Snack Break

Man. I just got mind-blowingly, ravenously hungry all of a sudden. Maybe that's what it's like to be a Taxxon, except all the time. I don't know why it happened, possibly because the only things I ate all day were two burritos from Taco Bell, and the second one of those was about 6 hours ago. That's probably it. But I was forced to get up out of my bed (or off my wounded floor mattress, as it were) and scarf up some cookies, followed by some milk which, as I've addressed previously on this blog, was not enough, so I had to get more, and once I got more, I didn't have enough cookies left to go with the leftover milk. But it was a predictable problem, so I rummaged through the cabinet and found some of those ThinAddictives that I got back in December. They tasted like Christmas, but they got the job done. I really wish I had some Wheaties or other bran-like cereal. I suppose now that I have a shiny new car, I could just take a 4 AM jaunt over to Price Chopper and get some, but I'm all ready for bed, meaning the only article of clothing I have on is my boxers. Going to Price Chopper would require me to get dressed, and that's not exactly in my best interests right now, because it would require a certain amount of effort, and I'm feeling quite lazy.

And that's where I'm at right now; solving one minor problem at a time in a resourceful manner. I don't have the heart or gravitas to get into the subject matter that I set myself to write on when it struck me that I was screamingly hungry... maybe that was destiny's way of telling me to just relax and have a cookie. Or 6. And some ThinAddictives.

The Chill Part 3: Cold Front

I don't feel very good. As a matter of fact, most of the day I felt like death. There were a few hours, in between about 9 PM and 1 AM, when I didn't feel like crap, but even then I didn't feel good, I just didn't feel particularly bad. I've had a vague and nagging sickness with an undying cough since late December, and I think it's starting to take its toll on my mental state. Or maybe my mental state is perpetuating it. Who knows.

I was looking through my dashboard and read an unposted draft called "EDH Nightmare," wherein I mentioned a nightmare about a game of EDH that was so volatile it actually woke me up. That draft was sort of comforting though, because at the time, Gatecrash spoilers had just started to come out, and I remarked about how I the set didn't look as cool or as fun to draft as Return to Ravnica, and boy was I right about THAT one. Gatecrash is a horrible draft format, but I couldn't remember whether or not I was excited about it based on the spoilers. Having confirmation that I never found the set terribly interesting even when the spoilers were first released is encouraging, because now Dragon's Maze spoilers are starting to come out and that set looks freaking awesome. I'm looking forward to looking forward to drafts again, rather than just dragging myself to them out of some misplaced sense of obligation. I probably shouldn't draft tomorrow night. Have I mentioned that I hate drafting Gatecrash and it's a terrible format?

Anyway, concerning the title, the overnight low tonight was somewhere around 31, and they were calling for freezing rain. In the middle of April. As you may know, I hate rain, but I have absolutely had ENOUGH of Winter for this year, so when it rained for the first time, I was so happy it wasn't snowing. Freezing rain is the worst parts of rain and snow. Fortunately, it felt quite a bit warmer than the 33 degrees it claimed to be outside when I left work, and there was no freezing rain, only a light drizzle once I hit Central Ave. But then I got home, we sucked at League of Legends for a couple games, and I tried (unsuccessfully, obviously) to go to bed early. So there it is. I'm writing to kill time. My once noble blog has been reduced to nothing but basically an online journal. Okay it was never all that noble, but I at least used to try to put some kind of message or point in every post. Now I'm just sitting here for the heck of it, because I can't sleep and it's better than letting my mind wander uncontrollably.

"EDH Nightmare" was a post much like this one... it was born out of restlessness, without purpose or meaning, and it will forever languish as a draft. But you know what? I'm just gonna post this one. Because I don't care anymore. Maybe that's the point... maybe not everything has to have a point. Maybe sometimes we just need to do stuff because we want to do it, or because it will make us feel better even for a short amount of time.

Sure. I'll go with that.

The Chill Part 2

Of course I can't sleep. It wouldn't make any sense if I could. I can operate under the pretense that I am vaguely tired and should go to sleep because it's bedtime, but as soon as I lay down, that's when my mind says "NOT IN MY HOUSE!" That's a reference to this commercial, in case I ever forget.

