My family has been a military family. On both my mother's and my father's side, with my mother's mostly having been Marines over the generations, and my father's having served in the Army. I myself do not serve in the armed forces. I'm sure it's just one more thing my family would be ashamed of, as I'm the first male in 5 generations not to.
But that doesn't mean I don't like the military. Most of my best friends are ex-military, and I find myself fascinated with military technology and military history. Hardly an expert on either, but still, it's really quite interesting stuff. And most importantly, while the phrase "Support our troops" is often bandied about I ask myself, "Just what can I do to help them?"
I'm not a rich man of course. I can't do the things for them that celebrities like Drew Carey (Ever notice the Marines tend to do a lot more charity work it seems, and ex-marines a lot more for organizations like the USO?) and Tom Hanks do. And really they do a lot for the troops. But I still try what I can. Talked my bosses into the "Military and Veteran Discount" at the motel I worked at. Which by the way is higher than the AARP discount, I made sure of that. For some reason my mind said "National Heroes > Old People". Most places it seems the other way around.
But as I go through the store today, get my caffeine source, I notice a Vault box that looks different from all the others, little Vault Logos as a camouflage pattern over the box. I take it up, check it out, and see a Postcard marked out for "Any Soldier", care of the USO. So I take up the box, and manage to pick up some phone cards on the way out.
Best I could do, but I went and made a few letters with that address, popped a little 50 minute prepaid phone card in there and shipped them off with a little note of appreciation. Maybe they get to call home next time they're on leave, talk to their family. Only 3 cards and three letters, I'm not made of money. But I hope it's appreciated, I hope that it really makes some guy's day over there.
I would do more if I could.
I wish people would do something like that, rather than just buy some little "Support Our Troops" sticker or magnet. I wish I could do more to help veterans after they come home. You know out of all my ex-military friends, I do not have a single one that isn't considered at least 40% disabled because of what happened in the service? Never mind the question I obviously asked when I heard my friends talking about it.... (How can you be "40%" Disabled?)
I did something for them today. It wasn't much, but it's in the mail box at the corner, ready to get picked up at 8 AM. And I wonder what more I might be able to do for them. I already write my congressmen about a myriad of things, including more funding for the VA, both before and after it was a hot issue.
Often you hear people talking about pride and respect for the men and women of the US Armed Forces. You watch the news and hear people say things like, "We owe you our freedom." Sometimes a cynical part of me pipes in, wondering if they really feel any of that pride and respect. After all, not like I expect them to say, "I think you're a murdering, rapist scumbag," to their faces. Not like some of my family members coming back from Vietnam heard.
Frankly if I heard anyone say that, I'd kick their ass right there. I still remember the pain my cousin had, talking one Christmas Eve, drunk, the only time he ever would drink, about what it was like over there, and what it was like coming back. I can't even recall the images he used, they were so horrible that I can never bring myself to remember. But I do remember the feeling of it, and I do remember how my cousin felt. I wouldn't kick their ass because I'm some violent, intolerant redneck, not like that at all, I'm generally a peace loving, man of the people, enlightened redneck. No, I'd do it because I remember how badly it effected him.
It does piss me off mightily when I hear things like, "Only the bottom 10% of High School students go into the military," though. For once, obviously not true. Do you know how intelligent and quick you really have to be to do half the jobs in our military?
I could never do what they do. I'm a coward. I can count the number of fights I've been in, only two of which I started when someone really deserved it, 4 of which were people that cornered me and were after me. I'm not all that bright either. I used to dream of becoming a Fighter Ace. Used to watch that old show Black Sheep Squadron every day, imagining I might someday I might fight in the skies like that. Course I got vertigo, and a minor case of dyslexia, so I know that can never be. I'm not fit, I'm not disciplined enough.
I am perhaps the bottom 10%, and I wouldn't be fit to scrub their latrines.
But I do what I can.
It wasn't much, but imagine if every civilian in America pitched in something like 40 bucks to do something nice for our soldiers, some little act that shows we care, we appreciate, and we're proud. Imagine what that would do for them.
I salute you men and women. I would give you the clothes off my back. I love my country and I love those who put their life on the line for it.
Til next time,
Soldier On
December 29, 2008
December 28, 2008
Thaw
I lost most of the day today. It's always strange to me when it happens. It's not all that uncommon, no, but they're far apart and irregular intervals enough that I can't get used to it. I hit the sack at 7 AM, like usual. Didn't wake up to 6 PM. Normally I'm up and ready to attack the world at 10 AM, by the way. So losing a full 8 hours kind of gets to me. It destroys the plans I had made for the day, since most everything in this town closes down at 8 PM more or less. And I hate myself for doing it because I feel lazy and unproductive.
Though I did have a fairly interesting dream that might make for a half decent Fantasy RPG campaign. At least there's that.
I still having got my work done for my friend's game though. Him and I are playing out an alternate history version of Star Fleet Battle's (http://www.starfleetgames.com) General War. Massively alternate at that. While the historical alliances behind the war are there, we also have new comers from the Omega Sector, Pirate Cartel Alliances, and Random Andromedan incursions. A lot of logistical, record keeping, research, and strategic work, but it is fun for me. I've always loved war games ever since I was four years old, when my brother and I used to have a little war game of our own playing out with our Legos. More sophisticated than you'd have thought, but not much compared to professionally designed games.
If all goes according to plan, I should hope to have the work for the General Wars done tomorrow perhaps. I got to squeeze everything I was supposed to do today in there anyway, might as well add in one more thing.
All I really got to do today was go to the book store, by the time I got towards where I was going, hoping to get one thing accomplished, the town was shutting down. Well, other than the bars. Got to take a quick scan of the things there. Course I was disappointed that 4th Edition D&D had taken over the RPG/War games section. Can't even find anything for 3.5 anymore, like they expected me to just throw away all my books and modules? Ug.
Did find two interesting things. A card and dice game, "Inn-Fighting", related to D&D. It seemed interesting, reminded me of a game my buddy and I liked called "Lunch Money" in its brand of humor and niche it fills as our "We got 20 minutes til we gotta break up the meeting and that's not enough time to go on with our Campaign" side attraction.
The other was some new RPG called "Anima". Apparently it just came out this month, the store only got it in the last 2 weeks since I've been there. With as frustrated as I am that my 3.5 D&D rulebooks are now worthless, and the cost of 120 bucks just to get the new edition, I was seriously looking at it. Everything in one book, book was only 60 bucks. That made it mightily attractive to me. Refreshing to see a game where I don't have to spring 40 or more for a core rulebook then find I have to spend 40 more on modules just to get the "extra" stuff that most people act like is the core of the game, with the core rulebook giving you almost nothing.
Yes, I'm looking at you World of Darkness. Would it be that hard to cut out the fiction pieces and just have the core rulebook and the three main "expansions" all in one tome?
