Sunday, December 28, 2008
Last night, I was...somewhere. An unspecified area of the internet in which people could meet and chat. I was using an assumed name (standard Modus Operandi) and like the first thing I saw when I signed in was a girl I'd seen there before leaving, exclaiming over how she was mad at this jerk boyfriend of hers, who was also there. The boyfriend was puzzled, and wondered what he had done. I said, "must have been something serious..." and apparently my grasp of the english language, or my fireman sounding name, struck a chord because he contacted me privately, asking me for advice. Now, this was a complete stranger, and I was slightly flattered and puzzled by this attention. So, he asked me if I could figure anything out. I figured I'd start out logical, and asked if his girlfriend (Hereafter referred to as "GF") had given a reason before leaving. He said,
"I dunno, I think she's mad about my hanging out with my ex." (hereonout referred to as "EX") At this point I literally facepalmed. I told him that was most certainly the problem, and that he should not do it. I informed him of the fact that girls tend to be somewhat jealous, and that GF might think he liked EX better than her. He, (Hereafter referred to as "BF") was unsure that was the case. ("lol, GF not like dat") I assured him that it was, and that he needed to back off. He reluctantly agreed this was a good idea, but asked how he could do that when EX was living in his house.
Insert second facepalm. I then told him that he should not seek out contact with EX, not be rude but try to make contact as short as possible. He did not see the problem with "just talkin n stuff" but I told him GF would see a problem. I asked him why EX was there at all, and he told me that her house had been lost (somehow) so BF's family was sheltering EX's family. I told him he should let GF know about this, to which he responded GF was not talking to him. Enter GF back into chat. I hoped this would mean she would communicate with BF, but I was in for a surprise.
She contacted me saying "Ugh my bf's being a jerk." That bumped up the interesting level a notch. So, not of course wanting to reveal that I was in fact talking to BF, I asked her what he had done. She told me how BF was hanging out with EX. Subtly I asked, "Is there a reason for this?" Unfortunately she was not much in to reason, and she didn't know or care. She was sure BF liked EX better. I asked if there was not a reason he had dumped her, and she said "she dumped him."
Insert third facepalm. So, I pushed for greater communication, and said that if she liked him once surely there was a reason worth a second look. She was less sure, stating that BF had given EX a real diamond necklace, and her a teddy bear. I didn't voice doubts at this point, but they were there. Meanwhile, BF is getting more and more nervous, and I told him that what he needed to do was make GF realize he loved her, and explain how hard it was NOT to be around EX, and how he was trying. At this point he made the bad news statement: "She won't believe me." I didn't quite facepalm, but felt like it. It was at this point I realized there were deeper problems than the EX issue here. I was about to make a pithy comment to this effect when he said, "She's talking to me, is that a good thing?" And I replied, "Depends on what she's saying." A few seconds later, "She just dumped me" and then he signed off.
GF confirmed this, and with a real life sigh and virtual shrug I said, "Well, that's that then. Only time will tell if you made the right decision" or some such mildly disapproving rubbish. A few minutes later, GF says "well, I'm off to feel terrible now. EX just called me and explained everything, I feel stupid now." She told the chat room at large that she was going ot call BF, and that she was leaving. Right before she did, I asked her, "Out of curiosity how old are you?" and nearly fell off my seat when she said, "13."
So, I have yet to hear from either party concerned, and I have to admit curiosity as to whether they got back together, and if so for how long. He can't be much older than her, and seriously...I doubt there is anyway that two people that young would have much of a chance at doing anything but breaking each other's hearts again. So, we'll see how it pans out. I just found it highly amusing that I was stuck in a sit or rom com for a night. I hope it doesn't happen again.
---Flynn (When did I get this new one ripped?)
Thursday, December 4, 2008
So, um, my blog is about to go on a bit of a hiatus since it's finals week then I go Disney World. So, no interview for a while. It's just not important enough to take the time to put that together for one person. So, I'm not going to. In lieu of that, here's pics of me after Noshember. Or, Blogger, you could put it up there, that's cool too. So, as you can see, anyone who just looked at me no doubt had no idea I hadn't shaved in a month. Which is kinda cool, 'cause it makes me like a ninja. And it's kinda sad, 'cause it means I can't be manly like Paul Bunyan.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Anyway, my dream, my dream was like, I had managed to travel back in time? And I was in Germany, and it was during that World War II, thing, and somehow I irritated Hitler or something, I dunno. And so I was captured, by like this really fat guy, who was like "look look!" and put me inside Hitlers, um, house. So then I was like in my room, a prisoner awaiting death, when I like disrupted the network or something, I'm not really sure what happened, but it made my jailer leave my jail cell door, um, pop open. So I started running, and these guards were chasing me, chasing me, until I finally found this door, and I went in it, and they stopped chasing me, only it wasn't an empty room, it was Hitler's bedroom.
