daytime| 2011-08-22 12:00 theme| Apologies copyright| Public setting| 4th Floor character analysis| busy onomatopoeia| Gaga

Apologies for the month-long hiatus. Things got complicated with an intensified job search, finally getting a job, and other things. I haven't even been able to touch Dragon Age in a while so I can discuss it by reminding myself of points.

Ideally, I will soon.

However, before that epic blog, here's something that needs to be addressed. Now that I have a job I can make the kind of decision that states: In October I'm going to the RWA conference! About three hundred dollars, but after a year of barely writing, plenty of rejections, and job searching, now that I have a way to get money (albeit like only $400 a month...), I feel like I owe to myself to remember why I came out to Washington in the first place.

Writing. And enjoying it. Nothing does that better than going to a conference. It's creative stimuli and I am in desperate need of it. So not only am I going to work on a romance novel (or two) and my steampunk novel, but I need to finally get down and decide on pseudonyms for each of the varying genres.

For my short stories (all which are basically literary), I send them out under my real name. No worries there.

For my steampunk novel, and any other fantastical or s.f. books, I have decided I like these two options the best: R.C. Guillen and R.C. Nicholas. As much as I like the former, I'm leaning toward the latter. Yesterday was Nick's birthday after all!

For romance novels... Now here comes the dilemma. I have created a poll. And I would like the thoughts of those who read and do not read this blog. You don't have to read my writing and you don't have to like it, but friends, I would greatly appreciated if you voted for your favorite pseudonym. Thanks a lot everyone, and I promise I will get back to business on this blog ASAP. I really got to work myself a schedule...




Which pseudonym should I use for writing romance?

• Roxanne Vera
• Belle Alba
• Roxie Miranda
• Bella Florez
• Roxanna Alba

View Results
Create an InsaneJournal Poll

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|3 Stories | Write a Story | Write Memoirs | Tell a Friend | Appendix|

daytime| 2011-07-11 23:00 theme| Fried Brains Mushed copyright| Public character analysis| exhausted

Today was supposed to be the final part of "Video Game Love," but... I couldn't manage it. The last two posts were extensive and I did two extra posts this past week that I didn't have to. One, the July 4th Special was extra and it threw me off completely. There was supposed to be a post Sunday, then Thursday, then today. But I did one on Tuesday, and somehow I miscalculated the schedule because I was thrown off and did one on Saturday thinking I was supposed to.

Well, needless today where there should've been only TWO posts last week there were four. All of which were fairly massive in length and detail. So the sheer idea of tackling Dragon Age: Origins today was just...yeah, no. Didn't do it and not going to. At least not now with an hour left of the day. Ha ha ha.

So, technically, today's post was posted on Saturday, two days early. This post is just a marker to let the readers know that this is where that post should be, and that there won't be another post until Friday. My brain should have recovered sufficiently by then.

I do believe that after the final segment of "Video Game Love," I'm due for some discussion on Magic the Gathering. That...might also have to be divided into parts. There's a lot to talk about there too. Even more after this past weekend.

So yeah.

Well, onwards and upwards I say.

Good night, sweet readers.

|3 Stories | Write a Story | Write Memoirs | Tell a Friend | Appendix|

daytime| 2011-07-09 20:08 theme| Video Game Love Part 4 copyright| Public setting| Apt character analysis| prideful onomatopoeia| crickets and fireworks

And now, on to the Fables. To understand the full impact on how these games affected me please read the previous post.

BE WARNED. THAR BE SPOILERS AHEAD.



Fable II was available for twenty bucks that Magni didn't actually have to pay for. It came with all the downloadable content and would be a game that changed how I played video games. For one, it's an Action RPG. What that means is that you play a character, and you push buttons to fight, and monsters can come out of anywhere, even behind you. These kind of games make me jump. I'm always trying to look all around me, turning the camera. The music. God, the music can get so distracting--distracting to the point where I can't focus because the music makes it scarier. The sound effects do the same thing.

Nothing is freakier than hearing hobbes and ghosts and not seeing them.

I get spooked very easily. I scream, I freak out, I have to pause and take deep breaths and calm down. I make my fingers hurt because I push the buttons HARDER when I freak out. And yes, I know it doesn't help, but instinct is instinct.

In short, I was more than a little hesitant to play it. I had played LoZ: Twilight Princess, which is also an Action RPG. But Fable II was a different scale. My brothers described LoZ:TP as "cake." Which is probably why I was okay. I also had help. Fable II was not going to be cake. And Magni probably wasn't going to help.

The story started out interesting and the first bit, the prologue, was pretty straightforward and definitely epically tragic. When the main arc of the story finally began and I realized I would be able to customize my character, I got excited. The voice acting was good. Already a plus. I was frustrated at my lack of money and clothing options, but if I got through the first section, I could buy stuff once I got to town.

Because here was the true draw of the game for me. It wasn't just CUSTOMIZING my character. It was the fact that...my character could be a GIRL. Now, I wouldn't consider myself a hardcore feminist. I love men. Men are tasty. I like a bigger, taller, powerful man. I like to feel protected and taken care of. But I want to have a career. I want to be my own person. I hate whimpering women and evil, sadistic bastard men. I like the protective, warrior man--probably why I like cops so much--and I like the independent woman. So, I like films and books and stories with a good, strong female lead. Not a woman who's really a dude in disguise, but a woman who is a WOMAN and can DO IT. No matter what anyone says. I like to watch films and anime with a female lead. I'm more invested. I live vicariously through her. I respect her and like her as the main character. I had friends that never liked to see women in anything. In anime or movies or games or books. They had no interest in women (from a purely heterosexual point of view I suppose) and they hated when there were because ultimately they were jealous. Instead of living vicariously like I did, they were all "why does she get him and not me? I'd rather have him date a dude then. Because she's an idiot and a bitch." Usually, my reaction was a silent "what the fuck?" and then promptly ignore. I still have friends who prefer to have a male lead in a film or in a game because it's "oooooh eye-candy for me," which I totally understand, because I can certainly appreciate the eye-candy. But I really love a great female main character. It makes me feel PROUD to be a woman, dammit.

And do you know how many video games--RPGs--I've played up until now with a female lead? One. Final Fantasy VI. And I didn't finish it. So playing Fable II wasn't compelling story-wise, or graphics-wise, or even character customization-wise. It was the fact that I was playing Sparrow the GIRL, who I could make to look like ME even! The hero of F2, the hero that was ME, was actually ME, dammit. Or at the very least, it was a damn CHICK. Because, goddamn, I wanted a strong female character who could SAVE THE WORLD. It didn't have to be a dude. IT COULD BE A CHICK.

I was sold. Even though I had to fight undead. And I hate undead.

Just so you know, fighting undead popping up out of the ground was kind of freaky. Right off the bat into that kind of crap... I guess to prepare me for the inevitable. By the time I got around to fighting bandits, I didn't feel too bad. Ha ha. But the part that started to make me feel better? The fact that I got through the skeleton and bug and creepy crawly infested underground sanctum of scary without dying. That. Was not something I expected. I felt confident. So even though I still jumped plenty and freaked out and moved and hollered and muted the thing when I got spooked--especially with those balverines. I HATE BALVERINES--I realized...that I could do this. And if I died, I came back but had scars. Oooooooooh~ That worked for me.

The story isn't fabulously complicated or in-depth, but it's interesting and fun and compelling enough to keep me going. The prologue certainly helped to drive you forward through the rest of the game, for certes. Nothing like vengeance to drive a story, I say! And, I will say, the story may not have been up to, say, LoZ:TP standards, but the ability to change your character's hair, clothes, make up, and dye it any which way you like, totally adds a level of fun that apparently I carry from childhood.

My mother likes to say, whenever there's a video game that customizes characters--like Rock Band for example--that we're just playing with our cuquitas. Cuquitas are what my mother calls muñecas de papel, i.e. paper dolls. There's something about putting together your own outfits and designing your own character that makes a game more fun. Paper dolls had their hay-day. Now, it's video games! So yeah, customizing my character was much like playing with my own 3D action cuquita. And I could have her battle and do expressions and play with her doll and blow kisses at dudes.

And ah, the downfall of the game. Cosmetically, it was fun to do all that with your character. Bad part? By the end of the game, my femme fatale looked more like a lady-dude bodybuilder. Not cool. The other downside? There are lots of pretty female people in Albion's cities and towns. But there isn't ONE good-looking man among all the men in this country. Actually, the one good-looking one is a douche and you would so rather kill him than touch him or work with him. Being voiced by Stephen Fry is his ONLY redeeming quality, but Stephen, being the incredible actor that he is, makes you hate Reaver more. And ultimately, Reaver isn't THAT good-looking. He's so utterly FOP that just...no. I was a big beefy girl. I wanted a big beefy dude. Hell, I was tempted to play a dude after just to see if I could have Hannah, the other big beefy chick in the story. But no. You can't romance the NPCs. So I figure, if I couldn't have Hannah as a dude or a chick, then I might as well play myself and have me and Hannah be BFFs. Which. We were. And it was awesome.

But yeah. No good-looking men in this game. They were all pretty ugly. And by the end of it, I was bigger and beefier than all of them. It took me forever to pick a dude to romance and marry. Ended up being a thug. He was a pale, foul-mouthed bastard, but he didn't wear a shirt and he wasn't too skinny. The rich men all wore wigs and frilly outfits and were too skinny or too fat and all...wimpish. Actually, I lie. There WERE hot men in the game. The GUARDSMEN. The local cops. Your town police force. Those were some large, handsome, beefy dudes. Guess what? Couldn't romance them. Why? 'Cause they're cops.

I was not a happy camper. But, I made do, as I said. Another thing about the game was it allowed you to be evil or good or neutral. I tried to be neutral. I was a thief and I definitely tried to manipulate things to fulfill my own ends, but a lot of times my sense of justice kicked in, or as it just so happened, when I manipulated things to my own ends it turned out to be the good way to do it. Other times, I'm sorry, but there was no way anyone was going to break MY spirit. So I ended up leaning toward good mostly.

Demon Doors made me jump ALL THE TIME. Damn things.

And that's another thing! THE SIDEQUESTS. Oh, I love sidequests! Especially these. Sometimes I didn't like how they ended, no matter what I chose, but still. Some were scary as hell. Some were cool. Some were hard. But all in all, they were all pretty fun. Some were the DLC (DownLoadable Content) stuff so they had cool little hidden things. Thank goodness for complete packaging, which, by the way, Xbox does NOT do unless the game is several years old. So. Don't buy any Xbox games until the game has been out for at least three to five years. You save a LOT of money that way.

Speaking of money, there were definitely interesting ways to make it. There were the jobs: bounty hunting, assassinations (all which sucked), slave trading and slave rescuing. You could sell stuff too. But the real way to make the big bucks... The real estate. Oh, the real estate! That's where the money is people. In REAL ESTATE. Own it, rent it, live it. Damn. Once I had property this place was MINE. I pretty much OWNED Albion. So by the end when I owned the palace and they were calling me QUEEN, I was all, "OH HOHOHOHOHOHO! You best BELIEVE IT!"

Honestly, best way to run a monarchy according to Fable II & III. Own all the real estate, charge decent rent rates, use all the money from the rent of everyone in the kingdom to fund everything else. Army, construction, local police force, schools. That's how I filled up the treasury in Fable III to protect everyone in the country from EVIL. I owned where they lived, they gave me money, I put that money in the treasury and then used it to do what they wanted to make them love me. Save the lake, get children out of factories and into schools, rebuild the orphanage, help protect the neighboring country, etc. Everyone loved me for doing what they wanted using the money they gave me. And why not? They gave me the gold, why not use what they gave me to do what they wanted?

It was really too easy to be good in Fable III. No hard choices really. And to be evil, in Fable III is really to just be a greedy fucktard. There's no real reason to ever be a douche bag. In Fable II you can get reasons real quick. I killed innocent people in Bloodstone. Usually when I was trying to upgrade their houses so their rent would go up--yes, I fixed up the houses and gave them new furniture; I had the money, why not?--they would tell me to leave. When I didn't go right away, they'd shoot at me. So. I'd shoot back and usually blow their head off.

Luckily! I had a new tenant in there REAL fast, so I didn't lose a dime. Game mechanics. Ha.

By the time I convinced Magni to get Fable III not only was I excited to play my F2 character's child, but I wanted to play a girl that wouldn't become a muscled man with boobs. Some things were better in F3 than in F2. Graphics. Hobbes weren't as scary. A few great hat tips and references to the previous game. Being able to play co-op with Magni with my heroine and his hero. Picking up my kids and hugging people and kissing them...

And that was about it. Side quests were lacking, the Demon Doors were definitely not as cool, the story was blah, you STILL couldn't romance the NPCs, there were STILL no good-looking beefy dudes, but at least they made the local cops not as attractive so I didn't feel so bad not having one. They give you a "childhood sweetheart" in this game which could either be your BFF if you want to play a gay character or your honey if you want to play a straight. I played it straight, but I still gave him up later because...well, he's a bit of a pansy ass. Now, the chick version (for people who play guys)--Elise versus my sad Elliot--was very pretty and her dialogue made sense. For a chick. Elliot was too pretty with this slick haircut and just...a pansy foo-foo. And then he says the same dialogue that Elise does. Which makes him look even more like a pansy. So I gave him up when it came to deciding to keep him or not. It was also about halfway through the game (though at the time I thought it was still pretty early) when I had to make this decision, so I thought there might be better looking guys in the near future.

I was hopeful.

My mistake. Not only was that HALFWAY THROUGH rather than, you know, a quarter like I thought, but no. There were no other good looking every day guys. There was Ben Finn voiced by Simon Pegg. Oh, oh, did I want him. But no. Couldn't have him. Figured. In retrospect, I should've stuck with Elliot. As much of a pansy as he is, he's better than anybody else in Albion. Or. At least. Anyone I'm allowed to woo.

The game was ridiculously short, and not only did you have to pay $70 for the game, but if you wanted anything EXTRA that SHOULD'VE come with the game (like hairdos and ink to dye your clothes) you had to pay EXTRA for it. It demanded that you play online with people you didn't know, trying to force you to MMORPG, but you couldn't do that unless you had an Xbox Live Gold Membership account which cost about $80 a year to have. DLCs cost a lot of money, when they finally came out. The game was also glitchy as hell. Also, you only had two choices of weapons for ranged and melee, unlike in the previous game where you could have several different kinds, and each weapon did specific things that you couldn't change or customize (like you could in the previous game), which meant you had to have several weapons and sometimes had to interchange them in the middle of battle in order to get the effect you wanted. Icing to that particular cake is that you had to "level them up" in order to get the full benefit and, let me tell you, leveling those weapons up was NOT easy. Especially with WEIRD requirements.

Like sleeping with 15 men.

By the way, there are not enough bisexual or loose heterosexual men in the game to be able to do that with. There aren't even enough male whores. You've gotta be tricky and drag one male whore away so he can respawn and you can drag that NEW one away and then he'll respawn and then you can drag that third, have yourself a foursome, and you're a fifth of the way down. Good luck finding 12 straight or bi men that are loose though.

I assure you, it wasn't easy, and not worth it. I replaced that pistol soon after. When I finally got married to my Auroran husband after not having sex for quite a while...guess what? HE gave me the STD. What the hell? Like I said, the game is glitchy. But there was another good thing about it. Your character spoke now, instead of like in F2 where you didn't. So during sex instead of hearing one side of the passion, you could now hear both.

Oh, and if you, dear reader, didn't know this, sorry to break it to you like this kind of abruptly. These games have whores. Male and female ones. The male ones in BOTH games are just...not cool. Kind of scary. So yeah. Whores. Which means... You can have sex. As much as you want. And children if you don't use condoms. You can be gay or bi or straight. You can get married. As many times as you want depending if you want to be a bastard and make your wife or husband divorce you. Or you could just kill them, like my brother did once. Your kids grow up fast, but then don't grow anymore. You can adopt in F3. You can steal, lie, kill and pretty much do anything you want. Good or bad. Once, in F2, I tried to upgrade a house in Oakfield. She didn't shoot me, like they do in Bloodstone, she called the Watch. I got fined for trespassing. Me. The landlord in the middle of making her house prettier. What did I do? I paid the fine and then upped her rent to the max. The called it corrupt in the game. I called it justice being served thank you very much.

