Alleys. By Ongredost’s beard, I hate the alleys that weave throughout the city. With day breaking soon, I’ll never find my way back to the meeting place in time. Then the guard’s will take her away from me forever.
I wheeze and pant. The taste of blood poisons my gums. My palms find my knees and I'm doubled over. Blue flashes scatter across my closed eyelids as I psych myself up to run again.
After five or six strides, I stop again. I’m vomiting.
Dawn’s rosy fingers creep from the horizon. Gnawing at the inside of my cheek is all I can do to not stop running. It can’t end like this. I won’t let it.
The guards have gone crooked. When the King was in charge, we were better off. There was law and order, especially from the officers of the peace. But now things have changed. No one has any moral obligations. All that matters to the guards is the jingle of a coin purse.
The sun is moments away from rising when I turn the corner and find the meeting place hidden at the end of Scorpion Alley.
“Kyra!” I shout. I’m surprised by the roar that escapes my chest.
She’s bound and gagged. There’s nothing but a muffled response. The author of her chains pulls tightly and her head lifts. My love is choked to silence. By the emerging light I can see tears clouding her eyes.
I run forward with all my might and throw myself down before the captain of the guards.
“Here,” I stammer and hold up a satchel. “This is what you want.”
The captain rips the satchel from my hands. He draws it open to find the Nyx plant. He raises the shrub up to examine it in a ray of sunshine that has splashed into this corner of the alley.
“Don’t,” I scream, attempting to rise to my feet. The guard behind me forces me the ground and garrotes me with his halberd.
It’s too late. The roots and tendrils are singed and seared by the sunlight. The creamy orange petals and verdant leaves wither and fade into soot.
The captain flexes his fingers and palm. The dying plant drops to the ground. It crumbles to dust. He sneers and kicks me in the forehead. The oak of the halberd presses into my throat hard as I recoil.
The last thing I see before I black out is Kyra’s darkened figure being dragged away down the alley. The sun has risen and the blackened figures are burned into my sight.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
Significance
Have you ever stopped and considered the significance of the number five? 5. Five.
Outside of it's placement between 4 and 6, is it even important? Is it just a comparative, i.e. 5 is less than 6 but greater than 4?
Rather than thinking of it in a comparative sense have you considered five as just five? Like five gold rings? Have you ever pictured those rings? (No, not the Olympic rings)
Take away the rings and just picture five.
What is five? A placeholder?
Anyhow, we all know there is only one ring to rule them all.
Outside of it's placement between 4 and 6, is it even important? Is it just a comparative, i.e. 5 is less than 6 but greater than 4?
Rather than thinking of it in a comparative sense have you considered five as just five? Like five gold rings? Have you ever pictured those rings? (No, not the Olympic rings)
Take away the rings and just picture five.
What is five? A placeholder?
Anyhow, we all know there is only one ring to rule them all.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Plot-hole or Plot-well? A Film Rant
Having recently watched The Fountain again, I'm reminded why Daron Aronofsky is such a good director. (Fun aside, he may be the only director whose feature-length body of work I've seen in it's entirety).
Anyhow, I think one of the reasons I like his movies so much is because he explores different worlds, and makes them palatable to anyone: Pi's creepy dip into the world of government conspiracy and high brow math/computer work, Requiem for a Dream's path into the dark world of narcotics and pharmaceuticals, The Fountain's dip into rebirth, spirituality and enlightenment, The Wrestler's stunning portrayal of a man faced with the reality of and weight of his life choices, and Black Swan's chilling portrayal of a woman so focused on achieving her goal that she loses all balance and moderation.
These films present questions that are sometimes left open to interpretation, or conclusions that are just a modicum of horrors, pains or stress to come. Yet I appreciate that in being cerebral and deep, Aronofsky gives the viewer a chance at seeing his vision, or at the very least a hint of conclusion. He doesn't hide his story from the viewer and cause confusion as a way to make the audience discuss his movies. His films just are.
It also made me think of another director with whose movies I hear Aronofsky's compared to often--Christopher Nolan.
Now Nolan's work has been highly enjoyable to me. I liked Inception and Memento and the Batman films, but I find much lacking in his work, and if you've been around me anytime in the last three years when one of his movies hit theaters, chances are you've heard some of my rather strong opinions on his films.
Warning: The Dark Knight spoilers follow!
For instance, in The Dark Knight I had trouble with the ending, and the fact that Batman ultimately made a choice to kill Two-Face, and not the Joker. (For those who think that Two-Face either isn't dead, or that he wasn't meaning to kill him, I disagree with y'all. Count the seconds when Batman goes off screen while Harvey has Gordon's son and then attacks with a lunge that takes all three of them over the edge. Batman is a calculating fellow, knows his own strength, and is the owner of two nifty bat-equipped arms. He is quite capable of grabbing the edge and saving only one of them, and knowing all this, he lunges and chooses the boy, effectively choosing to kill Two-Face). Not killing the truly evil villain, but the neutral one (perhaps further drawing a Jesus parallel, viz., Revelations 3:16) made me quite angry and unable to enjoy to that movie for over a year.
Now, I enjoyed Inception and Memento, as I said before, but what I find to be lacking in both of those films are the plot-holes.
In Inception, I could care less about the ending, and what I'm going to talk about are these aforementioned holes.
Inception spoilers ahead
1) The fact that they were able to be kicked out of the first level inside Fischer's dreams by the stewardess even though the plan had been clearly sped up and the first level was a war zone, and then Fischer & Uncle have a bonding moment after they get kicked back there and the van crashes. What a nice, sweet moment. News flash, the bad guys are still out there, shooting and killing. You are stuck there for a WEEK before waking and the stewardess has no way of being contacted, and yet here you are waking up without being killed and sent to limbo. Sorry, not buying it.
2) Fischer and Ariadne were able to be kicked from within Limbo to the third level (after Ariadne and Dom conveniently use the machine to go down there in the first place) without anyone to help kick them back from the third level itself. I'm sorry, since when did falling within the level itself act as a kick? I do believe the kick had to come from the level above you!
Those are just a couple, but they sure do rankle. Now, I feel like Nolan knows they exist, and that they're holes, but tries to dissuade the audience from noticing them by making the plot as convoluted as possible, as difficult to follow as possible, and dazzle you with special effects in a Michael Bay style, effectively telling the audience: "Hey, these aren't plot-holes, these are plot-wells! Look, you can draw up your own conclusion in this bucket!" To that I say, good day, sir.