So I hid in the um, closet, and he came out and looked around for me, but he couldn't see me or something, but then he got a flashlight so I had to come out. So then he was about to shoot me, but I was all like "aaAAAaaaAAhhh! My religion doesn't permit me to die before sunrise, and before saying goodbye to my family!" So we flew to texas, where my family had time traveled to as well, and I said goodbye as the sun, um, rose.
Um, I was like, on the honors system? So I went back to Hitler, and he shot me like six times, but I didn't die. It felt creepy coming from a Nazi guy, but I survived. So like there was this big part I don't really remember, but like over the next four weeks they shot me at least six times a day, and though sometimes it was excruciating I didn't die, so I told Hitler my God was stronger than him. Then he was all like impressed, so he decided to build something honoring my God.
A college. A Christian College. A Christian College named...LeTourneau.
--Flynn, ala Lemon Demon (I really DID have that dream, for the record. I merely am doing it in the style of "Bowling Alley" by Lemon Demon)
Sunday, November 23, 2008
10. Meaningless lists of ten. I mean, seriously, why not eight? Or seven? Seven is a prime...it's a cute number, I like it. But, for some reason, we feel constrained to do these things in tens so often. And yes, I am well aware this is a meaningless ten list. Irony, my friends, is not JUST for killing faeries any more! :D
9. People who fight attempts at reasoned logic with the stunning, "I'll repeat what I just said!" attack. Truly, these people are a dangerous force to debate that must be stopped. The "IRWIJS" attack is the most deadly form of argument, and has been known to cause DEATH. Yes, even DEATH. Please, do something to stop this. Kill someone who employs it today, and be thought of as a hero! Eventually!
8. On a related note, are those who stop reasoned attempts at logic with a single insult that breaks down communication at the cellular level. Logic then dies a slow, excruciating death as more retards insult back, until chaos reigns supreme in the court of communication and reason. This sort of escalation could lead to the death of...THE ENTIRE INTERNET. (are you intimidated yet by my blatant use of Capital letters? I know I am) So, please, think of the children. Resist the urge, I beg of you internet trolls, to type "lol ur fag" next time. For the cute little babies.
7.I could pick at various bad logic etc. all night, but here's one that encompasses a lot: Youtube commenters. I swear, something about youtube has drawn in every moron from around the globe, every opinionated person who gets indignant at the very mention of logic, who can barely spell well enough to get their vituperative point across. Here's looking at you, youtube commenters.
6. Now that I think the internet is out of the way, it's time for: Professors who give you assignments the haven't properly prepared you for. Now, I don't just mean proffessors who don't give you enough teaching to do something, though that's part of it. I also am including proffs who tell you too much, and then give you something easy and...how you say...pointless. Seriously? Writing a summary of a summary? Give me a break. Dumping a major VHDL project on my measly shoulders, without giving me ANY introduction to VHDL? For real.
5. Thinking you're better than someone because of a completely stupid area of life. Now, to be honest, I hate any "better than thou"ing, when I get real with myself, because that's a sin. And we shouldn't do that. But in my less in-touch with spirituality moods, this one bugs me to death. So you can bench 500 pounds, eh? Well, that's just great. I'm sure your fellow men appreciate that, and the greater good could REALLY use more people who emphasize muscles over mind power. Don't get me wrong, you can USE those skills in a good way, to become a better person etc. But when you start going around with a 'tude because you can kick a ball into a goal? Get a reality check.
4. There was this one time I had to HUUUG a tree.
3. Incomplete senten
2. Being up too late. Can you tell? Perhaps that's why suddenly my entries are getting shorter and shorter. Or perhaps that has more to do with the fact that my toes are being eaten off by invisible monsters I call "sekatsim" which is a word I just made up and I'll probably use it again, because it's pretty pretty cool.