The weather's starting to turn warm here. It broke above freezing today, though not by much. Kinda sad, I had managed to make some extra cash when it was still falling. Now that it's melting? No more snow service. And no lawn care bucks until spring at best I reckon. I'll just have to soldier on best I can through the lean months.
Either that or hope for a late blizzard to come swinging through. Well, not a blizzard. Ideally snow shallow enough all the midgets still gotta go to school and won't steal the work away but deep enough that people will still part with the cash. About 6 inches or so would be ideal.
I guess the warmer weather will be good for me though. I'll get farther out of the house. I've been taking it somewhat easy, not working myself to the point where I can barely stand up anymore. Last thing I wanted to do was be exhausted to the core, not watch my feet, and slip on some patch of ice and get a bad sprain.
Til next time,
Grind Away
Though I did have a fairly interesting dream that might make for a half decent Fantasy RPG campaign. At least there's that.
I still having got my work done for my friend's game though. Him and I are playing out an alternate history version of Star Fleet Battle's (http://www.starfleetgames.com) General War. Massively alternate at that. While the historical alliances behind the war are there, we also have new comers from the Omega Sector, Pirate Cartel Alliances, and Random Andromedan incursions. A lot of logistical, record keeping, research, and strategic work, but it is fun for me. I've always loved war games ever since I was four years old, when my brother and I used to have a little war game of our own playing out with our Legos. More sophisticated than you'd have thought, but not much compared to professionally designed games.
If all goes according to plan, I should hope to have the work for the General Wars done tomorrow perhaps. I got to squeeze everything I was supposed to do today in there anyway, might as well add in one more thing.
All I really got to do today was go to the book store, by the time I got towards where I was going, hoping to get one thing accomplished, the town was shutting down. Well, other than the bars. Got to take a quick scan of the things there. Course I was disappointed that 4th Edition D&D had taken over the RPG/War games section. Can't even find anything for 3.5 anymore, like they expected me to just throw away all my books and modules? Ug.
Did find two interesting things. A card and dice game, "Inn-Fighting", related to D&D. It seemed interesting, reminded me of a game my buddy and I liked called "Lunch Money" in its brand of humor and niche it fills as our "We got 20 minutes til we gotta break up the meeting and that's not enough time to go on with our Campaign" side attraction.
The other was some new RPG called "Anima". Apparently it just came out this month, the store only got it in the last 2 weeks since I've been there. With as frustrated as I am that my 3.5 D&D rulebooks are now worthless, and the cost of 120 bucks just to get the new edition, I was seriously looking at it. Everything in one book, book was only 60 bucks. That made it mightily attractive to me. Refreshing to see a game where I don't have to spring 40 or more for a core rulebook then find I have to spend 40 more on modules just to get the "extra" stuff that most people act like is the core of the game, with the core rulebook giving you almost nothing.
Yes, I'm looking at you World of Darkness. Would it be that hard to cut out the fiction pieces and just have the core rulebook and the three main "expansions" all in one tome?
The weather's starting to turn warm here. It broke above freezing today, though not by much. Kinda sad, I had managed to make some extra cash when it was still falling. Now that it's melting? No more snow service. And no lawn care bucks until spring at best I reckon. I'll just have to soldier on best I can through the lean months.
Either that or hope for a late blizzard to come swinging through. Well, not a blizzard. Ideally snow shallow enough all the midgets still gotta go to school and won't steal the work away but deep enough that people will still part with the cash. About 6 inches or so would be ideal.
I guess the warmer weather will be good for me though. I'll get farther out of the house. I've been taking it somewhat easy, not working myself to the point where I can barely stand up anymore. Last thing I wanted to do was be exhausted to the core, not watch my feet, and slip on some patch of ice and get a bad sprain.
Til next time,
Grind Away
December 27, 2008
Victory at Sea
Navyfield (http://www.navyfield.com), I'm sure I mentioned it before. It's become my one real true source of relaxation lately. My fleet in game, VetS (http://www.vets-fleet.com), had a Harbor Defense tonight. Tokyo, at 2 AM PST, against Red Sky, a fleet I'm told is filled with lots of high level, high skilled players.
It was a glorious battle. Completely one sided really though. They would never have had a shot at our port itself if we didn't decide to give it to them. My performance was less than stellar personally, though I made no real mistakes. Or rather the mistakes I did make couldn't be helped.
That always puts a nice spring in my step. It's definitely a fun event, one of the few times the fleet gets together for a truly organized battle, and you really get a different sort of game play, where you're not just rushing out to grab whatever experience points you can but thinking in terms of objectives and goals. It makes me wish they could come up with some "Tactical XP" system for the normal game modes. So you get rewards for doing things like screening carriers from submarines and destroyers instead of just rewarding you for getting even an inconsequential amount of damage on a higher level ship. The very system that makes certain people like to just rush Battleships in their Destroyers because even one shell barely scratching the paint gives them massive rewards.
I really gotta thank the Boss Man though for his superb leadership, and those that stepped up on the squad level, such as Uncle Kami and Brazen. Really did a great job directing the fleet.
Other than that? Well, today my roommate finally got his new TV, his second one, the one he actually bought for a 3 year payment plan. Some 46" LCD Hi Def TV. Its stand doesn't look stable enough for the screen. Keep wondering if one of our cats will get frisky one night and manage to knock it over. It wasn't exactly cheap.
Course it was hell to load into the car. 16 degrees out, ice covered cement, and a Volvo to fit in that, a blue-ray player, and home theater speakers. The loading dock personnel and my roommate fought for 12 minutes trying to figure out how to get it in the car. Trying about every illogical, clearly never gonna work way they could. Never mind I mentioned right off the bat how it was going to be loaded. No one listened.
12 minute later with them having almost fell and dropped the stuff 4 times, cold, sweaty, and frustrated they were willing to listen to my elegant answer, which got everything packed int heir just perfectly. No need to jimmy things, no need to strap anything down, no need for someone to walk home or ride stuffed between boxes.
I volunteer every other week for a food bank here, see. Our vehicle is a Volvo station wagon, same model, different year. My boss there and I manage to fit three pallets worth of food in that Volvo. The TV and Theater was easy by comparison. Makes me wonder why they refused to listen to the guy with the experience packing in that type of car.
Yet another day with no work, no paying work that is, done. I did a lot of household work I had been putting off as long as I could. Course I had to load, unload, lug, and set up the electronics. Go figure, the guy buys me a MP3 player can't leave it alone, buys a TV and Theater set up, and can't be bothered to work on it himself.
Only other thing of note? It seems my suggestion for an Omega Chart and Play Aid book for Star Fleet Battles (http://www.starfleetgames.com) is in the running for printing this year. I kinda hoped it would be, sure, it's not something that's absolutely vital, but it'd be useful. And probably easy to do from their side. Only thing I ask for is that they manage to come up with some tables they'd have to make as everything else has already been done in separate books, to help record some information.
A good day all around. Not too much was done, but I had some minor successes at fun things.
