deserving on being called an eyesore.
It's been popping up repeatedly all throughout the past few weeks, and while I've been trying to
get it to go away, or appear to a lesser degree, I'm just not making any headway for myself.
Here it is:
Now, you may be thinking, "What's this? It looks like an ordinary photo."
And it is, largely, except for the time it's taken. This is me at 2:00 AM.

There has not been a day in the past week where I have gotten to bed earlier than 12:00 and not woken up somewhere in-between 1:00 and 5:00. Looking like this, at this hour, has become something of a regular occurrence and it's started to frustrate me a bit. I've been trying to ease back into my old sleeping habits, but naturally this has been a bit hard without coffee, brisk jogs, and such.

Now that I think about it a little, having trouble sleeping might be a result of the snow - I haven't been able to get to the Gym as frequently as I used to now that there's snow on the ground and it's miserable to jog there casually.

I can work on that, I guess.

I didn't really get a chance to get that other half of my Pumpkin post up yet, so in the meantime, I suppose I'll just blather on about another blog and card-games, but not in that order, because it's always best to end on a Shout-Out.

So, lately Emily and I have been parading around as Warrada, the Shadow and Hrada, Dark Ruler for a bit. These are likely names you don't particularly know, but I'm going to go on about them. When I was small, I had a friend named Eddie - Pokemon was cool, and was in a kind of lull between the release of the next series of Pokemon in Gold and Silver. We thought it was cool and all, but we couldn't collect the cards because, being stationed in Europe, they were released far later for us than Japan or America, and worse still, only in select outfitters, while we lived in a Military Base in Lakenheath that featured a tiny theater, a Burger King, and a Buyer's Exchange where you could buy Fatigues, Notebooks, Government-Issue Pens, and directional cones for your flashlight for steering planes on runways.

One day, Eddie shows up with these cards he won't let me see - they've got these cool whirl-patterns made on the back, and eventually he reneges and shows them off, like all little boys do. They were Magi-Nation cards, and they had the coolest artwork we'd ever seen. Naturally, we go all out, and soon we're collecting them left and right, and trading, and trying to draw our favorites, and when we heard they were releasing a Game-Boy Color game? Oh man, we were all over it. I began saving immediately - thirty dollars was a grand sum at the time, as most games were about twenty.

Magi-Nation was cool in that the Cards told a story - the story was slightly off-kilter in the game to accommodate the fact that the Core hadn't really be dreamed up beyond Zet and Korg at the time of its conception: Essentially, you've got these alien dreamers, not unlike Homestuck, sort of. They're driven off their home where they then organize into: Cald, Bograth, Weave, Naroom, Core, Orothe, Kybar's Teeth, Paradwyn, Nar, Andariel, Underneath and the Sands of D'resh.

Long story short, they basically organize into elements.

Naroom is the typical Hippy Group. Everyone lives in trees, and they have a big capital city where they conduct affairs and politics with regard to Cald, who kind of hates them and likes fire, and Weave, who is basically their removed cousin - Naroom likes Forests, Weave likes Grasslands. They were my favorite for a long while until I realized I could essentially have two favorites.

In the Magi-Nation Gameboy Color Game, you basically parade around as this atypical teenager with an atypical teenager name - Tony Jones - and you try to plug-up these titanic breaks in the divided dreamworlds where the Core - the respective 'Evil' group - has begun to spill out. The Core aren't exactly Evil so much as they are power-hungry and over-devoted to the power a villain named Agram discovered. In the Orothe Geyser, you meet Warrada the Shadow.
Warrada is one of two characters - the other being Hrada - who would really grow on me.

Essentially, she keeps appearing out of thin air and telling you to stay out of thing you don't understand, and even offers to bribe you by sacrificing the Geyser spewing out Core miscreants, so long as you stay out of further plans. Needless to say these plans involve other Geysers and their already-arrived leader who will totally curb-stomp you later, but whatever. She's a Naroom Shadow-Magi. Which is pretty sweet - she gets all the cool looking Core monsters and in addition to being educated, cunning, and nice to look at, she's also got a really cool story told through the cards.

Hrada - who eventually takes over The Core after the fall of Agram and the admitted stupidity of Korg (Zet's pretty brilliant, but Korg's stupidity so overshadows him he doesn't get much of a chance to show it, and they eventually flee the Core to make a bid for power in Bograth, which is essentially a corrupt swamp-region.) teams with Warrada to form the Dark Twins.