1. Unecessary "humor" in movies/etc. Having just watched the new Get Smart movie, I am appalled at what could have been a great movie ruined by unneeded innuendo and blatant sexual references. I loved a lot of little bits of it...but then there are those horrible parts that are like "Why?" And don't think I've forgotten you, Japan entertainement with your stupid obsession with crossdressing. Ha-ha, ha ha. Funny funny. Now part of that's cultural...and part of that's the way it's popped up in almost every bit of entertainment I've seen ported from Japan. Seriously, get over it.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Sorry about the delay, I forgot slash was actually rather busy slash couldn't find what I needed for my "completely different" blog post. Well, I found it, I remembered, and pants. So here it is: A video of my first speech in speech class at the beginning of last year, as indicated by the time and date stamp contained upon the video in question. I present it without apology or approval; I was a wretched n00b, but I still got an A. So, without further ado, the video: Me, 1.0
(note: It may not work if you're enterprising and reading this a few minutes after I post it, due to that whole U-TUBE thing.)
--The Unanswered Question of Flynn
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Ahem. Despite the fact that that song is going through my head, and has been for a while, it has very little to do with what I'm really tryin' to say, which is I'm sorry for the way,
So, "Something completely different" is coming, worry not; it will just be a bit delayed. To prevent you from throwing snifters, tumblers, and martini glasses containing milk at your screen...or me...I will present you with the following news update.
So, as some of you are aware, I am now proud co-owner of a dark blue 1995 GMC Suburban, which I have named Valvados, the Evil Dragon King. I generally leave off the dragon part of his title, but only because I am a miser of breath. I can't drive, because I don't know how, but I remain happy to have my first car, and have one I actually, so far, like.
I have two major projects looming over my head like the proverbial vulture, buzzard, or proverbial looming bird of your choice. One is easy to work on, but hard to get motivated to start; the other is hard to work on, but easy to get motivated to start. One is programming my PCB, that I designed, and posted the design of a while back, to serve as a voltmeter of sorts, with two display modes and multiple refresh rates. The other is my Bible Research (No, not exegesis...that's not the way this class rolls) Paper, examining the impact of the Intertestamental period (or, for you people without a Bible class to educate you otherwise, the 400 silent years) on the theology of Demons and Angels. Both are due in the next few weeks, because *gaspination* school is over with in the next few weeks!!!!!1
That's right, the semester ends in 3 or 4ish weeks...with some change. So, I must continue to go boldly where no split infinitive has gone before! To where many students have, in fact, gone before. DISNEY...PLACE! Orlando...Florida...U.S.A...Sol 3...
--Flynn I'm not as random as you horseradish
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Anyways, I'm not here to tell you about tired cliches of naming convention. OR AM I?!?!? This is a review after all...and I think my intellect cannons are taking aim at...*chink chink chink of Roulette wheel* "Darth Bane: Path of Destruction!" *disappointed moans from crowd, who wanted me to review "Barbie Girl" or "The Beginning is the end is the Beginning"*
So, first off, a Flynnly sum up of the book is in order. One sentence summary: "Darth Bane rises to power to reforge the Sith, while winking at Knights of the Old Republic." That is, more or less, all that needs to be said. There are, of course, ebbs and flows of the narrative, but that is the overarching plot. This is, of course, no surprise to most fans of Star Wars; in fact, were I to guess, the reason most people read it was because they knew that's what it was about. So, summary out of the way, it's time to actually get down to the nitty-gritty.
One of the things the book did best was follow a character down a convincing trail of darkness. Bane goes from a sort of bad person with no desire to kill, to a soldier in the war dedicated to killing the enemy while protecting the lives of his men, to the Dark Lord of the Sith, following the motto "those that beg for mercy don't deserve it" and killing hundreds of his compatriots. I, personally, found that aspect to be more than a little chilling, despite the fact that it occurred in a completely fictional universe.
Another thing it did well was show the inherent flaws in human constructs of good and evil. How without God as a center, our human efforts just fall short of truth. In the Star Wars universe, Jedi are pretty much the greater, if not the greatest, good. They fight for justice, light, and right. They arbitrate, are wise, and at times are simply insufferable.
The Sith, on the other hand, are the embodiments of evil. They kill, loot, loiter, turn in their library books late, crave power, and don't care who they destroy in their climb to the top. They fight for darkness, badness, and are just big meanies.
