captaintemerity: (Monster Cat)
One of my earliest memories as a child is of me, sitting on the floor of our upstairs apartment, the second floor of someone's house that my mom knew. I had a TV tray in front of me, and I was watching a Winnie The Pooh special on TV. I don't remember much else about that place. I vaguely remember where my bedroom was, but not a bit of what it looked like. I can't remember the kitchen, although I'm sure I must've spent at least some time in there. My mom's own bedroom, the bathroom. None of that exists in my memories. But a worm's eye view of me looking up from the floor, cross-legged, my dinner cut up in front of me, as I stared expectantly at a small black and white TV, way too high for my preference, I'm sure. That's what's imprinted in my mind.

A lot of my life is like that. Television, movies, I have quotes from them bumbling around my head, always ready to be referenced at just the right time in the conversation to set a tone or a joke. I can do that with songs to a certain degree as well, of course, but that usually requires me to actually sing, and, while my voice isn't torturous, I don't like to unleash it on the unsuspecting or unappreciative (read: anyone except my fiance or my mother) unless I absolutely have to. Or it's truly going to be hilarious.

Other than the TV and the like, there's also comics, and books. More comics, because I've read far more of them over my lifetime than I have actual novels. That's partly because the pamphlet-aspect is an advantage of speed and volume. But I also really just love comics. And I know and hang with a crowd that are much more likely to have read the same adventures of a man dressed as a rabid animal as I have than ones who've read the same handful of fantasy, horror and sci-fi books. You can talk up "The Great & Secret Show" over and over, but it's only so many people that will pick up Barker and claim it changed their lives like it has yours.

But books, even comics, aren't exactly screens. They have a fixed picture. They're quiet. They still force you to imagine, at least a little bit. The television didn't. It was just one long stream of "here's what's on!" And, with channels, you didn't even really have that limit, did you? Your propensity for Quincy has besmirched my level of enjoyment, CBS! I'm off to the wiles of ABC and their generous offerings of both Jack Tripper and Mork from Ork!

TV advanced quickly in my life too. By the time I'd gotten past having an actual (enforced) bed time, I'd already moved past relying on channels that had their own, playing the National Anthem and going to static for a couple hours until the sun returned. We got cable TV. I can't even recall the channels then, how many there were or weren't. I know there was a Nickelodeon, because I followed the "You Can't Do That On Television" crew when my mother was watching. But there was also a Showtime and an HBO, and those came with movies, all day, all night. And some very inappropriate programming for a boy not yet in his tens. Bizarre with John Byner introduced me to Super Dave Osbourne, sure, but it also introduced me to a vaudevillian version of the Tonight Show, but with swearing, and topless women, and the dirtiest jokes I'd ever heard and had no real understanding what they meant. Similarly, there came Benny Hill, the uncensored version, a bit of Abbot and Costello or Three Stooges, but with British wit and girls in bikinis, some of the time. But that was the gateway in. There were things that went so much further. Aerobicise shorts between programming had absolutely no painted-on pretense of entertainment, beyond what it did to your nethers. And there were these after-midnight soap operas, where people would argue about who was sleeping with whomever else, and then... they'd sleep together, just to interrupt the arguments, right there in front of you!

Hormones aside, I also discovered other things. The first two homosexual characters I knew of on TV (I don't think I "got" what Billy Crystal's character on Soap was really all about at the time) were on a show called "Brothers." One of them was named Donald, so I identified with him, even though he was so far from being like me, or anyone else I'd ever known. I watched that show for a few seasons, even though it never had the pay-off of girls in their altogether, and it may've been the precursor to me not having the outright bigotry and homophobia that I see so much still in the world (although I also don't think my mother could've raised a son who'd think like that). Donald and Cliff were just two characters in an ensemble cast that I wound up watching in the same way I watched Family Ties or Silver Spoons. The people around them worked at getting past them being "abnormal," and did. I thought that was the lesson, like Sesame Street teaching me what sounds a ch- make, or Alex P. Keaton learning what an alcoholic was from his uncle Tom Hanks. Television taught me about life, as far back I can remember. Life lessons, values, history, what a "Sniglet" was.

Among those years, though, there came video games. And video game systems. I knew kids who had Ataris. I spent the evening in someone's home who had an Intelevision. I had an Odyssey 2. It was, really, the also-ran of gaming, having K.C. Munchkin in place of Pac-Man, but it was a great load of fun for my mother and I. We eventually got the voice controller add-on, so it was actually speak to us, both in certain gameplaying scenarios (for no real reason), or when we sat and typed up messages on the keyboard to hear it repeat the words, poorly most of the time. Why it was more fascinating for an 8-bit processor to squawk out bits of conversation to me than to hear an actual person talking in my ear, I don't know, but this and the comics I picked up at the 7-11 in front of our apartment complex were pretty much what I used in place of real friends. I'm not saying I didn't have any, but most that I did were placeholders until I got home to my fortress of makebelieve and manufactured living.

Shortly after we moved in with my grandmother, just before my 12th birthday, I think, my mother got us a Commodore-64 computer. I don't remember if it was in my room straightaway or if I conned it away from her soon after, but it was certainly my obsession for a good number of years, and incredibly accessible. I had a black and white TV in my room with aluminum foil substituting for a genuine antenna, but the monitor for the Commodore was in color. I think the first game may've been something a bit like what would one day be Eye Of The Beholder, a dungeon crawl, so my very first exposure to role playing (or close enough). But that gave way to Lode Runner, and then Pitfall II, and then me writing up Basic programs from the back of Family Computing magazine. I got a drawing tablet for it, which was actually an arm on a slider that followed your pencil around as you drew on it, and copied those movements as bits up on the screen. I became bored immediately of drawing on normal paper, and would just click up pictures, dot-by-dot. We got one of the first color printers, an OkiMate, that had these cartridges of ribbon with four colors, and you would print, it would go back and forth over each line, once with magenta, and cyan, yellow, and black. They were a fortune to replace, I think, and would go so fast, but it was amazing to my mom and I both. I remember an animation program as well, something that was so rudimentary, you might as well be making a flipbook with some old scrap paper, but, again, physical things became meaningless compared to the digital. I later got an attachment for my monitor that allowed me to tune in actual TV channels to it. And, therefore, I got my first personal color TV. A while after that, we got something called "The Rabbit," which repeated the signal you got from one tv to another one, using an extremely long, fragile line of cabling that I ran from one end of our house to the other. That meant, to some extent, cable in my room (and access to the VCR).

This was my haven.

Then, unbeknownst to me, High School changed things. I developed actual relationships with other people. Sure, the start of my friendships were kids int he neighborhood who came over for my basketball hoop (which I didn't use) and my computer (which I shared, but not graciously, and often got irritated when it no longer felt like it was "mine."). But they eventually drew me out of my safety zone, getting me to go to strange new places like the Mall (for reasons other than being forced to buy new clothes for school), the bowling alley (where I sometimes bowled, but usually played arcade games), the roller-skating rink (where I never actually skated, but, again, blew threw $20 of quarters by the end of the night). Wherever we'd end up, I could still find my way to a screen, but I was at least somewhat social now. I'd spend more time driving from place to place (or being driven, really. I had a healthy fear of myself behind the wheel), so I'd talk, make jokes, sing hair band metal from the back seat. We'd chase girls (for all the good it did us most nights). We'd do stupid teenager things. We moved up to alcohol because that's what teenagers did (I rather hated it myself). I started to think I'd like to write. It started with poems and song lyrics, though, so I also became enamored with the idea that I might be a musician. I had the hair for it, after all.