Oh, the fun in real estate~!

By the way, the bombing of undead of Fable III while fun, is one of the most IMPOSSIBLE BLOODY MINIGAMES IN THE WHOLE GAME. Not cool. They took all the fun out of it by making the mandatory points gained in that game to upgrade your guns an IMPOSSIBLE number. You have to kill 1000 undead. Pretty much impossible with the time limit and the bad habit of the buggers to wander off alone making you waste bombs and time on just one or two of them.

I know I've talked a lot about the Fable games' content, but you have to understand that for me, being able to get all this information and all this content is a miracle. It's so very hard for me to play this kind of game...but I got it and I did it and I beat it and I played it. An action game with UNDEAD and GHOSTS and creepy scary HOBBES. I don't even know HOW I did it. It's a miracle. I managed to get to do all of this...usually without dying and all the time without getting bored. In fact, I had to force myself to stop usually so I could go back to job hunting.

The games, for all their problems, were good, enjoyable games that I've been considering replaying. I don't know if I can. God knows if I can't get the hairdo and items and weapons I have in my first game of Fable III (which I got through online finagling) into my second game of Fable III, I probably won't play the damn thing again. I should probably wait until more stuff is free with that game anyway, but, I must admit, I've been curious to replay both 2 & 3 to see how I feel about them now. I played and finished them not that long ago, but they've got some replay value and I did have fun doing it and I can't help but wonder what it would be like now.

Now that my video gaming playing has...evolved.

The Fable games were dynamic, fun, different and gave me a new appreciation for an action game where I could play a woman--and a woman I could customize into my own personal person. I could be a hero and not have to worry about the issue of talking to real people and the extensiveness and expensiveness of an MMORPG. I could just play a normal video game as a heroine who could save the world.

You can't beat that!

...Or can you?


TO BE CONTINUED...





COMING SOON:

-Dragon Age: Origins/Awakening

~~~


QUOTES OF THE DAY: (because women deserve MORE dammit)

"You don't have to be anti-man to be pro-woman." ~Jane Galvin Lewis

"To tell a woman everything she may not do is to tell her what she can do." ~Spanish Proverb

"Women are not inherently passive or peaceful. We're not inherently anything but human." ~Robin Morgan

"I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a door mat or a prostitute." ~Rebecca West

|Write a Story | Write Memoirs | Tell a Friend | Appendix|

daytime| 2011-07-07 15:30 theme| Video Game Love Part 3 copyright| Public setting| Home character analysis| calm onomatopoeia| Falling for Grace

For this segment of Video Game Love, we need to travel back in time, before I can talk about the next set of games. In order to understand the significance of the following games to me. So we travel back to the very beginning of my relationship with video games...


Years ago, more years than I care to remember, the first original Nintendo made its way into my household. This was before the florida room was converted into the family room. Before the sliding glass door that separated the room from the rest of the house was removed, along with the large glass window, and the four sliding doors that separated the florida room from the yard were filled in. This was when the old tile in that room was still in place, we still had carpet, the current dining room was the family room, my parents had two doors to their bedroom, the current living room was half dining room, half living room, there was no office and no library. The current library was actually Alain's room. This was before the kitchen was remodeled.

We had the basic games and Alain had the most. Magni owned a couple. I owned Super Mario Bros. 2 and that was about it. My brothers were far more interested in the games than I. I would last about fifteen minutes and then either get bored or get frustrated. My hand-eye coordination was not the very best.

Some more years rolled by and we acquired a hand-me-down Super NES from my half brother. Super Mario World came with it, along with a few other games. Including Super Mario RPG.

That game surprised me. It took me a bit before I realized what RPG stood for (role-playing game). At the time it was just...different. The characters had dialogue. Like in a movie or book. Mario didn't say anything, but he bounced and had movements--enough to convey what he said along with how the other characters responded to him. You could play more than one character at once. And...there were new characters. A cloud person named Mallow (who, yes, looked like a marshmallow) who thought he was a frog, and Geno, a possessed puppet. Even better than new characters were the characters we DID know and love that were accessible to play. You could have Peach in your group. Princess Peach, and this was still before we here in America found out her name was Peach. I believe she was still called Toadstool in those days. But she'd slap the hell out of baddies, beat them with a parasol, or eventually... A FRYING PAN. It was a beautiful thing. I actually was able to play an obvious female character. Super Mario Bros. 2 was the one SMB game I owned and wanted because you COULD play Peach in that one as well. She floated. In the SMB RPG, you could also have Bowser, the Koopa King, in your party. That was also PARTICULARLY awesome. And...the game was funny. "Drink punch... Eat cake... Sounds complicated." For a kid barely in her teens and living off books and films, this game was a miracle. I would actually sit there and play for about half an hour to forty-five minutes without getting bored. Normally, once level building got tedious, that was when I stopped. It was still Mario Bros. too. But that was a record for me. A long time to be sitting playing a game.

But that was it. No other game at the time could occupy that much of my time. My brothers had other games, action ones, platform ones--Legend of Zelda, TMNT, Rygar, Earthworm Jim and the like--and other systems, like a Sega Genesis with Magni's favorite, Sonic the Hedgehog...but I couldn't play them. I died too often, got upset and frustrated, or just bored, and then give it up. I'd just watch them play. And even then got bored, because well, it was not like they had a story or anything. Like Super Mario Bros. RPG, which most definitely did.

Then one day, I don't remember all the details, but I know that Magni borrowed a game from a friend. I don't recall if he and Alain had already started playing it, but I remember these facts.

1) The Super NES had already been moved from the crappy, 60s TV in the florida room to the big Sony we had in the family room.
2) The game had a unique quirk for the time, called a "New Game Plus." That meant that whatever level you were at when you beat the game, it stayed with you when you started it again. So instead of starting at level one, you would start at level 50-something where you were at when you beat it the first time. It also meant you kept whatever equipment you had at the end of the game. The best of the best stuff.
3) The owner of the game, Carlos, had played it enough times that he had gotten the "New Game Plus" up to level 99. Which meant if you chose "New Game Plus" rather than "New Game" in the start screen, you would start the game at level 99 and not be able to gain a level again. And you started with the very best equipment and a lot of money.
4) Alain and Magni, I believe, were punished and therefore not allowed to play any video games at the time. Not even the one Magni had borrowed.
5) It was either summer or a weekend. I know because I had nothing to do all day but play a game.

What happened is that I popped in this borrowed game called Chrono Trigger, not really knowing anything about it, but too bored to do anything else but give it a try--especially since I wouldn't have my brothers hounding me to get OFF the thing if I did enjoy it--and with my track record figured it was safer to just do the New Game Plus and start at the most powerful level I could be so I didn't have to worry about dying and then getting upset at the game and stopping.

I quickly realized that this...this was very different. This was like no other game I had ever played in my life. It was like SMB RPG, only even more story. Lots more dialogue, interesting new characters, no one I was familiar with. Not just a plot, but mini-games and talking to cats and picking them up and a mom and a house and a best friend, who was utter nerd. It was playful and fun and different and interesting... and then we traveled through time.

I'm a science fiction geek. This. Was gold.

I laughed, I loved the characters. I didn't have to worry about all the little things, like having enough gold to buy stuff, not having the right equipment or the right items, changing stuff up, level building--ugh. The simplification of the New Game Plus allowed me to play the game straight through without anything to hinder the progression of the story. And that gave me the chance to become involved in the story. I laughed a lot. And then, about halfway through, for the first time in my life, I cried at a video game. I cried my little heart out.

I played Chrono Trigger for several hours. I couldn't stop. It was like a movie or a book. Instead of turning a page, I pushed buttons.

As I played, at some point, Magni and Alain told me there were multiple endings. So I had to figure out a way to get the very best ending. I did, eventually, and goodness, the boys were surprised that I had played a game--any game--for such a long period of time before I finally stopped. And, if I recall correctly, I only stopped because I was falling asleep.

Chrono Trigger changed how I played video games. Changed my perspective and my whole world when it came to video games. Eventually, the first Christmas present I bought for anyone was for my little brothers. I bought them Final Fantasy VII. We got pretty involved in that. Magni got a hold of Xenogears, epic in every aspect.

In the year 1999, before Christmas break, I tried to finish Xenogears as quickly as possible, so for Christmas when I got Final Fantasy VIII, I didn't have another game to play besides it. That was the Christmas break where Alain already had a TV in his room, and we all--Alain, Magni, Nick, occasionally Anthony, and I--would have to take turns playing whatever game we wanted. There were so many for our Playstation by then.

I remember still as clear as day, Nick wanting to play Tonyhawk and trying to get me of the PS, while I played FF8. I told him, "I'll get off once I get to a save point, Nick."

He said, "When are you going to get to a save point? What's it look like?"

My reply? "You'll know it when you see it."

When Squall ran through the sewers and came across this shiny glowing orb with spinning rings, Nick immediately chirped, "Is THAT a save point?"

I smiled and said, "Yup. That's a save point. Told you you'd know it when you saw it."

Christmas break came and went, and so did Nicholas. I believe, in a way, that my affection for video games after the turn of the century--of the millennium--now correlates with my love for my cousin. Playing video games now--even at almost thirty--I think, on some subconscious level, reminds me of Nick.

Every time I play there is a little bit more of Nick with me.

But I never did finish FF8.

With graduation from high school I got The Legend of Dragoon and Magni got Chrono Cross the sequel to Chrono Trigger--if it can really be called that. After that it was Final Fantasy IX, which became the first game I ever replayed. The characters and story and plot and HOW the story unfolded was the best I'd ever seen to date. I replayed other ones afterward, usually years later, like Xenogears and Legend of Dragoon and Chrono Trigger. But FF9 was my favorite of the Final Fantasy series, and I think by that point, it was my favorite game period. I even enjoyed the card game.

By that time, Anthony had an N64, and I'd seen my brothers play Ocarina of Time and Majora's Mask from the Legend of Zelda series. I didn't even bother trying to play them. They were too tedious and complicated, and there wasn't enough story to keep me going. I'd watched lots of action games by then, because a good chunk of them had gotten stories. Metal Gear Solid and Soul Reaver among them--and then later the rest of both series. But there was no way I could ever play them. I think I might've tried once or twice and gave it up real quick.

Then the Playstation 2 made its grand entrance into the gaming world. The boys got a few games and then, again Christmas time, I needed to get myself a pair of PS2 games. One--Final Fantasy X--was a given. I was a fan of the series, the ninth installment being my favorite, and there was no way I wasn't going to get FF10. The boys accepted it; it allowed them to get other stuff. But I didn't want one game to their five and six already. I wanted at least two. In those days, Alain subscribed to PSM--Playstation Magazine. They had articles and reviews on the newest games. So I looked to see what else would come out around the same time.

There was one review, by one of the only women on staff at PSM, that caught my eye. FF10 was given a 10 out of 10 by the magazine. This game--called Shadow Hearts--was given a 9 out of 10. It was a role-playing game. Different than the usual. Francesca--the reviewer--had wonderful things to say about it. So, with no other RPGs that caught my interest or had such a glowing recommendation, I decided that my Number Two game would be Shadow Hearts.

We went to Best Buy after Christmas with our gift cards in tow, and I got two RPGs. When it was my turn to play for my hour (as the system we created worked in those days) my brothers watching me play my games, like I watched them play theirs, I decided to try out this Shadow Heart game, because, well, we all knew that once we started playing FF10, it was going to be hard to stop and we'd never get around to seeing this other one.

It amazes me how one can perceive something so confidently, and then be so stunned later when it turns out as no one could have predicted.

Forget FF10. I couldn't stop playing Shadow Hearts. We--and I mean we, Alain, Magni and I, because they stopped playing THEIR games to play THIS ONE--had to force ourselves to stop and play FF10 out of a misplaced sense of loyalty. Ultimately, though the graphics and cinematics of FF10 far outshone SH, there was no comparison and no contest when it came to plot, dialogue and characters. Shadow Hearts kicked the shit out of Final Fantasy X. And I let PSM know. My little letter of "thank you" to the reviewer, Francesca, got printed. Under HARDCORE.

To this day, I have played Shadow Hearts so many times, I've lost count, and every time is just as enjoyable as I remember, sometimes even more enjoyable. And I have never, ever replayed FF10 after I beat it the first time. Once, in the end, was too much.

And so part of my gaming life shifted again. The Final Fantasies weren't a priority anymore. When FF11 came out--which was only available as an MMORPG--I didn't bother. When 12 came out, I didn't care. FF13 I thought about, but in the end, decided against. After Shadow Hearts, my video game playing slowed down almost to halt. I got SH2: Covenant when it came out and ended up being a little disappointed and not that impressed. Wasn't as good as the first one. I got Koudelka, still haven't gotten around to playing it. I was in Japan when SH:3 came out. Got it when I came back to the States. Never finished it.

The lull turned into a full out stop. Nothing new. Nothing interesting. Nothing different. Just watched some more actions games, like the Devil May Cry series. If I played, I just replayed the Greats and tried to play the stuff I missed. Like the earlier Final Fantasies.

Then the Wii was going to come out. The final Legend of Zelda game for the Gamecube was being released, and it would also be converted to the Wii. I'd seen most of the LoZ games by now. I knew the characters, but I was more interested in this new Zelda than I'd ever been in any of the previous ones. I'd heard a vague rumor that this game was based of a manga that was based off of the movie Ladyhawke, which I adore. And I found out...Link turns into a wolf. And the graphics were beautiful. Link actually had PANTS now! Real pants! And you could fight on Epona!

And the gaming world shifted for me ever so slightly again. Because, for the first time, I wanted to play an action game. Because LoZ: Twilight Princess was DIFFERENT. I loved Midna. There was more dialogue and story, and to me, Link was more of a person, had a real life aside from this Hero of Hyrule stuff, and Zelda, who I always liked the least, was barely in the game. I wanted to play Link turning into a WOLF. So I did. I had Alain and Magni to help me out a LOT. Every time I got stuck, I handed them the control, and they beat the boss or got through this one part for me. Like the bloody sledding. And I beat my first action game. My first Zelda game. With a great deal of help. But I still did.

But that was the extent of my bravery when it came to action games.

Then I came to Spokane, WA, and brought with me my favorites. What did I do out there in between writing, reading, partying, visiting friends, walking, working, watching movies, and going to events? I replayed my favorites.

I said that the gaming world shifted ever so slightly with Twilight Princess. Baby steps, really. I played it again without my brothers to help and it was harder and I found myself falling into a similar pattern that kept me from playing action games before. But I persevered and kept trying and trying and trying until I beat the sections I was trying to beat. Sometimes I had to stop for a while, hours, days. But when I tried again, I tried again. I really would. And eventually, I did it. It felt good. But really, what kept me going I believe was the fact that I did love the game and I knew the game. So I wanted to play it and I couldn't give up because I wanted to get to the parts I liked.

Baby steps. So when Magni moved out here and I moved across the state and he got himself an Xbox, I told him I wanted a game. It could be cheap and used, it didn't matter. I just wanted one I could play between looking for work. Something new. But, something safe. An RPG. So Magni and I found Lost Odyssey and I played that for a while, with Magni watching me. However, there was this other game that was recommended to me as well, that I was a little unsure about. It was an action game. Fantasy. I wasn't so sure. Part of my problem with action games too, aside from frustration and boredom is that...I'm a bit of a scaredy cat. I jump when monsters pop up out of nowhere. I yell and move and freak out trying to hack and slash at something. My hand-eye coordination STILL sucks. My thumbs hurt because I push to hard thinking pressure makes a difference. I try to see around the screen. I don't need a virtual reality game, I make my own playing a normal action game. And yes, I did this with LoZ:TP as well.

Needless to say, I wasn't confident. But it was recommended enough, and it was on sale with all the extra bits that come with it, and Magni was using up a gift card. I still had Lost Odyssey too, so if worse came to worse I still had my safe RPG.

So we got Fable II.

What had begun as baby steps with LoZ:TP changed the way I played and what I played, forcing me to evolve as a video game player. Fable II was interesting enough and easy enough to keep playing without much struggle. I still jumped, I still moved, I still yelled and hollered, but I loved so much about it that I needed to keep playing. The story was good and messing around to design my character the way I wanted her...was fabulous. I was PETRIFIED of hobbes. The game is kind of scary, but I still played. By the time I was done, I wanted Fable III, which had just come out. In that game, we could play co-op. So Magni and I could play together! By the time I finished that game, Magni caved and got himself a PS3. And with it, Little Big Planet 2. And I played that. A platform action game. I got to dress up my sackperson and it was unbelievably cute. And I could play with Magni AND Alain. And then eventually with Rio. I even played LBP2 with Amaris and she had a blast.

So by the time Magni bought Dragon Age: Origins and I started to play it, I wasn't jumping at shadows in the game anymore. I was confident about hacking and slashing. I didn't die very often and when I did, it was okay. I finished Fable 2 & 3 and DA:O, and I still haven't finished Lost Odyssey.

So like Super Mario Bros. RPG, Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess was the first step in changing the way I perceived video games, the way played I them and what I played. They introduced a new possibility for me. And then, like Chrono Trigger, Fable II transformed everything. What has been closed off to me before is now open, just like years ago when RPGs changed everything for me.

A good story is still what I value above all else in any game. It's the one thing that all my favorites share in common. It's how I choose which I game I own. The story and the characters is what allows me to write even about the games I don't actually play. Those are things that make me replay a game. Not the mechanics or the graphics. It's the story and the characters and my own investment in them. Sometimes they're just fun. Sometimes it's sharing them with people. And sometimes it's the game itself that opens me up to something new.

...And it seems this recount of my past with video games has taken up too much space and too much time for a blog. I wrote this so that way my readers could come into the main section of this post--about Fable 2 & 3--with some context as to their importance and how they influenced the game after: Dragon Age Origins. Instead, this became its own post. I just hope that whoever reads this remembers it when I refer to it later.



TO BE CONTINUED...




COMING SOON:

-Fable II & Fable III
-Dragon Age: Origins/Awakening