Yes, Inception was visually stunning and enjoyable without over-diagnosis, but I saw the movie three times in theaters to "get to the bottom of it" only to realize that it was just a sham. Fun to watch, but a sham.
Wait, Mike, maybe all the plot-holes mean that Dom never woke up in the first place and the he was in Limbo or a dream world the whole time! If so, then why would Nolan credit older children?
Here's the further problem I have with his plot-holes. Nolan just likes to throw out as many choices for the audience as possible so they make their own conclusion or they not be a real one. This is an act of nothing other than wishy-washyness and lukewarmity. It's quite distasteful and makes me lose respect for him as a storyteller.
"Drink from my plot-wells, America! Make my movies net over a billion dollars!"
Memento spoilers now!
Making a film complicated for the sake of hiding your inabilities to write a coherent story, as well as throwing as many possible scenarios in to the mix to add flavor is just plain lazy, just like in Memento. There were so many additional frames thrown in at the end of the movie: Was Leonard's wife a diabetic and he killed her? Was she not? Did he finish it and go home to her and get that tattoo? Was he really in an asylum? So many choices! Whatever shall I do!
I shall call it what it is: crap. He doesn't have the balls to stand behind a completed and solidified story arc, so he slams the audience with all the possibilities, effectively ruining any clear message or answer. Is it brilliant? No. Is it lazy? Yes. Is it a sign of depth? Hardly. Shitting on a canvas doesn't make art. Not plot-wells. Plot-holes. Big, fat ones.
I've heard people say they had to watch Memento multiple times to "get it." There's nothing more to get than the first viewing gives you. There's nothing any chart can add to it. It lacks a definitive quality. But it's just postmodern! No, it's crap writing.
The way I've learned to cope with and enjoy these three films of his in particular, is to watch them and just turn my brain off, and just avoid thinking about that. Kinda like watching a Michael Bay film.
Now, he can tell a conclusive story and it's quite enjoyable. Watch The Prestige. The movie is kind of predictable, but it works. The direction/acting is fabulous, the visuals are stunning, and the story is compelling. It has no glaring plot-holes, and it overall works as a film. (Besides, who doesn't love Bowie in a feature?)
Now, I guess the reason I bring this all up, is because I consider myself somewhat of a storyteller, and I guess I'm old school in the sense that a story should conclude.
That rant was a lot longer than I had anticipated, but if you've read this far, I'd suggest you watch The Fountain. You don't have to, but I liked it. That movie is meditation in a film. It just is. There's a lot to it, it might take a couple of times to put together some of the finer points, but it just is. And it is enjoyable.
I guess I'm tired of poor story crafting be taken as a sign of depth or intelligence. Kind of like not talking doesn't make you deep.
PS - I take any and all credit for coining plot-well if it has not been used before. =D
Anyhow, I think one of the reasons I like his movies so much is because he explores different worlds, and makes them palatable to anyone: Pi's creepy dip into the world of government conspiracy and high brow math/computer work, Requiem for a Dream's path into the dark world of narcotics and pharmaceuticals, The Fountain's dip into rebirth, spirituality and enlightenment, The Wrestler's stunning portrayal of a man faced with the reality of and weight of his life choices, and Black Swan's chilling portrayal of a woman so focused on achieving her goal that she loses all balance and moderation.
These films present questions that are sometimes left open to interpretation, or conclusions that are just a modicum of horrors, pains or stress to come. Yet I appreciate that in being cerebral and deep, Aronofsky gives the viewer a chance at seeing his vision, or at the very least a hint of conclusion. He doesn't hide his story from the viewer and cause confusion as a way to make the audience discuss his movies. His films just are.
It also made me think of another director with whose movies I hear Aronofsky's compared to often--Christopher Nolan.
Now Nolan's work has been highly enjoyable to me. I liked Inception and Memento and the Batman films, but I find much lacking in his work, and if you've been around me anytime in the last three years when one of his movies hit theaters, chances are you've heard some of my rather strong opinions on his films.
Warning: The Dark Knight spoilers follow!
For instance, in The Dark Knight I had trouble with the ending, and the fact that Batman ultimately made a choice to kill Two-Face, and not the Joker. (For those who think that Two-Face either isn't dead, or that he wasn't meaning to kill him, I disagree with y'all. Count the seconds when Batman goes off screen while Harvey has Gordon's son and then attacks with a lunge that takes all three of them over the edge. Batman is a calculating fellow, knows his own strength, and is the owner of two nifty bat-equipped arms. He is quite capable of grabbing the edge and saving only one of them, and knowing all this, he lunges and chooses the boy, effectively choosing to kill Two-Face). Not killing the truly evil villain, but the neutral one (perhaps further drawing a Jesus parallel, viz., Revelations 3:16) made me quite angry and unable to enjoy to that movie for over a year.
Now, I enjoyed Inception and Memento, as I said before, but what I find to be lacking in both of those films are the plot-holes.
In Inception, I could care less about the ending, and what I'm going to talk about are these aforementioned holes.
Inception spoilers ahead
1) The fact that they were able to be kicked out of the first level inside Fischer's dreams by the stewardess even though the plan had been clearly sped up and the first level was a war zone, and then Fischer & Uncle have a bonding moment after they get kicked back there and the van crashes. What a nice, sweet moment. News flash, the bad guys are still out there, shooting and killing. You are stuck there for a WEEK before waking and the stewardess has no way of being contacted, and yet here you are waking up without being killed and sent to limbo. Sorry, not buying it.
2) Fischer and Ariadne were able to be kicked from within Limbo to the third level (after Ariadne and Dom conveniently use the machine to go down there in the first place) without anyone to help kick them back from the third level itself. I'm sorry, since when did falling within the level itself act as a kick? I do believe the kick had to come from the level above you!
Those are just a couple, but they sure do rankle. Now, I feel like Nolan knows they exist, and that they're holes, but tries to dissuade the audience from noticing them by making the plot as convoluted as possible, as difficult to follow as possible, and dazzle you with special effects in a Michael Bay style, effectively telling the audience: "Hey, these aren't plot-holes, these are plot-wells! Look, you can draw up your own conclusion in this bucket!" To that I say, good day, sir.
Yes, Inception was visually stunning and enjoyable without over-diagnosis, but I saw the movie three times in theaters to "get to the bottom of it" only to realize that it was just a sham. Fun to watch, but a sham.
Wait, Mike, maybe all the plot-holes mean that Dom never woke up in the first place and the he was in Limbo or a dream world the whole time! If so, then why would Nolan credit older children?