I spent a lot less time watching TV by default. And my Commodore lost a bit of its appeal when I had friends with a 128 over my 64, and school had gotten in the first Macintoshes. Eventually, my mom traded up to our Amiga, but that lived in her room, so I had to find time with it when she wasn't around. That was a terrible kick in the interest. On a whim one night, I cleared out my room of furniture, and the next day I painted the whole thing black. Then my friends and i did murals in chalk and florescent paint on chosen walls. It was this giant canvas, and I realized, as much as I liked the intricacy of drawing in binary, what I had been missing all this time was size.

I lost my house, my room, my murals, and my youth, very suddenly. I went to visit some family for the weekend, and then... it was just gone. I hadn't even known to say goodbye to it, to try to save any of it. That's what growing up is, I think. It doesn't happen while you're looking.

Some time later, I worked my way back to living with my mother in a new home, a very alien situation. I wasn't comfortable there, and my friends were outside my reach, and it wasn't always convenient for them to come retrieve me (and I still hadn't learned to be responsible for my own transportation yet). So TV and the Amiga (now in a neutral zone, at least) were my refuge. Shortly after, my mom married my step-father. Even more alien to me, I withdrew as far as I could into my new bedroom and a TV that was on anytime I was home. They got their first (and, after a lightening storm, their second) PC computer, and something called Prodigy. My mom pressured me to get onto Prodigy. I was in college at the time, studying guitar, becoming painfully aware how much I lacked the talent to really be there. But I tried to keep the computer at arms length, because I knew it was a trap. I would get on there, and I wouldn't get off again.

And that's what happened.

I went looking around the message boards. First was music. Then was a creative writing group that centered themselves around a love of the X-Men (namely the new cartoon that had just premiered on Fox's Saturday line-up). Now, here it was... X-Men, that I'd been reading since I was ten years old, and writing, which I had forgotten I liked to do once I'd thrown myself at the guitar. And since that instrument was far too challenging, I was discovering, and this had absolutely no expectations for me whatsoever, I fell deeply in love with my new virtual reality of friends in costumes and masks and powers and fandom.

This was a perfect storm for the screen. I would come home from school (when I chose to go), and get on Prodigy. My friends were here, so I wouldn't become bored or frustrated with a level. I was in Michigan, and many of the people I knew were in other states, other time zones, all the way to California, so it could get late for me, but be still early enough for them to be up. My blood was half Mountain Dew at this point, so it's not like I slept all that much. And when I finally would go lay down, it would be on a warm waterbed in a cold basement, with the glow of my TV giving my last bit of download for the night (or, usually, morning). Sleep to a screen, wake to a screen, live by a screen, create on a screen.

Now, to at least give some credit, Prodigy brought some real human contact to my life. And it wasn't the only thing I did. My still lingering group of High School friends had settled into early adulthood, but we would weekend Game. We did Dungeons and Dragons every Friday night (strange how that's still a thing I do now, with a completely different group of people, at the other side of the country). We'd also play Euchre (no one out here as heard of it). After taking a trip with one of my Prodigy friends out to California to meet a couple more of them, I came back to Michigan ready to look into doing a little more with my life, and I wound up working at and managing a comic store for a year or two. I was suddenly in a very charmed life. Too charming for me, I gave up my cushy-basement existence and moved back to California to live with my best friend (Prodigy again).

This is the second stint in my life where the screens disappeared. Occasional episodes of Xena on the shared TV in the living room aside, I didn't spend too much time online anymore as it was a nearly unaffordable luxury. I also didn't write often, save for one miraculous story that came nearly fully-formed out of my brain one night (because: a girl). The unfamiliar surroundings and new people forced me into what would normally be uncomfortable social situations for me, but now I thrived on them, because I already was uncomfortable. I had no safety zone in my life. Sure, I found another job at another comic shop, but I was lost in a sea of the unknown. My family wasn't here to protect or feed me. My friends were a 36 hour drive away, and I couldn't even afford the phone call to say hi.

This was not what growing up was. This was desperation. Swim or drown. I'd thrown myself into the deep end, with bricks tied to my ankles.

Despite everyone I'd known before telling me, as I left, that I wouldn't stay in California. I'd be back in six months tops... But, no. I managed. Twists and turns, of course, but I survived it. There were moments, but not many, where I considered home. But I remembered, before I left, other than simple comfort and lack of real responsibility, I hadn't felt a "home" since I'd lost my black room with the murals. Home was the most abstract of ideas any more. I didn't know what it was, what it would take to make it happen in my life again. So I just stayed the course. I had my first real adult relationship, meaning I had actually grown up enough to take it seriously, to set expectations for myself.

But then it happened. A computer. A TV. Cable. Internet. They weren't my every waking moment again, yet. But it was a step.

When the relationship bllipped away (to sum it up with a word with no meaning), I moved into a smaller existence. A friend from back home had moved out here, and we got a place for he, I, and his girlfriend at the time. I lived in the smallest room with my cat and a computer. My TV didn't get to be hooked up to what passed for cable at our complex, so I had to watch it in the front room, and that didn't suit me (even with finally gaining access to Cartoon Network, which had only been a dream for years). I spent time online, but Prodigy wasn't the same. My friend's relationship kinda conked on him, though, so we found a different place, better for the both of us (or so I thought). I got TV, real TV, in my room there, and DSL.

And then Diablo 2 happened. Hard.

I also, around this time, discovered LiveJournal. LiveJournal was like Prodigy, in that it was a community of people, but it wasn't storytelling. I mean, it could be. But it could be mostly anything. The two times in my life I've written the most were Prodigy, and that was fiction. LiveJournal was about me. And yes, maybe it wasn't completely me, the real me, but it was as close as I could come. Sometimes closer than I expected it to be, and a harsher truth of who I was that I'd been able to admit to myself without it.

The perfect storm of screens, for me. My best and my worst. Because I would come home to a computer screen, and behind it was a TV screen, playing Buffy and Angel or The Screen Savers and Call For Help. But I didn't have to abandon one for the other. I'd had that to some degree in the basement back home, but this was me on my own. No one to make excuses for. No one to pretend I was better in front of. I was with Erin at this point, but it wasn't the best of our time together (my fault, and nothing to do with this, honestly). Somehow though, it was probably the most productive I ever was in living, and, certainly, in writing. Just not writing with a goal. And maybe that's why it was my best.

Expectations are always what hold me back. What tear me down. I'm as much afraid of success as failure. I'm afraid of change. I don't do well with assignments. Hell, I'm writing this now as I avoid doing an assignment (about writing). But maybe this is as important. Maybe it's moreso.

See, when LiveJournal became less of a priority in my every day life, being taken over by MySpace (because of work friends), and then Facebook (because of Family, and then work friends, and even some of LiveJournal too), I forgot how to talk about my life. How to write about it. Writing has become more important to me these days than it ever has been. Part of that might be desperation, as this last year has rocked me to my core. But it's also just that I've gotten a couple tastes of achieving something finally, and I'm slightly less terrified of it as I am interested in seeing if I can do something more with it. Only slightly though.