Hrada sees that Agram's failure was that he reached for everything at once. Hating Vash Naroom for essentially representing everything that the Core doesn't stand for, Hrada and Warrada essentially opt to Blitzkrieg their homeland of Naroom. And they succeed. They totally kill the place - with the exception of the Great Library, which Warrada spares to peruse for greater knowledge. Everyone flees and tries to organize to fight them off, but having successfully taken over the place, and working in slight unison with Zet and Korg, the Dark Twins essentially become -the- powerhouse for political and military action. Weave's leader even ceases speaking to Gia, who is a respected Elder between Naroom and Weave, because she spends far too much time trying to work politics with the Dark Twins.

Having successfully gained power, the Twins begin totally beating up on everyone else. Naroom flees to Cald and finally resolves their differences, presumably with the marriage of Barak, the Warlord and Tryn, the Daughter of Runes. Bograth totally owns Paradwyn, which is the Tropical Region, before ousting Korg and Zet for being idiots and reinstating their "Really Greatest Elder Ever", Olabra. They still work in mild cooperation with the Core. Bograth doesn't really care about too much.

At this point, everyone's getting pretty pressured. They can't beat the Core, which slowly begin to claim their more powerful Magi for themselves - most notably Korremar of D'resh, and Yaki and Sperri of Naroom. T'lok, the Traitor sells out Kybar's Teeth - a Mountain Range - to Hrada and suddenly the Dark Twins are unstoppable until the Nar decide that they want in, and basically beat back the Core into it's original position at the heart of the world.

It's pretty odd and long-winded but whatever. The cool thing is, they managed to tell an entire political and military uprising, complete with squabbles for power, through playing cards.

Also - they keep the characters very fleshed out: Warrada has a fear of Tithregars, which are thick-furred Nar dream-creatures. One of them bit her, and as such, the card does extra damage to Naroom Shadow Magi. Hrada is prone to being over-dramatic and premature - He'll often kill huge Dream Creatures, only to have them topple and crush his winning monsters.

I just want to show them off a little:














They just don't make characters like Warrada and Hrada anymore; I guess that's probably my nostalgia talking, but I haven't seen to many villains that well, win. And continue winning for awhile. And endure power-struggles. And still manage to be very human and flawed themselves, and have simple stories of their upbringing that aren't intentionally mopey. Warrada and Hrada don't have a tragic past that justifies them - just a will to prove their way is the best, and the forces to prove it - at least until the Nar involve themselves.

In conclusion and to wrap-up all my rambling, I'd like to tell you to check out This Little Number. It's Bashmak's new blog, and it could do with some eyes. In fact, it'll likely be better than mine, content-wise, because Bashmak's got a whole lot to offer - Piano work, better drawings, a significant lack of old Trading Card Games, and baking. Baking better than mine. Give it a page-through. Give it a bookmark! You won't regret it, but you will if you don't nurture it!


With all this said, I'm going to fold up - I have to admit, the formatting job I've done to include three pictures on one line of dialogue wasn't the least-messy bit of HTML I've worked with, and it's starting to make me nervous. I'll talk about more important political ideologies next time - I got into some pretty livid soapboxing, and it's worth repeating, perhaps.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Say Hello to the Pumpkin.


Beg your pardon?
What Pumpkin? I see no gourd here, only a beast of the feline sort. The notion that a kitten could be a gourd is quite frankly absurd, and I see no point in continuing this train of dialogue with you.

This is Pumpkin, the stray cat I feed on my way to the Gym. She's got a broken foot on one side where it looks like a car backed over it, but she's very affectionate and can still walk around on it and such. She's a sucker for ear-strokes and likes laying on the circuit-box for my apartment block.

I'm a sucker for strays.

I had a notion of what I wanted to talk about before going to Gold's Gym, but I've kind of lost it, so I'm going to ramble a bit. Maybe nostalgia a little - or a lot.

So, like five years ago, I got a little package of Kid Koala postcards. They were pretty cute, so I thought I'd mail one to my friend Cherilyn. I never got one back, but I hung up a little card of a wolf that my sister brought me from a field-trip she went on in the third grade. That was kind of my first affair with the postal system, and I suppose with collecting letters, too. I've got two full cork-boards of parcels and postcards, and wide-pinned letters, and address-labels off packages now. Yesterday, I got one from Agustin - it was a really long-running one; he basically kept a diary for a few days and then mailed me it. It made me really happy to get it. It was a very human letter.

I can't hang it up. I can't hang up Catherine's mooncake-package or Garrison's letter, either.
I just don't have enough room. I might have to buy a new cork-board just for the occasion.
I'm worried I'm going to have like, six of these things and moving's going to suck. And that when I'm in my crappy apartment, they're just going to be in the way, or obnoxious or something.

I don't know. I didn't know what a habit I was brewing half a decade ago.
I'm working on the other half of this post. Give me a moment, I'm swamped.
In the meantime, here's more Pumpkin:


Saturday, December 10, 2011

I've Had a Glass or Two.