Here's the further problem I have with his plot-holes. Nolan just likes to throw out as many choices for the audience as possible so they make their own conclusion or they not be a real one. This is an act of nothing other than wishy-washyness and lukewarmity. It's quite distasteful and makes me lose respect for him as a storyteller.
"Drink from my plot-wells, America! Make my movies net over a billion dollars!"
Memento spoilers now!
Making a film complicated for the sake of hiding your inabilities to write a coherent story, as well as throwing as many possible scenarios in to the mix to add flavor is just plain lazy, just like in Memento. There were so many additional frames thrown in at the end of the movie: Was Leonard's wife a diabetic and he killed her? Was she not? Did he finish it and go home to her and get that tattoo? Was he really in an asylum? So many choices! Whatever shall I do!
I shall call it what it is: crap. He doesn't have the balls to stand behind a completed and solidified story arc, so he slams the audience with all the possibilities, effectively ruining any clear message or answer. Is it brilliant? No. Is it lazy? Yes. Is it a sign of depth? Hardly. Shitting on a canvas doesn't make art. Not plot-wells. Plot-holes. Big, fat ones.
I've heard people say they had to watch Memento multiple times to "get it." There's nothing more to get than the first viewing gives you. There's nothing any chart can add to it. It lacks a definitive quality. But it's just postmodern! No, it's crap writing.
The way I've learned to cope with and enjoy these three films of his in particular, is to watch them and just turn my brain off, and just avoid thinking about that. Kinda like watching a Michael Bay film.
Now, he can tell a conclusive story and it's quite enjoyable. Watch The Prestige. The movie is kind of predictable, but it works. The direction/acting is fabulous, the visuals are stunning, and the story is compelling. It has no glaring plot-holes, and it overall works as a film. (Besides, who doesn't love Bowie in a feature?)
Now, I guess the reason I bring this all up, is because I consider myself somewhat of a storyteller, and I guess I'm old school in the sense that a story should conclude.
That rant was a lot longer than I had anticipated, but if you've read this far, I'd suggest you watch The Fountain. You don't have to, but I liked it. That movie is meditation in a film. It just is. There's a lot to it, it might take a couple of times to put together some of the finer points, but it just is. And it is enjoyable.
I guess I'm tired of poor story crafting be taken as a sign of depth or intelligence. Kind of like not talking doesn't make you deep.
PS - I take any and all credit for coining plot-well if it has not been used before. =D
Sunday, October 2, 2011
I can't sing, but I sure as hell may
One of my favorite pastimes is singing in my car with my windows down and stereo up.
When I do this, it’s usually not to the radio, unless I’m telling you how I’ll be there after the boys of summer have gone. Usually it’s to a carefully laid out cd I’ve burned, as my tape deck turn iPod jack died over a year ago. The most socially acceptable tracks I pick for this, I suppose, are the tracks from Girl Talk’s All Day album (although shouting “you about to get ran the f**k over” at the top of my lungs in the open air, I worry slightly about offending people, but it’s nothing anyone hasn’t heard before).
I was grinned at by an older woman today during an “All of My Love” heartwrencher. I’m not sure it was mean-spirited or anything, but I smiled right back and kept on yelling about who I’d give the fullness of my heart unto.
The next song to blare and belt to was “Since U Been Gone,” a modern classic. Genres aside, that song is truly a masterpiece, and I defy anyone not to get excited and sing along with that chorus. Whether it’s Kelly rocking me or I’m “under da sea,” I’m going to sing my heart out if the mood strikes me. I don’t care who sees me or hears me sing. At least when I’m in my car, that is.
It feels good. Seems like I can breathe for the first time. Guess I’m just moving on.
When I do this, it’s usually not to the radio, unless I’m telling you how I’ll be there after the boys of summer have gone. Usually it’s to a carefully laid out cd I’ve burned, as my tape deck turn iPod jack died over a year ago. The most socially acceptable tracks I pick for this, I suppose, are the tracks from Girl Talk’s All Day album (although shouting “you about to get ran the f**k over” at the top of my lungs in the open air, I worry slightly about offending people, but it’s nothing anyone hasn’t heard before).
I was grinned at by an older woman today during an “All of My Love” heartwrencher. I’m not sure it was mean-spirited or anything, but I smiled right back and kept on yelling about who I’d give the fullness of my heart unto.
The next song to blare and belt to was “Since U Been Gone,” a modern classic. Genres aside, that song is truly a masterpiece, and I defy anyone not to get excited and sing along with that chorus. Whether it’s Kelly rocking me or I’m “under da sea,” I’m going to sing my heart out if the mood strikes me. I don’t care who sees me or hears me sing. At least when I’m in my car, that is.
It feels good. Seems like I can breathe for the first time. Guess I’m just moving on.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
The Silence
I dream about the moment my heart stops beating.
Will I notice? Will I feel the blood thicken and slow in my veins?
Or will it sneak up on me, until I can do nothing but welcome the silence.
I picture the gun in my mouth, the taste of sulfur on my tongue.
Can I do it? Will I do it? Night after night I’m here.
The sweat makes my finger slip on the trigger. That’s it. I won’t. Not tonight.
But her gun is a bottle. She’s the waking dead. The walking headache.
Eyes puffy, throat sore with a constant nasal drip. She’ll drink again tonight.
And I’ll dream. Wishing not to wake up, wondering where I’ll go.
What the silence is really like, and will I ever know?
I might submit this to the San Diego County Poetry Annual 2011-2012. We'll see.
Will I notice? Will I feel the blood thicken and slow in my veins?
Or will it sneak up on me, until I can do nothing but welcome the silence.
I picture the gun in my mouth, the taste of sulfur on my tongue.
Can I do it? Will I do it? Night after night I’m here.
The sweat makes my finger slip on the trigger. That’s it. I won’t. Not tonight.
But her gun is a bottle. She’s the waking dead. The walking headache.
Eyes puffy, throat sore with a constant nasal drip. She’ll drink again tonight.
And I’ll dream. Wishing not to wake up, wondering where I’ll go.
What the silence is really like, and will I ever know?
I might submit this to the San Diego County Poetry Annual 2011-2012. We'll see.
Friday, August 19, 2011
A Game of Thrones
I know it seems trite, but damn, A Game of Thrones (book) is infinitely better than Game of Thrones (series). It's not even close. Not even a little bit.