~~~

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

"If you don't like something change it; if you can't change it, change the way you think about it." ~Mary Engelbreit

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daytime| 2011-07-05 10:10 theme| The 4th of July Special copyright| Public setting| Fourth Floor Apartment on a Hill character analysis| chipper onomatopoeia| Leverage

I have had a few memorable Independence Days. One year Magni had his appendix removed. Yes, on the 4th. A year later, my uncle had his appendix removed. I have experienced a lifetime of Independence days, and actually, the most beautiful fireworks show I've ever seen was not on New Years or July 4th. It was at DisneyWorld during GradNite.

But here, across the country in Seattle, people began to celebrate on Friday. Or at least in my part of town. I didn't know quite what to make of that. During the day, at night, didn't matter. You could hear booming in the distance at least since Friday. Now, in retrospect, I think fireworks were going off all week. Those booming sounds Magni and I heard and thought were gunshots were probably just more fireworks.

Now, I don't know about Friday night. That night Magni and I met up with Marjan (a coworker of Magni's) and her friend Karlina at fadó--and Irish pub and brewery that had a ladies night with all 80s music. Needless to say there was much, much fun to be had. The night ended early, unfortunately, because Marjan had to go pick up her parents, but we sang along, we chatted and I even danced a little bit. They even put on Gloria Estefan!

If I recall correctly, when my brother and I did get home, there may have been some booming in the background, but we were distracted by some Little Big Planet.

Saturday, there was more odd booming in the background in the middle of the day, but again, we were distracted by some White Collar (the new season just started!) and then we got ready to see the new Transformers movie. Personally, I think it's the best one out of the three. Great story and the characters are stronger, especially Sam. Sam finally comes into his own in this film and it's wonderful to watch. Definitely my favorite of the three.

Afterward, Magni and I headed to a "zombie fest." I know. A zombie festival? What is UP with you, Seattle? It makes the postcard I sent Amaris of the Seattle Zombie Apocalypse even funnier. Apparently, Freemont is famous for this zombie festival. They even had people available to paint your face like a zombie if you weren't already dolled up, and they took pictures of everyone who was dressed up so they could enter the World Book of Records for the most zombies in one location or something like that. Pretty epic.

Now, I'm not one for zombies. I hate zombie movies, I don't like to watch them. They give me nightmares. But comedic zombies are usually somewhat okay with me. Shawn of the Dead is a movie I like. So going to this thing was all right because it takes away the scare factor to a degree for me. Seeing a bunch of zombies eating pizza completely diminishes how scary they are to me, haha. That and all these zombies are actually pretty nice people. And nerds. Oh, the epic nerdiness. So there was food, a boogie box, beer gardens, a stage with music and then there was a ZOMBIE WALK. Yes, that's right, all the people dressed up as zombies started to walk or shamble up the street and then down it.

I kept thinking, my buddy Amaris should be here. She'd love this.

After that, Magni and I headed home for some relaxing and to hear some more booms out beyond our walls.

Sunday, more booming. That was when it finally hit us that all this booming has been fireworks. We could see some later that night. Sunday was our chill and watch TV and play Magic day. And puzzling over the fireworks that have been going off all weekend.

Then yesterday, the actual 4th, was pretty busy. We cleaned. Magni invited a couple people over last minute, saying "Hey, Jacoby, Luisa, you guys doing anything? Come over by 2pm!" This was at almost noon. Still, we cleaned and got dressed and he went to the Albertson's for some meat to grill. And boy, did he! He grilled some mad steaks and shish kabobs. Made some corn on the cob. I made some wicked garlic mashed potatoes. The couple of guests we had brought beer and booze. Luisa, Magni's coworker, just recently got married to her fiancee and they, only a couple of days ago, bought a house. So we got to meet her husband Jose for the first time. Luisa is Colombian. I met her when Magni took me bowling with the BEHN (Boeing Employees Hispanic N-something...), but she grew up in Miami. Jose is Venezuelan, but also grew up in Miami. Needless to say there was some fun Miami reminiscing--especially about driving in that nutty town. Jose eyed my dominoes with much desire. So we played. Jacoby brought a friend of his name Mahut from Sudan. He's played dominoes before too, but both Jose and Mahut are used to playing dominoes only up to the double six. Magni and I play up to double nine. We switched partners around, Luise and Jose played with each other while I played with Mahut. Magni played with Jacoby against Jose and Mahut. Lots of laughter and yelling. Dominoes is a great game like that.

What amazes me is that here we had two Cubans, a Venezuelan, a Colombian, a Georgian (yes, from Atlanta, Georgia born and bred--Jacoby is a fun dude), and a Sudanese and the only one who had never played dominoes before was the Georgian. Three different Latin countries and an African one all shared this thing in common. And, boy, did those men get LOUD. Luisa and I were sitting on the balcony and just listened to them yell and laugh and shout. What a ruckus. We couldn't help but laugh.

Eventually, though, Jacoby and Mahut left, and Jose, being domino deprived for too long it seemed wanted another game. This time, it was the siblings versus the married couple.

My grandmother would be so proud.

Jose had gotten all cocky from playing random with Luisa and beating me and Mahut, and then playing better with Mahut and beating Magni and Jacoby. Magni asked me to cover Jose, because he had issues passing the guy. So I did.

We gave them a pollona. They didn't make a single point that partido. A partido is when you play dominoes until one team gets 150 points. That means, Magni and I got 150 points and they didn't get one. Jose immediately had him and Luisa switch seats. HA. Apparently I made him pass too many times for him to be comfortable. It didn't matter though. Magni and I hit them up with another pollona. Now here's the thing: to be fair, neither of them had played in a long time. Magni and I just recently had some practice against the parents, who, by the way, kicked our ass. Because, well, they're they PARENTS. Magni, Alain and I have been trained long and hard for years and years in this game. Intensive, trial-by-fire kind of training. I didn't realize the extent of our training. I mean, when you're up against the big dogs, it's easy to think of yourself as the puppy still being taught with much, much to learn. But with Jose and Luisa, I mean, yeah, Magni and I had the advantage. It's our game. Double nine game versus Jose's double six game--that he hasn't even played in four years.

But Jose was cocky. He played Magni and I separately with different partners. He felt he was in his groove. That him and Luisa could take Magni and I on no problem. Yeah, Magni and I don't play much, after all, there's nobody to play with. But years and years and years of hours and hours of brutal domino playing since we were kids playing up against our great grandmothers who had the devil's own luck... For the first time, I saw the result of this training.

Four partidos. Two pollonas. Next two partidos were closer, they got a good amount of points, almost won once I think. But Magni and I ended up winning the next two as well. It was no contest. Luck played its hand, and yeah, they were out of practice, but the easy motion and plays and understanding that Magni and I had came from all that training that has been ingrained in us definitely had its effect. Jose may have thought, oh yeah, these two are out of practice like me. We're on the same level. But those four games... Magni and I demolished.

I felt so... Cuban.

We were still in the middle of these four partidos when the fireworks started at 9:30 PM. We got a little distracted. The thing is, we were going to go to Gas Works Park to see the fireworks, or go into Everett somewhere. But we quickly realized that from our balcony... We had an 180 degree, panoramic, firework-watching perch of awesome. We could see fireworks going off from one side of our peripheral vision to the other. A horizon of fireworks all going off. Beautiful ones too. Epic, giant ones that you only see AT shows. And they were going off from South to North right across the horizon we could see. Fireworks went off right next to us and behind us, in our own complex and in the complex next door.

We watched for a while until Jose was not-quite-too-subtly trying to get us back in to finish the games. So we did. Afterward, Luisa and Jose finally took their leave and I gave them the open invite of whenever they wanted to come over and play dominoes, the door was open.

Then Magni and I sat outside for a while longer, watching the fireworks. I have never, in all the 4th of Julys I have experienced, seen fireworks go on and on and on and on like I did last night. The fireworks started at 9:30 before you could even see them clearly because there was still LIGHT outside. And at 11 PM they were still going.

Never. I've never seen anything like it before.

It was beautiful.

Now, as to why this town has been blowing fireworks all WEEK before the 4th, I don't know. They really like to celebrate I guess. Or, maybe there is no reason, or reason has nothing to do with it. They just had the fireworks and figured, might as well blow them ALL WEEKEND. It's not just Independence Day. It's Independence Day WEEKEND. I don't know, but all in all, this past 4th of July was definitely one of the best I had. The day was beautiful, the food was great, the company was surprisingly good, the domino playing was epic and so was the fireworks display from right outside our damn windows.

Never been happier to have a fourth floor apartment on a hill before. And Magni, with quite a happy sigh last night, said, "This...is what freedom tastes like."

~~~

QUOTE OF THE DAY: "You have to love a nation that celebrates its independence every July 4, not with a parade of guns, tanks, and soldiers who file by the White House in a show of strength and muscle, but with family picnics where kids throw Frisbees, the potato salad gets iffy, and the flies die from happiness. You may think you have overeaten, but it is patriotism." ~Erma Bombeck

|2 Stories | Write a Story | Write Memoirs | Tell a Friend | Appendix|

daytime| 2011-07-03 00:01 theme| Video Game Love Part 2 copyright| Public character analysis| bored onomatopoeia| the Lady Gaga

BE WARNED: THAR BE SPOILERS AHEAD

Onto the second half of the video game discussion. I began this set by discussing my epic love of Shadow Hearts and then talking about The Games I Didn't Play, i.e. the Devil May Cry series. Today, I will continue by talking about The Games I Haven't Finished.

First up is the smiling cutesy-ness of the Little Big Planet pair. Now I played the second before I played the first. The first we only got recently for free. Two things to know: 1) The first game is infinitely harder than the second. 2) Playing the second first certainly helps to play the first. However, playing the first and the second "again" made me notice things in the second I hadn't before. Like the stickers stuff.

What I mean by playing it "again" is that I'm replaying levels. Little Big Planet has got massive replay value. For one, you can "ace" the levels, i.e. pass them without dying (harder than it sounds). Beating a level and then beating a level without dying gets you items. You can get items in the level too and getting ALL the items in a level allow you to get more. Many of which are costumes so you can decorate your sack boy/girl. Endless fun and silliness, you can play online with others and with your friends. It's got great music.

However, I have yet to beat the boss in either game, and there are still quite a few levels I have yet to beat without dying. Some of them are nigh near impossible. Bombs. Bombs suck ass when half the time it's way too easy to blow yourself up. And there are lots of spikes. Little Big Planet tries to kill you. Little Big Planet 2 at least makes the pretense that you CAN survive.

Still, too much fun to give up. It can be really addicting. And yet I can't beat the final bosses. Go figure.

In good news though I beat one of the impossible levels that I've been trying for over a week to beat! The BUNKER IS DOWN.

Aside from the final bosses of LBP 1 & 2, I have yet to complete a pretty awesome game called Lost Odyssey. Now this one is a classic turn-based RPG with a few quirks here and there. Directed by the same guy who directed Final Fantasy IX. There are some similarities, but mostly it's vastly different and very interesting. It's kind of slow paced, but it has some things you don't usually see in roleplaying games. For one, your main character is about a thousand years old. He's immortal and gets dreams or flashbacks (that you can see again AS dreams) of his thousand year life. All of them are told in text, all of them coming on the screen with visual and audio stimulus to enhance the stories being written. To read them aloud is very impacting. Just reading them is. They even form on the screen in such a way in order to deliver more impact. Most of them are tragic, heart-wrenching stories that leave you sobbing.

Or, at least, leave ME sobbing.

There are a few that are hopeful. Bright. Beautiful. But some are so unbearingly tragic that I'm just floored. But aside from these short stories about Kaim, you also have him traveling with his wife, and his grandchildren. That's right! As a perk for being immortal...he has only mortal children. So no matter what, he's got to watch them die if he has them... and he's a had a few besides the present one who is the mother of his grandkids. Not going to get into that. It's just CUTE and actually pretty moving and sweet that he's traveling with his family, along with other friends. Two of which are other immortals like him.

Now, there's this whole complex back story to the immortal thing--something I just don't quite get completely yet. Probably because I haven't finished. Currently in the game, I'm pretty high up in level, but I have to race to stop four monsters from destroying a city. Not an easy task since my navigation skills on a boat in an RPG sucks a huge amount of ass. I really can't. Doesn't matter if its Xenogears or a Final Fantasy. If I have to try and guide a boat on the ocean in a video game... I'm SPECTACULARLY bad at it. Can't tell you why. So, of course, getting to these things in the short time allotted (which by the way you've got to kill them with the clock counting down and then try to make it to the next one) is NOT easy. I got frustrated enough to put the game down for a bit.

A bit turned into a very long time. I don't even remember the game mechanics anymore, so jumping back into it is going to be one hell of a pain in the behind.

However, the story is mysterious, the characters are interesting, funny, cute, and enjoyable. There's a lot to love in this game. Classical and lovely with plenty of side quests and a handful of minigames. Funny... It almost reminded me like the way Final Fantasy used to be. Once upon a time. It's an interesting fantasy with moving stories about these characters that you grow to love. Best moment? When Seth is reunited with her son--who is now in his sixties somewhere. Not only is it HYSTERICAL, but it's so CUTE it drives you to TEARS.

That is quite epic as far as I'm concerned. And Lost Odyssey is indeed that. Very epic. In scale, in story, in character development, in world, in history of the world, in world dynamics. More layers than you'd think and all worth it. The dialogue. My god, the dialogue. The game is worth playing just for the stories of Kaim's past and the dialogue alone. Sometimes the dialogue can be a little cliche to the genre, but most of the time, it's natural, real, and honest.

And those short stories of the past... They are like visual and audio poetry. If you have ever wondered what it would be like to take one of your favorite poems or a favorite short story and just have control over HOW people read it. Timing each line. Having them slowly fade into being and then fade out. The words appearing and disappearing on the screen with the mood. The music changing as the story progresses. Shifting with the tale. The background and lighting, the visual images--often like watercolors and sometimes just abstract burst of color that enhance the moment you are reading--along with the audio. A clang as you read "clang." Deep and hollow and heart-wrenching. A child's laughter as Kaim describes himself remembering it. It's SO stunning. There's once story about people who make a living traveling through a valley where the wind is so strong and only blows in one direction. From west to east. So. They travel west. Against the wind, believing, according to their culture formed on the plains of this valley, that paradise is where the wind begins. So they walk against it their whole lives, trying to reach the place where the wind begins. The entire time you're reading this story, you can hear the howls of the wind. The visual and audio stimuli are so potent that you can practically feel the wind against your face.

There's another particular story about an island that constantly sings. People don't really notice it. It's like on a subconscious level. The entire time, amidst sound affects and everything else, you can hear the singing throughout the whole story. And when the men there refuse to listen to it, they start to go mad, and the music gets louder and louder to express that. And when the one person who DOES finally listen... the singing reaches this crescendo before finally fading into the background again. Always there. Always singing.

It gives me goosebumps.

Honest to god, no matter how much most of them make me cry, it's worth playing Lost Odyssey for those stories. Hell, I may just have to replay it. Since, you know, I've forgotten the mechanics...

But then there are times when things just don't make sense (like a ten year old in skimpy clothes trudging through a blizzard for miles in sandals). Why do games always do that? I know it's easier to have them in the same outfit all the time, but could we at least design clothes that are wearable and that would be plausible in ANY weather? Come on game designers. Please? I know it's a fantasy, but come on. We do not need a ten and eight year-olds to be wandering around in strange get-ups and flip-flops in the middle of a frozen tundra. Especially not with their grandparents carting them around. But hey, it's a video game right? Clothes never make any sense in those things.

Not even in Little Big Planet!


TO BE CONTINUED...


COMING SOON:

-Fable 2
-Fable 3
-Dragon Age: Origins/Awakening