Til next time,
Grind Away
It was a glorious battle. Completely one sided really though. They would never have had a shot at our port itself if we didn't decide to give it to them. My performance was less than stellar personally, though I made no real mistakes. Or rather the mistakes I did make couldn't be helped.
That always puts a nice spring in my step. It's definitely a fun event, one of the few times the fleet gets together for a truly organized battle, and you really get a different sort of game play, where you're not just rushing out to grab whatever experience points you can but thinking in terms of objectives and goals. It makes me wish they could come up with some "Tactical XP" system for the normal game modes. So you get rewards for doing things like screening carriers from submarines and destroyers instead of just rewarding you for getting even an inconsequential amount of damage on a higher level ship. The very system that makes certain people like to just rush Battleships in their Destroyers because even one shell barely scratching the paint gives them massive rewards.
I really gotta thank the Boss Man though for his superb leadership, and those that stepped up on the squad level, such as Uncle Kami and Brazen. Really did a great job directing the fleet.
Other than that? Well, today my roommate finally got his new TV, his second one, the one he actually bought for a 3 year payment plan. Some 46" LCD Hi Def TV. Its stand doesn't look stable enough for the screen. Keep wondering if one of our cats will get frisky one night and manage to knock it over. It wasn't exactly cheap.
Course it was hell to load into the car. 16 degrees out, ice covered cement, and a Volvo to fit in that, a blue-ray player, and home theater speakers. The loading dock personnel and my roommate fought for 12 minutes trying to figure out how to get it in the car. Trying about every illogical, clearly never gonna work way they could. Never mind I mentioned right off the bat how it was going to be loaded. No one listened.
12 minute later with them having almost fell and dropped the stuff 4 times, cold, sweaty, and frustrated they were willing to listen to my elegant answer, which got everything packed int heir just perfectly. No need to jimmy things, no need to strap anything down, no need for someone to walk home or ride stuffed between boxes.
I volunteer every other week for a food bank here, see. Our vehicle is a Volvo station wagon, same model, different year. My boss there and I manage to fit three pallets worth of food in that Volvo. The TV and Theater was easy by comparison. Makes me wonder why they refused to listen to the guy with the experience packing in that type of car.
Yet another day with no work, no paying work that is, done. I did a lot of household work I had been putting off as long as I could. Course I had to load, unload, lug, and set up the electronics. Go figure, the guy buys me a MP3 player can't leave it alone, buys a TV and Theater set up, and can't be bothered to work on it himself.
Only other thing of note? It seems my suggestion for an Omega Chart and Play Aid book for Star Fleet Battles (http://www.starfleetgames.com) is in the running for printing this year. I kinda hoped it would be, sure, it's not something that's absolutely vital, but it'd be useful. And probably easy to do from their side. Only thing I ask for is that they manage to come up with some tables they'd have to make as everything else has already been done in separate books, to help record some information.
A good day all around. Not too much was done, but I had some minor successes at fun things.
Til next time,
Grind Away
December 26, 2008
Fallout
Or perhaps shell-shocked is a better word for my condition today. I went around in a daze, battered and numb to most everything around me. I know I was gruff, impatient, and more than a little curt with everyone around me.
Not that I was truly conscious of it. Everything moved like I was in a dream, or rather some surreal nightmare.
My roommate had perhaps his only other friend, and his wife over for Christmas. I think I tried to be cheerful for the company, but it was probably best that I made myself scarce as soon as I could. It was a real bachelor style affair, everything he had slated for his Christmas dinner with friends came prepacked, prepared, just nuke and serve.
As someone that likes to cook, and thinks he's not entirely horrible at it, it offended me. He never likes my cooking anyway, oh, he says he doesn't mind it. Sure, and he'll thank me if I cook. But if I don't set it out in front of him, and make him eat it? He'd rather go in for some little frozen TV dinner from the bargain bins rather than eat something I prepared out of fresh ingredients.
Just another example of a skill I had once thought I was good at, but must be truly terrible indeed.
So I went back to sleep, grumbling. I saw my sister standing over me, and I had but one gift, a little MP3/video/media player from Samsung. I swear it feels cheap as hell. Probably will break the first time anything heavier than a feather touches it.
Disposable technology, they presume no one will own anything for more than a year or two anymore. It's another one of those things that gets to me.
I bet they won't even repair it. It's a far cry from things like my old Gameboy or Super Nintendo, which worked perfectly without any maintenance at all for over a decade and was still going strong. Now I got things like Playstations that break down 5 months after I get them due to parts defects. Parts defects that the company won't fix or replace.
Is it so much to ask that when I buy something, especially something relatively expensive, that it lasts for more than a few years? Out of all the more modern electronics, the longest I've gotten anything to last without needing repairs, and damn I don't think I'm that tough on things, I just use them normally, is now my Gameboy Advance. Everythign else I have is either over a decade old and still works perfectly, or decidedly younger and needs constant babying and repairs. Such as the very PC I'm typing this from, a Dell my roommate got second hand, only a year old now, and its needed to be "rebuilt" 4 times. Only one of those was from any sort of malicious virus.
See how I tend to go off track like that? Just something gets a hold of me and I gotta get it out.
When I finally come back out my roommate is bugging me to try out this little MP3 device. I know I must have still been out of sorts. I was grumbling and quite annoyed as he ripped into it. It just struck me as, "This was my gift, right? How about you let me use it as I want rather than taking it away from me to play with yourself?" In the end if that's how he's gonna behave I'd rather he bought me nothing at all and just got one for himself.
The food was terrible. I knew it would be. Sure, it was "quality" frozen, prepared, packaged food he bought from some supposedly good brands. But I eat stuff I cook myself every day, I eat stuff I prepare from fresh meats, vegetables, and other ingredients. Compared to that, his nuke food just tasted like bland nutrient pastes.
That Marie Calendar pie was even worse. I used to say it's impossible to have a truly bad pie. Even cheap pies are still good to eat. It's just about one of the simplest things to possibly do. I could make damn fine pies by the time I was 4 and I've never seen anyone screw up a pie recipe beyond salvage.
That frozen Pumpkin Pie thing though would have to be a contender to break that "truly bad pie" line. It's not like it made me sick, but it has to be the absolutely worst pumpkin pie that I've ever had the displeasure of knowing.
Finally I was fed up, and went back to my sanctuary. Cleaning my room and reorganizing all my possessions, two acts I usually loathe, seemed preferable to continued Christmas. Just another day I spent angry at everything, feeling like my body was on autopilot as most things around me seemed to conspire to try to tick me off.
You may think I'm crazy, and maybe I am. But that's the way it was.
Thank the gods its all over.
Til next time,
Grind Away
Not that I was truly conscious of it. Everything moved like I was in a dream, or rather some surreal nightmare.
My roommate had perhaps his only other friend, and his wife over for Christmas. I think I tried to be cheerful for the company, but it was probably best that I made myself scarce as soon as I could. It was a real bachelor style affair, everything he had slated for his Christmas dinner with friends came prepacked, prepared, just nuke and serve.