Nobody in my family drinks red wine, with the exception of myself, who can handle it with small sips like I handle black coffee and with a similar appreciation as well.

This bottle of red wine has been sitting in my fridge for awhile. It was a housewarming gift from the apartment across from mine or something. After a bit of thinking, I realized it'd saved me the trouble of picking up port or anything for that Balsamic Chicken recipe I'd posted here after meeting Liam's girlfriend, Luna.

I took a crack at it, and it came out really well - very mellow and fragrant. I used apples for the sweetness that the figs were supposed to impart; Winter is the queue for all the figs, even dried, to vanish here in New York, so the only way I was getting fig into this recipe was scraping the contents out of a fig newton or something. The flavor of apple is a little less subtle, but the texture is nice, and you can just spear the cuts right under the bite you're taking.

If there was one thing complaint-worthy, it's the smell of balsamic vinegar and red wine boiling. My apartment's real small, so now the whole place smells like a wino's vomit.
Like grapes and a sour stomach.

Here's a peek at it:
Now I've got this bottle of red wine just sitting in there, though. I've had a glass or two to help it vanish, but I don't think it's anything I'm going to be able to knock out on my own without finding another recipe that calls for it.

Maybe a borscht or something?
I don't know.

Yesterday was supposed to be a bad day - sometimes, shitty happenings just kind of spring up and expect you to drown under them: Emily's Brother's a shameless con-artist and just cost her and her Mother $3,000 in fraud. Shawn blinded himself in a seizure and he doesn't want me to bother with anything more than a card for Christmas, which feels kind of ominous, and after that, the oddest thing happened.

I heard something like a Tarzan call? One of those undulating "AAAaaaAAAaaaAAAaaaAAAaa-!" style ones? I didn't know what the hell it was. I opened my window. In the parking-lot, my deaf-mute neighbor was sobbing. I ran down the stairs to try to see what was wrong, but he got into his car and left.

It was the most heartbreaking sound I've heard in a long time. I don't think most people cry like that - they train themselves to be reserved or something, but that sound. It was like anguish. It was the most human sadness I've ever heard or seen.

It seemed like kind of a bad night. I couldn't think. I kind of bitched-out Alex and threatened to leave him on his own, which was really immature on my part. I just wanted to have less problems to listen to, and Alex has a lot of problems.

I apologized and I left to kind of recollect my head with a shower.
I'm awesome, and problems are temporary. Moreover? I don't just have me, I have the most frick-righteous girl to walk the planet next to me.

We've got double the trouble and twice the solutions - and there's always more than one way to solve a problem.

Life can't get me down. I'll thump life in the teeth.
Or shank it with a wine-bottle.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Shame and Potatoes.

I have a lot of shame with regard to my extended family. It has a few good, adult members and most of them are dying. I think it boils down to both Grandmothers, named Linda, Charles Bly, Charles Senior, and Geoff. Of that headcount, three are essentially dying.

Charles Senior, once keen on fishing and firing rifles despite his plagued memories of being shot in the Gulf War and witnessing a grenade kill children in Vietnam, is now essentially home-ridden after a quadruple-bypass heart surgery that clinically killed him three times. He said he had witnessed "Heaven, Hell, and a place that was Neither".

Linda Shannon is due to get her diabetes-deadened legs amputated. Her immediate family is so addicted to Lortab brand Hydrocodone that she actually has been prescribed them, but hides them and goes without them despite the immense pain of her dying body for fear of them being stolen from her and for fear of being portrayed as an addict.

Geoff's the newest addition. Let me tell you about Geoff. Geoff, which is pronounced "Jeff" and not "Gee-off", is kind of an odd person. He's essentially my ex-uncle. Geoff married my aunt, Temperlynn. My aunt's an odd person, though - she lives for the thrill of chasing married men, and Geoff was the first man she'd had affections for that -wasn't- married. After a brief stint with Geoff, my Aunt abandoned him shortly after the death of his mother to begin an affair with a married police officer named John.

John's very controlling. Essentially for fear of my Aunt being seen as anything more than an affair. She goes out of her way to raid Linda Shannon's home for food and money to try and out-do John's wife by being a better care-taker to his kids, who are quite simply spoiled.

Geoff was on hard times. He worked at a Gas Station that would later part ways with him when the economy got rough. My Aunt worked, but she quickly lost interest in him and that left him living on his dwindling savings. His mother loved him very much though, and left her furniture, savings, and dishware to Geoff after her passing. Geoff gave the dishware to me when I explained to him my intentions of escaping home, and it resides packed away with my dishcloths, knife-set, and a few appliances that I'd purchased on Christmas.

In an odd way, in her passing Geoff's mother kept him alive.