~~~

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

"When people die, they just go away. If there’s any place a soul would go, it’s in your memories. People you remember are with you forever." ~Kaim Argonar

|Write a Story | Write Memoirs | Tell a Friend | Appendix|

daytime| 2011-06-29 14:38 theme| Video Game Love Part 1 copyright| Public character analysis| busy onomatopoeia| Some Crazy Rock Music

Be Warned Now

THAR BE SPOILERS AHEAD


Now Shadow Hearts has always been my favorite. It's a great game. It's got everything. Romance, action, comedy, and above all else, not a teeny-bopper video game. What I mean by "teeny-bopper" is that it is NOT a Final Fantasy game where your main character--at best--is a grand total of twenty. Terra is what? Sixteen or seventeen? Cloud is twenty. Squall eighteen. Zidane (my personal favorite FF main character) is nineteen. Tidus is a grand total of sixteen himself. In Shadow Hearts, the main character Yuri (or Uru) is twenty-three. A staggeringly adult age (especially at the time it came out when it came to RPGs). The game is dark, weird, creepy, chilling, funny, and its got shit that'll make you just die you'd be so stunned. It's super fun and super satisfying. And above all, if you get the bad ending and play the second game which is based off the bad ending, and get the official ending of the second game, you can basically play the first game again to get the good ending.

That probably didn't make any sense. Which isn't a problem. Just play Shadow Hearts. It's worth it. Don't play SH: Covenant, the second game, first. Play the first game. The way it should be.

I could make an entire blog about Shadow Hearts. But I'm not going to. At least. Not yet. That's not what this blog is about.

So. Aside from Shadow Hearts, which is an incredible game, I've come across a few others in the recent half a year that I have come to enjoy almost as much. A couple I haven't completed yet, and another I never played, just watched and enjoyed. I have a lot to say about them. Things that make them great games, that make them interesting and enjoyable and definitely worth it.

The problem, I realize now, is that there is no way I can get through them all without turning this blog into something ridiculously long and epic. So I'm going to have to break this down into parts.

So for this first section of Video Game Love Part 1, I'll discuss the one I didn't actually play.

Devil May Cry is a series of a fabulous set of games. Apparently there's a new one coming out--rebooting the series--that just kind of destroys the image of the first four games, which, by the way, are AWESOME. I know why they're doing it, and what they're trying to do. But I love the character of Dante that the games created (though I will say game one is a little flat and two is a little extreme, but three and four are just fabulous) and a couple of the other characters that get developed through game three and four.

The original Devil May Cry is an action happy silly fest with a Dante that kind of flips between being fun and being serious. Unfortunately, as the first installment of a game that wasn't supposed to have story depth and was just COOL for the sake of being COOL, it became incredibly cheesy and has a couple of...weird moments.

Like Trish.

Trish is a demon created in the likeness of Dante's mother to make him more vulnerable and therefore easier to kill. Ultimately her "love" for Dante and his for her end up saving them both by the end of the game. A little too... Oedipus.

Many people still state that Trish and Dante are, in fact, a couple, but I have a hard time, even with the way it plays out in the first game, dealing with that. One--she looks like his mom. Ew. Two--by the time you go through the other three games, it seems less like that kind of a relationship and more like a brother/sister thing. A brother/sister relationship seems infinitely more appropriate and, ultimately, believable to me. For one--she looks like his MOM. I know I've said that a lot, but you have to understand. She's identical. And, by the time of the fourth game, her interactions with Dante seem very much to be like a big sister to a younger brother. I know because I noticed, watching my own younger brother play it, the similarities in the way she treated Dante in game four to the way I treat him. There even is a mothering big sister aspect to the way Trish lectures Dante on his obsessive pizza eating.

Trish doesn't make an appearance in the second game. In fact, the second game is infinitely darker that the first, giving us an overly angsty Dante, a very destroyed world, and a new character that was about as flat as Trish was in the first game. Mostly depressing and not very compelling.

Now. Devil May Cry 3. Back story. Utter, delicious back story. Dante is young. If you divided the Dante from the original game in half, one half would be the Dante from game two, and the other half would be the Dante from game three. They decided to do a game with each extreme before finally maturing him and building a real, rounded character by game four. So Dante is a snarky smart ass, who is way too cocky and full of himself. The writers touch base on the little bits hinted in the first game that whetted our appetites. We meet Dante's twin. Vergil. Oh ho ho ho! Yay for Alighieri references! Not only do we get insight to their relationship and their family life, and, eventually, to what happens to Vergil (in order to bring about the events of the original game), but this seriousness and character development is interspersed with the UTTER CHEESE that comes out of Dante's mouth.

And, thankfully, aside from Dante and Vergil, there IS another character that we care about. Lady, who was once Mary. This poor bad ass chick. You can tell the writers have improved from the last two games (or the company upgraded their writers), because her character is not only infinitely more sympathetic than Trish, but she is better developed. You can't compare the two, because in the end Trish was the subject of bad writing in a story that really didn't have a story and wasn't really about the story (it was about the cool factor, the gameplay and the graphics at the time) and Lady became the subject of evolved story telling and better writers. Lady's situation with her father has a profound affect on Dante and his situation with his brother. The byplay between them is fun and realistic and makes them fun to watch.

Devil May Cry 3 was when Capcom hit its stride with the series.

Now what came first? The anime or game four? It doesn't matter. Personally, I saw Devil May Cry 4 before I saw the animated series (which, though not being a game will get a bit of time on here as it is from the same franchise). While the fourth game has a different "main character" for about a little more than half the game, Dante's character has clearly grown and developed. He is a character that has game one, game three and the anime behind him. He still has plenty of cheese and snark, but he is not as wild and over the top. Dante, as a character, has hit his own stride and walks it with deserved confidence and casualness. Trish makes her reappearance, and as I said previously, her relationship with Dante seems more like a big sister hassling a younger brother--at least to me it does. Whether or not other fans of the game agree with me or not is moot. Everyone comes in with a different perspective. But having that brother/sister dynamic made the game better for me. Lady has a couple of short cameos (literally like two). Because of that whatever relationship she may have with Dante, there isn't really enough on screen time to go into it. Not that it's important to the game ultimately. He seems to allow both women to push him around plenty, and doesn't complain even with Lady stiffs him the money she owes him. Dante calls them both "babes," take from that what you will.

Devil May Cry 4 also touches a little base with Vergil. Not as much as one would hope, given the third installment. What little there is isn't expanded on and as a viewer and player you're left with more questions than when you came in. Nero isn't a reincarnation. But is he possessed? Is he a distant relation to the twins or a half brother which is why Vergil could possess his arm and Nero wield Yamato? Or is he just another half demon? Why does Yamato chose Nero? Why does Nero echo Vergil's words? Or is it Yamato that retains some semblance of the half-demon that once wielded it?

We may never know.

However, Dante wants to take Yamato from Nero because it was his brother's sword. That warms the cockles of my heart. And, in the end, Dante--from beginning to end in game four--is just incredible. He makes me laugh. I want to hug him. I cheer for him. He is the culmination of three games worth of development to create a GREAT DAMN CHARACTER.

So it saddens me that a) they're going to reboot it and b) they're completely changing the character they finally achieved...

But not talking about that.

The anime, such as it was, is a short stint (thirteen episodes) of stand alone episodes with a handful of reoccurring characters that ultimately are interconnected, though it certainly doesn't seem that way until you get to the bitter end of it. The dubbing is horrible, but at least they got the same voice actor for Dante. The time frame seems to be between game one and game four. Oh, in case I've managed to confuse you, here's a quick rundown.

Chronologically the games and anime run like this: DMC3, DMC1, DMCA, DMC4, DMC2.

So, in the anime, Lady and Trish both make appearances. It is during these episodes where they meet and, in the end, get along FAMOUSLY in their torture of poor Dante. Hence the easy camaraderie of DMC4. You see Trish be more big sisterish (in my personal opinion) and Lady get flustered at implications that she might have a bit of a thing for Dante.

Not that the pizza-eating bum ever notices. I swear, sometimes I think Dante is the missing fifth turtle. He IS a mutant of sorts and he is named after a famous Italian author. An author, by the way, is like a painter. Only with words. Weird how one's brain makes connections.

But I digress.

You get a little more back story in the form that is less family oriented and more every day oriented. How does Dante go about his work? What does he do when he isn't saving the world from some EPIC evil bound on bringing the demon realm into the human realm? What other kinds of job does he do? What other kind of monsters and demons does he come across? Are they rampant about the world? A lot of these questions get answered, and while the anime might seem pretty blasé in comparison to the games... That's the point. The anime ISN'T like the games where the player gets to control Dante and save the world from some EPIC EVIL hellbent on unleashing HELL ON EARTH. The anime is strictly for viewing. By the end when you realize there is still some Epic Evil Hellbent on Unleashing Hell on Earth after all, it comes as a pleasant surprise. Because the anime hasn't been focused on it like you would find in the short intensity of a game. The anime is about Dante's every day. About his relationships--if you can call them that--with Lady and Trish and the other reoccurring and fleeting characters. It's about how he interacts with the world when it's NOT on the verge of utter destruction.

My brother was a little disappointed with the anime. Not too surprising. He's played the games. But as someone who watched him play, the anime was not too much different than watching him play. I've never been involved with the games as a player. I've always been "a viewer." So the anime was a welcome change of pace that allowed me the chance to enjoy what I loved most about the games.

The characters.

Even though most fans would say that I don't have much of a right to my opinions since I haven't played the games, as a writer and a grand lover of story and characters, I think I have not only a right, but perhaps a more accurate perspective than someone who had to battle the demons and gain red orbs and was just trying to survive the games on Dante Must Die mode. I can enjoy the part of the games that I play games for and that many seem to take for granted over the gameplay and the graphics. I'm less likely to miss the little details because I'm not focused on stopping flying swords and freaky-looking monsters. I can focus on that tiny bit of detail in the background, or the way the character collapses onto their knees, or the way Trish smacks Dante on the back of the head.

Devil May Cry is a great series of games. It's original, campy, fun, wild and once it gets going, it becomes even more enjoyable and more profound. You become attached to who Dante is, his personality, his look, his growth, his relationships. As a fan, I want to see that continue and develop. Sadly, it seems unlikely to be as the game changes hands, but whatever happens to Dante in the future of his franchise, I will always be a fan of the character that created and grew through these great games. The platinum-haired, half-demon dork will always be a favorite.

TO BE CONTINUED...


COMING SOON:

-Little Big Planet 1 & 2
-Lost Odyssey
-Fable 2
-Fable 3
-Dragon Age: Origins/Awakening



~~~

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

"First I whip it out! Then I thrust it! With great force! Every angle! It penetrates! Until...! With great strength! I... ram it in! In the end... We are all satisfied. And you are set free!" ~Dante

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daytime| 2011-06-25 13:04 theme| Happy Holidays copyright| Public setting| Home character analysis| calm onomatopoeia| MtG DotP M12 Sdtk

Quick rundown of family centered holidays.

December 2010 - January 2011

Aside from the debacle of trying to get from one side of the country to the other during the holidays (a mission that put us in quite a foul mood), we had a good time. Our flight was supposed to leave early, but Southwest Airlines, brilliant fuckers that they are, overbooked the flight. Like massive overbooked. So overbooked that they couldn't fit us on another flight until seven hours later. Not only that, but we had to stay in Las Vegas overnight but were too tired to enjoy it.

We should've been in Florida on the 23rd. Instead we got there on the 24th, halfway through the day. And to add to that, we had to get into the car and drive two hours to get to Sebastian where the family gathered for Noche Buena.

Let me say that the first thing I did, in between hugging and kissing relatives, was have a couple shots of tequila.

Ate plenty, laughed and played games, slept uncomfortably (my youngest cousin can be a bit of a greedy bitch when it comes to sleeping arrangements), gave presents the next day, got mad at my brothers, forgave them, and then went "home" to Hialeah. Not a lot of people liked the presents Magni and I got them (Kristin), which was odd. After all, it's not like I enjoy most of the presents my uncle and aunt give me. And I thought the present we got her was thoughtful. She likes taking pictures of herself. So I got her a nice bag that allowed her to stick photos of herself and she totally hated it.

Go figure.

Anyway, spent time with the family, got my hair trimmed (my grandmother was adamant about me not cutting it despite my desire to), got it dyed by my grandmother, hung out, played Rock Band, some Wii, the usual. Saw some friends.

New Years came and went with the usual family gathering and then the next day, January 2nd, we (Magni, Marshall, Alain and I) got up ridiculously early to drive up to Orlando to get to Universal Studios' Island of Adventure to see the new Harry Potter Land. Beautifully done, great design, though some of the older rides that were modified to fit in the new theme--which turned into an epic fail. The new Potter ride is great, but the theme for what once was the best ride in the park--the Dueling Dragons--was changed to fit the Potter theme. So instead of an epic castle of scary with fire and ice motifs, there is now an empty castle with floating candles.

There was a line to get into Olivanders, and to a few other stores--hell, a line to get into that area of the park. We took pictures, walked around the rest of the park, ate at the giant Hogwarts restaurant, Magni bought some things. We took a picture of the three of us in our Hogwarts' houses. We left that same day, drove back exhausted, rested the next day and Magni and I were back on our way here.



June 2011

Parents came in pretty late, and we stayed up even later (despite having to get up early in the morning) talking. Next morning we were up and on our way to Portland. Surprisingly enough, just in time for the Rose Festival. We drove around, booked into a Quinta, wandered around some more, and came across a slew of bicyclists--at least a hundred of them--riding down through downtown Portland, bare ass naked.

Yay Portland!

We decided what things we wanted to check--waterfront, Powell's, Pambiche--and headed to Pambiche for lunch. We had lots of tasty foods, including guava cheesecake which we attacked. Then back to La Quinta to drop off our stuff and take the local transportation. I love those tram things they have there. Just so awesome. We walked the waterfront, saw all the naval ships and shops set up because of the Rose Festival. Stopped at a microbrewery for a couple of beers and then kept walking. Eventually we hit Powell's. I bought a couple of books, Mom bought a whole bunch, Daddy a couple. Then we walked some more down to a Chinese restaurant, ate some more (oh, goodness the eating), and then walked back. Poor Mom was way too stuffed.

It was a rough night, but the next day we did more walking, some buying, checked out another microbrewery and had lunch. After that it was out of Portland and off to the coast. We went to Cannon Beach and then headed out to take a coastal trip back to Seattle. It as nice, if a little long.

The rest of the week was going out and making food and watching movies. We went to Gas Works Park, Whidbey Island, and did the Underground Tour. Mom and I saw a couple of movies and did some shopping with Rio, and went to the Science Fiction Museum and the EMP for the new exhibits. We saw the AVATAR, Battleship Galactica and the Nirvana exhibits--all really cool, if a little small. Though the AVATAR one (though small) was very high tech and quite cool. Did a couple more breweries, fought, cried, laughed, and played BANG!, Magic the Gathering and dominoes.

It was a fun-filled full ten days and I miss them.

Will post pics...once I find them. Urg.