The problem is, both have admirable points, and bad things. For instance, the Jedi preach not being passionate about anything, not getting emotionally involved. The Sith, on the other hand, find strength in their passion, emotions leading them to greater heights. Path of Destruction plays up this particular facet a lot; Darth Bane would be nothing without his passion. Obviously, letting emotion cloud reason is not sensible, but neither is suppressing all emotion, and discarding any passion. There is a balance to find here, and taking either extreme is wrong.
On the other other hand, the Sith (or, more accurately, Darth Bane and the new Sith) hold the opinion, "Honor is useless to the dead." While honor needs a bit of definition here, I have to agree. But only so long as you hold "Honor" to be of the stereotypical Japanese variety: Committing Hari Kiri because you failed at something, dying with "Honor" in battle...those are really meaningless. Of course you should strive to be REAL honorable in your life, being good, kind, true, etc...but if you can die with "Honor" or live with honor, I would very much advocate the latter.
Of course the book has its weak points. There was, for instance, a rather afterthought flavored encounter with a healer, in which a page or two is devoted to how this healer is hard to intimidate, because he doesn't care at all about pain, and how Darth Bane is all stymied by this. Then suddenly he realizes there's a little girl he can threaten inside the tent, he does so, and the healer collapses instantly and within a page Darth Bane is on his way again. The whole encounter somehow just feels like "Oh snap, he needs a healer! Uh...time to retcon in a mention of him, then make him interesting!"
It also, I think, takes a little too much glee in *wink wink nudge nudge*ing Knights of the Old Republic. Some of it, only made sense, since after all Revan and Malak made a huge mark on the universe, but seriously. Enough of the cutesy references, let's PRETEND to be subtle. k?
But, one of my favorite things about it? The lack of retarded Star-Warsizing of common phrases. Such as: Fire wall = Pyro Wall, A picture is worth a thousand words = A pixel is worth a thousand sound bytes, don't put your chickens in one basket = don't put all your spawns in one container, pain in the butt = pain in the glutes...yes, these all came from one book. No, it wasn't Path of Destruction, which is the final consideration in my recommending it to anyone with an interest in the Star Wars extended universe, or anyone who knows a bit about Star Wars and wants to read an interesting character study on evil.
Sorry it's so late, but my time machine broke so I couldn't go back in time to post it on sunday.
--The Un-Answered Question of Flynn
Monday, November 3, 2008
There once was a guy from LeTourneau,
whose mind was just like an inferno.
The plans that he maked,
were sometimes half-baked,
while others never got their turno.
(Ah, Ogden Nash. Your dead hand influences us all.)
the one that I thought up this time,
was doing an entry in rhyme.
so he did begin,
(His first name was Flynn)
and committed a kind of crime.
You see, there are those who would say,
"Limericks? Oh how Outre!"
Regardless it's true
these people aren't you
so enjoy this please in a good way.
tonight was a party of Chai.
a lot of cool people came by.
drinking and singing,
near midnight ringing,
is fun when on a caffeine high.
I also dressed up as "V"
a dark figure mask'd is he.
I added glowing eyes,
which was quite the surprise,
to our younger guests, tee hee.
Daylight Savings time will take effect
tonight, unless time has a defect.
but that's just Sci-Fi,
we're not going to die,
Here I'll randomly say "Ford Prefect"
My limericks are now quite stale,
so I think that I will end this tale,
don't think it's the end,
the future may bend,
my words back to rhyme. -Flynn the Pale.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Today I'll be updating about the current travail darkly staining the canvas of my life with its coffee (ie: Nasty) smellingness. Car shopping...especially used car shopping. To quote another master, of the force, "You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." Most of you already know I've been used car shopping, but few of you know all the details. So, with that in mind, here are some details.
The first day we (Lina and I) went shopping, we had a very unstructured, loose approach. Drive down High Way 80, check out the car lots, and stop if we see a car we like/prices we like. Our first stop was quite possibly the worst stop. It was at a small lot, where we noticed a Honda Accord, but a general lack of prices. That has since become our first warning sign; if there are no prices posted, odds are that they're too high for the likes of me. Anyhoosen, we looked about, and wondered at the prices, and then came the salesman.
I think salesman have a n00b instinct...either that or Lina and I generate an aura of "I don't know what I'm doing" ness. We listened to quite a long spiel about how no one in town was trustworthy but him, how we should be careful, not to rush into things, and other things ad nauseum. That was not fun. (Since this is many days later, I'm going to start compressing things)
Next up in our memorable experiences was another oily salesman, one we almost bought a car from just to shut him up. But then we did research and were perturbed...so no deal. It was a Pontiac Montana...avoid those, my friend. They like dying catastrophically. We had a pretty good run of non-traumatic experiences. Then came...excitement.