You already know a lot about Charles Junior. Charles Junior is my other uncle. Charles didn't exactly have a good life, and was in and out of police scrutiny and foster care with my mother, who looked out for him when he was small. In a similar situation to Geoff about a decade ago, he called my mother, desperate for a place to live when we were still on the Canadian Border. He came up for us on a train and lived in our basement. He was a brilliant handyman and enjoyed grilling chicken. He made many friends and held many jobs, all of which seemed promising, and all of which payed far more than my parents' did. He would work hard, get comfortable, get drunk, and then lose each of them.

Thankfully, he had a very good girl named Kayla who nursed him back up and got him on the right track. She was a little homely, but with very fair, wispy hair, a medical education, and dark, romantic eyes. She would laugh at his antics, like throwing snowballs at her, and even return them. She was very fun and kind to me as a child, and they shared an apartment that we sometimes visited.

He would later get drunk and wreck her house after breaking the door to get in. I don't think he ever payed off his damages to her belongings, but they did bar him from the area, and the police guarded Kayla after he threatened to cut her brake-cables, which he could've done as he worked part time as a mechanic before his drinking would ultimately kill that, too.

He sank into bitterness. He drank heavily, and finally he called us fuck-up children, and said that my parents' only claim to fame was raising us, which they did poorly. Prior to that, there had been mild excursion in the house, but they were always resolved with Charles apologizing and quietly going to bed. My parents would not stand to have their integrity as people questioned, and they ultimately told him to leave.

They were very good to him about it. They payed his ticket. They packed his bags for him. He left smiling, and he used the last of his savings to buy a laptop, from which he kept us posted about his budding new life.

Things were initially promising. He wrote from a bar and told us that he was ashamed for having bought a laptop, and planned to sell it. He said he had a job lined up for him, and we replied by telling him to get out of the bar. He did. He had a fairly good job at an auto-body shop, and he claimed to have quickly risen through the ranks there. He got into a relationship with a girl not even worth mentioning - he had a lot of those. Kayla, and another woman named Sammy, are the only ones who were legitimately kind and good people - and she later kicked him out of her house for getting into a drunken fight with her boyfriend, I believe.

Charles had stabbed her boyfriend, who had drawn a knife first. He was so scared after sticking him in the shoulder that he hid the knife and waited for the police to show. When he was certain he wasn't in trouble, he quietly gave the police the knife and apologized.

Charles was homeless. Geoff took him in.

Things were good for a bit, as they tend to be with Charles. Charles was comfortable and complacent, drinking heavily and stealing Geoff's Lortabs. Charles held a job. Soon, Geoff held one too, and everything was evermore promising.

Charles got drunk and fucked it up like most things in his life. He got into a drunken argument in the apartment lobby and they barred him from the area. A good person, Geoff refused to let Charles brave the oncoming winter homeless and essentially smuggled Charles into his home. After a bit, Geoff was laid-off and he quickly was running out of money caring for Charles too. Charles has always been a frivolous spender. I just mailed Geoff shoes recently. They were a hard buy because he needs support for his bad feet, and he's a size-fourteen. He said he needed them though, and he couldn't really afford to spring for them.

Charles came into Geoff's apartment while Geoff was purchasing groceries. He was drunken and thoroughly drugged and tried to start a fire in the fireplace without opening the flue. A few pieces of furniture caught fire. Charles put them out, but the damage in fire and smoke was done, and he'd essentially ruined the memento furniture that Geoff's mother had left him.

Geoff came home to a smoked-out house full of ruined memories, and was livid. He confronted Charles about it, who answered by stabbing Geoff four times with a serrated steak-knife.

He didn't have remorse. He was so violent when the cops responded that it took four officers and three deployed Tazers to subdue him. Even in the car, Charles kicked the passenger window out, to which the Officer is said to have quietly said, "Boy. You don't even know how much trouble you're in."

Geoff was rushed to the emergency room where he is right now.
He doesn't even know shoes are on the way.

Charles was ushered out in cuffs, screaming threats that he'd murder the officers.

Linda Shannon stands by Charles asserting that it was self-defense despite Charles stabbing Geoff in the back. She just wants to see her son in a positive light, but it's starting to grate a bit.

This is the kind of stuff that makes me want to amputate myself from my extended family.

I wasn't feeling so hot to trot today for obvious reasons.
I know I still have Emily, so the day can't be as bad as it seems, but a stabbing makes for a real shame of a day-after, and nobody's an island.
I didn't eat much, but I did prepare a potato.

Emily's a very meat and potatoes kind of girl, so I'd been looking for an exciting way to prepare them for her. This way is called "Fanning" a potato:I won't get into it. I don't feel like it. I'll just tell you that you should put two chopsticks on either side of the potato to make sure you don't cut all the way through it. Cook it in foil with parsley and butter.