As someone that likes to cook, and thinks he's not entirely horrible at it, it offended me. He never likes my cooking anyway, oh, he says he doesn't mind it. Sure, and he'll thank me if I cook. But if I don't set it out in front of him, and make him eat it? He'd rather go in for some little frozen TV dinner from the bargain bins rather than eat something I prepared out of fresh ingredients.
Just another example of a skill I had once thought I was good at, but must be truly terrible indeed.
So I went back to sleep, grumbling. I saw my sister standing over me, and I had but one gift, a little MP3/video/media player from Samsung. I swear it feels cheap as hell. Probably will break the first time anything heavier than a feather touches it.
Disposable technology, they presume no one will own anything for more than a year or two anymore. It's another one of those things that gets to me.
I bet they won't even repair it. It's a far cry from things like my old Gameboy or Super Nintendo, which worked perfectly without any maintenance at all for over a decade and was still going strong. Now I got things like Playstations that break down 5 months after I get them due to parts defects. Parts defects that the company won't fix or replace.
Is it so much to ask that when I buy something, especially something relatively expensive, that it lasts for more than a few years? Out of all the more modern electronics, the longest I've gotten anything to last without needing repairs, and damn I don't think I'm that tough on things, I just use them normally, is now my Gameboy Advance. Everythign else I have is either over a decade old and still works perfectly, or decidedly younger and needs constant babying and repairs. Such as the very PC I'm typing this from, a Dell my roommate got second hand, only a year old now, and its needed to be "rebuilt" 4 times. Only one of those was from any sort of malicious virus.
See how I tend to go off track like that? Just something gets a hold of me and I gotta get it out.
When I finally come back out my roommate is bugging me to try out this little MP3 device. I know I must have still been out of sorts. I was grumbling and quite annoyed as he ripped into it. It just struck me as, "This was my gift, right? How about you let me use it as I want rather than taking it away from me to play with yourself?" In the end if that's how he's gonna behave I'd rather he bought me nothing at all and just got one for himself.
The food was terrible. I knew it would be. Sure, it was "quality" frozen, prepared, packaged food he bought from some supposedly good brands. But I eat stuff I cook myself every day, I eat stuff I prepare from fresh meats, vegetables, and other ingredients. Compared to that, his nuke food just tasted like bland nutrient pastes.
That Marie Calendar pie was even worse. I used to say it's impossible to have a truly bad pie. Even cheap pies are still good to eat. It's just about one of the simplest things to possibly do. I could make damn fine pies by the time I was 4 and I've never seen anyone screw up a pie recipe beyond salvage.
That frozen Pumpkin Pie thing though would have to be a contender to break that "truly bad pie" line. It's not like it made me sick, but it has to be the absolutely worst pumpkin pie that I've ever had the displeasure of knowing.
Finally I was fed up, and went back to my sanctuary. Cleaning my room and reorganizing all my possessions, two acts I usually loathe, seemed preferable to continued Christmas. Just another day I spent angry at everything, feeling like my body was on autopilot as most things around me seemed to conspire to try to tick me off.
You may think I'm crazy, and maybe I am. But that's the way it was.
Thank the gods its all over.
Til next time,
Grind Away
December 25, 2008
Holidays
I don't like Christmas. There, that's it. I don't like the holiday. This isn't because I'm offended at a "religious zealot holiday" or anything like that. Hell, I'm Episcopalian. I went to Midnight Mass. But the holiday, the federal holiday? I can't say I care much for it.
Christmas takes over everything it touches. I can't find a decent radio station that hasn't been consumed by the beast. I can't find a TV station immune, even the news channels were packed with Christmas related stories all day. I can't go to any store in the city without being deluged with Salvation Army collectors calling out Merry Christmas or the same five or six songs blaring out muzak style over the store.
There's a ton of pressure on Christmas. I'm not rich, not by a long shot. I barely have spare change most months, much less a ton of disposable income. But lord if I don't spend my yearly wages worth on Christmas everyone acts like I'm some sociopath that needs to be shunned and quarantined for months because I wasn't nice enough to plink down two-hundred bucks on some guy I've only seen four times all year.
Christmas is a time of year that reminds me of my family. You can't help it. Everywhere you look someone is shoving Family in your face over these last two months. "Nothing like home for the holidays" and "No one loves you like your family does", things like that which have proven true in only a perverse sense.
A few years ago I lost my roofing job during winter. Came home for Christmas, my first year out of the house. Oh, everyone was smiles and laughs at first, sure. My sister actually acted like she might have missed me, my mother was about as human and loving as she gets. Then came the time I had to talk to her. My landlord had decided to kick me out since I was unemployed. My friend saw him changing the locks and pawning my stuff. I had no job, and no place, and nothing to my name.
I told my mother. It was just two days after Christmas. Immediately I saw her true nature come back to her. She accused me of being a drug dealer and a theif, laughable since I've never even seen someone selling drugs. Not that I knew of. I had no interest in the stuff. And hadn't stolen anything since some penny candy when I was four. She accused me of lying to her, coming home just so I could rob her blind, take money from her, and disappear again. Nevermind she kicked me out without warning when I had my 18th birthday. Well, little warning. It was, "You got a week to get the hell out of here," that she gave me. When before in my life I was told I could stay if I went to school, which I was doing.
Three days after Christmas, she turned me out on the street. With nothing more than a hastily packed bag of the various clothes and snack type foods I managed to salvage out of my Christmas gifts, and not a penny to my name again. It was winter. The ground was frozen. And I had no idea how to survive homeless. I had no idea what sort of services I might have gotten to help me. It's not like they teach you about Social Services and Homeless Shelters in the course of your education after all.
It wasn't until late April that I managed to get in contact with my best friend I had. Curtis helped me more than any member of my family ever would. My mother had contacted all my aunts, uncles, and cousins and warned them about my "Drug dealing, theif, gang banger ways". Curtis knew better. Hell, he laughed when he heard that my family believed that. As did I when she first confronted me about it, it was that absurd to me.
Curtis gave me a bus ticket up to Yakima. He put me up in a motel til I could get a place and a job. He helped me every step of the way. He still helps me out when I need it, and pushes me towards what I should do when my will fails me.
Family... Christmas...
All it reminds me of is that, when I really needed help, when I was down and out and hit rock bottom, my family decided to kick me in the eye rather than even spare a kind word.
I hate Christmas.
Til next time,
Grind Away
Christmas takes over everything it touches. I can't find a decent radio station that hasn't been consumed by the beast. I can't find a TV station immune, even the news channels were packed with Christmas related stories all day. I can't go to any store in the city without being deluged with Salvation Army collectors calling out Merry Christmas or the same five or six songs blaring out muzak style over the store.