But I get up in the morning, and i go to a screen, my TV, and I put on things I'm barely watching, and open up my laptop, and look at a screen of things I'm barely reading, a play with my phone or tablet on games I'm barely enjoying. I've spent the better part of the last 12 years working on people's computers, and I came home each day and buried my face in my own. On Facebook, I repost things that are mildly interesting to me, hoping they'll be interesting to the others that follow me, but I do so most often without comment. I'm not offering anything of myself there. I play a game about superheroes that is barely a game, really, and in no way superheroic in nature or action. I have TV shows I claim to love, but I tune out for half of each episode on average because I need to refresh through the same five-to-ten web sites over and over to see if Newsarama has updated a new article about comics that I don't really enjoy, or if Twitter has updated people's statuses that I don't know and have no connection to at 120 characters. I bought a tablet because I thought it would be good to read comics on over a Kindle, but I've yet to buy or read any comics on it. My regular comics I save for bathroom reading, and I'm three weeks behind on those (note: more fiber in diet). My phone is a glorified podcast players for $70 a month, because i'll be goddamned if I care to make or receive a phone call on it.

Screens and screens and screen. And I don't see a thing.

And I don't say much of anything either.
captaintemerity: (Monster Cat)
For a guy who tends to talk a lot, I'm doing a horrible job lately of talking myself into anything.

I'm trying to remember, at this point, when I became so afraid of living. I lost my job last July (maybe officially in August... I can recall. But I know I was told on the 4th of July that I wasn't in position, and then, on the 5th, I handed over my car, my phone, and a big piece of who I thought I was). And yeah, that's a big hit, to be sure. But I think it's been longer, maybe by several years, since I felt confidence about anything.

Some great things happened to me between then and now. Erin and I got engaged. We bought a house (for better or worse. Probably worse. But we're still here today). I wrote the first couple scripts of a comic that is something I truly love and makes me feel like I accomplished a big part of my life just by doing it. And while it hasn't actually been completed on the art end, I did 24 Hour Comic Book Day with Corky, and then started writing Baujahr off and on with Levi. The ashcan was the first thing I wrote in print, self-published, really small. But then I started writing the strip (or maybe I already was. Again, I forget), and that goes up on the web site and gets printed in Flint Comix each month (I think Levi said 16 thousand copies? I don't know. But anything is a lot to me). Then it was scripting John Russo's story for See-Thru Baby, also put into the magazine. I'm suddenly credited as co-writing something with the guy who wrote a piece of cinematic history in "Night of the Living Dead." And it's both a small thing and a big thing, you know? There's the podcasts, with the d20 which are fun, and the spreecast with Glenn, Greg, Dave and Mike, which are different simply because it's outside my clique of friends (although we're friends now, I like to think). Even just the amount of time I spend visiting the TWiT Brick House, meeting people that I admire and them recognizing me by face and name. It all adds up.

But here I am, terrified so much of the time. I should be driven to be doing bigger and greater things. I have time, at the moment, because of the unemployment and the mortgage help, to pursue something more. To try something new I couldn't have really done working. But I wake up each day and plop down in front of the laptop and the television at the same time and become half-dead on the recliner, under the cats, wishing for things like winning a contest of a new house or a magical lottery ticket to protect me from having to face up to the fact that, within the next few months, I'll have to push myself into finding a normal job again. And I don't know if I can. Not that I can't do an honest day's work. As adverse as I am to going back to the grind, I'm perfectly capable of doing it. But I'm scared that I'm unhireable. That I won't find a job that I am suited to or qualified for that I can also get enough money from to keep Erin and I safely in our home, our bills paid, our bellies and pets fed. That I'll somehow ruin what little we have, and screw up our planned wedding for October. That it won't just be the dreams I'll be giving up on, but the day-to-day life.

The pressure each day hits me, hard, that I'm an emotional invalid. I need to be rescued because I'm too afraid to live my own life.

And it happened longer ago than I can clearly recall. And I don't know why at this point. I seem to remember it was probably about working a position I enjoyed. It paid me well, and I felt possibly too comfortable. And someone came in and pointed me out and suddenly made me feel incredible inferior and not worth anything. And, fortunately, I got out of that spot pretty fast, and he also left the company because, frankly, he was like that with many, many people. But it still affected me. My cocoon was disturbed, and I never recovered from that fully. Every step up just felt shakier and shakier under my steps and I lived in fear each day that this unsteady footing was just going to bring me tumbling down. And, in the end, it did, didn't it? But is it because I was right, or because I was expecting it so much that I made it happen?

There's a fear of failing that is only ever dwarfed by a fear of succeeding. And then there's me. Right now, I'm afraid of almost everything. I don't like to answer my door or my phone. I'm not calling home very often, because I feel like a disappointment, but also because I always expect some news of things happening, like my parents suddenly dying, and me feeling like I let them down by not being there. I don't like hanging out with my friends more than expectations that have already been laid out because I only have the energy to be awake and entertaining for a couple hours at a time. I help at the Comic Shop because Kathy has ever been kind and a friend to me, but I fret each time I'm supposed to be there. Why am I not at home, writing, doing something more? Because, dummy, when you go home, you do nothing.

I'm only part of this new writing group because Chris put it on me. And I know fully well I'll likely bow out before it goes its full run. Because I'll get lazy, or scared, again. I'll say it's not right for me, or that I'm not right for it. And whether either of those statements are correct or not, it's really because I'd rather hide. I'd rather bury my head under the blankets than put myself into anything again, because I feel like a failure. And is it better to fail at something, or to fail by not trying? These days, I'm on the latter end.

I'm not, and have never been, the guy with tons of confidence. I wasn't telling myself that I had some innate talent that was going to get me discovered or rich. As i started to dream more and more about possibly making a living doing creative things, it has still always been about working with other, far more talented people. Writing with Anne, creating with Levi or Corky, working in a writer's room for a TV show. I may have something to offer, but I've never been the lead draw of anything. That's inherent to who I've always been.

And I'd be happy just to be that way again. To at least feel like I'm able to deliver at that level. But that's so many steps above where I am today.
captaintemerity: (Monster Cat)
I'm dropping in, mostly, because it was a request by [ profile] grammardog to celebrate her birthday, and any reason to celebrate Sara is a worthwhile one.

But I also still love and long for the good old days of LiveJournal, and I don't know why I don't spend the time here like I used to, other than peer pressure maybe. Facebook is almost a bane to my mental health, but all the effing-loved ones are there, so I have allowed it to overthrow my better judgement. Maybe I'll get a clue some day.

I guess there's not a lot going on with me right now. I got laid off last year, so I'm in a stasis, and I don't really know what's going to happen. I am, at least, looking forward to finally marrying The Girl this coming October. We just got back from a trip up to Red Bluff where we're planning the ceremony at a friend's parents' place (extremely kind and accommodating of them), so the next few months will be mostly about that.

And I'm doing comics now, finally. I know I talked about my love of comics a lot here, and made some noise about how it was something I was desperate to do myself some day. Well, it's finally happened. I've been co-writing a strip called Baujahr for the last year or so (off and on), which is published in a magazine in Michigan called Flint Comix. I've done a couple one-off stories as well. Overall, it's a start on something I hope to take even further in the future, but it's incredibly fun and better than I imagined, honestly. Different, but I can't imagine being happier than I am each month those new strips hit (and weekly, when I post them up on our web site).