I woke up this afternoon feeling like I had been hit by a garbage truck for some reason. Maybe it had to do with the fact that my subconscious had been assaulted by a series of weird and ineffably miserable dreams, only one of which I actually remember in enough detail to speak about it. I was in line for a showing of the new Evil Dead remake, and while standing there hearing about how horribly violent it was (which was undoubtedly influenced by having read tweets from Gerard Way and Ray Toro about just that), a preview for a claymation movie called "Twitch"  appeared on a screen in the lobby, about a thing that looked like a mixture of Fiddlesticks, the dude from Grim Fandango, and Scud the Disposable Assassin who could sculpt a ball of putty into different shapes and command it either to come to life or to cease living. It weirded me out. That wasn't anywhere near the worst of the dreams, but like I said, I don't remember any of the other ones in any detail at all. I just know they were bad and had to do with girls, and... oh wait. I remember one of them now. It had to do with a girl I used to know leading me on and then leaving me again. That's probably why I was in such a bad mood when I woke up, and why I went back to sleep to unsuccessfully try to wipe that dream out of my mind. Although if I hadn't tried so hard to remember it, I probably wouldn't have, so I guess it was sort of successful. It still didn't help my mood upon waking any though.

I guess if this post had to have a point, it would be that dreams suck because you have absolutely no control over them, and in my particular case, my dreams are usually so vivid and linear that they're capable of influencing my mood once I wake up. It's been like this for the past couple nights now actually, even extending into last week, although last week seemed to alternate between bad and good dreams. We'll see what happens tonight.

It's Getting A Bit Chilly

I don't want to be Emo McGee. I really don't. But it occurred to me that blog posts aren't born out of happy thoughts, at least for me anyway. They usually form because I have something to say that I can't really say out loud or to anyone in particular. 100% honesty time: even when I have some kind of nugget of wisdom or uplifting moral to the story, I'm only saying it because I'm trying to convince myself it's true, not because I necessarily believe it. For this very reason, I sometimes wish no one at all actually read this blog.

Consider for a second teenagers and their boundless angst. We look at them and think "how could they be so upset over something so trivial? They don't know what REAL problems are." True, they haven't experienced some of life's more advanced complications, but that doesn't make their problems any less real. Your problems scale up as time progresses, so what doesn't seem like a big deal to you now could very well be a grievous trial for a teenager. It's like training Pokemon. Sure, when you've got all eight badges and you're on your way to the Elite Four, Caterpies in Viridian Forest don't pose even the slightest threat. But when you're fresh out of Pallet Town, those same Caterpies could very well knock you out if you're not careful. With experience comes strength, and with that strength comes new challenges. What I'm trying to say is we shouldn't trivialize the plights of others just because we've outgrown the inadequacies they face.

The reason I bring this up is because I look back at some of the older, angstier posts I've written over the course of this blog and think "I was such an idiot back then. How did I let that bother me so much?" But the fact of the matter is, at the time, those were very real concerns weighing heavily on my mind. And I wasn't even a teenager, when I started this blog, I was 22 years old. All I have to do is transport myself mentally to a given time, and then it's like "ohhhhh yeah... I remember what that was like. That was kinda rough."

My life isn't awful right now; far from it, in fact. I have a good job, my family and I are all relatively healthy, my living conditions are stable, and I just bought a new car less than a month ago. There are just... things that make me sad. It's sort of a relief to actually say that, and this is one of the only places I can do it. It's my job to be in a good mood for five hours a night, whether I actually am or not, so it's nice to not have to force a smile for a change. This, of course, is why I started primarily stealth-blogging... I don't really want to freely admit that to most people, and my posts toward the end of 2012 were starting to take on a very downtrodden tone. But I'm not looking for a pity party. I just want to be able to say what it is I'm thinking, especially when I've got quite a bit on my mind, as I do now. Maybe now that I've presented this informal confession, I'll start doing that more often.