There's a ton of pressure on Christmas. I'm not rich, not by a long shot. I barely have spare change most months, much less a ton of disposable income. But lord if I don't spend my yearly wages worth on Christmas everyone acts like I'm some sociopath that needs to be shunned and quarantined for months because I wasn't nice enough to plink down two-hundred bucks on some guy I've only seen four times all year.
Christmas is a time of year that reminds me of my family. You can't help it. Everywhere you look someone is shoving Family in your face over these last two months. "Nothing like home for the holidays" and "No one loves you like your family does", things like that which have proven true in only a perverse sense.
A few years ago I lost my roofing job during winter. Came home for Christmas, my first year out of the house. Oh, everyone was smiles and laughs at first, sure. My sister actually acted like she might have missed me, my mother was about as human and loving as she gets. Then came the time I had to talk to her. My landlord had decided to kick me out since I was unemployed. My friend saw him changing the locks and pawning my stuff. I had no job, and no place, and nothing to my name.
I told my mother. It was just two days after Christmas. Immediately I saw her true nature come back to her. She accused me of being a drug dealer and a theif, laughable since I've never even seen someone selling drugs. Not that I knew of. I had no interest in the stuff. And hadn't stolen anything since some penny candy when I was four. She accused me of lying to her, coming home just so I could rob her blind, take money from her, and disappear again. Nevermind she kicked me out without warning when I had my 18th birthday. Well, little warning. It was, "You got a week to get the hell out of here," that she gave me. When before in my life I was told I could stay if I went to school, which I was doing.
Three days after Christmas, she turned me out on the street. With nothing more than a hastily packed bag of the various clothes and snack type foods I managed to salvage out of my Christmas gifts, and not a penny to my name again. It was winter. The ground was frozen. And I had no idea how to survive homeless. I had no idea what sort of services I might have gotten to help me. It's not like they teach you about Social Services and Homeless Shelters in the course of your education after all.
It wasn't until late April that I managed to get in contact with my best friend I had. Curtis helped me more than any member of my family ever would. My mother had contacted all my aunts, uncles, and cousins and warned them about my "Drug dealing, theif, gang banger ways". Curtis knew better. Hell, he laughed when he heard that my family believed that. As did I when she first confronted me about it, it was that absurd to me.
Curtis gave me a bus ticket up to Yakima. He put me up in a motel til I could get a place and a job. He helped me every step of the way. He still helps me out when I need it, and pushes me towards what I should do when my will fails me.
Family... Christmas...
All it reminds me of is that, when I really needed help, when I was down and out and hit rock bottom, my family decided to kick me in the eye rather than even spare a kind word.
I hate Christmas.
Til next time,
Grind Away
December 24, 2008
Hassel
I can't remember anything in my life where I didn't have to work twice as hard to be half as good as everyone else.
Take for example the events of today. First thing's first. I went out to get some spare bucks shoveling snow and other such tasks. I ended up working at some old lady's house for 2 hours clearing off her driveway and walk. Got a whole 4 dollars for that. Eh, four bucks is four bucks, sure, pays for my monthly use of some random items like toothpaste. Meanwhile I find some kids were hitting up the other people in the area (Don't they have school? Slackers...), gettin' 10 bucks per kid in this 5 kid road crew. They cleaned out everyone on the block before I finished the first job. Course the one I did was the one that was the worst off as well. Old lady had 13 inches deep drifts.
Then after that I had to go down, see about getting benefits renewed at the DSHS. Always fun. I swear that place must be run by someone with a degree in torture methodology. Those zombie lights that just seem designed to suck the life out of you. Long lines where people are stuffed in nearly front to back. Gods I hate lines like that. Makes me feel like some doomed cow at the stockyards, slowly moving towards an eventual death. Just about makes me go crazy. Three hours there and I finally get called up and basically told that I needed to go get my roommate to sign another form, meaning the day was a complete waste there, that no one bothered to tell me needed to be filled out before I got there and had to wait.
It seems the never run out of some additional form they negelect to mention. It's almost as rediculous as some of the things they count as "prepared food" for tramp stamps. Did you know that: You can buy a fountain drink at a quickie mart and it doesn't count, but if you put a straw into it before you pay it does? Do you know you can't order a sandwich made up for you at a deli, but you can buy one that's already wrapped up not 7 feet off the deli counter just fine? Did you know you can't buy a bowl of hot soup, but you can buy a "We make it, you bake it" fresh pizza?
Ug. Who the hell sits there in the capital and thinks of these things?
Also makes me wonder how people who are homeless are actually supposed to eat anything if they can't buy anything they can just grab and eat other than junk food and its ilk.
I get done with the DSHS then, grumbling, sore, cold and tired and plop back in my chair. Figure I'd go play some games. Usually fun for me. Been playing Navyfield (http://www.navyfield.com) lately. Sadly I've reached this point in the game where everything I have sucks, but I gotta use it because anything else I try to use that might be better, won't earn my jack experience points, so I'd never get PAST the sucky ships. For some reason it really annoys me to play with the kids who just dump hudreds of bucks on the game and thus are instantly better than me, no matter how much harder I fight.
Yeah, I got a chip on my shoulder about these kids today that just have life handed through them. Lot of them I know that never work a day in their life until they're 28 and went through all their parent's money.
I do have great respect for self made men though. It's not hating richer people or anything, just hating lazy slobs that do nothing but life off the fat of their elders.
So I finally get diner made, taco night for me. Always nice, for abut 20 bucks I get a week worth of food out of it, good food too. My roommate gets home, starts in on me right away with his newest get rich quick scheme. Seems now he wants me to start up some online store to sell off stuff at marked up prices that he got at Costco. I can't say I'm thrilled with it, I think it'll be a lot harder than he thinks, not just opening up a few E-bay auctions and suddenly hit the big money. But at least it's somewhat decent work. Might pay off better than this writing stuff he was pushing where I'd be working for two or three days for 10 bucks. Course like always he gets real obsessive. He hasn't done anything else but read a few books about online selling and already is talking like the money is in his pocket. I'm pretty sure I'll have to do all the actual work, he'll just cough up capital.
Now the reason this gets to me is because, while it MIGHT be good money, might be, it will be something that will take up all my time and keep me trapped at home. He likes to find jobs that mean I'll be around the house all day. Personally I want to move up in the world, and I know that means getting steady, long haul work outside the home, work with a chance of promotion. He however, doesn't seem to want to do that. Even so much as to sabotage my job searches when they call the house. Given everything from bad references to telling people I don't live here and more.
He wants someone to be here all the time. To take care of the house and keep him company when he comes home, talkin' with him for hours and hours. Myself? I'm the sort of guy that can barely be considered a social creature as you might have guessed. If I see or talk to people for maybe 10 minutes a day that's more than enough for me. About the only time I stick around and socialize is when I'm lookin' for a woman, though that's been quite a while itself.