The show has pretty bad direction, awkward art design, with things being just... not at all how they are in the book, and this habit of awkwardly lifting "key" lines of dialogue from the book and using them as a catch-all for what's supposed to be going on. The action is... adequate? I mean, it's nothing special.
Seems like they did the show on a shoestring budget for being so high profile, and then it seems like they managed to give every aspect of it less than enough to be passable, but not enough for it to be in anyway exceptional.
I bought the book, because everyone around me seemed to be reading it. I saw the first 4 episodes of the show, which comprised around 350-450ish pages of the book, depending on certain details, and took a break for a few months. I read the book in a couple of weeks during my spare time, and it was riveting. Breathtaking. Spectacular. Without a doubt, right up there with The Fellowship of the Ring and The Gunslinger, and the other books that have opened my favorite epic series. (I don't include Harry Potter).
I can't believe the show could suck so hard. Look at what Peter Jackson did with LOTR. If you want to make a movie/show out of a book, follow his advice. Just without the whole 'every time Frodo puts on the ring, Sauron's eye is upon him' thing.
TL;DR - A Game of Thrones (book) is way better than the show. Obviously.
The show has pretty bad direction, awkward art design, with things being just... not at all how they are in the book, and this habit of awkwardly lifting "key" lines of dialogue from the book and using them as a catch-all for what's supposed to be going on. The action is... adequate? I mean, it's nothing special.
Seems like they did the show on a shoestring budget for being so high profile, and then it seems like they managed to give every aspect of it less than enough to be passable, but not enough for it to be in anyway exceptional.
I bought the book, because everyone around me seemed to be reading it. I saw the first 4 episodes of the show, which comprised around 350-450ish pages of the book, depending on certain details, and took a break for a few months. I read the book in a couple of weeks during my spare time, and it was riveting. Breathtaking. Spectacular. Without a doubt, right up there with The Fellowship of the Ring and The Gunslinger, and the other books that have opened my favorite epic series. (I don't include Harry Potter).
I can't believe the show could suck so hard. Look at what Peter Jackson did with LOTR. If you want to make a movie/show out of a book, follow his advice. Just without the whole 'every time Frodo puts on the ring, Sauron's eye is upon him' thing.
TL;DR - A Game of Thrones (book) is way better than the show. Obviously.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Show Me a Place Like Bright Escondido
Show me a place like bright Escondido,
Where the sun splashes, dry breezes blister,
Verdant foothills around seethe and glister,
Take me there if you know, I long to go.
The fields and pastures have been bought and sold,
Asphalt and concrete tear through the valley,
Carving out neighborhoods, streets and alleys,
The land that remains is more precious than gold.
Show me a place like bright Escondido,
Set aside somewhere for the moon to shine.
Give me fields of white sage, scrub oak and pine.
Take me there if you know, I long to go.
Where the sun splashes, dry breezes blister,
Verdant foothills around seethe and glister,
Take me there if you know, I long to go.
The fields and pastures have been bought and sold,
Asphalt and concrete tear through the valley,
Carving out neighborhoods, streets and alleys,
The land that remains is more precious than gold.
Show me a place like bright Escondido,
Set aside somewhere for the moon to shine.
Give me fields of white sage, scrub oak and pine.
Take me there if you know, I long to go.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Ganged Up On By Geese
One of the most butterfly related things I do as a butterfly keeper is feed the butterflies. They drink a nectar made up of primarily sugar water from hexagonal plates, which need to be changed out every day. This is much more time consuming and laborious than one might initially think, and requires hauling a heavy black cart through narrow passageways, across rugged terrain and into the greenhouse.
Normally, this trek goes undisturbed, but recently I've become engaged in a bit of a turf war. There are these two geese who live in the village, and they've decided that their new roosting spot is the path I take to the greenhouse. They've also decided that they absolutely hate the cart. I dunno if it wears opposing colors, forgot to pay their toll or whatever, but they hate this cart. Before this, I'd heard a goose honk, and almost bleat, but never hiss. Everytime that cart goes by, one goose hisses, the other honks.
After finishing up in the greenhouse this morning, it was a little different, though. I was leaving, and through the doorway, I saw one of the geese, and it looked as if it was waiting for me, well, the cart anyway. I opened the door and began to consider how I should approach it without bothering it too much, and I heard this rap-click-tap. Looking down, I saw the other goose right outside the door, at the angle where it opens, attacking the cart. What was the other goose doing? I swear to God it was playing lookout.
I was a bit shaken from this unprovoked assault and closed the door, bringing the cart back. I rap-click-tapped back on the glass, but the goose was undeterred. I thought of radioing for assistance, but didn't want to become a joke.
So I used my big-boy voice.
"Let's go!" I shouted gruffly at the geese. That seemed to get their attention, and I was able to corral them a bit, enough to get to the fork in the path. It was then that my cart was attacked again, and I decided to take the lower route. Apparently the lower path, the long way to my working area, isn't part of their territory, so I escaped, further unmolested.
I've decided I should get one of those signs for my cart, one that says, "Please do not heckle, vex, annoy...the keepers"
Pssh, bullies.
Normally, this trek goes undisturbed, but recently I've become engaged in a bit of a turf war. There are these two geese who live in the village, and they've decided that their new roosting spot is the path I take to the greenhouse. They've also decided that they absolutely hate the cart. I dunno if it wears opposing colors, forgot to pay their toll or whatever, but they hate this cart. Before this, I'd heard a goose honk, and almost bleat, but never hiss. Everytime that cart goes by, one goose hisses, the other honks.
After finishing up in the greenhouse this morning, it was a little different, though. I was leaving, and through the doorway, I saw one of the geese, and it looked as if it was waiting for me, well, the cart anyway. I opened the door and began to consider how I should approach it without bothering it too much, and I heard this rap-click-tap. Looking down, I saw the other goose right outside the door, at the angle where it opens, attacking the cart. What was the other goose doing? I swear to God it was playing lookout.
I was a bit shaken from this unprovoked assault and closed the door, bringing the cart back. I rap-click-tapped back on the glass, but the goose was undeterred. I thought of radioing for assistance, but didn't want to become a joke.
So I used my big-boy voice.
"Let's go!" I shouted gruffly at the geese. That seemed to get their attention, and I was able to corral them a bit, enough to get to the fork in the path. It was then that my cart was attacked again, and I decided to take the lower route. Apparently the lower path, the long way to my working area, isn't part of their territory, so I escaped, further unmolested.
I've decided I should get one of those signs for my cart, one that says, "Please do not heckle, vex, annoy...the keepers"
Pssh, bullies.