A Brief Interjection

Oh, hello there! Good to see you round these parts again. Yes I know, it's been a while. I haven't posted anything here in a hot minute. Hmm. I think that's the first time I've ever used that phrase, but it seems appropriate, so I'm gonna leave it.

Anyway, I've been gone for a while because... well, I really haven't had much to say. That and I've started playing League of Legends every night after work. Old Bill would be so ashamed of me, but it's actually a really fun game (when you win). The only problem I have is that right now (and likely forevermore) I'm not terribly good at the game, and the only champion I can play and have a shot at winning with is Cho'Gath; if I pick anyone else (except maybe Garen) our team is likely doomed. In a way, it reminds me of Mortal Kombat: Deception, and how if I wanted to be certain of victory, I would just pick Baraka. Except I'm actually good at Mortal Kombat and could beat most people with any character; Baraka was just like hitting the auto-win button. Cho'Gath is like hitting the "if you want to win, you have to press this button first; it's not guaranteed, but if you want any shot at all you have to do it" button.

Speaking of Mortal Kombat, I find it interesting how you can reboot a franchise so easily with time travel. The creative team wrote themselves into a corner at the end of Mortal Kombat: Armageddon, although it could easily have been fixed if MK vs. DC was actually canon, and I really feel like they kind of missed an opportunity there. Instead of developing a possible storyline involving Armageddon triggering universe overlap with DC and following it up with mending the rifts and continuing the story from there, they had Raiden, at death's door, telepathically send his past self a riddle (hokey, but whatever) which completely altered the progression of events laid out by the first three games, and frankly, not in a good way. I guess it was decent for restructuring the series for future games, but there was one really weak, cop-out sequence right before the end of the game that just left a terrible taste in my mouth.

I guess that's about all I feel like saying now, since I'm getting a wee bit drowsy. It's not much, but I haven't much of substance to say, so when I do, I will return to the blogging front once more and dive right into the trenches. Until then, dear reader(s?), I bid you a hearty farewell.

Wiz Khalifa In Payphone: I Know That Feel, Bro

Alright. I've had enough of being Emo McGee.

A Christmas present from Danny Latin just arrived in the mail. It's a friggin sweet Calvin and Hobbes wallet, which is perfect because a) I have loved Calvin and Hobbes with all my heart since I was seven years old, b) I need a new wallet, and c) it's the first two panels of the very last strip of the comic, which, if you're familiar with it, is so symbolically perfect right now.

For once, I am so very excited about the future.

There's always a bigger fish.

Onward and upward.

And there you have it.

Short and sweet.

"Don't mourn for me. This is my destiny." -Gerrard

I Could Be An Accident

No one blogs anymore. I guess I'll take it upon myself to break the silence.

Before I get underway, I just want to say that I write this blog more for myself than for anyone else. I realize that. I don't want to sound like some self-important peddler of internet wisdom talking down to anyone who reads it. But at the same time, I figure if I can sort things out and reach seemingly reasonable conclusions, then maybe someone else could take something useful away from my conclusions as well, which is why I post this stuff online rather than just writing it down in some notebook somewhere that no one will ever read.

The reason I've been stealth-blogging lately is because, when I first started writing this blog, almost every post had a point I felt I could share with people, some bit of insight I'd gleaned from my experiences that I felt was worth passing along. In the last few months, it's been very introspective, and there's a solid chance that no one would take anything useful from them at all. There's a pretty good chance some of the stuff makes no sense to anyone who doesn't know exactly what's going on in my life, and an even better chance that the people who do will make fun of me for what I have to say. I will say this, though: I know the difference between a witch and a Little Sister. I've encountered a witch before. The crying is the telltale sign.

I'm not wrong about Little Sisters. I'm certain of that. Maybe I'm a little too forgiving, but if more people shared that trait, the world would be a better place. Heck, even the witch wouldn't really have been a problem if we hadn't startled her.

But I'm not a genetic experiment. I'm not a Big Daddy. I don't have weapons or plasmids, or a penitent doctor to guide me. To mix my metaphors and toss in a simile, it's like Nick Fury without an Agent Coulson. The Avengers are all there... but they have no motivation.

And that's where everything stands. If it doesn't make sense, that's probably for the best.