Til next time,
Grind Away
Take for example the events of today. First thing's first. I went out to get some spare bucks shoveling snow and other such tasks. I ended up working at some old lady's house for 2 hours clearing off her driveway and walk. Got a whole 4 dollars for that. Eh, four bucks is four bucks, sure, pays for my monthly use of some random items like toothpaste. Meanwhile I find some kids were hitting up the other people in the area (Don't they have school? Slackers...), gettin' 10 bucks per kid in this 5 kid road crew. They cleaned out everyone on the block before I finished the first job. Course the one I did was the one that was the worst off as well. Old lady had 13 inches deep drifts.
Then after that I had to go down, see about getting benefits renewed at the DSHS. Always fun. I swear that place must be run by someone with a degree in torture methodology. Those zombie lights that just seem designed to suck the life out of you. Long lines where people are stuffed in nearly front to back. Gods I hate lines like that. Makes me feel like some doomed cow at the stockyards, slowly moving towards an eventual death. Just about makes me go crazy. Three hours there and I finally get called up and basically told that I needed to go get my roommate to sign another form, meaning the day was a complete waste there, that no one bothered to tell me needed to be filled out before I got there and had to wait.
It seems the never run out of some additional form they negelect to mention. It's almost as rediculous as some of the things they count as "prepared food" for tramp stamps. Did you know that: You can buy a fountain drink at a quickie mart and it doesn't count, but if you put a straw into it before you pay it does? Do you know you can't order a sandwich made up for you at a deli, but you can buy one that's already wrapped up not 7 feet off the deli counter just fine? Did you know you can't buy a bowl of hot soup, but you can buy a "We make it, you bake it" fresh pizza?
Ug. Who the hell sits there in the capital and thinks of these things?
Also makes me wonder how people who are homeless are actually supposed to eat anything if they can't buy anything they can just grab and eat other than junk food and its ilk.
I get done with the DSHS then, grumbling, sore, cold and tired and plop back in my chair. Figure I'd go play some games. Usually fun for me. Been playing Navyfield (http://www.navyfield.com) lately. Sadly I've reached this point in the game where everything I have sucks, but I gotta use it because anything else I try to use that might be better, won't earn my jack experience points, so I'd never get PAST the sucky ships. For some reason it really annoys me to play with the kids who just dump hudreds of bucks on the game and thus are instantly better than me, no matter how much harder I fight.
Yeah, I got a chip on my shoulder about these kids today that just have life handed through them. Lot of them I know that never work a day in their life until they're 28 and went through all their parent's money.
I do have great respect for self made men though. It's not hating richer people or anything, just hating lazy slobs that do nothing but life off the fat of their elders.
So I finally get diner made, taco night for me. Always nice, for abut 20 bucks I get a week worth of food out of it, good food too. My roommate gets home, starts in on me right away with his newest get rich quick scheme. Seems now he wants me to start up some online store to sell off stuff at marked up prices that he got at Costco. I can't say I'm thrilled with it, I think it'll be a lot harder than he thinks, not just opening up a few E-bay auctions and suddenly hit the big money. But at least it's somewhat decent work. Might pay off better than this writing stuff he was pushing where I'd be working for two or three days for 10 bucks. Course like always he gets real obsessive. He hasn't done anything else but read a few books about online selling and already is talking like the money is in his pocket. I'm pretty sure I'll have to do all the actual work, he'll just cough up capital.
Now the reason this gets to me is because, while it MIGHT be good money, might be, it will be something that will take up all my time and keep me trapped at home. He likes to find jobs that mean I'll be around the house all day. Personally I want to move up in the world, and I know that means getting steady, long haul work outside the home, work with a chance of promotion. He however, doesn't seem to want to do that. Even so much as to sabotage my job searches when they call the house. Given everything from bad references to telling people I don't live here and more.
He wants someone to be here all the time. To take care of the house and keep him company when he comes home, talkin' with him for hours and hours. Myself? I'm the sort of guy that can barely be considered a social creature as you might have guessed. If I see or talk to people for maybe 10 minutes a day that's more than enough for me. About the only time I stick around and socialize is when I'm lookin' for a woman, though that's been quite a while itself.
Til next time,
Grind Away
December 23, 2008
Regular Service
Third day. I might just make it at this rate. I still have no idea if anyone other than myself ever has, or ever will read this. For today that really doesn't bother me if no one ever sees it at all. Especially if certain people never see it. Always get squirrely about friends trying to read my writing. They behave as though they have to psychoanalyze every single word and turn it into some deep dark secret within my mind. It gets quite annoying.
Here comes the hard part for me. I ran out of my initial impetus. I had a story to mention on those first two days. Now, nothing. I really got to reach for it.
Today, today was yet another day. The snow was pretty deep, nice and cold out. I love it myself, winter, snow, ice, freezing winds, all of it. You get to go out, maybe make a buck or two shoveling someone's driveway or walk out. You get to run around, sliding down icy slopes. And people just get a little nicer out there as you trudge through the drifts.
For once, I was happy. There wasn't much to do outside. No one was paying for snow service. Kinda irritating as I need the money if I got any hope of salvaging Christmas. Not for me, I don't much care for the holiday, but my friends seem to like it if I can do things like bring them a home made pie, or ship them a gift.
I sat by the fire, I curled up with Ninja Steve, and watched myself some True Blood, recording it for my friend. A lazy day.
But in the end, probably good for me. I was getting depressed lately. I was frustrated and angry all the time. I found myself screaming out loud at trival matters that shouldn't bother me much at all.
Days like today, they are good for the soul. Hot cocoa, fire, a good story. What more can a man ask for?
Plenty, just ain't got a snowball's chance in hell at getting any of it.
So tonight I cut it short. I wish my friends of the past and present health and good fortune. Felicia, Curtis, Owlie, Sophia.
And that little vindictive part of me wonders if the spirit of Christmas will dish out some just rewards to my tormentors. Ah, I can only hope.
Til next time,
Grind Away
Here comes the hard part for me. I ran out of my initial impetus. I had a story to mention on those first two days. Now, nothing. I really got to reach for it.
Today, today was yet another day. The snow was pretty deep, nice and cold out. I love it myself, winter, snow, ice, freezing winds, all of it. You get to go out, maybe make a buck or two shoveling someone's driveway or walk out. You get to run around, sliding down icy slopes. And people just get a little nicer out there as you trudge through the drifts.
For once, I was happy. There wasn't much to do outside. No one was paying for snow service. Kinda irritating as I need the money if I got any hope of salvaging Christmas. Not for me, I don't much care for the holiday, but my friends seem to like it if I can do things like bring them a home made pie, or ship them a gift.
I sat by the fire, I curled up with Ninja Steve, and watched myself some True Blood, recording it for my friend. A lazy day.
But in the end, probably good for me. I was getting depressed lately. I was frustrated and angry all the time. I found myself screaming out loud at trival matters that shouldn't bother me much at all.
Days like today, they are good for the soul. Hot cocoa, fire, a good story. What more can a man ask for?
Plenty, just ain't got a snowball's chance in hell at getting any of it.