~~~

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

"No man needs a vacation so much as the person who has just had one." ~Elbert Hubbard

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daytime| 2011-06-21 22:43 theme| Movies With and Without OOMPH copyright| Public character analysis| busy

What I mean when I say "With and Without OOMPH" is there are some films that just fall flat and others that just have that special OOMPH that makes them pretty damn awesome. They don't have to be perfect or incredible and a stunning piece of visual literature. They just got to have a good amount of OOMPH.

So these are the things that I've seen recently that I've enjoyed(ish), and their OOMPH ratings.

Recent Mind-benders

Now Revolver I've seen before, but I saw it again recently. Still a pretty cool flick. I love the concept of the Ego in that film and of course, Dad found something to complain about (mostly because of his ego hahaha), but Mom really enjoyed it. It created a little bit of conversation, Magni didn't say much unfortunately. However, Inception, which I watched for the first time in Miami during the Christmas and New Years holidays of 2010-2011, created a lot of conversation.

Most of which, ultimately, made feel like it was less about the movie and more about those who WROTE the movie. Inception was a very fascinating film. I liked the concept, loved the actors, the movie was great. But as to the "big question" of the film... I felt that the question itself was moot. It was obviously the choice of the writers to leave it ambiguous and make it inconsistent with the rest of the film. Just so people could argue, did it or didn't it? I actually think that there is no wrong or right answer.

Mind-benders are fun, but I get a feeling that these days more like Inception will come out and less like Revolver will. More mind-benders will be less about really bending your mind and more about the writers messing with you. Inception was good, but, in the end, for me it wasn't Ooooooooh~ that was cool! It was more... Shake head at writer wanking.

Funny, how after years of writer school, I've figured out what things are all WRITER and what things aren't. Guess school taught me something after all, huh?

Revolver: OOMPH rating - 4 out of 5
Inception: OOMPH rating - 2 out of 5



The Action Flicks

Some good, some bad, all action. Ninja Assassin was wonderfully predictable and crazily gory. To be honest, I didn't know what to make of the unnecessary gore. It was not the kind of gore you see in Saw or Repo: The Genetic Opera which makes my stomach churn in horror. It's the kind of gore that is so over the top and silly you kind of have to laugh at it. To be honest, it reminded me most of when the samurais in Dad's old samurai movies spurted bloody streams and Mom would say, "Such high blood pressure!" Still had to cover my eyes in some parts, 'cause I just couldn't watch, but for the most part it was actually really flat and kind of...just fun.

Boondock Saints II definitely a nice tribute. Not as good as the first, almost as bloody, still pretty fun in the end. Ultimately I still prefer the first. Though BSII was surprisingly long... Huh.

Magni and I watched Ninja Assassin and Machete almost back to back (we had to stop 15 minutes short of the end of Machete to pick up the parents and couldn't finish it for a couple of days). Talk about lots of blood. Machete is another blood/violence mess, but a somewhat funnier one and a bit less predictable. It was really over-the-top, and, in all honesty, it was the stuff that had nothing to do with action that seemed more unbelievable. There were lots of characters I wanted to smack around and it actually had a stronger message than you'd think. Weird.

However, The Expendables (the one with all the "action hero actors") was just...bad. It was a waste of an hour or so. Excepting Mickey Rourke, and Jet Li a little, everyone was pretty much a pancake. We know nothing about the characters, it's kind of a mission movie with a group of people, and it's just... Well, flat. There's not much substance. In fact, the star of the movie is really one of the GUNS. I swear to you. The saddest part was when they had to leave behind that gun.

In contrast, Chocolate, a Thai movie that does a hell of a lot of tribute to the man who created Ong Bak, was amazing. It was beautiful, sad, fun, intense and really well done. I enjoyed it thoroughly. It was just, all in all, a great flick. Definitely worth the watch. It was just beautiful. It's so rare you get to see something that well put together and ultimately lovely, even with all it's dark parts. I mean, it's messed up, but pretty amazing to see what OBSESSION in the purest sense of the word looks like. It's scary, but like a train wreck, fascinating. The movie is definitely awesome on a level I didn't expect. But there was one thing I learned from the credits that I never realized before... Do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT, ever, work in a Thai action movie. You WILL break bones and faces and god-knows-what-else. Everyone does their own stunts and they don't even use dummies for big falls. It makes it really realistic, but a broken neck and a rush to the hospital is NOT uncommon. So unless you're a bit masochistic, never sign up for one of those.

Ninja Assassin: OOMPH rating - 2 out of 5
Machete: OOMPH rating - 4 out of 5
Boondock Saints II: OOMPH rating - 3 out of 5
The Expendables: OOMPH rating - 1 out of 5
Chocolate: OOMPH rating - 5 out of 5



Hero Films

While The Losers would technically not be a "hero" movie in the same sense as everything else on this list, it definitely FELT like a HERO film in the fact that...they were heroes. Great ones. I loved the opening scene. They were pretty amazing people and they did a great work. I liked the way the movie worked out. Kind of like the A-Team which I also consider a hero film. Because, let's face it. It's the A-Team. They ARE heroes. Great ones. Definitely, the same kind of heroic band of epic men set up. Only The Losers had Zoe Saldana who seems to have become our new femme fatale. Works for me. I love her. Both movies were a hell of a lot of fun. They didn't have to be great epic, amazing things like other hero films, but they WERE a BLAST and that's all that mattered!

Green Lantern was goodish, much like Iron Man 2. Really the major flaw in the latter was Justin Hammer. That man had TOO many lines and he NEVER SHUT UP. He drove me NUTS. The film was unbearable just because of him. As long as he wasn't in the screen and his mouth WASN'T open, then the movie was actually pretty decent. But URG. Justin Hammer made Iron Man 2 fail. However, Green Lantern wasn't so bad. It was pretty good, not out of this world, but pretty good. It was fun, cute, had some great moments, but all in all it was still pretty flat in the end. It wasn't BAD. But it wasn't GREAT. It was...decent. Cute. Kind of fun. Not the kind of fun of The Losers or The A-Team, but still cute and fun.

X-men First Class was something I wish I hadn't seen. I knew how it was going to end and I never wanted to see it. Mom did so we went, but really, I really didn't want to see it. I knew what the end was going to be. I didn't want to see all that sadness and see great friendships come crashing down because of misunderstandings and tiny differences of opinion that could've been discussed and come to a happy medium. But such is the drama of the X-men comics, which is why I gave it up. However, the movie in of itself was pretty good minus the end. I loved the actors they got for all the roles, I'll be honest. Charles and Erik (Xavier and Magneto) were AMAZING. And the girl who played Mystique did a great job as well. They were all wonderful characters and it made sad to see how it all ended up. All in all, I was already a fan of James McAvoy, he's adorable, but now that Michael Fassbender who played Erik/Magneto... HOT DAMN. Wow. Anyway, the movie was good. The end sucked. As I expected.

However, of all the hero movies discussed here Thor is by far my favorite. Setting aside the sexiness of Chris Hemsworth as Thor, the characters were actually fairly well-rounded (the main ones I mean--the side characters were pretty pancake-ish), the plot was good and definitely had an epic feel to it. The role reversals were genius, the level of character--specifically in Loki--was amazing, and all the characters had GREAT lines. Lines that just made you smile. Even some two second characters made you want to giggle with some of their comments. "Is there a Renaissance Festival in town?" I loved the film. From beginning to end. I laughed, I cried, I wailed and cheered. I truly had a blast watching it and ultimately it was no surprise it was so good, when I realized Kenneth Branagh had directed it. It surprised the hell out of me that he did, but then I realized THAT'S why it worked so well. It wasn't like any of the other hero films. It was done with a tone that matched the subject. This wasn't just a hero film. This was a movie that had a great deal of mythology--real mythology.

Definitely one I have to own!

The Losers: OOMPH rating - 4 out of 5
The A-Team: OOMPH rating - 4 out of 5
Green Lantern: OOMPH rating - 3 out of 5
Iron Man 2: OOMPH rating - 2 out of 5
X-men First Class: OOMPH rating - 3 out of 5
Thor: OOMPH rating - 5 out of 5



Sequels

Pirates of the Caribbean has had three installments. Number four recently came out. I went to see it, well, let's be honest. It's Jack Sparrow and it had Penelope Cruz in it. Had to see what kind of story they were going to come up with now that Liz and Will were THANKFULLY out of the way. And...it wasn't bad. Nothing is up to the par of the first film. But I certainly enjoyed it more than Dead Man's Chest and World's End. Penelope's character was great, even if a tad cliche here and there (just a touch in my opinion), and we got to find out a little bit more about Jack Sparrow's past. Hell, even Keith Richards made ANOTHER cameo in this one. Just for shits and giggles is my guess. It's the same kind of epic nuttery. Yeah, it's a bit slower I think, because Jack has to drive the plot now, not the others around him (like Will and Elizabeth in the previous films), and Jack is a little... well, unfocused. But they give him a reason to focus a few times, and an interesting one which reveals a little more about his character. And a surprising depth that you didn't think he had. It wasn't great, no. But it was certainly fun. I laughed, I cheered, and I grinned myself stupid. Definitely worth a few bucks to see it in the big screen. And certainly better than the previous two. Yeesh.

As for the other sequel that needed to be discussed. Tron Legacy. Now, you have to understand, I saw the original Tron as a child. I grew up with it. I loved that film. It didn't matter if it was cheesy and didn't make a whole lot of sense. Not only that but as I got older and actually LEARNED computer lingo half the shit they say in the film doesn't make a lick of sense. I mean, de-res? Really? In order to destroy a program, instead of deleting it, we're going to take away its resolution? How does that make any sense? Still, back in those days the writers probably didn't know much about real computers themselves and what little they did know they didn't expect to have to be accurate considering that 95% of the audience (at that time) didn't have a computer, let alone know anything about them. Almost thirty years later we get Tron Legacy a SEQUEL to Tron. I just about had a spaz attack. Let's set aside the obvious awesome. Daft Punk does the ENTIRE soundtrack. Epic. The graphics are about 1.5 million times better. Perfect. Jeff Bridges reprises. THANK YOU GOD. Oh, wait, he does it TWICE. Holy shit. Even better. Fuck, even ALAN reprises. Wow. And the Hat Tips. Oh. The Hat Tips. Hat Tips equal WIN.

Setting aside the obvious awesome factors that pretty much forgive the movie any flaws, what's left. Actually an interesting, if a little confusing, story. Details about the film and its plot make me feel like I have to watch it a couple more times to really figure out what is REALLY going on here. I can sense that there are layers I'm missing, but it might be because there are, ultimately, loopholes and things that don't make sense, or it does make sense, I just missed the important bits because--like the original Tron--you might not get all of it in the first go. Tell you what, watching Tron again before watching its sequel was very enlightening. While there were things like de-res among it, there was a great deal that I hadn't realized before--things I had missed or never noticed. Tiny bits of information that slip past you unless you're careful. It made a lot more sense to me, and ultimately, was a lot more enjoyable, because I had an older mind to bring to the film. I get the feeling the same thing applies for Tron Legacy. Sure, I haven't seen it a second time yet (I really need to... Time to put it on the INSTAwatch!), but I can't shake the sensation that any of the things I didn't get, I will get a bit better this time. I won't be lost in the graphics and the Hat Tips so much this time and really be able to listen...and rewind so I can listen again.

But that doesn't change that the penultimate scene of the film left me utterly disappointed. Maybe they just needed to do it because of contract issues, or age, or whatever. But it wasn't very satisfying. The final scene, in of itself, was gorgeous and lovely and surprisingly impacting. But that final battle... Urg. Frustration and some dissatisfaction. Not what I would've written unless I had no other choice. That's for certain. It's amazing to me that the more films I watch lately, the more I think about what I would have written to make it better. I did that when I was younger for anime...and now I find myself doing it again, this time for movies and TV shows. Even though I thought I had outgrown it.

Hmmmmm.....

Pirates of the Caribbean 4: OOMPH rating - 3 out of 5
Tron Legacy: OOMPH rating - 4 out of 5



Need to See

These are the films that I must see. For different reasons, but still necessary. And despite the fact that the general public probably didn't even notice them. These are movies that NEED my money...somehow. I wish it wasn't too late for both of them already, but honest to goodness it wasn't my fault. I didn't find out about them coming out until way after the fact.

Jane Eyre is one. I enjoyed the book. I enjoyed the miniseries with Timothy Dalton. Rochester was one of my first Tragic Men of Awesome crushes. I found out--after having watched X-men First Class--that the man who played Magneto (hot bastard that he is) played Rochester in the recent Jane Eyre movie. My reaction?

THERE WAS A JANE EYRE MOVIE?! WHEN DAMMIT!? WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN?!?!?!?

March apparently. Needless to say, I was quite disappointed. Last week there were still a couple theaters far from here still playing it...probably because they were the cheap theaters or they were holding out to see if they could get more revenue for the movie after X-men came out. Who knows really. I'm just sad I missed it. It's definitely on the list of a movie I need to see posthaste when I have a chance.

The other? Atlas Shrugged. Now, if you've never read the book, it's probably best if you don't. Not only is it one of the LARGEST and THICKEST books I've ever read--my paperback copy being over 1200 pages--but in this particular book it's very easy to miss the point.

Ayn Rand was infamous for her EXTREME capitalist ways. Historically speaking it really wasn't a surprise she was a supreme capitalist. She came from a Communist country and suffered a great deal. To her, making yourself successful with capitalism, taking care of YOURSELF not everyone else who didn't do shit to help you, seemed like heaven. She doesn't hesitate to preach her beliefs in her novels. All of them are about individuality and letting no one, ABSOLUTELY NO ONE, ever tell you that you are NOT GOOD ENOUGH. From one perspective, her novels can seem egotistical, cruel, heartless, uncharitable and particularly crazy. Especially her earlier ones. God, she's got some characters you want to STRANGLE. But Atlas Shrugged is her magnum opus. It her baby. John Galt is, quite literally, the perfect man.

In Ayn Rand's world that is.

In the world of Atlas Shrugged, the entirety of society depends on the brilliance of men and women in power. And I don't mean "depends" as in "loosely they make the world go round and all that and we all have jobs and we all do our thing." No. I mean, society absolutely and irrevocably places the burden of FIXING EVERYTHING on the shoulders of geniuses and tycoons and businessmen. No one is trying to be great anymore, because you have a few already GREAT people, who are egotistical bastards and rich as hell who can do EVERYTHING FOR US (because after all they should, they made it and we didn't--mostly because we didn't try after all why try when they can do it better?). So what happens? Without these people to grease the wheels of money and economy and society...it starts to fall apart. If the ones who are bled dry disappear, what happens to all the leeches?