We had, by this point, realized I don't fit in many cars. Something about my 194 centimeter frame makes me a hard fit. Anyways, we figured out that...dun da DUN! I fit in Ford Crown Victorias. So, when we saw a crown vic (for short, as it were) on a lot...we decided to try it. It was a nice ride, lemme tell you. So, we were pretty pleased with initial inspection, and promised to come back.
So we did.
We began a closer inspection of it, and discovered a few disturbing facts. First off, it had > 190K miles on it. That's kind of a lot. Then, we discovered that the tires were...hilariously mismatched. One was thicker than the others, there were two different load ratings, and three different speed ratings. Not to mention they were all a different brand of tire. This was, of course a little alarming to us, so we attempted to talk the man down from his $3250 stance. No dice.
The man assured us the mileage was not a concern: "It's highway miles! See how clean the upholstery is, and how nice pedals are? Can't have been city miles, so must be amazing!" Backing off from that, we brought up the tires, to his not-caring. "Yeah, I did it on the cheap! Still perfectly good!" Actually, SIR, not. Perfect. ly. Good. Anyways, he then started launching off into...ironically...tactics mentioned by the pontiac dealer. Great. <_< he had been right. Anyways, we beat feet and hoped the got hit by something that would make him change his ways.
HOWEVER, all hope was not lost. You see, the reason we knew I fit in Crvics (for shorter) is that I had tried it in a former police car, at another dealer. At that dealer, we had also tried out a suburban...and were impressed. This dealer was a lot better than Mr. "I eat babies and also sell cars badly," and the Suburban was a better price, with less problems. So, hopefully, we'll buy it on monday. Even more hopefully it's the right one. So, here's to the future! May it contain the right car, and may it not contain a wolverine eating my pants. And my leg inside the pants. And maybe my foot too, depending on how enterprising the wolverine is.
--Flynn is not your mom.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Now that you have some idea of what I'll continue with, let the spoilers begin!
So, overwhelming majority voted for Re5 insights... Let's start with the beginning. Some of this will be review for some of you, some of this will be new.
The movie was filmed in one day, last may, at Lake O' the Pines. Peter and I went camping, with the express intent to film this movie. The script was never written; we (mostly me) formed the skeleton of the plot, applied it to both characters, got a few basic ideas beforehand, then let the cameras roll and ad-libbed. It was a very relaxed shoot, though sadly not one prone to bloopers creation. There was like only one blooper I remember in the dialog shots that called for a reshoot...largely because I started laughing. In Hero's lunch dialog, Peter started it off once with "I was craving some serious Varmints!" Instead of, you know, vittles.
Also, in case anyone asks about my role as "Self Injurer?" when we headed back to campsite for lunch, I tripped over a small fence and severely bruised inside of leg/scraped shin. I could barely walk for an hour, which is what in the end caused the Final Battle to be moved. Also, the meals we mentioned? All were true to life. For breakfast we had summer sausage (which I'd accidentally refrigerated), Omlettes in bags (which didn't cook properly, and therefor were in fact very slimy) and hot dogs for supper. (I didn't steal mine though)
Also, Peter refused to do anything once we had it filmed. So, I did all the editing. Another funny moment on set was not too long after we got the "blue screen" set up, some campground people came over and asked us what we were doing. I explained we were filming a movie, using the tarp as a blue screen, and he asked what kind of movie it was. I told him it was a comedy, and he looked a bit more enlightened, said "ooooh" and left. After he was gone Peter said, "Man, I was going to tell him it was a romantic comedy!"
There was a beat's pause, and I said, "Uhm, Peter? It's just you and me. Two guys." At that point Peter realized what he would have said, and we both burst out laughing. I can't speak for him, but for me it was half amusement half extreme gladness he hadn't, in fact, said that.
Um...insights...So, this will probably be the last movie I make. Not only am *I* more busy now, Peter more busy, but I doubt he'd want to dust off the Hero mantle again. And, to be honest, it's probably for the best. I simply don't have the talent/resources to make really good movies, so I may as well let it sink into the realm of "Discarded hobbies" where it belongs. So long, movie making. It's been fun.
---Flynn, the Hobo with a Home.