Oh, and I finally beat NaNoWriMo last November. Wrote a truly ugly fifty thousand words, but it was a win on my third attempt and I'll take it.

All in all... I think I like LiveJournal. Maybe I can do this again some time.
captaintemerity: (Default)

It's really dusty in here.

You know, Google+ reminds me a lot of LiveJournal. Which is probably the coolest thing about it.
captaintemerity: (Default)

Originally published at Captain Temerity. You can comment here or there.

Okay.  I’ve been up all night redoing my site… again.  You would know this only if you’ve come here in the past and seen my old references to having no idea as what I’m doing, or even what I want to do with this thing.

So, instead of making a long, introductory post this time, I’m going to just upload a basic one, and hope.  I’m very tired.

captaintemerity: (Balls)
What's to be said?

"Thank god for that Digital Television Conversion coming up!"
Giant antenna just fell off the roof.  Well, at some point today, I assume, as we didn't know or notice it until the neighbor came over complaining that he couldn't get into his backyard because it was blocking his gate.  I need to wait for Corky to get home to help me take it down the rest of the way.  Hope we don't get tetanus.

"I'm getting Botox!"
This is true, actually.  We finally diagnosed the issue I've been having with swallowing and whatnot, when I eat or drink anything (Chris can't make a joke, because he has it too).  It's called "achalasia," and it has several different treatments.  The two I get to try are, first, Botox injections in my throat (the procedure will be similar to when they put that scope down my throat a couple months back, which, being under for, shouldn't be too bad).  The second is surgery, exactly like Chris had, which looked horrific (for him).  Of course, he'd lost nearly a third his body weight by the time he had it, and I... I weigh as much as two of him.  Not really, but it feels like it.  I need to lose weight anyways, before the surgery.  But yeah, good stuff.  At least we know.  My favorite feedback on it so far was from Levi, who said:
"Don't know what to say, truth be told. I'm happy that you may have finally got to the solution for this, but i'm certain it's not really a "happy" occasion to be diagnosed with an uncurable disease. In fact, i KNOW it sucks."

"Vacation, all I ever wanted..."
Erin and I are just a day or so away from taking our trip (with a ton of her friends) up to Red Bluff for the rodeo.  I still have no idea what to say or think about this.  It's only for the weekend, really, but we both need a real break, away from everything, and this is the closest we'll get to that for a while.  I've been growing my beard for the last couple months, both as a request from Erin (who just likes me with a beard), and as a personal challenge to myself to see if I could deal with it for any length of time (I cannot).  I expect it'll be gone the Sunday night we get back.  Either way, a rodeo is not something either of us ascribe to being a "good time," but hanging out with her friends and just.. not dealing with work or falling antennas would be nice.

"And now, the scary part."
Corky got some news about work, where he'll be taking a huge paycut.  It starts immediately, but they're doing some balancing of things to make it hurt less over the next 9 months with quarterly payouts to even things out.  It's an odd system, but it means that, beginning of next year, things get really scary for him.  Which means things get tougher for all of us together.  The fact of it is, we already have a very tenuous hold on or living situation, with the house and the day-to-day and so on, that a hit like this can casue us to lose grip pretty fast.  But a lot can (possibly) change in nine months, and it's really lit a fire under him to make things work with his artwork, starting up the business with the studeo, and just trying to do more for himself than for work.  Currently, my job seems to be intact, and Erin's doing all right.  But if one of those two trips up...   Well, the house stress would go away by default, you know?

I also just got told that my father has been laid off.  My step-mother had been a while ago.  I want to be in a position to help my family while they're having such a hard time, and I'm just... not.  I'm also on the other side of the country from them, so it's hard to feel like I'm being supportive at all.

I've never felt so uncertain about the future before.  Or pessamistic, I guess.  Usually I'm the one who holds on to hope (due mostly to me leading such a charmed life).  Lately, that's been tough.

"And, finally, what's keeping me a well-rounded person... other than Little Debbie Snacks."
I'm making slight headway on the comic.  Very slight.  The first two issues/first storyarc was done some time ago (as far as my first draft, but I think I'll go back and fix it before Levi gets to it), and I'm about 8 pages into the new story, and I'm stuck.  Mostly because of not being able to work on it at lunch anymore (work policy change that I don't quite understand), but mostly because my brain is just gasping for breaths, as it were.  It takes a lot of effort to get to a point where I can think.  And be comfortable.  As I was trying to write on the chair the other night, I had such excruciating heartburn (getting aclimated with the new medicie since last week) that I wound up moving around the house, hoping I wasn't going to die, thinking maybe I'd be better off, and just... didn't write, you know?  I'm also very tired and prone to naps on my days off.  Easily distracted by the things that allow me to switch off, like TV and Animal Crossing.  I don't want to be this way, but I don't feel like I'm firing on all cylanders enough to be any differnt right now.  Hopefully, the weekend away will fix that somewhat.

A client of mine (from a couple weeks ago) has a daughter that's written for television for years.  Written for shows that I watch and enjoy.  And we talked about my writing (the client and I, I've not met or contacted the daughter) and such, and she was very interested and encouraging.  And I've had other clients that work in creative fields and such, and I keep thinking... why am I not doing this?  What happened to these people that they wound up working creatively and I didn't?  And I realize, if I'd really wanted it to be that way, I would've done it.  Somehow, I would've found my way into it.  I just don't think I knew enough or cared enough at that point to try.  To really make an effort towards it.

I've made a lot of excuses for what I haven't accomplished as far as my writing.  I've let myself off the hook a lot.  I think I'm over that now.  Or at least getting over it.  I don't have any expectations of what I will or won't accomplish.  I just know that I'm going to try, for something.  Something more than this.  I feel like the Levi comic is a great start (far better of a start than I deserve).  I also really am excited that Corky is moving on his art, and is talking about what we, not just he, are going to accomplish together when things start moving.  And if I have some magic offer fall into my lap again, like has happened so many times to me before when I wasn't ready for it... I'm going to jump on it this time.  I won't risk my home or my family, but I'm going to take it extremely seriously.  And, in the meanwhile, I'm not going to wait for it to flop down there on its own anyways.

There.  I think we're caught up.
captaintemerity: (The Monster Kitten)
As a family, we watched Bolt last night.  It was really pretty good. 

The odd thing of it was that Dante, who'd started out laying on my lap at the beginning of the DVD, got up about ten minutes in and sat in front of the TV, staring up at it, intently.  And stayed there for 80% of the movie.  At one point, he came back to my lap for all of two minutes, then felt compelled back to the TV.  And I mean, he didn't bat at the screen or anything.  He just looked up, like he was watching the movie.  Gidget didn't care a lick, but Dante... I think he loved the movie.  I've never seen him do anything like this before.  We were all a little weirded out. 

If anyone else has cats, and an interest in watching Bolt (which you should, I think), let me know if you witness any similar phenomena.

Also, been talking to my best friend that I grew up with (found his wife on Facebook... yeah, social networking has its uses) off and on for the last couple weeks.  It's so odd to have someone to talk to that remembers all your old stories from actually being there, and quotes some back to you that maybe you'd forgotten.  It's also amazing how far life takes you, but how easily you can be taken back to who you were twenty years ago just by the sound of someone's laughter.  Other than my immediate family, I haven't really suffered much in the way of "homesickness" since moving out to California, but the last year or so, I've thought about the people I grew up with more and more.  Wondering how they are and where they are.  On the one hand, I've had it sort've easy with having Corky here, because we're both from Michigan, and he gets a lot of the things I reference or look back on.  But he and I met just shortly before I left.  Monte knew me from the time I was twelve to my early twenties.  He knew my grandmother, which is a pretty big deal to me.  It's just... wow.  I can't really say much beyond that.