So tonight I cut it short. I wish my friends of the past and present health and good fortune. Felicia, Curtis, Owlie, Sophia.
And that little vindictive part of me wonders if the spirit of Christmas will dish out some just rewards to my tormentors. Ah, I can only hope.
Til next time,
Grind Away
December 22, 2008
The Second Day
I return for the first time. I have to say I was dreading it for quite a bit. The second of anything is always the hardest for me. Not the first like people seem to think. I don't hate Monday, I hate Tuesday. I always thought it was logical. Monday morning, you go to work (Or whatever day for those like me who have non-traditional work weeks), and you're still rested and relaxed from your weekend. Yeah, sucks to be back at the grind. But at least you're recovered and ready to go.
Tuesday though. Tuesday its really set in. Your next weekend is very, very far away. You aren't coming back from a day of rest, you're coming back to work with the same lumps and bruises you took on Monday.
So today is my second day, and I have to say I really am dreading it. I've never been the sort of guy to keep a journal of any sort. The only time I ever really write every single day most years is when I enter the National Novel Writer's Month challenge (http://www.nanowrimo.org/). Otherwise writing is something that rarely happens, just when I get an itch for it so bad that I can't possibly ignore it anymore.
So what did I promise? More talk about Creativity and Irritation. I did leave with that second part unsaid.
So why does pushing me to try and earn money being "Creative" really irritate me? Well, the first reason was enough, but here's the rest:
I don't know about anyone else that will be reading this. I don't know what your paths through life were, or if you'd understand what I'm talking about. You may think it is odd, crazy, or just plain untrue. But it is true for me.
I, am not "special". I've known this since I could ever recall. I knew I was never going to be great. I didn't have any special talents, skills, or affinities that set me apart from the crowd. I was never considered a cute kid, or handsome. I never really wowed anyone with anything I did. And I had a small problem, which I won't talk about here at this time, which made me a social leper.
So I grew up knowing this. I wasn't like the other kids I knew, where their parents lied to them. Told them they could be anything, do anything, boundless potential and all that other jazz. Sure, I heard the speeches on kids TV shows, or neighbors to their children. But it never really applied to me.
So instead I turned inward. I read, a lot. I wrote, I drew. This wasn't because I had some great creative itch, it was my way of being able to do something. To get away into my own little world. A place where suddenly I mattered. I was doing something that was great. Because in my little world, there was no one else to do it. I walled myself up into my room, or spots I claimed at school and other places where no one else went. I littered the area with works I composed, pictures I sketched, half told stories that I penned.
I started to delude myself. To think that what I was doing was worthwhile. That I was some great visionary. I treasured my little scribbles. I started to ask around, very carefully, about how I might actually share my vision with that other world outside my little space.
To which I was rejected, quite flatly. Creative Writing instructors, art teachers, most everyone I talked to said "Don't bother". The most encouraging, kind thing anyone said to me about it was, "Eh, might as well give up. You won't ever make it without some big time connections in the business."
So I put these things aside. I trashed what I had kept in my home, burning it all in the backyard. It was just another confirmation that I was in fact quite crazy. Creative? Ha. Madness and delusion were closer to the mark.
I never afterwards showed any of my work to anyone. Never. I knew what I did, didn't matter. It wasn't good at all. But I still wanted to cling to my delusions. They were really all I ever had.
So I continued to write. I continued to draw. Its pace slackened off however. No matter how much I wanted to cling to the fantasy I knew deep down, and I couldn't bring myself to care about it. At least, not like I could before I had dared open the gates.
Life for me is not a great joy. It is not the worst life I could have. I know that, I've seen that, I've done that before. But I like to keep my dreams intact.
Felicia, she always said I was a dreamer. Told me that in such a way as though it was at both times everything good and everything bad about me. I suppose it is. I just don't know any other way to be.
I like to dream. I like to think that somehow, I was wrong, and those people were wrong. I like to think that if I really tried, I could have been great, I could have really produced something that mattered.
I told you I'm crazy and delusional. To me, as long as I don't take that last step out my door. As long as I didn't actually try, I could maintain that illusion. The moment I really put myself out there. That I really, truly tried and failed, I'd lose my dreams.
And then what would I have?
But now here I am. While it's not exactly that last step, here are my words for all to see and judge. It scares the shit out of me. But maybe she was right, maybe I do need to stop dreaming. Maybe this could be the first step out of my world and back into hers.
Til next time,
Grind Away
Tuesday though. Tuesday its really set in. Your next weekend is very, very far away. You aren't coming back from a day of rest, you're coming back to work with the same lumps and bruises you took on Monday.
So today is my second day, and I have to say I really am dreading it. I've never been the sort of guy to keep a journal of any sort. The only time I ever really write every single day most years is when I enter the National Novel Writer's Month challenge (http://www.nanowrimo.org/). Otherwise writing is something that rarely happens, just when I get an itch for it so bad that I can't possibly ignore it anymore.
So what did I promise? More talk about Creativity and Irritation. I did leave with that second part unsaid.
So why does pushing me to try and earn money being "Creative" really irritate me? Well, the first reason was enough, but here's the rest:
I don't know about anyone else that will be reading this. I don't know what your paths through life were, or if you'd understand what I'm talking about. You may think it is odd, crazy, or just plain untrue. But it is true for me.
I, am not "special". I've known this since I could ever recall. I knew I was never going to be great. I didn't have any special talents, skills, or affinities that set me apart from the crowd. I was never considered a cute kid, or handsome. I never really wowed anyone with anything I did. And I had a small problem, which I won't talk about here at this time, which made me a social leper.
So I grew up knowing this. I wasn't like the other kids I knew, where their parents lied to them. Told them they could be anything, do anything, boundless potential and all that other jazz. Sure, I heard the speeches on kids TV shows, or neighbors to their children. But it never really applied to me.
So instead I turned inward. I read, a lot. I wrote, I drew. This wasn't because I had some great creative itch, it was my way of being able to do something. To get away into my own little world. A place where suddenly I mattered. I was doing something that was great. Because in my little world, there was no one else to do it. I walled myself up into my room, or spots I claimed at school and other places where no one else went. I littered the area with works I composed, pictures I sketched, half told stories that I penned.
I started to delude myself. To think that what I was doing was worthwhile. That I was some great visionary. I treasured my little scribbles. I started to ask around, very carefully, about how I might actually share my vision with that other world outside my little space.
To which I was rejected, quite flatly. Creative Writing instructors, art teachers, most everyone I talked to said "Don't bother". The most encouraging, kind thing anyone said to me about it was, "Eh, might as well give up. You won't ever make it without some big time connections in the business."
So I put these things aside. I trashed what I had kept in my home, burning it all in the backyard. It was just another confirmation that I was in fact quite crazy. Creative? Ha. Madness and delusion were closer to the mark.
I never afterwards showed any of my work to anyone. Never. I knew what I did, didn't matter. It wasn't good at all. But I still wanted to cling to my delusions. They were really all I ever had.