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Friday, April 15, 2011
Henry's
I was in Henry's the other day, wearing a hunter green shirt I got from the Roar & Snore team training event we had at work a few days back. It says Wild Animal park on the breast (it's from last season) and has a very large picture of a cheetah on the back. So there's the back story.
I walked through the produce, heading towards the tangelos. The price was four pounds for a dollar, which is reasonable for organic fruit, and the last ones I bought were particularly sweet, so I made a special trip back out for more. On my way towards the check-out stand, I noticed an older woman dropping a box of strawberries. She looked embarrassed and didn't immediately make an attempt to reach down and get them. I wasn't sure if she had a bad back or what, so I reached down and picked them up. I told her she ought to put the box on the loading cart an employee had left behind. I went to walk away and she stopped me.
"Do you know which is a good box to buy?" she asked me.
"Ummm, I'm not sure, I usually just grab the reddest ones," I said kinda laughing.
She looked at me like I had offended her, or not met some kind of certain expectations. She opened her mouth as if to start saying something and stopped, looking quite puzzled.
"Don't you..." she mumbled and trailed off.
I realized what the confusion was.
"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am, I don't work here," I said as politely as I could. And I turned around and left, sure now that she could see the very large cheetah on my back.
When I turned around I was face to face with a portly man, with thick glasses resting on equally thick skin.
"Are you going to be stocking any more pitted prunes?" he asked me.
"Uhhh..." I said, about to break the news to him, too.
"He doesn't work here," the elderly woman now behind me said, informing him of the news.
The man looked down at my shirt, looked up at me, standing there with an oddly apologetic look on my face and kept walking.
I continued to the check-out stand and bought my tangelos. The checker asked me if I worked at the Park, and we chatted a bit about that as I paid.
I walked through the produce, heading towards the tangelos. The price was four pounds for a dollar, which is reasonable for organic fruit, and the last ones I bought were particularly sweet, so I made a special trip back out for more. On my way towards the check-out stand, I noticed an older woman dropping a box of strawberries. She looked embarrassed and didn't immediately make an attempt to reach down and get them. I wasn't sure if she had a bad back or what, so I reached down and picked them up. I told her she ought to put the box on the loading cart an employee had left behind. I went to walk away and she stopped me.
"Do you know which is a good box to buy?" she asked me.
"Ummm, I'm not sure, I usually just grab the reddest ones," I said kinda laughing.
She looked at me like I had offended her, or not met some kind of certain expectations. She opened her mouth as if to start saying something and stopped, looking quite puzzled.
"Don't you..." she mumbled and trailed off.
I realized what the confusion was.
"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am, I don't work here," I said as politely as I could. And I turned around and left, sure now that she could see the very large cheetah on my back.
When I turned around I was face to face with a portly man, with thick glasses resting on equally thick skin.
"Are you going to be stocking any more pitted prunes?" he asked me.
"Uhhh..." I said, about to break the news to him, too.
"He doesn't work here," the elderly woman now behind me said, informing him of the news.
The man looked down at my shirt, looked up at me, standing there with an oddly apologetic look on my face and kept walking.
I continued to the check-out stand and bought my tangelos. The checker asked me if I worked at the Park, and we chatted a bit about that as I paid.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Learn to Yearn?
What vain striving it may be
To try and see what angels see,
As they sit majestically
Upon their clouds in Heaven.
And yet we sit with stalwart gaze
Toward the ethereal haze,
Pondering just what the days
Will be like in Heaven.
And sitting here unhappily,
Looking forward, forgetting we
Often never quite fully
Enjoy the time we're given.
To try and see what angels see,
As they sit majestically
Upon their clouds in Heaven.
And yet we sit with stalwart gaze
Toward the ethereal haze,
Pondering just what the days
Will be like in Heaven.
And sitting here unhappily,
Looking forward, forgetting we
Often never quite fully
Enjoy the time we're given.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Yeah, I'm Talking to You
Dear Mr. Sony Dream Machine,
Hello. We've been together for a few years now, and so far we've had a pretty decent relationship. We've learned each other's boundaries, and really had our ups and downs. I have tried to stop hitting you with such force, and blaming you for things that aren't your fault. I know you don't control the earth's rotation. You just display it in a quantifiable way for me. I get that! And you've done your job over and over and over again. I thank you for that.
But hey, now. This is the weekend where I lose an hour of my precious sleep. This is the weekend we set the clocks forward in an age old marketing ploy. This is the weekend I don't work on Sunday and was planning on skipping all the confusion and grogginess regarding the change. The first one of those weekends in a long while.
You know what you did. I've never particularly liked your auto-set time function, and you know that. The first day I took you out of your box I spent a while trying to set the the time manually. But you just wanted me to push the region button and let your automatic preferences take effect. Then you worked. And along came a DST situation, and remarkably you worked again. Two times a year like clockwork. Funny, because you are a clock, Mr. Sony Dream Machine.
Like clockwork until today. Like clockwork until Saturday, March 12, 2011. Now, Mr. Sony Dream Machine, I have work today. It starts at 8 a.m. I usually get up at 6:45, get ready and get out the door by 7:50. It's a game we've played for over a year now. We've taken a few Saturdays off here and there, but there's no real big surprise. But that wasn't good enough for you, was it? No, of course not.
You're Mr. Sony Dream Machine! Now I really know why your initials are Mr. SDM! First you make me feel bad for hitting your snooze button so hard, but then I find out you like it. Now you play tricks on me! Now you decide that you will set my clock ahead one hour a day early! So now I've been robbed of an hour of sleep when I've got such a big day ahead of me.
You sir, are an ass. And I am sending you this letter to let you know that you are indeed an ass. Pray that I don't decide to unplug you and give you to the Goodwill. You jerk.
Grumpily,
Mike
PS You really should have come with an antenna. Your radio function is scratchy at best. Yeah, that's right. I went there.
Hello. We've been together for a few years now, and so far we've had a pretty decent relationship. We've learned each other's boundaries, and really had our ups and downs. I have tried to stop hitting you with such force, and blaming you for things that aren't your fault. I know you don't control the earth's rotation. You just display it in a quantifiable way for me. I get that! And you've done your job over and over and over again. I thank you for that.
But hey, now. This is the weekend where I lose an hour of my precious sleep. This is the weekend we set the clocks forward in an age old marketing ploy. This is the weekend I don't work on Sunday and was planning on skipping all the confusion and grogginess regarding the change. The first one of those weekends in a long while.