Today is an In Memoriam post. Yesterday, after working for a good part of the day (and sleeping in for the first time in months) I got home and realized my finches were still all covered up. I uncovered them, fed and watered them (Jezebel in her cage, and all the other finches in their cage.) It was then I realized that something was wrong. The five birds in the big cage weren't eating or drinking, or even beeping. I looked down and saw two of them, dead. I banged on the cage, and there was no response. I looked in the house and saw the rest of them dead.
I don't think even I realized how much I cared for those little birdies...I buried them, tears making it hard to see the hole. I didn't dig it as deep as I might like, but the shovel was too short. *sighs* Poor little birdies. No one has any idea what killed them...Jezebel, that troubler of Israel, was left alive. Ah well. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. You hurt people twice when you stab them with rust.
To Jenricka, Jareth, Jean Luc, Hawkeye, and Hughes...rest in peace, birdie buddies.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
This is what I have been doing, click to expand:
Just as a note, I have since modified these slightly. They are a bit more cluttered/less orderly looking, but more functional now.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Now, normal Modus Operandi for these entries will consist of a runners up first, then followed by the actual winner. So, first we have our runners up. It's...oh my goodness, I can't believe it! It's
The Reaper, from "Elfstones of Shannara," by Terry Brooks
Now, for those of you unfamiliar with the work of Mr. Brooks, he writes exclusively about the Fantasy Realm of Shannara, a fictional world...OR IS IT? The books hinted heavily (And, in later installments, explicitly explained) that it is in fact our world, except fundamentally altered by nuclear war, which somehow made magic exist and mutated men into four races: Normal men (Ok, they didn't mutate into that, but whatever) Trolls, Dwarves, and Gnomes. Elves are the only truly non mannish race, and it turns out THEY'RE WATCHING US AS WE SPEAK. Er, but I digress. Mr. Brooks however has a few issues...for instance, his love affair with "wordlessly." He uses it at least four times every five chapters, with a sprinkling of "soundlessly" to add what HE calls variety. His earlier books also were very much derivative of Lord of the Rings, somewhat to their detriment. However, in his second book, "Elfstones," he manages to craft what is actually a compelling narrative. I won't go into detail about the plot, but the enemies are things they call "demons," which are creatures that are sorta like men and animals mixed together but darker, stronger, and twisted. Pretty much none of the demons are described in any great detail. One is described only as being able to change form, one is described in ways that majorly evoke "Witch King" images, and the third...is The Reaper.
The Reaper will always and forever be capitalized in my mind. He is described as being seven feet tall, constantly cloaked in ash gray, with the speed and fluidity of movement of the leetest Elf. It's not his appearance though that gives me chills. It's better summed up in the author's own words: "The Reaper feared nothing. It was a monster who cared nothing for life, even its own. It did not kill because it enjoyed killing, though in truth it did enjoy killing. It killed because killing was instinctive. It killed because it found it necessary." Once The Reaper is loose, he begins to kill. Senselessly, violently, the heroes never meet it until the end of the book. They just find bodies draped and mangled, inhuman strength painting macabre tableaus with its victims. There is something positively terrifying about not only the carnage it wreaks with its bare hands, but the absolute impersonal way in which it is wreaked. I can't begin to properly describe how very scary the Reaper is, but suffice it to say I will be scared spitless if they manage to do him well in the upcoming movie adaption.
Now, the only reason he got runners up was because he died in the end. So, what does that tell you about the winner? Precious little. >:-}> Without further ado, I present you the winner:
Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandemar, from "Neverwhere," by Neil Gaiman.
Ok, how many out there are Firefly Fans? A several, I see. Let me sum them up like this. I had a dream. In this dream, I was being chased by a semi truck full of Reavers (Not Reapers). The truck was being driven by Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandemar. I was not sure whether I was more afraid of what was in the front or back. Yes, you read that right. I wasn't sure whether dozens of reapers or these two...men...were scarier. They are hardly physically imposing. Mr. Croup is short and somewhat fat, while Mr. Vandemar is awkwardly proportioned, tall, lanky, and somehow scandinavian. Like the reaper, they live to kill. As Mr. Croup says, they don't make threats. They make promises. They are inhumanly strong, polite, and indestructible. In one scene, Mr. Croup is quite proud of himself, as he has held his hand on the wall and thrown four knives at it, getting each one in between his fingers without hitting them. Mr. Vandemar is less impressed, telling him he did it wrong, he didn't anything. He then puts his own hand on the wall, throws a knife, sticking it straight through the palm of his hand. Mr. Croup ignores him for a while, talking with their employer, than rolls his eyes when he has to help Mr. Vandemar unstick his hand from the wall.