So I continued to write. I continued to draw. Its pace slackened off however. No matter how much I wanted to cling to the fantasy I knew deep down, and I couldn't bring myself to care about it. At least, not like I could before I had dared open the gates.
Life for me is not a great joy. It is not the worst life I could have. I know that, I've seen that, I've done that before. But I like to keep my dreams intact.
Felicia, she always said I was a dreamer. Told me that in such a way as though it was at both times everything good and everything bad about me. I suppose it is. I just don't know any other way to be.
I like to dream. I like to think that somehow, I was wrong, and those people were wrong. I like to think that if I really tried, I could have been great, I could have really produced something that mattered.
I told you I'm crazy and delusional. To me, as long as I don't take that last step out my door. As long as I didn't actually try, I could maintain that illusion. The moment I really put myself out there. That I really, truly tried and failed, I'd lose my dreams.
And then what would I have?
But now here I am. While it's not exactly that last step, here are my words for all to see and judge. It scares the shit out of me. But maybe she was right, maybe I do need to stop dreaming. Maybe this could be the first step out of my world and back into hers.
Til next time,
Grind Away
December 21, 2008
The First Day
I decided to start this blog today, or rather yesterday when I registered, mostly because of my roommate. Another cranky old man, in some ways like me, in others I hope I'll never become, he's been pushing me to try and become a paid author and writer. He seems to think I have some creative talent. Now that claim, I think is stretching it. I like to write. I like to do things I'm told are creative. I like to draw, I like to write stories, I like my role playing games, I like to create new games entirely. But to say I'm creative is something else.
Creative.
That word has such a strange feeling for me. "Creative". It's nearly as holy a word to me as "Angelic" might have been to church faithful of years gone by. Think of the sheer numbers. There are what, nearly 7 billion people on this planet. If you think of everyone who ever existed since the written word, or any sort of lasting record came to be, the number jumps astronomically. I couldn't even hazard a guess.
Creative. And out of this astronomical number... how many creative souls were there? How many times have you read a book, watched a play, seen a movie, and thought to yourself, "This is really creative, it's just brilliant!"?
I can't say for myself. If I was to hazard a guess, out of all the movies I've seen, all the plays I've watched, all the books I've read, and all the games I've played, those upon the creative staffs would probably number less than 1,000. Oh, I'm sure it'd be more if you counted something like every gopher, grip, and stagehand involved. But if you just kept it to the ones we think of as the Creators. Writers, directors, producers, even actors and designers. I think 1,000 is a ballpark figure, about as close as I could possibly figure without taking out days and days to do an exhaustive inventory.
So, creative. In the whole of human history, of what works of art I've had the pleasure and ability to examine, I found perhaps 1,000 Creative Souls. Granted, it's not as though I've had the chance to paw through everything ever created. But just think of how many books, how many stories, how many poems, TV shows, movies, comics, games, clothing, architecture, and other possible fields of "Creativity" there are and how much you see in your life.
Suffice to say, I don't think I would ever be worthy of such a lofty few.
So why do I do this? Why does my roommate keep bothering me about it? Well, I'm a bum. I'm poor, penniless, and mostly a drain on society between my few and too far between odd jobs. My roommate works, at a very comfy job where he mostly plinks around and collects a paycheck. Still, he blew his money on obvious scams. Ones I warned him were obvious scams at that. He has nothing and continues to live at the standard he wants, rather than that of his means.
Thus the push for me to "Be creative" and get paid doing these things. It, irritates me. It really does, as irrational as the reasons may be. It always seems that he discusses the topic in such as way as if to say:
"Hey, go and strike it rich. Hell, if Stephen King can, so can you. Make millions and bail me out of the hole I dug myself into."
That gets irritating. Maybe you might not think so. I understand if you strike it rich, most people will try to mooch off you. It just seems annoying that I got moochers before I even have my first dollar. Much less that he could care about the struggle and processes behind it, as much as "Do it now and become rich tomorrow".
He has more faith in me than I do. Blind faith at that, as I know he knows nothing about the market. He just seems to think that there are people out there waiting to fork over cash for no reason.
The second reason it irritates me? That's more complex. And maybe I'll cover it tomorrow as I see this one is starting to get a bit long.
Til next time,
Grind Away
Creative.
That word has such a strange feeling for me. "Creative". It's nearly as holy a word to me as "Angelic" might have been to church faithful of years gone by. Think of the sheer numbers. There are what, nearly 7 billion people on this planet. If you think of everyone who ever existed since the written word, or any sort of lasting record came to be, the number jumps astronomically. I couldn't even hazard a guess.
Creative. And out of this astronomical number... how many creative souls were there? How many times have you read a book, watched a play, seen a movie, and thought to yourself, "This is really creative, it's just brilliant!"?
I can't say for myself. If I was to hazard a guess, out of all the movies I've seen, all the plays I've watched, all the books I've read, and all the games I've played, those upon the creative staffs would probably number less than 1,000. Oh, I'm sure it'd be more if you counted something like every gopher, grip, and stagehand involved. But if you just kept it to the ones we think of as the Creators. Writers, directors, producers, even actors and designers. I think 1,000 is a ballpark figure, about as close as I could possibly figure without taking out days and days to do an exhaustive inventory.
So, creative. In the whole of human history, of what works of art I've had the pleasure and ability to examine, I found perhaps 1,000 Creative Souls. Granted, it's not as though I've had the chance to paw through everything ever created. But just think of how many books, how many stories, how many poems, TV shows, movies, comics, games, clothing, architecture, and other possible fields of "Creativity" there are and how much you see in your life.
Suffice to say, I don't think I would ever be worthy of such a lofty few.
So why do I do this? Why does my roommate keep bothering me about it? Well, I'm a bum. I'm poor, penniless, and mostly a drain on society between my few and too far between odd jobs. My roommate works, at a very comfy job where he mostly plinks around and collects a paycheck. Still, he blew his money on obvious scams. Ones I warned him were obvious scams at that. He has nothing and continues to live at the standard he wants, rather than that of his means.
Thus the push for me to "Be creative" and get paid doing these things. It, irritates me. It really does, as irrational as the reasons may be. It always seems that he discusses the topic in such as way as if to say:
"Hey, go and strike it rich. Hell, if Stephen King can, so can you. Make millions and bail me out of the hole I dug myself into."
That gets irritating. Maybe you might not think so. I understand if you strike it rich, most people will try to mooch off you. It just seems annoying that I got moochers before I even have my first dollar. Much less that he could care about the struggle and processes behind it, as much as "Do it now and become rich tomorrow".
He has more faith in me than I do. Blind faith at that, as I know he knows nothing about the market. He just seems to think that there are people out there waiting to fork over cash for no reason.
The second reason it irritates me? That's more complex. And maybe I'll cover it tomorrow as I see this one is starting to get a bit long.
Til next time,
Grind Away
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