You know what you did. I've never particularly liked your auto-set time function, and you know that. The first day I took you out of your box I spent a while trying to set the the time manually. But you just wanted me to push the region button and let your automatic preferences take effect. Then you worked. And along came a DST situation, and remarkably you worked again. Two times a year like clockwork. Funny, because you are a clock, Mr. Sony Dream Machine.
Like clockwork until today. Like clockwork until Saturday, March 12, 2011. Now, Mr. Sony Dream Machine, I have work today. It starts at 8 a.m. I usually get up at 6:45, get ready and get out the door by 7:50. It's a game we've played for over a year now. We've taken a few Saturdays off here and there, but there's no real big surprise. But that wasn't good enough for you, was it? No, of course not.
You're Mr. Sony Dream Machine! Now I really know why your initials are Mr. SDM! First you make me feel bad for hitting your snooze button so hard, but then I find out you like it. Now you play tricks on me! Now you decide that you will set my clock ahead one hour a day early! So now I've been robbed of an hour of sleep when I've got such a big day ahead of me.
You sir, are an ass. And I am sending you this letter to let you know that you are indeed an ass. Pray that I don't decide to unplug you and give you to the Goodwill. You jerk.
Grumpily,
Mike
PS You really should have come with an antenna. Your radio function is scratchy at best. Yeah, that's right. I went there.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
New Job
So I got a new job yesterday. I'm now a writer for http://robotgeek.co.uk
Basically the job will entail me writing a couple of reviews per week of games that I get *for free* from companies before their release. (15-year-old me is salivating)
Currently, that'll be the only form of payment since this site is just being launched, but hey, that's good enough for me. Plus it'll give me a chance to work on my writing style.
My application consisted of me sending the editor a link to my gaming blog and saying, if you want some of this, eh? Apparently he did.
In my excitement I must give a big kudos to the esteemed Joshua Hill for giving me the lead.
Boosh.
Basically the job will entail me writing a couple of reviews per week of games that I get *for free* from companies before their release. (15-year-old me is salivating)
Currently, that'll be the only form of payment since this site is just being launched, but hey, that's good enough for me. Plus it'll give me a chance to work on my writing style.
My application consisted of me sending the editor a link to my gaming blog and saying, if you want some of this, eh? Apparently he did.
In my excitement I must give a big kudos to the esteemed Joshua Hill for giving me the lead.
Boosh.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Sequels
(Warning, very slight Dark Tower spoilers ahead and if you haven't read/seen LOTR or HP 7 definite spoilers ahead)
If you've read the Lord of the Rings you know that things happen just a bit differently in the books than they do in the movies. First off, Boromir is killed by the Uruk-Hai at the beginning of The Two Towers, and not at the end of The Fellowship of the Ring. When Tolkien wrote his masterpiece, it was meant to be one volume, so the drop off between the end of the Book II and the beginning of Book III is not that much. By making it into two books, it's a little more shocking when you pick up the second book and boom! Boromir dies. But, Frodo and Sam had already left. That was the major event to end the book. Frodo broke the fellowship and left. Boromir dying, though sad, wasn't the big dramatic finish. Peter Jackson had the sense to bring Boromir's death into the first film for obvious reasons. Tied things up nicely.
Now, imagine if you will that the Fellowship of the Ring (movie or book) ended with Frodo escaping from Boromir and going off to be alone. Then imagine that The Two Towers began with Frodo breaking the fellowship and leaving. And then as an added kick while you're down, Boromir died. All within the first five pages of the story. (Now, I don't know who I'm kidding, Tolkien would have taken 20 pages to accomplish this). All these game changers to start the book. Oh what's that nice world you're in, lemme go ahead and just see that... Yeah...
What's the relevance of this, you might ask?
The book I'm reading just did that. I just finished The Gunslinger by Stephen King. It's the first book in his seven part The Dark Tower series, the work King considers to be his magnum opus. The Gunslinger ended in a good way, looking off into the distance. Typical epic ending. The Drawing of the Three, the sequel, started off with a bang. Actually more like a few clicks... And had some huge game changers right at the beginning. And when I mean beginning, I mean, in the prologue. Within the first five pages, the shit hit the fan. I've never had a sequel be so cavalier. Especially when the prologue is supposed to just kind of bring me lightly back into the world.
Let's just say I got so mad I put the book down, mouth agape. My comfort level was completely breached. The prologue should be almost optional in a novel. If one were to skip it, he shouldn't miss all that much. But apparently this story is above that. I haven't had a book wow me in a while. Some twists in Harry Potter came close, like George losing his ear, and Fred dying. But I mean, I was at least prepared for some gnarly stuff to happen. This took me completely by surprise.
Kudos to you, Stephen King. You have both infuriated and thoroughly intrigued me. I know that this book will not disappoint, but damn you for arrogance, you brilliant man. When I am no longer angry, I will pick the book back up and be in for a good read, I am sure. Until then, that book is going to sit on my desk. It knows what it did...
If you've read the Lord of the Rings you know that things happen just a bit differently in the books than they do in the movies. First off, Boromir is killed by the Uruk-Hai at the beginning of The Two Towers, and not at the end of The Fellowship of the Ring. When Tolkien wrote his masterpiece, it was meant to be one volume, so the drop off between the end of the Book II and the beginning of Book III is not that much. By making it into two books, it's a little more shocking when you pick up the second book and boom! Boromir dies. But, Frodo and Sam had already left. That was the major event to end the book. Frodo broke the fellowship and left. Boromir dying, though sad, wasn't the big dramatic finish. Peter Jackson had the sense to bring Boromir's death into the first film for obvious reasons. Tied things up nicely.
Now, imagine if you will that the Fellowship of the Ring (movie or book) ended with Frodo escaping from Boromir and going off to be alone. Then imagine that The Two Towers began with Frodo breaking the fellowship and leaving. And then as an added kick while you're down, Boromir died. All within the first five pages of the story. (Now, I don't know who I'm kidding, Tolkien would have taken 20 pages to accomplish this). All these game changers to start the book. Oh what's that nice world you're in, lemme go ahead and just see that... Yeah...
What's the relevance of this, you might ask?
The book I'm reading just did that. I just finished The Gunslinger by Stephen King. It's the first book in his seven part The Dark Tower series, the work King considers to be his magnum opus. The Gunslinger ended in a good way, looking off into the distance. Typical epic ending. The Drawing of the Three, the sequel, started off with a bang. Actually more like a few clicks... And had some huge game changers right at the beginning. And when I mean beginning, I mean, in the prologue. Within the first five pages, the shit hit the fan. I've never had a sequel be so cavalier. Especially when the prologue is supposed to just kind of bring me lightly back into the world.