I'm really glad I came out here.  I needed to.  I think I'm just now allowing myself to also admit that I can be happy here, but miss home at the same time.  Only took 13 years to be able to say that.

If anyone offers to put a scope up your nose, down your throat, and measure how you take swallows of water with spaces of two minutes between before you're allowed to swallow again, while they slowly pull the thing back out of you...  Just punch them in the face, run to your car, and drive away.  Quickly.  That sucked.
captaintemerity: (Default)
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captaintemerity: (Default)
Erin and I finally watched Baghead...

We got it from Netflix a couple weeks ago, but it's been sitting, patiently, for us to get off our duffs and throw it in the DVD player.  We enjoyed it.  A little obvious, a little off.  But decent.  Worse, as I watched it, and the 10 Questions with the Directors in the bonus features, all I thought about was Chris saying, "Why the heck couldn't we do something like this?"  Which is true.  I mean, they made it for around a grand.  If movie-making was something you wanted to do, this is some smart evidence that you probably could and should.

I've been putting myself into the comic more than anything, though.  Things have slowed the last week.  Something between finishing the first storyline (two issues, depending on formatting) and being sick off and on (mostly on) has made me lose some momentum.  But I'm gonna' keep pushing on it.  I've started outlining the next story.  Hopefully I can get myself in gear.

Erin has a meeting this Wednesday, which is when my appointment was for the tube up the nose, so I have to reschedule.  Oh damn.  I mean, yes, it would be nice to just get it done and over with, but I really could deal with not doing it at all.  And I doubt it'll give any more insight as to what's wrong with me as the scoping did.  I've found, though, that since I've been eating mostly fish the last couple weeks, I've not had as many problems as I was before.  But as soon as I tried something else that I normally eat, it all comes back.  So there may be something to dietary changes being helpful.  I've been addicted to this fried cod from the place next to Oliver's Market.  I think I've gone there five times in the last couple weeks.  And Erin even made some at home, which turned out quite good.  Either way, this is a new thing for me, as I was never much of a fish-eater before.

The whole above paragraph is for Chris, who can choke on it.

Work has been busy and exhausting.  I'm tired of people asking me how my company is doing.  I'm not allowed to really say anything, but I also just don't care to think about it too hard.  The company seems fine.  It's taking its lumps with the economy as it is, same as everybody else.  Times are scary all over.  I wish people would get out of this mode of expecting everything to crash, because I belive that fear just makes things worse.  No one trusts their banks, or their stocks, or their home loans...  I can't say I blame them, but when you go and hide away from everything because you're too scared to face it or live your lives, well, you're not making things any better.

I listen to too much political radio, I think.  It makes me feel like I know more than I actually do.

I wish I could've gone to WonderCon this past weekend.  I've been saving my vacation for if/when I might see my family (them coming out here or me going out there).  But Erin has this trip planned for a weekend in Red Bluff (I think that's it) to go to a rodeo in her friend's home town.  A bunch of us are going.  So we need money for that, which I'm trying to horde.  Means spending money at a Con or at a concert coming up that I'd like to go to would be pretty wastefull.  Besides, it would be nicer to go next year, when I may (hopefully) have something of my own to hand off to people.  Maybe. 

I guess we'll see.

Gotta' go.  Cat on my arm.
captaintemerity: (Default)
Can someone attempt an internet search (Google, Yahoo, AOL if you swing that way, whatever) of the word:


I search the word, and I get a blank page in every browser, and every search engine.

Just curious.
captaintemerity: (with my freeze ray i will stop.... the w)
Got scoped today. 

I'd worked up to a mass of nerves about it.  Turned out to be relatively harmless.  My throat feels much like it does when I'm starting to catch a cold (or... maybe I am, indeed, starting to catch a cold), but no pain.  The knocked me out, and I was woken up to, I thought, more questions before the procedure, but it turned out that it was all done.  I was surprised.  Also, everyone there was incredibly nice.  Surprisingly nice.  Scary looking place, mind you, but, overall, not bad.

They did have to perform a couple biopsies while in there (which they hadn't planned on, but knew was a possibility).  I won't know anything for a week, I think.  They asked about the medication I'm on, and I let them know it isn't really helping.  No idea what will come of it, if they'll want me to increase dosage or try something else.  Beyond that, I was just groggy all day, but I somehow managed not to nap at all (beyond being knocked out).  Watched TV, and Erin took care of me (she rules).

Got notified that there's a mandatory conference call for DAs on Friday.  I always well up with fear when we have organized calls like this, because it's rarely good news (the last time was good news, but it was correcting the bad news from just before it).  Hopefully, life just continues along as being survivable.  Erin's work is laying off 7000 people, but that seems more at the corporate level, so I think we're safe there.

On page 10 of the second comic script.  I still need to doctor the hell out of the first one, but I'm waiting to have the two completed before I go back and do it, since it's all one story.  I'm just happy I've had some momentum on it, and keep pushing myself to work on it more.  I've done very little else when I'm on the computer.  Spending less time online, not playing CoH or other games.  Still watching a lot of TV, though.  There's just too many good shows on right now.  Two of my favorites are on TNT, a station I never really watched before.  Less and less are on the lead networks.  But Dollhouse is just over a week away...  Damn it, Joss, don't let me down!

Still waiting on doing our taxes.  I can't tell if there's any more things being mailed to us, between the house, retirement plans (such as they are), and...  I don't know what else, really.  I miss 1040EZ.  Those were the days.  I just hope the return is big enough to pay off the larger credit card, or a couple of the smaller ones, at least.  It'll be a tough year trying to pay minimums on each of those every month.  Not that it won't be a tough year anyways, but that's completely expected these days.

Still want to get married.  That's a given too.
captaintemerity: (The Monster Kitten)
Had some minor heartburn last night, but the Tums took it out pretty quick.  And I'm well-aware of it being because Erin forced me to make her no-bake chocolate/peanut butter/oatmeal cookies at 11pm, which I shouldn't be eating right before bed.  Or probably at all, but certainly, chocolate transfers pretty quickly to acid reflux at night.

Today, I was doing fine, I thought, until the late afternoon.  I started getting really dizzy and had a beaut of a headache going.  Even after self-medicating, I knew I was coming down with something.  I didn't feel up to driving or going out, so I wound up missing Game (I hate cancelling last minute... sorry, guys), and stayed home with Erin.  We finally watched Hancock, which we both enjoyed pretty well, and went over our Netflix queue to add in movies she wants to see (I'd actually picked a number I thought she'd like already, but then she saw the Horror section and went nuts).  My head is doing better, but I'm still a little fuzzy, so I don't know how I'll be tomorrow.  I've got some clients that are relying on me this weekend, so I don't think it would be a good idea to miss work (not that it ever is).  I'm hoping a good night's sleep will clear things up.  Hearing about some of the flu bugs going around out there isn't encouraging.