This story comes from a very distinct perspective. It comes from the perspective of a woman who was not allowed to better herself, but was forced to take care of people who didn't do shit for themselves and forced her to take care of them, even though they didn't deserve it. Yes, everyone, that's Communism, in a nutshell. Socialism is a great idea...if everyone pulled their own weight. But greed and self-indulgence creates people who think "well, I don't have to do anything because everyone else can do it and I still get a piece of the pie." And then you get a collapsed system like Cuba and like where Ayn Rand came from. The Soviet Union--which, by the way, did eventually collapse. Forced into that kind of life, she had a great deal of resentment toward those who were NOT individuals and didn't strive to be great people. People who were leeches, who fed off others who fought hard for their place in life, and then demanded to be taken care of because they weren't "like them." This story assumes that there are no "privileged" people who "have to take care of those who are less fortunate." This story states that the previous stated concept is bull shit and that EVERYONE can be a PRIVILEGED person, if they did something about it. And "privileged" could have different meanings too. You do not have to be a business tycoon and be rich to be privileged. You could be a professor who dedicates his or her life to teaching students and educating them. You fulfill a role. And you fulfill it so well, and take pride in it so much, that if you didn't fill that role there would be a gaping lack where you were.

Ultimately the message is "pride--REAL pride--is not evil. No matter what anyone says." You do something good. You do something well. You have every right to be proud of it. But that kind of message... It's so easy to misinterpret. In fact, everything I've written up until now can be misinterpreted. Depending on how you view things.

The book Atlas Shrugged is divided into three parts. I heard they were going to make a movie for each part--since the book in of itself is so damn huge. I found out, way too late, that the first part came out and BOMBED horribly, making it a limited release. That depressed me to no end. Not only is it unlikely now that the second and third part will be made (the third part being the BEST DAMN PART OF THE WHOLE BOOK), but it reminds me of how much a good book, a good movie, can be viewed as a bad thing depending on how you look at it. One review I read on Atlas Shrugged the film was that your "heroes" sounded like "villains." Why? Because they really DON'T give a damn about people who won't take care of themselves. It makes me feel like... They're missing the point.

And ultimately, I believe, that is the true downfall with the film--though it isn't the film's or the director's fault. Ayn Rand had a very specific point of view born of hardship. And the film can't be Atlas Shrugged without that point of view.

I understand it. I get it. So, even if the other movies won't be made, I'm going to support it when I can, because any little bit might help those other two films get done.

And dammit. I want to see my John Galt.

Jane Eyre: Automatically comes with OOMPH because it's a movie based on a GREAT BOOK.
Atlas Shrugged: Automatically comes with OOMPH because it's a movie based on a GREAT BOOK.

~~~

Quote of the Day:

"Who IS John Galt?"

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daytime| 2011-06-17 22:38 theme| Birthdays copyright| Public character analysis| busy onomatopoeia| Revolver Soundtrack

First weekend of November 2010
Travel Arrangements: Magni's driving, Amaris and I are passengers. John skipped out (first of many).
Destination: Spokane, WA
Occasion: Amanda's birthday

We decided to visit Amanda for her birthday. We missed her and why not? It would be a great present. We arrived in Spokane late that Friday night. We traveled the battered construction-filled streets to the Brooklyn Deli (from a direction Amanda was not expecting). We spotted her before she spotted us. It helped that she didn't know what color or type of car Magni drove (a silver Toyota Camry). Magni parked the car, Amaris and I sneaked out, and crept up on Amanda. She spotted Amaris first. Then me. Much screaming and tears of joy ensued. We went into the bar, had a few drinks, caught up, gave presents. Amanda seemed to get a kick out of all of them. Pictures!







We all ended up crashing at Amanda's new place. I got the sleeping bag on the floor, Magni got the couch and Amaris got the tiny couch. Magni wasn't much of a gentleman that weekend, haha, but we forgave him regardless. We spent the weekend with Amanda, walking, remembering, catching up, checking out Brown's Addition and other parts of Spokane, including a strange place called Hillyard. It appeared rundown and kind of spooky. Lots of antique shops, an abandoned railroad, a beaten-up house with carnival paraphernalia rusting and abandoned in an overgrown yard, a bookstore with a backroom that had a woodstove and a hole in the ceiling that also looked about ready to fall apart... Craziness! And when we got back, Magni, who had never really experienced autumn before, attacked some leaves by the street near Amanda's place. Needless to say we spent at least an hour being ten years old again and taking pictures to prove it.



















It was a great time and Amanda was very happy. We hung out some more, had some more fun. It was a great time. It started a bit of a mini-tradition between the three of us, at least up until the latest birthday. We'll see what happens when November comes around again. Pictures copyrighted to Amaris Ketcham, Magno Gil and me. See http://amarisketcham.com/blog for more of the autumn happy pictures! Including a video! The goodbyes were a little sad. But we're a pretty happy bunch.









The promise of the feet. Let the laughter always flow!

*

Before Thanksgiving 2010
Travel Arrangements: Magni dropped me off at the Edmonds Ferry. Rio picked me up.
Destination: Poulsbo, WA
Occasion: Rio's birthday

Rio's birthday is just before Thanksgiving. So I came early to share her birthday with her, and Magni came later. We hung out, talked and talked and talked. It was a great day to hang out with one of my besties. Then of course Thanksgiving came around. Magni showed up, so did Anna and Nat. We played games (namely Ticket to Ride and Guillotine, first time I ever played them!) and talked and laughed and had a great time.









I realized after we went home that I needed to try and get Rio and my Amarie and Amandaroonie together...

*

Second weekend of January 2011
Travel Arrangements: Magni drove one car, with Amaris and I as passengers. John traveled with a classmate.
Destination: Leavenworth, WA
Occasion: Amaris's birthday

On our way to Leavenworth (a Bavarian town we'd heard of) and on Steven's Pass, Magni, Amaris and I have a very close call. This was Magni's first time driving on ice (he's driven on snow before, but nothing like this!) and the car started to slide. Magni tried to get it under control, but he lost it. The car spun out. He barely missed the car in front of us. Thankfully no one was headed our way so even though we spun out, there was no problem. It took us a couple of minutes to recover, but then we were on our way. Woooooo~! Scary stuff!

Once there, we parked and had some brunch. Om nom. And then walked the town. It was snowy and pretty and lovely and apparently...not really Bavarian! It was a Bavarian themed town. Magni was vastly disappointed. However, it was still gorgeous. We hit the shops, the bookstore, chatted with Amanda on the phone and planned her arrival. Once she was there, we hit a bar and did karaoke well into the night. We sang ourselves silly, on the mic or just along with whomever was singing (depending on the song). We drank a ton of beer, but then had to figure out where we were going to stay. Amaris crashed with John and Magni, Amanda and I bunked into a CONDO that was dirt CHEAP because it was last minute. It was pretty awesome. We didn't get a chance to use the kitchen since it was so last minute, but hey, it was still pretty fab.

In the morning we had continental breakfast (which sucked), met up with Amaris, tried to figure out what we were going to do. We decided to hit the snowy slopes for some AWESOME tubing. Especially since NEITHER Amanda nor Amaris had ever done it. That decided it. John skipped out, which was not cool, since it was his girlfriend's birthday. But it didn't matter that much in the end. We all went tubing for a couple of hours, screaming, taking pictures and videos, laughing and just having a blast. It seemed as if the wonderful day would never end. So much fun, calling out and waving and screaming and trying to beat each others' speeds. I can't believe how much we laughed. However, it sadly did. Tearful goodbyes, lots of repeated hugs and some more hugs and Amanda was on her way. Then the three of us (Magni, Amaris and I) got into the car and headed back to Seattle.





















I loved Leavenworth. Magni and I have made a date to head back there sometime this summer. Maybe we can drag Amanda and Gabe along. Once his ankle is better.

*

Saturday February 19, 2011, two days after the 17th
Travel Arrangements: Rio drove the car, with me as the passenger, Amaris and Amanda as backseaters.
Destination: Portland, OR
Occasion: My birthday

Amanda and Rio arrived the day before so we could get up early. We also got a cake--ice cream cake, my favorite. Rio was awesome. Not only did she drive us, she packed us special lunches! Amanda wrote a few "signs" for the road. We picked up Amaris on our way to Portland and began the three and a half hour trek of AWESOME. Not only Amanda put up a sign that said "ROXY'S BIRTHDAY" with an arrow pointed at me, but we had the "Drivers Nose-picking Tally" and the Important Question of the Day: "Pardon me, but do you have any grey poupon?" We got so many laughs with that. One lady probably had to explain to her poor kid why she was laughing so hard.

We got to Portland and headed to Powell's first! It's a three story bookstore of awesome. Amaris got some books, I got a book of poetry by Lorca and checked out the steampunk books though I didn't buy any. We went back to the car, checked out a pet store and then headed out to Pambiche, a Cuban restaurant. We walked around near Pambiche as we waited for the others to arrive. We totally pigged out on Cuban food, met up with Tanya and TJ and Jamie and Dillan. I had ropa vieja, maduros, croquettas, Iron Beer, and guava cheesecake. Rio bought herself a crate of Iron Beer and a bunch of pastelitos. After that, since it was late and we had a long drive, we piled into the car and headed back. We dropped off Amaris, headed home, and then Rio and Amanda headed out.

It was an awesome weekend!

It was a great set of birthdays and I feel it would be marvelous if we could do it again. I don't know when we can, or if we'll be able to, but if we could it would be just as amazing. These people are some of the best I know, and I hope we can do it all again some day.

~~~

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

"Believing hear, what you deserve to hear:
Your birthday as my own to me is dear...
But yours gives most; for mine did only lend
Me to the world; yours gave to me a friend." ~Martial

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daytime| 2011-06-13 09:42 theme| There really has to be a better way. copyright| Public character analysis| determined

I really need to find a way to keep up with this thing. Once again, six months after the fact, I'm posting again. It seems that I have great intentions constantly, but the habit seems a post every six bloody months. Perhaps an email or something every week, reminding me to blog. Something. I haven't written anything on here since January (given, most of my days have been occupied with looking for work), and I have no idea how to encompass everything that's happened since then like I did SIX MONTHS AGO when I did it LAST TIME. I feel a bit foolish wrapping up several months in small paragraphs, when really, I know it will not do what little has happened justice.

This is what I said I would go over:

-January 6th
-The Stygian Codex
-Devil May Cry
-Harry Potter Island
-Job Persona
-Amaris' Birthday
-Settling Down
-Inception
-Tron Legacy
-Fable 2
-Fable 3
-Lost Odyssey
-Caves of Steel
-Magic the Gathering

Out of all these things, I've only covered the first it seems. So I'm going to make a couple of adjustments. One, I will write a blog on "Birthdays," not just covering Amaris', but also Amanda's and my own. I will also write one on "Recent Films," which will include not just Inception and Tron/Tron Legacy, but also include Thor, Pirates 4, Atlas Shrugged, Expendables, Machete, Ninja Assassin, The Losers, and Chocolate. I will discuss future plans concerning writing, books and jobs. I will indulge in a blog about "holidays," dedicate at least one to encompass all the video games above (and probably an additional couple), and I will have to have a blog about Magic the Gathering. All in all, I will bring thirteen topic list down to six--which will include all the updates on said topics.

Six. Now. The question is should I do two a week? One on Monday, one on Friday, have all six done in three weeks and that way I can focus on coming up with newer things and not have to worry about forgetting interesting things again? Or do one a week so I have six weeks worth of blogs and not have to worry about not having something to write about?

Personally, I think I want to go for the two a week. That way I can keep on top of it and create a steady rhythm. I keep saying I will and I never do.

But I really, really should.

So I have: Birthdays, Recent Films, Holidays, Video Games, Magic the Gathering, and the Future. This Friday I will update on Birthdays.

Period.

***

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

"For disappearing acts, it's hard to beat what happens to the eight hours supposedly left after eight of sleep and eight of work." ~Doug Larson

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daytime| 2011-01-15 12:42 theme| Fun-filled Kerouacian Daydreams copyright| Public setting| Still in Everett character analysis| amused

Sometimes one really has to wonder where ideas come from. Mine usually come from dreams or daydreams and occasionally from real life experience. Ideas for stories, for things to do, for movies. Ideas are dangerous things, but once in a while, they're oh, so much fun to entertain.

I had a strange dream last night. It could be a novel. It could be a poem. But mostly the idea of the dream makes me want to put it into practice someday. Someday soonish.

I'd start off in my car (when I have a car). Drive down to the University district and pick up my friend Amaris. Then sneakily make my way across the sound and kidnap Rio. It would take some convincing (she worries), but I'm sure she would eventually give in to being kidnapped. Enjoying the spontaneous road trip, the three of us would drive five hours over to Spokane and steal Amanda. Excitement and adventure await! Sleeping in the car, finding the weirdest looking motel, snacking, smoking, laughing.

Eighteen hours later we pull up to Carly's door in Colorado Springs! Surprise! Drop what you're doing Carls. Forget stress. It's a road trip reunion! Five women in a car and off we go to Michigan. We're missing Kathryn. Got to go grab her and drag her butt with us. Twenty-something hours later, with wild and crazy women writing and laughing and singing in the car, we arrive on Kathryn's house and all shout "HEEEEEEEEEEEY KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATIE!" real loud so she can hear us from outside and wonder what the hell is going on.

Won't she be surprised to see so many buddies waving at her from on top of a car!

After getting Kathryn to take a holiday, we all file in and drive twelve hours to Ohio, where we'll abduct Amber. We might steal an ambulance while we're at it so we're sure we've got everything she'll need. Nine hours later, we pick up Zhenia, then make pit stops in Maryland for Kate and then Washington D.C. for Deanna. Because why the hell not? We're in the area! Keep heading down the east coast, a truck full of creative women--artists, writers, musicians--drop by Orlando to grab Michelle the Rubber Duck Lady and travel the last four hours down, down, down... to Miami Beach.

Probably pick up Crystal on the way and call Yaumara to come and join us.

Four thousand miles, clear across the country, days and days of travel, wonderful company, best friends, great friends, forming a new, amazing memory, as we spend at least a week at my grandmother's condo on the beach, just having fun and catching up. A random adventure where I pick up my closest friends and bring them down for some time at the beach. No excuses, no escape. I showed up on your doorstep, fellow adventurers in tow, so you can make a brief escape for that feeling of freedom.

I'm sure all the boys involved with these women will want to come along. They can make their own car trip, or just fly down. This is a girl roadtrip, for free-spirits--what we all want to be.

It's a great little thought, right? Unlikely, hard to pull off (god, I'd need a big car), but it's fanciful and fun and it would be so nice to do. I could make a book out of this--though I'm sure there are plenty of road trip stories out there--or maybe just a poem. But to make a reality out of it... That's when the idea becomes more than just an idea, but a dream.