Let's just say I got so mad I put the book down, mouth agape. My comfort level was completely breached. The prologue should be almost optional in a novel. If one were to skip it, he shouldn't miss all that much. But apparently this story is above that. I haven't had a book wow me in a while. Some twists in Harry Potter came close, like George losing his ear, and Fred dying. But I mean, I was at least prepared for some gnarly stuff to happen. This took me completely by surprise.
Kudos to you, Stephen King. You have both infuriated and thoroughly intrigued me. I know that this book will not disappoint, but damn you for arrogance, you brilliant man. When I am no longer angry, I will pick the book back up and be in for a good read, I am sure. Until then, that book is going to sit on my desk. It knows what it did...
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Return
This cold needs to go away. Barring that, I feel like I'm back.
Even though it's still pretty damn chilly out, I feel like I'm coming out of hibernation. Not a physical hibernation, but kind of an emotional hibernation. I'm getting my groove back.
I'm not settling back into any ruts or anything, but I'm just... back. I've been in a lull, in a kind of listless state. I'm seeing new seedlings sprout within my soul. And it is good. I guess now I just have to be a constant gardener. Like Ralph Fiennes in that movie that was nothing about gardening.
Cold, cold, go away!
Even though it's still pretty damn chilly out, I feel like I'm coming out of hibernation. Not a physical hibernation, but kind of an emotional hibernation. I'm getting my groove back.
I'm not settling back into any ruts or anything, but I'm just... back. I've been in a lull, in a kind of listless state. I'm seeing new seedlings sprout within my soul. And it is good. I guess now I just have to be a constant gardener. Like Ralph Fiennes in that movie that was nothing about gardening.
Cold, cold, go away!
Monday, January 31, 2011
Brand-vertising
Same as any kid growing up watching a lot of movies and television, I was definitely inundated with a lot of commercials and advertisements. Some of the funniest commercials were always the Coca-Cola commercials. I remember this one in particular where a guy goes into a store in Asia and is trying to act out how to get a coke. (Youtube link here)
Commercials like this happened all the time, and definitely stuck in my head. But as I think about it right now, there is a battle being waged inside my head. One part of me quite sympathetic and loves the idea of Coca-Cola. Red label Coca-Cola. Served at McDonalds. Exclusive beverage of Disneyland. True American. What's not to love? I guess the product, because I hate it!
My problem is I hate the taste of it. It's the worst! People tell me it's so much better with real sugar, so I've tracked down bottles from Mexico at Vallarta and tried it. Still not any good, though. I like Diet Coke just fine, but regular, red-label Coca-Cola is just the worst. (I'm a Diet Dr Pepper guy. Honestly, better than regular.)
I wish I didn't hate the taste, because I like the brand name just fine. They did a lot of good advertising in my formative years, I think. I like seeing it around. My mom and grandma and uncle use vintage Coca-Cola in a lot of their decorating, and I like that. Feels home-y.
It's kind of weird to think--that in advertising to me specifically--Coca-Cola won the battle, but lost the war. I have nothing against them, but I will not buy their product. I will go buy Diet Dr Pepper. Or store brand Diet Dr Pepper (Diet Dr K at Ralphs). Or Schweppes Gingerale (also made by the Dr Pepper company, as I have found out in researching this).
I feel like I'm missing out in not enjoying Coca-Cola. Like those people that hate Disneyland.
Commercials like this happened all the time, and definitely stuck in my head. But as I think about it right now, there is a battle being waged inside my head. One part of me quite sympathetic and loves the idea of Coca-Cola. Red label Coca-Cola. Served at McDonalds. Exclusive beverage of Disneyland. True American. What's not to love? I guess the product, because I hate it!
My problem is I hate the taste of it. It's the worst! People tell me it's so much better with real sugar, so I've tracked down bottles from Mexico at Vallarta and tried it. Still not any good, though. I like Diet Coke just fine, but regular, red-label Coca-Cola is just the worst. (I'm a Diet Dr Pepper guy. Honestly, better than regular.)
I wish I didn't hate the taste, because I like the brand name just fine. They did a lot of good advertising in my formative years, I think. I like seeing it around. My mom and grandma and uncle use vintage Coca-Cola in a lot of their decorating, and I like that. Feels home-y.
It's kind of weird to think--that in advertising to me specifically--Coca-Cola won the battle, but lost the war. I have nothing against them, but I will not buy their product. I will go buy Diet Dr Pepper. Or store brand Diet Dr Pepper (Diet Dr K at Ralphs). Or Schweppes Gingerale (also made by the Dr Pepper company, as I have found out in researching this).
I feel like I'm missing out in not enjoying Coca-Cola. Like those people that hate Disneyland.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Meerkat Manor
City workers did maintenance on the road today, directly out from where my window is. Cars keep cruising up the hill and braking in front of my house and no matter how many times it happens, I keep peeking outside to see who's here.
Just someone braking past the cones too late.
Just someone braking past the cones too late.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Published
I submitted my poem Mission/78 to the San Diego Poetry Annual back in October. I got an email tonight letting me know it was among those selected to be published in the new issue this March.
Therefore, I can excitedly say, I shall be published!
Read the poem here.
Therefore, I can excitedly say, I shall be published!
Read the poem here.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Model Smile
The boat disembarked with a noise scarcely louder than a microwave. There was no start, no jolt, and no bon voyage from the docks. The vessel left the port as indiscriminately as anything 95 feet in length could. Those in the port, mostly locals and regulars, didn't seem to notice as the Oceanside 95 set out of the harbor.
Eleven souls ventured out with the crew that day. A husband and wife, a mother, father and their two children, and a party of five coworkers loosely affiliated with one another.
She doesn't care for me, the husband thought. She doesn't care one bit. Otherwise she'd be out here with me. I do hope we find a whale. Then maybe she'll be interested.
The wife sat inside the galley of the ship trying to order food the deckhand of the crew didn't know how to prepare, and convincing a daughter from the family aboard to play cards with her.
My damned husband, she thought. His idea of taking me to the beach is to go out on the water and look for whales. What do I want to see a whale for? Doesn't he know I got horribly sea sick that one time?
The wife and the daughter from the family aboard played war, traditional and Egyptian, for two hours. Both the husband and the girl's family cajoled them to come outside, but they were much too interested in the card game, and much too disinterested in the forty-five foot marine mammal whose course they had intercepted, to take a break and come outside.