Erin and I had a nice talk tonight as well.  Mostly about how I view myself verses how I perceive (or believe, at least) others to view me.  To be honest, I've allowed myself to become someone I don't think people expect to take seriously at all.  In some ways, it's very liberating.  I can make jokes, and some of them are the most awful, tasteless, sexist and horrible jokes... yet they don't seem to offend anyone.  Which is good, because I never intend to offend anybody, and if I thought I was, I'd lay the hell off of it.  But the quick cuts and joking... it doesn't really make it seem like I'm capable of much depth.  It also makes it sound like, I would think, that I actually believe any of the shit I say.  And I don't, to be honest.  Yes, maybe there's a small bit of underlaying truth to some of my ramblings, even the most offensive stuff, but I'm really not as crass, inwardly, as I am outwardly.  If that makes any sense.  I think that I allowed myself to become a characterization of what people, at one point, wanted me to be.  Or maybe I felt like I should be, so I would be accepted more, or judged less.

It's hard to put it into words, and Erin thinks I'm judging myself too harshly.  She loves me because I can always make her laugh or smile, which isn't a bad thing.  She also thinks that I tend to go overboard trying to make other people happy.  I think, if anything, I work harder at helping other people, and try not to ask for help in return when I need it.  Aside from Moving Day, because physical labour is not my friend.  But more emotionally...  It's not like things don't get to me the same as they do other people.  I have this outward ability to shrug things off and hope for the best, but inside I'm a huge ball of stress, same as everyone else.  But I don't communicate that, and I don't look for support when things are overwhelming me.  Even just the emtional, "Yeah, I feel where you're coming from, buddy, but it'll be okay," type of support.  And it's not like I don't have a wealth of friends and family that would give me that support either.  I just can't seem to ask.  I sort've feel like I'm letting people down by getting to that point, because I'm normally the one who tells them things will get better.

There's a lot of things, really, where I often wonder who I would be if I didn't "change" in such drastic ways.  I don't associate with any of the people I grew up with, honestly, which is sad, in a way.  But I walked away from my life in Michigan and did very little looking back.  And it's not so much about who my friends were then, but who I was.  I left myself, and it wasn't the first time I'd transformed myself into a new persona (although it was much more noticable when I was 16 than it was when I was in my early 20's.  Again, probably because I don't associate with the people that knew me then anymore).  Even Erin talks about how, on or around our two year anniversary, I changed, drasticly.  It's when things got better for us, so it's not really a bad thing, but she's been scared that, one day, I'll change again, and she's not prepared for that.

I suppose it's the nature of soul-searching.  You look at yourself and try to figure out how to be a better person, or what makes you who you are, and do you even like who you are, and so on.  When I take those looks, I just... I don't really know who I am.  I see the same outter layers that other people see of me, and I really don't know that it's who I am at all.  Which isn't even to say I don't like who I am on the outside.  And that... that kinda' freaks me out, that maybe, inwardly, I'm not as good a person.  But even without that, just that I'm not this person.  I wonder who else is in there.

What if you were suddenly rich?  And I mean, really, really rich.  And it didn't rely on anyone or anything else.  You wake up one day, and you've suddenly lost all your responsibilities, all your obligations, save the ones you personally feel you want to fulfill as a human being.  I think we all assume we know what would happen first, then maybe second.  We probably each have a list in our heads that's been written, and possibly rewritten, of what we'd do.  But, think beyond that.  Do you move, and leave the people you know and see on a daily basis behind, because there's something in you that's calling you to do something more, to be someplace else?  Do you try to change your appearance, or your status (beyond wealth)?  Is the person you're dating or married to now the person you truly want to be with, or are you suddenly faced with questions about that?  Or does money make it so that you don't want to be with anyone, since you have no one you need to rely on, and, likewise, you can give up having people need to rely on you (worse comes to worse, you can cut them a check and walk away).  And yes, some of these questions, depending on how you answer them, might make you a horrible person.  But without the necesseities of daily life and friends and jobs and so on... maybe you can afford to be that way.  Look at some of the rich, mighty, famous assholes out there, and think about how they decided it was okay to be that way.

A lot of you, I really believe this, a lot of you know the answers to those questions, and without hesitation, I think you'd make the right choices when it comes to how you'd live your lives, because I believe that you're good people.  That's a reason why I added you as friends, either here or in real life.  I don't really like to spend my time with assholes (any more.  Boy, there was a time...).  With me... I assume some things, sure.  But it tears me up sometimes, the questions in my head and my heart, that I don't know 100% who I would be if things suddenly changed.  Because I have changed before.  I've flipped my personas on and off, I've been different things to different people.  Hell, I'm different people day-to-day now, between work, and home, and Friday Nights...  I've often said I have a very tenuous grasp of reality, but I think, more realisticly, I have a tenuous grasp of MY reality, of who I am, really.  I spend so much time in my head, dreaming up things, saying things with no real thought, I'm very unaware of what is real inside of me.  I think I pick up habits so easily, or make very simple rules of what I do and don't do, because it gives me a stability to not ask myself harder questions of what I really want.

I started using a phrase not too long ago.  I didn't realize how much I was using it, and how empty it sounded, until I started hearing it come back to me from other people I'd used it on (and taught it to).

"It is what it is."

It's a very simple, dead thought.  The world is challenging you.  Life, itself, is challenging you.  You need to own up to it, and do something about it.  But, instead, you shrug at it and just accept whatever's coming.  You don't care enough to make it better, and you don't care if it gets a little worse.  Not enough to try to make a difference for yourself.  How's work?  It is what it is.  How's your health?  How're you doing on the budget?  Did you make any progress on your writing this week?  How is your life?  It is what it is.

A life that is what it is... it practically isn't.  Ya' know?

I haven't posted a lot here, in my online journal, because I stopped knowing what to say to people.  I stopped feeling like I had anything to say that was at all important or relevent, or, at the very least, entertaining.  I enjoyed looking into your lives more than I could see anyone enjoying hearing about mine.  And I've got a good life.  I do.  But it has been what it has been more than I've made it to be.  And that's not meant to take anything away from it.  It just means... I should be trying more.  Not even wanting more so much as just trying more, working more.  Even if this is all I want, and it could be that it is, but I doubt that, but even if it was, if this is all it took to make me feel 100% happy and satisfied for the rest of my life...  I should still be working a lot harder to keep it good, to keep it stable.  I should be working harder to keep the people in it happy, so that if they want more, they can have it.

This is what I want to believe is inside of me.  That there's someone in there that is hoping I can be better.  That has higher expectations of me than I often allow myself to try at.  But, honestly, I don't know.  I don't know if this voice I'm listening to, that I'm writing this for, is the real me... or if it's just who I think others want me to be.  As much as I've allowed myself to not care, maybe that's who I really am after all.  And how sad would that be?

Totally disjointed, totally un-edited.  None of it is new, I actually think like this all the time.  I just don't normally talk about it.  The question is, really, will tommorow be any different?
captaintemerity: (Insanity is a Virtue)
Day three of the medication.  Discovered some aspects of it that I'm trying to keep aware of as it goes on (so please, forgive my sudden daily postings of my pill-popping adventures... consider it a nice change, though, from the Notes From The Toilet).

No heartburn last night, or throughout today.  Yesterday, I didn't get to eat for lunch (went to take Erin money for her to have lunch because I'd forgotten to leave some for her in the morning), and my last job ran rather long, so I didn't get a meal in until late.  I never felt actual hunger though.  My stomach grumbled a bit early in the day, but less so than it usually does.  And I just never felt like I needed food, until I got the (very familiar) headache from not eating (I assume it's from my blood sugar being low, as I get these most days I don't eat anything). 