Once again, if you are not the sensitive type, I would recommend you read this book to get a good idea of what a terrifying villain can look like. I find it hard to put into words what terrifies me so much about them. Perhaps it's the fact that they live under london, are pretty much men, and just somehow seem like regular joes, who go around killing lots of people. They already have been screen adapted, but I haven't seen enough of it ot make an informed decision on how well they translated.
New poll will be up shortly, and the first half of this week is Insanity Deluxe. So, Peace out, war in, all that jazz. Oh, and a note about the fourth option in the poll: it will be a wild card, changing from week to week. Flynn out.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Check out my facebook if you want to see which ones.
To indulge in some amusingly amazing arbitrary alliteration, since I have procrastinated proficiently, paying the piper in PCAD is pretty much...er...unavoidable, for lack of a P starting word. I'll let you sit on that sentence for a while, and distract you with this: 10^2+11^2 + 12^2 = 13^2 +14^2. If that's not the only reason I would ever like math, I don't know what is.
So, what does my flowing sentence of grandeur mean? It means I delayed starting a project in PCAD, which is a program you use for, get this: Designing a microcomputer, or PCB. I have to first, draw all the components (from a list Proff gave us), then I have to put them all together correctly to form a PCB. (From a slightly different list proff gave us) However, a while back as I worked on the project, I discovered to my HORROR that I had lost all my work on the project thus far, along with my flash drive, CPO key, and house key. So, after a period of anxiously checking lost and found, waiting for someone to be good enough to return it, and hoping it would randomly appear, I finally asked proff to let me have the files, from another student, to bring me back up to speed. He said yes, but now I only have...a little over a week to get this done. I got a good chunk done today, but have the hardest part left to go. The actual, honest to goodness, this is a plan to build the actual device drawing. Prayers for focus and fixation on failing to lose would be appreciated.
So, I'll probably be REALLY busy and on less, as well as updating less. Were I saner I would be in bed by now, but really, who needs sanity when you have a monster.
So, this is me, signing out. Vote in the poll peoples! Decide what you get to read!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
No, not yet. I have nothing that no one here has seen yet, so I'll post multiple things, and HOPE that at least one thing is new to everyone.
So, let's get this High Octane Hedgehog rolling! While we were camping, I did a video tour. Here are the last two parts of it, nicely embedded for your convenience.
Now, some of you have already seen that. (I'm calling you out, Anonymous Faerie) One more video that Ms. Faerie has already seen, then I'll post...something else...
This is a snippet from my ongoing Writing WIP, though not much work has been done on in the last four weeks. It's called "The Untold Adventure"
Mela, who was waiting nearby, nodded. "At least our mounts won't eat anyone. I wonder why it is horses don't like you, Dubi? Were you mean to them as children? My mother always said that horses could sense that sort of thing."
Shaking his head, Dubi said, "No, actually, I think it has more to do with my affinity with wolves. Probably spooks them or something. I prefer Fier though, he has a certain quality other horses seem to lack. The quality of inspiring fear in my enemies."
A little girl ran up to their small group, tears running down her face as she asked, "Are any of you a hero? I need a few heroes, can any of you help? Please! He has my sister, are there any heroes here?"
Cleesh stepped forward, followed quickly by Burl, Mela, and Dubi. Cleesh knelt down, making hushing noises and saying, "We are heroes, the best in the land, now tell us. Who has your sister, and where?"
Rubbing at her tear stained eyes, the little girl took huge shaky breaths and explained, "My little sister and I were playing over by this boarded off door on the other side of the tower, when suddenly a man jumped out and grabbed my sister. He gave me a horrible smile and said, 'Aha, now I have some tender stew meat!' and went back through the door. I tried, but couldn't get it open. Can you please help me, I think he wants to eat my sister!"
With a slight twitch, Dubi said, "Oh, we can't have that. It simply won't do, having your young, innocent, sweet, tender sister eaten like that..."
"Uh, no. It won't do at all." Cleesh looked at Dubi askance and continued, "Have no fear, young one, we will save your sister. Come on men and Mela, get your weapons and let's go." Quickly Dubi belted on his Shakspire blade, Burl grabbed his axe, and Cleesh donned his sword. "Lead away, fair lass." Cleesh said, and the small girl ran off to the other side of the tower, the heroes following her.