"Thank you for taking me on this," the wife said to her husband as the Oceanside 95 docked. "I had a great time."
Eleven souls ventured out with the crew that day. A husband and wife, a mother, father and their two children, and a party of five coworkers loosely affiliated with one another.
She doesn't care for me, the husband thought. She doesn't care one bit. Otherwise she'd be out here with me. I do hope we find a whale. Then maybe she'll be interested.
The wife sat inside the galley of the ship trying to order food the deckhand of the crew didn't know how to prepare, and convincing a daughter from the family aboard to play cards with her.
My damned husband, she thought. His idea of taking me to the beach is to go out on the water and look for whales. What do I want to see a whale for? Doesn't he know I got horribly sea sick that one time?
The wife and the daughter from the family aboard played war, traditional and Egyptian, for two hours. Both the husband and the girl's family cajoled them to come outside, but they were much too interested in the card game, and much too disinterested in the forty-five foot marine mammal whose course they had intercepted, to take a break and come outside.
"Thank you for taking me on this," the wife said to her husband as the Oceanside 95 docked. "I had a great time."
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Aging
The more and more I see, the more and more it seems that getting old is a pain in the ass.
My grandpa was in great pain today. He is the standard by which I measure how painful something is. I've seen that guy endure a lot of things, and today he couldn't even draw in a deep breath without crying out in pain.
The best case scenario is that he has pleurisy.
I guess I need to accept that no matter what, no matter how well I take care of my body, what I eat, what I don't eat, eventually (unless I die 'prematurely') I, too, will get old. And I, too, will ache. I will be in further pain sometime up ahead.
Not clear what the worst case scenario is for him right now. Fingers crossed it's not cancer.
On the other side of the coin, I guess joyful moments are inevitable, too. Beauty still exists in this world, and I can do my best to contribute to that. There are moments of fun to be had. Love to be shared. Smiles to spread.
I suppose one can only hope that they were dealt out more from the jar of good things.
My grandpa was in great pain today. He is the standard by which I measure how painful something is. I've seen that guy endure a lot of things, and today he couldn't even draw in a deep breath without crying out in pain.
The best case scenario is that he has pleurisy.
I guess I need to accept that no matter what, no matter how well I take care of my body, what I eat, what I don't eat, eventually (unless I die 'prematurely') I, too, will get old. And I, too, will ache. I will be in further pain sometime up ahead.
Not clear what the worst case scenario is for him right now. Fingers crossed it's not cancer.
On the other side of the coin, I guess joyful moments are inevitable, too. Beauty still exists in this world, and I can do my best to contribute to that. There are moments of fun to be had. Love to be shared. Smiles to spread.
I suppose one can only hope that they were dealt out more from the jar of good things.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Writing Implement
Over the holidays, I really wanted to get a typewriter so I could have something dedicated to writing. I also like having a physical copy of what I'm working on w/o having to print all the time. (Besides, ink cartridges should be the new standard by which we determine wealth they cost so damned much.) But after lots of careful consideration, I think I've decided a netbook would be more versatile and useful.
Basically, all I'd want is a laptop that could browse the web and open a word processor. I have a desktop for my games and general time wasting, and I think this could help me get more productive.
Production -- gotta get me some of that!
Basically, all I'd want is a laptop that could browse the web and open a word processor. I have a desktop for my games and general time wasting, and I think this could help me get more productive.
Production -- gotta get me some of that!
Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Better Idea
I have been sick the past couple of days and missed an easy solution to a problem I was facing. My steam challenge to myself, to beat all the games I bought this holiday season, is now being blogged about on its own blog so this can be my personal thoughts/ramblings/poetry.
http://steamchallenge.blogspot.com
http://steamchallenge.blogspot.com
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Steam
Recently, I've been purchasing a lot of games on Steam during their holiday sale.
In order to motivate myself to beat them, I've decided to do a blog check off. When I begin to play a game I will blog about it in a post titled Steam: (Game Name). There may be updates while I play through, depending on enjoyability/frustration (and of course how long it takes me), and at the end I will write a short review and grade the game.
So far I have:
Humble Indie Bundle 2
-Cortex Command
-Braid
-Machinarium
-Revenge of the Titans
-Osmos
Humble Indie Bundle 1
-Samorost 2
-Lugaru HD
-World of Goo
-Gish
-Aquaria
-Penumbra: Overture
-Alien Swarm
The Secret of Monkey Island: Special Edition
Monkey Island 2 Special Edition: LeChuck's Revenge
Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic (KOTOR)
Star Wars: Dark Forces
Star Wars: Jedi Knight: Dark Forces II
Star Wars: Jedi Knight II: Jedi Outcast
Star Wars: Jedi Knight: Mysteries of the Sith
Star Wars: Jedi Knight: Jedi Academy
Half-Life
Half-Life: Blue Shift
Half-Life: Opposing Force
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Indiana Jones & the Fate of Atlantis
Loom
Dig
Plus I already have The Orange Box (of which, I regularly play TF2) and The Ship.
Needless to say my plate is full with games.
PS - If you want to friend me on Steam, my handle is mltreadway
In order to motivate myself to beat them, I've decided to do a blog check off. When I begin to play a game I will blog about it in a post titled Steam: (Game Name). There may be updates while I play through, depending on enjoyability/frustration (and of course how long it takes me), and at the end I will write a short review and grade the game.
So far I have:
Humble Indie Bundle 2
-Cortex Command
-Braid
-Machinarium
-Revenge of the Titans
-Osmos
Humble Indie Bundle 1
-Samorost 2
-Lugaru HD
-World of Goo
-Gish
-Aquaria
-Penumbra: Overture
-Alien Swarm
The Secret of Monkey Island: Special Edition
Monkey Island 2 Special Edition: LeChuck's Revenge
Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic (KOTOR)
Star Wars: Dark Forces
Star Wars: Jedi Knight: Dark Forces II
Star Wars: Jedi Knight II: Jedi Outcast
Star Wars: Jedi Knight: Mysteries of the Sith
Star Wars: Jedi Knight: Jedi Academy
Half-Life
Half-Life: Blue Shift
Half-Life: Opposing Force
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Indiana Jones & the Fate of Atlantis
Loom
Dig
Plus I already have The Orange Box (of which, I regularly play TF2) and The Ship.
Needless to say my plate is full with games.
PS - If you want to friend me on Steam, my handle is mltreadway
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