This concerns me because I think it's a sign that my body isn't burning through the food that's in there, which is what (I believe) happened last time.  On the flip side, it's nice not to be desperate to eat.  Same thing today.  We ran around for most of the morning, and I didn't eat until around 3pm.  Had a bowl of leftover (and AWESOME) mac and cheese Corky made yesterday.  And then Erin made a pot roast in the slow cooker for dinner that we ate at around 9.  I had a small bit of it, no sides (well a slice of slightly disappointing pumpernickel bread), and was done.  My stomach feels slightly empty, and I could certainly eat more now, but I'm not dying for food.  So the pills may be as much an appetite suppressant as they are an acid reducer.  At least so far.

I need to get some Clif Bars for the car again.  I was doing that for a while, and it was helping a lot when I was missing meals.  Even when I take lunch, I don't always get "lunch."  But I know I've got to eat something.  Any place cheap to pick those blasted things up at?

Didn't make much headway on the comic so far this week.  Had a couple ideas and bits and pieces again that I'm quite happy with, but, overall, I need to get to scripting again tomorrow.  I refuse to let up at this point.  Well... not too much.  It's also more fun when I get Levi's feedback, but he's been working 12 hour shifts the last couple weeks, so he's been relatively quiet (understandable).  Between him being "offline," and Scooter being out of town (so we've not been meeting up for CoH), it's been relatively dead.  Which should mean I'd be accomplishing more than I am.

I did watch a movie with Erin over dinner tonight.  That "Mirrors" film with Kieffer Sutherland.  I wasn't a fan, honestly.  Some okay moments, but it seemed terribly cliche and the acting was so-so.  We have Hancock on DVD, but she'd ordered that off the Pay-Per-View (which means I can delete it from the Netflix queue now) instead while I was on the desktop earlier.

I took a short nap with the cats earlier, but I think I'm still kind of tired, so I may conk out in a few.  I'll try to read a bit and see if my brain doesn't get inspired to something first, but if nothing comes of it, sleep is still always appreciated when it happens.
captaintemerity: (Ambushed)
Well, first night on the Prevacid, I woke up at about 1:30 in the morning with some pretty severe heartburn.  It took about twenty minutes (after getting up, taking Tums, because it's all I had, and walking around rubbing my chest) before it settled down enough for me to lay back down.   And that's with me sleeping with my head elevated going in.

Not a great way to start.  Still, I'll see if things improve today/tonight.

Rather tired now.
captaintemerity: (Balls)
Well, went to the doctor today about the digestive issues and such.  Erin went with me (to make sure I didn't cop out, probably, and to fill in the blanks for me, as I forget stuff when I'm on the spot).

I'm being put on Prevacid, which is what they tried to put me on last time, but my insurance force-altered me to Aciphex (at half the dosage that was recommended).  I've yet to find of if they're going to do that to me again.  The Aciphex caused me to bloat up (yeah, worse than I usually am) and feel like I wasn't digesting food at all.  Also worsened my heartburn.  As it is, I'm supposed to take Malox or something (not Tums) in conjunction with the Prevacid to keep the heartburn from happening.  And I'm suposed to diet (Erin swears I've lost a lot of weight, but it turns out, no, I think I've gained a couple pounds), excersise, lose all will to live, etc. 

I'm going to be getting Scoped (good times!) on February 4th (mental note... It's a Friday at noon).  The Doctor was trying to be all reassuring about how they have to knock me out for it, and I'm like, "Listen, buddy... you better make DAMN sure they knock me out, and hard.  Because if I wake up to a tube in my throat, I'm likely to flip out and kill somebody."  So, yeah.  He can't wait to operate on me now.

The weather improved greatly today (weird that I'm be using the word "improved" in relation to it getting warmer, but whatever), so Erin and I will be starting our nightly walks again.  And I guess I can break the Wii Fit back out.  And I'll have to give up the lion's share of the junk food...  Friday nights will be challenging.  Nothing to eat for about 4 hours before bed.

Oh, and I should start buying decaffeinated Lipton now for my tea.  Which is odd, because I started having these issues when I started drinking tea exclusively, but I'd given up soda for it, so I would think that would be worse.

I just don't know, really.  There's a lot of things I told him that I don't know are really being addressed (yet).  Some things he seemed really surprised about, but he had a cold and was distracted by a phone call while we were there, and then he came back in and started talking about Acid Reflux, which I know I have, but going back to medication that I tried before... maybe the Prevacid is really different than the Aciphex, but I'm not sure how much better things will be.  The Scoping may be the best thing, just to see what's going on in there.  But, even though he's supposed to be the top docotr in the are when it comes to this, I'm not feeling incredibly confident right now.  But it could be that I wanted an instant answer (that didn't involve me givin up fatty foods and sweets, of course) and that's just now how it works.  So, I'm putting forth my best effort on it.  Which still isn't a great effort, of course.  I'm realistic.  And a fat, lazy slob that loves his chocolate and country-fried steak.

I'm making a good deal of progress (I think... I mean, I've never really done this before) on the Levi comic.  Done some actual scripting, which is the part I need to be at now.  The last two days have been random bits again, things that are more fleshing out more of the later stories for it, which is good.  Because that is how I've come up with most of it, and, as a process, it works for me.  But I've been dedicating a lot of time to it.  Been writing more than I've been playing, if that's an indicator.

 I'm also thinking (just a little bit... most of my brain is on the comic) about last years pathetic NaNo attempt, and how I'm coming to terms with the story as to what it wants to be, as opposed to what I envisioned it being for the ten years beforehand.  I think when I hit a stopping point on the comic, that might be what I work on next.  Normally, I would just side-track myself and attempt to work on both at the same time (or, more honestly, stop working on one to work on the other), but I think it's important that I get at least the first two issues/first story arc scripted before breaking away from it.  I need to stick with the momentum I've finally created with it, and not let up.

The last couple weeks have been hectic.  Yesterday was the first day in over a week where I didn't have 4-5 jobs in a single day, and, looking at my schedule, I've got 4 raring to go tomorrow.  Better to have too many than none, I guess.   The holidays gave me two weeks in a row with only 4 days working (Wed-through-Friday off was an awesome thing), and I daresay it made me miss the old days of 4 ten-hour days a week.  But I don't think that's a concept the company can afford to embrace right now, and I certainly can't afford to work any less than I am now.  We really need to figure out our finances and the credit cards and the mortgage and so on... and soon.  I think one emergency of any kind would pretty much push us over this financial precipise we're on right now.  At least with the new diet, Erin's looking at cooking more instead of eating out.  May be time to renew the Costco cards and finally start shopping smart.  Or time to stop eating altogether.  Yeah, option 2 is the smart one.

Facebook recently re-introduced me to the girl I took to Prom (understatement... this is the girl I was in love with for most of my teenage years) and my best friend from Middle School.  And they're both so totally different from what I would've imagined, and... well, I guess maybe I am too.  Or not.  I'm working for computers in the closest job I could legally get to being a "superhero."  I'm writing a comic book script.  My best friends are artists and gamers and geeks galore.  And I desperately need a haircut.  Maybe I'm right where I thought I'd be.  You know, for not dying by my 21st birthday and all that.