And we come full circle.

~~~

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

"I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move." ~Robert Louis Stevenson

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daytime| 2011-01-13 18:24 theme| My Grandmother Doesn't Know How to Brush Hair copyright| Public setting| Everett, WA character analysis| thoughtful

Most of us are aware of gender stereotypes that continue to prevail. Baby boys equal blue. Baby girls equal pink. Girls have long hair. Boys have short hair. Girls wear skirts. Boys do not. Flowers are a girl thing. Sports are a boy thing. Men go to barber shops. Women go to salons. There are exceptions to the "rules" now, as it should be, but there are still so many people who follow these stereotypes because of tradition, culture and because it's just easier to do so.

As a member of a culture where many of these gender stereotypes still exist (my room was pink until I was a teenager, my brothers' blue; I played with dolls, they had cars; they joined baseball and judo, I joined ballet and gymnastics), it's even more difficult to break free. Sure, some things no longer apply. Women work too now. But we also do the cleaning and the laundry and the cooking. My father rarely does any of that. My grandfathers never did and still don't. It's expected in my family (along with many other families in Cuban culture) for the girl to get married soonish and have babies. It's expected of the boys too, but they're in no rush. They need to get a job and work to support the family. Women working is supplemental. For her shopping sprees.

I've never been a big fan of long hair. Yeah, it's pretty, but my hair gets messy very quickly and it's wavy-leaning-toward-curly. That means it's lightly wavy by the roots, which turns into deep waves, which curls into perfect ringlets at the bottom. Which would be nice, but it's frizzy as all hell and one side never wants to match the other. Usually, if I let my hair air dry, I look like a wavy mess of curls that aren't quite curls until the end and it certainly doesn't look professional. For my hair, tangling is an artform. I usually look like something has nested in my hair.

Even worse is the fact that my scalp is sensitive. As a child, I would scream and cry every time my mother or grandmother attempted to brush my hair. They were vastly annoyed. Apparently another "girl" thing is for a mother to be able to play with her daughter (brush hair, dress up), as if she were a very large doll of her own loins. My mother was very frustrated with the fact that I would wail and scream and cry until I was sobbing when they so much as put a brush near my head. With hair that easily tangles and a sensitive scalp, it's no wonder. In response, I spent most of my childhood with short, very short hair. Boyishly short. Hey, I didn't mind that at all. No threat of the brush. The fact of it was, to my mother and grandmother's disappointment, I didn't tolerate pain well.

My mother said, "You have to suffer for beauty," quite often when I was growing up. Even as a kid I thought, "that...is so fucked up." Why DO we have to suffer for beauty? I don't like to suffer period, let alone for beauty of all things. Putting on makeup isn't painful. So I'm good with that. High heels--depends on the shoe, but really, why WOULD anyone want to deal with blisters, twisted ankles and sore feet, just to make their legs "look" better. Your legs are still your legs, no matter what your feet wear. Yes, there's an elegant line when your heel is higher than the balls of your feet, but who decided that? (Men.) Plucking eyebrows is like water torture. Painful and endless. Waxing eyebrows and legs and SWEET GOD ALMIGHTY bikini wax? Who invented these tortures? (Men.) Acrylics might not be painful, but you ever had one break? Ouch. And why, oh why, would you put fiendishly hot rolls onto your head just to make it curly? Corsets that crushed ribs from back in the day. Chinese foot-binding. Wigs that would make one's neck break. All in the name of beauty.

And that's not even getting into products.

I have a high sensitivity to chemicals. I've been wearing eyeliner since I was in middle school. My eyes have adjusted. But despite that there are still certain days where my eyes instantly water and firmly state, "NO. You are NOT putting that shit on." Mascara is always a pain. It clumps. Lipstick has its own issues. But I'm usually okay with all of that. I never wear foundation. What for? It always makes me look pasty and like I've got a mask of gunk on my face. Hairspray is the real issue. My grandmother lives off hairspray. My mother is the same way. In my teen years, when they wanted my hair done up nice, they would hairspray me. The fumes from that could kill. I gag, I cough. My mother would always get grumpy when I covered my eyes and nose and breathed through a sleeve to protect myself from it. Other hair products either made my hair hard (so brushing it was an issue and the damn stuff still tangled) or made it gunky. Hair should be soft. Not...icky.

I wasn't as girly when it came to doing myself up as my grandmother and mother would have wanted. I rarely got my nails done, pedicures were even rarer, and plucking my eyebrows was utter torture. Eventually waxing my eyebrows became the lesser of two evils, because even though it was painful, the pain didn't nag (even if there was a dull throbbing of my skin protesting abuse afterward) and it was one, two, three moments of anticipation before it was over (depending on the person doing the waxing). While plucking, on the other hand, was a constant bracing for the imminent jab of pain. I don't wax anything else but my eyebrows. Anything else seems overly painful and utterly absurd.

Over the years, I got used to things. I brushed my own hair, without any screaming or crying, because I figured out a way to brush it without causing myself any pain. I got used to plucking my own eyebrows when it became necessary to not look like I had a caterpillar growing over my eyes and couldn't afford to wax said caterpillar. I still don't go near products except for eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara and lipstick (and all its variants). I take a straightener to my head, because straightening my hair is easier than making curls look right, and it's definitely better for hair with a tendency to tangle than a curling iron (which my hair tends to tangle into) and rollers (which tend to burn my sensitive scalp). My grandmother and mother hate it when I straighten my hair. They love my curls. My mother, given, has straight hair, so for her my wavy, frizzy, occasionally curly hair is a subject of envy. My grandmother is all for spraying and perming and doing all kinds of stuff to hair--except straightening. How does that work? I always figured it was BECAUSE my mother had straight hair. Now my grandmother had someone with hair like mine to play with--only you couldn't play with mine--and here I was trying to tame it straight.

I can now go to salons and have someone do my hair without any yelling or wincing. The last time I cried from pain at a salon was when I was a teenager and the lady doing my hair burned the shit out of my head with the straightener. Whenever I get my eyebrows waxed there's still the shock that makes my eyes water. The person doing my eyebrows always feels bad, but I have to assure them that it's not really that it hurts, but that my eyes and skin are sensitive. It's an automatic reaction, no matter how used to it I am. My eyes are going to water. Regardless. It's kind of embarrassing, since it's not like it hurts, but they always think it does because my eyes do that whole watering with salt thing.

I like my hair short. It keeps things simple. I had it longish for a while, but after some time, it gets more and more annoying. There's so much of it. It gets everywhere. It's a pain to brush and I don't DO anything with it, like my mother and grandmother did with their long hair back when they had it. Endless styles--most of which they would love to do on me, but I just look funny with hairdos of the 60s, 70s, and 80s. My head isn't shaped for that kind of over the top strangeness. So I get urges to lop it off. I never regret it when I do. It always feels great.

This past Christmas, I went down to visit my family in Florida. Since it was free (yay for Mom) I wanted to go to the salon and get the annoying length of hair chopped off into something professional, cute and manageable. The moment I said I wanted to cut it, my grandmother immediately shouted, "No! No, your hair looks so beautiful! Don't cut it! Maybe a trim is okay, but don't cut it!" With the spirit of Christmas, and in all honesty, so I wouldn't have to hear her bitch at me for the rest of the holiday, I did as she asked and only had it trimmed. I can survive a few more months and when I have money, I can lop it off myself. So I got it trimmed. Gave myself some bangs (something I hardly ever do) in the spirit of cutting SOMETHING off.

Cutting hair and getting it blow dried and straightened is cheap. Doing anything else costs more money than I, or anyone else in my family, feel like paying. I have gray hairs already, to my utter annoyance (genetics can suck like that), and everyone (males of the family especially) kept poking fun at them. In a fit of rebellion against the signs of aging, I got some black dye and decided I was going to dye my hair.

Yes, dye is a chemical too. One that my hair will tolerate...occasionally. I can't do bleach. My hair just falls off, because ultimately, it's to sensitive to that kind of powerful chemical. It also doesn't take to bleach very well. It's too dark. Stubbornly dark. So all I can really do is dye it darker or dye it red to give it a red sheen, because you aren't going to see the damn red in my hair unless it's under a light anyway. I can't dye my hair too often without my hair rebelling with seizures and falling out, but once in a while dye is tolerated. I haven't dyed my hair in almost two years, and with those grays peeking out and making me the subject of loving ridicule, I figured covering them up with black dye wouldn't be too bad.

My grandmother, not a big fan of dying hair despite being a big fan of ever OTHER chemical to put into hair, still generously offered to dye my hair for me. Spend an afternoon with her and my mother and brother, have her dye my hair, feel better about those irritating little grays.

My grandmother brushed my hair.

After all these years of tolerance and experience, of understanding that I wasn't the girl she and my mother wished I was, of learning to deal with my sensitive scalp and working around it, my grandmother STILL managed to yank the shit out of my hair while brushing it. I didn't cry or whine or yell, but she noticed the winces and the attempt to restrain my jerks. Her reaction? "I can't believe after all this time it still hurts you to have your hair brushed!"

But it doesn't. Stylists have brushed it. Friends have brushed it. Hell, friends have CUT my hair. It doesn't hurt to have my hair brushed. I like having my hair brushed. It dawned on me then. It's not the sensitivity of my scalp. I know how to brush hair. I can brush anyone's hair and leave it glossy and shining, and the recipient enjoys the grooming. Maybe it is because I had to brush my own hair in a careful way so not to hurt myself that I inadvertently learned how to do it well. Other people have brushed my hair without any painful reactions from me. The reality was that my grandmother--and probably my mother too--had no idea how to brush hair. First they had dolls, which you can yank and pull without any complaints from said inanimate object. Then my mother definitely had a strong scalp and straight hair. No tangles, no effort to brush. And eventually I came along. Cursed with a sensitive head and messy hair. My grandmother and mother didn't know what to do with a screaming doll that cried and complained every time they wielded a brush as if it was a weapon. Instead of learning, they just cut off my hair.

And after all these years, they still have no idea how to brush hair.

It makes me wonder now, would I have been more prone to primping and chemicals and hot curlers if they had known how to brush my hair? Would I have been more acceptable of the pain of beauty if I hadn't dealt with the reality of that pain as a young child? Would the stereotypes of my grandparents' era have lived on in me? Would beauty only be what I could do to myself, rather than just me?

Perhaps. Undeniably, the result of a manic brush wielding grandmother and mother made me less tolerant of pain for beauty. It made me reevaluate what beauty is and why, as a gender, women place so much faith on it. I might be overweight and have messy hair, but whenever I look in the mirror I don't think, "If I put on high heels, do my eyebrows, paint my face, do up my hair in curls, and lose fifty pounds, then I'll be beautiful."

Nine times out of ten, when I look in the mirror, I think, "Oh, yeah, some eyeliner and lip gloss and I'm good to go!"

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daytime| 2011-01-06 20:56 theme| January 6th copyright| Public character analysis| sad

The sixth of January has a few names derived from culture and religion. It is the twelfth day of Christmas, the day the three wise men arrived in Bethlehem to give the newly born baby Jesus their gifts. Christmas, traditionally, begins on the 25th of December and ends on the 6th of January--much like its predecessor Hanukkah is a couple of weeks long. Nowadays the "Christian" (encompassing ALL Christians, no matter what denomination--and for those who aren't entirely aware a Christian is someone who believes that Jesus of Nazareth is the Christ, regardless of what else he or she believes along with that) holiday is seems to settle on Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Most people listen to the song "The Twelve Days of Christmas" and really don't understand it at all.

If you're an intelligent, well-educated individual, you know that actual person of Jesus of Nazareth was clearly not born on the 25th of December in Israel and twelve days after his birth was definitely not the 6th of January. But setting the actual date of birth versus traditional religious celebration via the original Catholics and their penchant for absorbing pagan beliefs into Christianity and thereby earning more converts aside, most people of the current era place no value on the 6th of January.

Unless you are of Latin decent. Not saying that ALL Latin traditions celebrate the 6th of January, but to my knowledge, many do.

Such as in Cuban tradition, Christmas is not the day to give presents. Santa Claus is not a predominant figure in Cuban Christianity. January 6th, el Dia de los Reyes Magos, is when presents are given, as it is the day baby Jesus received his. Gifts received to children and adults didn't come from the Coca-cola bottle Santa Claus, but from the three wise men who gave gifts to Jesus twelve days after his birth. My parents, having come from Cuba to the United States in their teens, had years of that tradition before both my mother and father's family, respectively, adopted the U.S. version of when to give gifts. But they held true to old traditions. As a child, my Noche Buena (Christmas Eve) was a party night. There would be an entire pig being roasted over coals, giant tubs of black beans and rice, yucca with mojito, and pan cubano. In the morning of Christmas day, we would open presents. My parents kept the "illusion" of Santa Claus for us quite deftly. The gifts from family member to family member were wrapped and packaged. Presents from Santa Claus appeared unwrapped among the piles of gifts, as if the mythological bearded man of good will had indeed come to the house and dropped off a gift from his sack for my brothers and I. Then we would go to my grandparents homes, my cousins, giving out gifts and receiving others. The new year would come around with nonalcoholic apple cider and grapes, and then a few days after that, the Three Wise Men, much like Santa Claus, would leave a gift or two for each of us, unwrapped, beneath the Christmas tree on the 6th of January.

This tradition continued for most of my life, but for eleven years and probably for the rest of my life, as well as for my family, the 6th has no longer been celebrated. It is amazing to me how tradition on a single day can be diminished by one tragedy.

I have three cousins. We were as close as siblings. As the eldest I was in charge of keeping four boys entertained. The youngest of us--the littlest coz--was too small to join in games too often, but that didn't stop her too much. During the winter break of 1999, my senior year of high school, my middle cousin--Nicholas--spent the holidays with us. We played video games, outside games, board games, watched movies, enjoyed Christmas and New Years.

School started on the 5th of January.

On the 6th of January 2000 we went to school too--gifts had to wait until we got back. Kids are kids. We got home from school and we wanted our presents. We dropped of the eldest coz (he was in ninth grade with my youngest brother). But my mother got a hysterical phone call from my uncle (her brother) and we piled back into the car. We were not happy to not get our presents and have to go back to my uncle's again. Kids are selfish and greedy.

We arrived at the parking lot of my uncle and aunt's community and there's a green ambulance/fire truck sitting outside their house. Dread filled me. I could feel my hands shaking. I told my mother I didn't want to go in. I didn't want to know. I was terrified. I feared the worst. Someone was gravely hurt. Maybe in a coma. Paralyzed. In the ER or ICU. Something awful like that. We still went.

I don't remember much after those thoughts in the parking lot. I know we entered the home. I know what the paramedics told us. But I don't recall the reactions of those around me. All I remember was the endless tears, realizing that Nick had died. Neck snapped in a bus accident on the way home from school. Presents didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. I had just spent two weeks with my cousin and just like that, I would never see him again.

I forget how many times I thought about reliving those two weeks, absorbing every minute so I would remember every detail, rather than just bits and pieces. There were no presents that day. We no longer cared about presents. What did they matter?

Nick was gone.

I don't remember going home. I don't remember much about the next few months. Birthdays didn't matter.

The new millennium didn't start well. Since then, Cuban or not, the 6th of January is no longer a holiday. I let the twelve days of Christmas fall away, and usually let the 6th go by unmarked. Eleven years and I try not to remember today. I try not remember what happened. My great grand aunt in California doesn't even know Nick died. She still asks for him. My mother wanted to know if my brother and I would go to see her this year with them, but aside from knowing whether or not we can, I don't know how I would deal with her asking about Nick.

I imagine making up a lie about a twenty-three year old Nicholas. What he would be like, what job he would have now that he graduated college. I want the lies to be truth.

Maybe it was because of that conversation about Amada. Maybe it was because this Christmas Nicholas came up in conversation again since we had Christmas with my uncle and aunt and cousins at their house. But this year I spent the day thinking about Nick. How much I miss him. How much I wish he was here. How much I want any lie my mother tells Amada to be true.

I want back eleven years ago. I want the stupid pettiness of presents, of giving gifts, of old traditions. I want my Nick back.

But there's nothing left of that anymore. Just memories.

The 6th of January is the twelfth day of Christmas. For many cultures, it's the day of gifts, the day of the Three Wise Men.

For me it's just the day I remember when presents stopped being important.

It's the day Nick left.

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daytime| 2011-01-05 14:49 theme| Belated Updates copyright| Public setting| Everett, WA character analysis| tired

I cannot help but notice how often intentions fall short. So similar to "new year resolutions" that you always are completely intending to do for about a month, before life just carries on. I wanted to keep up with my journal, slowly transform it into a blog--even if an informal one--just as much as I wanted to finally catch up on deviantART since the virus attacks stopped. But with the hunt for jobs, the cleaning, the stress, and the general "nothing is actually going on in my life," I never got around to posting another entry.

Go me.

So much for my intentions.

Ultimately, I find myself doing something I did six months ago, just before I promised to keep up with this thing. Summing up the last few months.

*

September
I looked for jobs and sold stuff. I made some money selling things on eBay. Not a whole lot, but enough to sustain a purchase here and there and a bill or two. Ikea purchases. We got furniture. Finished the unpacking of things. Did some organizing. Amaris finally moved out to Seattle with John and they came over once and I believe we went over there too. Memory is fuzzy. I am fairly certain my debacle of an attempt to take the bus (after suffering from severe cabin fever) to visit Amaris was in September. Intercity buses are so not cool. It took me three hours to get to Amaris' apartment--a twenty minute drive. It's amazing how time just fizzles away into nothingness.

October
Still no job. Stress getting to me. Some finally organizing. Some final Ikea purchases. Halloween was good. Dropped off bags of stuff for Goodwill, went to Amaris and John's, got dressed. I brought them costumes. I went as a banshee. Amaris went as a geisha, John a samurai, Magni an escaped psychopath. Of course, I got my monthly friend that night and ate some bad meat, so I spent most of the party in agony. Go figure.

November
Amaris, Magni and I went to see Amanda for her birthday the first weekend of November. It was a great time. We had lots of fun and it was great to be with Amanda again. She was so happy to see us. She liked her present. It was a really great weekend. Amaris' blog is linked here on mine, so if you want to see the incredible pictures she took, check it out. Later in the month Magni and I went hiking on a trail. That was fun, dangerous, and exhausting. We took pictures. It snowed a little. And then Thanksgiving rolled around and we spent it with Rio. We played Guillotine and Ticket to Ride, had a great dinner, went to see Tangled, and watched Magni play Devil May Cry 3 (there'll be a whole entry on Devil May Cry later this month). I got some money ripped off by Doubleday (again). All in all a busy month.

December
Got one job interview. I thought it went well, but they never called me back. Guess I'm overqualified again. After some talking with Magni and Matthew, I realized I am going to have to bull shit my way into a job. I will have to become another me. A dumber me. A me with no degree and very little work history. It'll be the only way I can get enough of a job to pay my bills and pay off the debt looming before me. Amaris and John came for a visit. We roasted hot dogs in our fireplace. Magni and I went down to Florida for the holidays. We were delayed 15 hours and a day. We arrived at 5:30PM on Noche Buena and didn't get to the house until 8PM. We missed most of it. Christmas wasn't that fabulous, but I got a couple great presents and I felt good giving presents. Magni met a girl--cute one named Emily. Got to see Michelle a couple of days, hung out with Crystal one day, and got to see Yaumara another. Saw Tron Legacy. When to Universal Studios with Marshall and the boys, rode the new Potter ride, took pictures. New Year's was nice if not spectacular. A pretty laid back vacation all in all. Miss the family. As usual. But it's nice to sleep in a real bed again.

*

Sum up complete. I'm sure there are things I missed and others that need to be expanded on, but I'll give those their own posting. I should probably write a list so I don't forget and so you--whomever you are--can have a preview to the upcoming journals. Ideally on a more regular basis.

-January 6th
-The Stygian Codex
-Devil May Cry
-Harry Potter Island
-Job Persona
-Amaris' Birthday
-Settling Down
-Inception
-Tron Legacy
-Fable 2
-Fable 3
-Lost Odyssey
-Caves of Steel
-Magic the Gathering

And that's all that comes to mind for now.