In a few minutes, they had navigated the crowds, a few patrols, and an impromptu goose juggling competition to arrive at a door that seemed to lead underground, that had been boarded up until recently. The door was large, black, and looked rather as if someone had said huffily to the builder, "How do you make it look impressive? I don't know, just keep doing things until it looks like the door is worse than what is contained beyond!"
The ancient runes carved around it certainly lent to the overall atmosphere, as did the way the gargoyle perched atop it seemed to follow you around with its eyes. Stone thorn vines wound around the door frame, and it even looked as if someone had cleverly carved deep claw marks in the stone, as if a giant demon hand had tried to get out. The boards that had held it shut were artfully rearranged, so that you could get the door open, while still looking like it was stuck shut. Cleesh tried to get it open, and it proved resistant. With an elegant bow, Cleesh stepped back and gestured at the door. "Burl, perhaps you would like a try?"
"With pleasure." Burl took a padded set of brass knuckles and punched the door solidly where the door knob should have been. The door shuddered, and swung open with a drawn out squeal of acquiescence. Burl gestured for Cleesh to lead. "After you, oh fearless leader."
Cleesh looked into the doorway, and got the distinct feeling that the doorway was staring back at him. The void beyond the door brought to mind a saying his mother had always said. "Darkness is not the opposite of light, Cleesh." She'd said, bouncing him on her knee. "It is merely the absence of light. When you see Trueblack, the real opposite of light, you'll know it." Looking at the doorway, Cleesh knew it, and didn't like it. This was the sort of black a Ninja looked gray in. He turned to Mela and asked, "Perhaps you can light our way?"
A green ball of light formed itself in Mela's hand, and the Trueblack receded with what was almost an audible hiss. Cleesh went down the steps, Mela following behind him. Burl came next, and Dubi took up the rear. The stairs descended longer than any stairs in their position had a right to, and when they finally leveled out it was into a very nondescript looking cave. A faint sound was heard from an offshoot, and they all headed in that direction, choosing appropriate seeming off-branchings when it was necessary. The green light sparkled off of crystals embedded in the walls, forming strange shifting beads of brightness that rushed and flitted about like intoxicated lightning bugs.
Light began to come from ahead, and they all grew more cautious, trying to make less sound. The light coming from ahead had the lambent quality usually associated with burning torch wood, and when they rounded the corner they saw it was coming from a more intentional looking room, with a squared out door and walls inside. They entered the room, still not seeing anyone, and were heading for the door on the other side when the door slammed shut behind them. They all whirled around, and Burl tried to open it to no avail. A noise came from the next room, and they turned around again to see what had made it.
A black shadow stood in the doorway, hat brim tilted down just enough to cover the eyes. The stranger spoke, saying with a touch of sincerity, "Welcome to the last day of your life, I'm so glad you could make it. I am Requiem, and I'll be ushering you to the afterlife."
I will write an update based on what people vote for: Ever week, on sunday or saturday, I'll do so. Usually the poll will be up longer, but this week no such luck. So, here are what the options mean.
Review: Rather obviously, I'll review SOMETHING, randomly selected, that I deem interesting or entertaining.
Award: This is where I'll give the best/worst of something. For example, Best Creepy Villain, Best Plot Twist, Worst Quest, Weirdest Criminal, etc.
From Me 2 You: This is where I post something I've written/composed/drawn/otherwise created.
News: Rather boring, this option will generally not be in the poll. It's about me.
Friday, October 3, 2008
I decided in the end I would NOT go all artsy fartsy pro-blogger, and would instead deliver what the masses want: More of ME! *poses, with a "I don't mean that the way most people would" wink*
I also decided that as long as I had one comment a week, I would go to the effort of updating it. That, my dear readers, is called a hint.
Any Blogger veteran can tell what I did with the template. It's minima, and it's black. Discuss.
Anyone who has typed in this URL/paid attention to the title bar will also know how leet I made the title. I could have gone full bore, but decided to tone it down, for the sake of my...how you say...friends.
As to pants? Well, I'm certainly wearing some. They're part of what I like to call my "Birthday suit" because I was given them on my birthday. Interestingly enough I also am wearing a shirt received on my birthday...the whole suit is here! But my shoes are non-birthday. No one gives guys birthday shoes. Good deal, I didn't want any. I think I'll sign off for now...perhaps in the future my posts will be more newsy and less losey.