We have a juicer that I've never used.  What sort've juice recipes do you guys recommend?
captaintemerity: (Default)
Under a lot of stress right now (who isn't?).  Work has been such a confusing mess, and I'm terrified something's just gonna' blow and I'm suddenly going to lose my job, my vehicle, and then my house.  Maybe unduly terrified, but it's hard to feel safe these days with things as they are.

Be that as it may, Erin and I had a nice day.  We picked up our Christmas tree (fake, small, and blue... just what she wanted), and decorations.  We did some of the last bits of shopping we needed to, then came home, and she set it up.  It's quite cute, and now there's a good start of gifts underneath it.  We're both super-stoked about having Kyrie at Christmas again, easily the best part of last year, and I think she'll be the focus for most of our Christmases to come.  I'm starting to think that Erin would make a really great mom, and my selfishness of not wanting to be a parent is slowing melting away with that.  I still stand behind all the reasons why I feel like I shouldn't have a child, but taking that away from her... I just don't know any more.  She's not ready right now (by her own admission), so there's still time to think.  And I guess I'll have to.

While we were having lunch and driving around, I got her up to speed on the comic (the Levi project that I'm still keeping mostly mum about).  I've been making a lot of headway, I think, and I sounded like a hyper-active kid who talks your ear off when you barely understand half of what they're saying as I prattled on about characters and plot points and smidges of dialogue and...  Well, you know.  I'm just terribly excited about it is all.  I vowed to Levi that I'd be getting the first story completely scripted by next Summer, or, more succinctly, "You'll have it before then.  I guarantee it.  Well before then."  He's not pressuring me in the least, but I think I'm just finally ready to make it happen.  It's been plotted out so much, and I keep alternating between the different arcs.  I have this story pre-written from beginning to end and to a new beginning and end (it makes sense, believe me).  And, unlike most of my stories, I actually have almost all the middle bits too.  So, it's time.  And I need this.  Erin wants it to be a cartoon, and she thinks it's capable of being really successfull and what-not, but all I want is to make this comic, and have it be something that Levi and I love working on, and, hopefully, some other people will enjoy reading.  I'm not looking for it to be everything... I just want it to be something.  For now.

See?  Excited.

I'm also completely wiped.  Not sleeping much at all, between nights shooting out of bed to write up story pieces, and other nights where I stress myself out about money or work.  I just felt like talking about today, being a weirdly good day in the midst of all the hard times.  Because we need to know that good things still can happen when everything else seems to be going to pot. 

Not surprised that my good day came from being with her, of course.
captaintemerity: (Tivo!)
While writhing in pain (as much fun as it sounds) and tuning out Erin playing the Sims on the notebook all day, I got to watch the first couple episodes of that new TNT show, Leverage.

I am, to put it mildly, quite smitten with the program.  I always enjoy caper/heist movies.  And the cast is better than I could've hoped (even taking into account there's a Whedon-ite and someone else from BBC's Coupling invovled), and the writing is just...  It's quite good.  Good enough for me to recommend that people seek out a show on TNT, a network I don't normally watch (and I watch a LOT of television).

I'd been trying to curb my television watching this season.  In some cases, I've made some strong strides.  I've completely given up on Heroes (with absolutely zero regret), have DVR'd but not yet watched any of Pushing Daisies (but I will, in one sitting, I'd suspect, even though I hear it's been cancelled now).  Two shows I normally love have aired their last episodes (Boston Legal and The Shield).  I'm iffy on CSI post Grissom, but am reserving judgement.

I'm staying with Bones (my favorite program, period, these days), my Thursdays on NBC, my Mondays on CBS, my Sundays on Fox.  These are simple staples that don't seem likely to go anywhere.  I've had some minor doubts of The Sarah Connor Chronicles, but it's been good all along, if just a tad depressing.  Life had me concerned at the beginning this season, but I'm still pretty fond of it.

New shows have been Fringe (Erin loved it, at least at first, but it may've been a passing thing for her), The Mentalist, and Life On Mars.  Mars almost seemed too formulaic and had some dopey moments that made me think it would go off my radar, but the season closer (mid-season, I guess) was so strong that I have to return.

Lost comes back soon.  As well as new Monk and Burn Notice.  For some reason, as much as I love the USA shows (and other cable networks), I still don't consider them the same as network tv.  Not better, not worse.  Just... different.

Dollhouse (thank God for Joss) and another TNT show that I think is called Trust Me are on their way.  Also some Fox show with Tim Roth as a liar, but that seems like it would be too close to the Mentalist (which is already very close to Psych), and I think I'm already reforming bad relationships with my tv again.

It's a lot.  It's always a lot with me.  I can't help who I am, though.  TV, comics... it's just the way I'm wired.

All I've eaten today was some Sun Chips, and half a pack of chicken nuggets.  Oh, and fistfull of painkillers at the end, so I can hopefully sleep some tonight.  But no, I'm totally awake right now, and I shouldn't be.  Brain's doing that pesky "I'm totally ready to break shit open" thing it does when I need it to shut down.  It believes there's some brilliant story that's ready to be written, or at least some witty remarks to be posted here.  But instead, you get my (semi-regular now) TV schedule.  Yeah, riveting.  Next, I'll tell you of more of my travails on the toilet.  Because I'm nothing if not consistently dull.
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The Saturn is gone, on its way to help out the Petaluma division of the Humane Society.

I'd tell you how it feels to have that monkey off my back, except I can tell, what with this pinched nerve in my shoulder.  Haven't slept, been in pain for the last couple days.  And now Erin seems to have a head cold, which she can't wait to give to me, so it should end up being a fun week.

Sony and Yahoo both had/are having huge layoffs this week, and NBC is claiming it can't afford to keep up programming in Prime Time, so it's decided on Leno for its 10 o'clock weeknight spot.  The economy is suddenly claimed to be in a recession (thanks for noticing!), and gas is now cheaper than it's been in years.  I'd eat gasoline if I could.  Watch, now that the Saturn's gone, I'll get laid off of work, I'll need a car for a new job (if I find one), we'll lose the house, yadda'-yadda'-yadda'.

Heh.  Good times.  It was easier when I just read comic books than it's been since I started paying attention to the news.

We're all still here, though.  Today, things are good.
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So many reasons I need to call in sick tomorrow.  So many more why I can't.

Back/shoulder is killing me
Head/Ear is killing me
Life/World is killing me

Overall, just getting sick and hating being exposed to anything outside my bed.

Have huge job tomorrow (well, a big job and THEN the huge job)
Job is so huge, I arranged to have my DFM (also long-time frood) meet me at said job to help me out
Haven't had a lot of impact at work lately due to a ton of cancellations, reschedules, and general weirdness
It seems I didn't get paid for two days on my last check (presumably the days I worked in the store), and I need as much money as possible

Overall, I just need to suck it up and make it through Christmas without being a whiny beast about it.

Side Note:  I've have been struck by the genius that is Levi once again.  I am, in fact, surrounded by geniuses.  The last couple weeks in the latest incarnation of Game, we've finally had some of the old spark back (having all six of us in the same room again has been a big contributor to that, I'm sure).  General Life Failings aside, I continue to be amazed by the people I know and love, who somehow love me back.

And Erin is still my greatest joy.

Perhaps she will rub my back/shoulder.
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