~~~

QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man." ~Benjamin Franklin

Here's hoping, Ben. Here's hoping.

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daytime| 2010-08-31 17:51 theme| A Place to Put Your Stuff copyright| Public setting| Everett, WA character analysis| tired onomatopoeia| Eartha Kitt

Moving is an arduous process with its ups and its downs. The pros tend to center around that excitement of someplace new and fresh, new beginnings, exploring, decorating, rearranging and trying out the new things (new kitchen, new laundry room, new bathroom). And while this excitement can fill a day, it comes and it goes with the hassles that accompany moving. Address changing, no furniture (if you're upgrading from college student to normal person), jungle of boxes, cleaning from dust, moving the stuff from the truck to the new place, finding a new bank, climbing up and down stairs until you're ready to collapse, putting clothes away, no job, the cost of moving itself...

The biggest dilemma when it comes to moving is the cost. Starting fresh feels great if you have the cash to do so. Hiring movers, having new pretty furniture, a good mattress this time, a bookshelf that matches, a real dining set and coffee table, finally getting all the candles you want. Unfortunately, so much money goes into the truck and the gas and the security deposit that after the essential expenses you haven't got much left over for all the luxurious things you want for yourself.

New dishware. New pots and pans (stuff that actually fits together). Good potholders. A table and chairs. A real couch. A ceiling fan with a light. Pretty lamps.

Now, if you are moving because of a job transfer, at least you still have work. If you're relocating, you have work, but it'll be a while before you can purchase the things you want. Until then you make do. Especially if the company is nice enough to move all your stuff. But, of course, that is if the luck gods are on your side. After all, movers do things not necessarily on the same beat you do. With the favor of said luck gods, you have at least your bed to sleep on until you can afford the other pretty things you want. Without their favor, you start thanking them for at least having a soft carpet to sleep on - even if it wasn't properly rinsed and therefore more stiff than it should be for carpet.

However, if you're moving because you need to start fresh, start over, school is over and you need a place to go, don't want to go home (because with the way luck is it will cost you more to do that and after securing a second degree going home to the parents does not sound like the thing to do), know somebody that is moving to the area and you're going to brave the attempt of roommating again, and decide, hell, you'll take the chance - then you are really out of luck. Because not only does every last struggled saved penny you have hoarded over the last few years vanish, but you are jobless. You are moving to move and try something new. Which includes new job.

But lately the situation is that there aren't many jobs available. And for every job that is available, there are thousands of qualified candidates hovering over Craigslist and Indeeds waiting, patiently and impatiently, for the next listing.

Even worse, you are either overqualified, qualified in the wrong way, or not qualified at all. If you have a degree in Literature and Writing, you aren't going to find much work in the hospitality or waitressing business unless you have the experience. It doesn't matter if you have the intelligence to figure it out quickly, or the fact that anybody with a good personality, a strong constitution and a good memory can be a waiter. You definitely got the good memory. Do a tally to see how many waiters and waitresses know the purpose of a Modest Proposal. Or which Shakespeare character is the prince of Denmark. Or how many can still recite a poem by Robert Frost (and no, not something out of a Hallmark card). Not that some don't know this, but if you can remember eleventh grade English, you can remember an order. If you survived college you can be a waiter. As long as you survived it without falling down stairs once and managed to maneuver your lunch tray through a throng of other students with trays as well, you can carry a tray of food. If you still managed to pass that obscenely and unnecessarily difficult biology class with the cranky, prejudiced, half crazy ancient professor who couldn't remember your name, then you can deal with people being assholes.

Aside from that there's the fact that you have two many degrees or the wrong degrees. Doesn't matter if the degrees are very closely related, or you've had the experience in that field even without the degree. Whether you have taught ESL or not is moot. It is only of concern if you have the degree. Your years of teaching experience doesn't matter unless you actually taught college and can get evaluations from your students or the university where you previously worked.

I believe most adjuncts who apply for a teaching position in a college or university are doing so in order to gain the experience in teaching at a college level. Not everyone can get a teaching assistantship in their program. Especially if the program is too big for its britches.

So you find yourself scrounging for work, figuring you will have to put up fliers around the apartment complex to tutor kiddies in English, hoping the parents are willing to pay you money so their children get good grades. Meanwhile you keep lurking the job sites to see if there is something else. And you're so stressed that your art (because ultimately you are the starving artist) is suffering for it. But your painting, your music, your writing won't pay the bills, the rent or allow you to buy food. There's also those looming loans, and the depleting credit of the bill you haven't paid in two years. You sacrifice happiness, pleasure, sanity and hope, for the money to survive, and just that. No money for pleasure and happiness, just for living expenses and those horrifyingly close debts.

So if you're lucky to find a job (that you probably hate) and still have time to do some tutoring on the side with evil children who don't want there as much as you don't want to be there, that hard-earned money of suffering goes to the monstrous creditors. But money is money isn't it? Whether or not it's enjoyable. But you feel frustrated and sad. Because your roomie has a job that makes him/her happy and makes them ton of cash, and you've got to settle just to survive.

And above all, you lose the time and chance to work on those things that make you happy and may make you lots of money if you can just win that contest. Just get published. Just be discovered.

The ultimate lot of an artist.

Always waiting for that big break.

You hope that this new move will be the jump start you need for the career you've always wanted. Here you will be successful, find the perfect job that makes you happy, find that man or woman that will show what this thing called Love is. You hope that you can finally start living your life the way it should be lived.

But like all things in life, it is a battle of responsibility, endless hurdles and money (mostly the lack of it).

You wonder if blogging about it will help.

If you're a musician or a painter, probably not. You're better served setting up your instruments and playing a sad song of struggle and overcoming troubles, or painting a couple of walls with accent colors.

If you're a writer. It helps just a little. After all, a prospective employer could take a look at it and decide you're the blogger/writer for them.

~~~

QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"When people go to work, they shouldn't have to leave their hearts at home." ~Betty Bender

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daytime| 2010-08-21 07:23 theme| In Media Res copyright| Public setting| I90 character analysis| busy onomatopoeia| Pure Moods

Today I leave Spokane and go to Everett. It's been an arduous journey and now, I am finally on the last stretch.

The Breakdown:

• After being picked up by Magni at the airport, and some creative search and drive, we settled into the hotel, made phone calls, and then decided to go see one of the cars Magni wanted. Volkswagon Golf. Quite nice~


• The next day began the apartment hunt montage. Sunday: 1) Here? Expensive. 2) Here? Closed. 3) Closed. 4) Closed. 5) Open! Blegh. 6)Open! ...Same as the last one only nicer. 7) Closed. 8) Closed. Monday: 1) Income adjusted--Magni makes too much money. 2) Too expensive. 3) Not open yet? 4) Not open yet? ARG. 3) Open now. Fleas! 4) Open now. Not bad, but not what we want. 5) Oooooooooh, give this one an 8! 6) Not to shabby~ 7) This one's okay. Shit, look at the time! Hurry home just in time to be picked up by Apartment Finders' Serena and off to look at more! 8) Drive by. 9) Closed. ...What? 10) Oooooooooooooooooh, so pretty! But so high up... Vaulted ceilings and a view! ...The price... I got to pay it now?! 11) Oooooh! Cheap and nice! But the ceilings are so low... You can paint the walls any color and they provide paint! ...too small... 12) ...so hot... Why do we have to walk all the way to the very back building without a golf cart? AND climb three flights of stairs? ...Twice? S'okay but too expensive for this. 13) Again with the walking and no golf cart! At least it's not so far... third floor again. S'okay, but not for the price. Bye, Serena, thanks! Hotel room. Collapse. Tuesday: 1) Check out the drive by. Too pricey. 2) Recheck number 5 from yesterday. Very nice! Comes with water, sewer and garbage! Yay! 3) Recheck number 11. Even nicer and still cheap! I get a walk in closet! My bathroom is huge! Great amenities~ ...Ceilings too low, too small, not enough light, no view. No microwave or breakfast bar... 4) Recheck number 10. I really really want this one, Roxy. But it's so much more expensive (I'll pay more) and I don't get a walk-in closet (you got double doors) and it's so high up (we have a view!) and my bathroom is in a really awkward place! ...Please. ...Fine. But can we check a few more places? Sure! 5) Closed. Arg! 6) Closed! Are you serious? 7) Too expensive. 8) Condo. Oops. 9) Too expensive for so-so. 10) Drive by. No. Sigh.


• So we signed with Avalon Highgrove, which Magni wanted. He gets the most benefits out of it; I pretty much got shafted. Smaller closet, bathroom in awkward place, I'm the one who's going to have to commute really, really far away probably when I do find work, and have to go up all those stairs. It's more than either of us should have to pay. But Magni said I could decorate as I will and he's paying more for getting all the privileges. Oh, well.


• Wednesday Magni had orientation, then we went to the bank, then went to get a car. Magni got himself a Toyota Camry--real nice one too. Sun roof! Then back to the hotel, repacked, and took a red-eye Greyhound back to Spokane.


• Amanda picked me up and we met up with Amaris and John for an early morning breakfast. Then it was pack, pack pack pack pack.


• Next day was pack, pick up truck, pack, load up truck, shower, clothes, dinner with Lindsay, Amanda, Amanda D., Amaris and John. Then back to packing the last of it.

So have a few more things to take down and it's done. It was raining earlier, but it cleared up. I'm hoping it doesn't rain on the way. Checking mapquest now for the exact directions (make sure I remember them right). And then off I go.

Wish me luck!

~

QUOTE OF THE DAY:
Packing and cleaning
Preparing for the Leaving
Wash and scrub
Push and shove
Can't leave anything undone
Oh no! The time! Gotta run! ~Me

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daytime| 2010-08-15 21:08 theme| A Community of Writers copyright| Public setting| Seattle, WA character analysis| excited

I am elated.

The beauty of a conference - no matter where it is located - is the feeling of ability, confidence and excitement you gain afterward. The Squaw Valley Community of Writers gave me the same kind of feeling as Writers for New Orleans and the Key West Writer's Conference. It was exhilarating and overwhelming.

I arrived late to the Reno Airport and it took us some time before we got up to Squaw Valley. Other late flights and a great deal of traffic had us there after six, which made us late for registration, the opening talk and seeing/dropping off our luggage at our "temporary homes." One of the novel things about the Community of Writers is that they rent the homes of the locals (most of them away for the summer as these are their winter homes) and we get to stay in them. However, after missing so much and the long day of flying and waiting, I was disoriented and nervous and overwhelmed. I felt lost and a little terrified. Even with my professor (and the head of my MFA program) Greg Spatz and his sweet, wonderful wife Ceridwen there, I still wondered where my house was, who I was staying with, where I was going to go and how I was going to get there in the pitch black of the night.

Squaw Valley is situated on Lake Tahoe not far from Tahoe City and Truckee. It's a tiny little place, beautiful and open and sitting, quite literally, in a valley of mountains, and at over 6000 feet. At night, you could see every star in the sky and even some of the Milky Way. It's stunning, but absolutely terrifying too for a city girl who grew up in the flatlands of Miami, Florida.

And the icing on the cake? The opening talk warned us about bears. Lots and lots of bears that broke into houses and ate food.

Brett Jones Hall, the lady in charge, took pity on me, along with her sister Sands Hall, and got me on a car to my temporary home, Brew House. Yes, Brew. We didn't live up to our name, but that was due to other complications, which I will address later.

Petrified in the darkness of what seemed to be mostly woods, I approached the stairs (on the wrong side), I knocked on the "bear door" scaring Sarah who would be my roommate for the duration of my stay. Sarah is a wonderful writer who lived in LA once upon a time and is now currently living in Eugene, OR and going to the University of Oregon's MFA program (one I was rejected by, evidence that she truly is a great writer). She and I were sharing a bunk bed, and I got the top bunk. My hefty Latina ass is truly not meant for that kind of daredevil exercise anymore. Our other two roommates were Jade, a lovely woman, and Catherine, an older lady with a couple of personal issues (as is the wont of those much more firmly set in their ways).

After saying hellos and passing around introductions, we stayed up reading the first two stories of the week. Every night was two stories (or three depending on the group) and we had to read them and critique them. Jade and I were both in Group 2, so we had the same stories.

Highlights of the week:

• Workshop Group 2 was incredible. Aside from me, there was Jade (my awesome roomy), Scott (the producer of whom I got a card so when I have completed my own screenplay, I can send it to him), Peter (a laid back sweet fellow whom I'm hoping to get published in Willow Springs), Annam (a lovely Indian lady with fashion sense), Rachel (the Canadian woman who lives in India), Melina (who plays a ukulele and has a band), Judith (an older woman who's already published and hilarious), Kristen (who speaks Spanish and has a parrot tattoo and a great smile), Karen (a bouncy ex-lawyer turned novelist), John (a quiet man with an amazing novel in progress), and Reese (a tiny Korean woman who only gets cuter when she's tipsy).
• Worshop Group 2 had a great chemistry. We got along great, traded emails and websites and blogs and wrote down Judith's book so we could all read it. I love them all. They were all amazing people.
• Amy Tan, Mark Childress, Luis Alberto Urrea, Teresa Jordan, John Daniels, Louis Edwards, and Al Young were amazing readers. (There were more too, but those stick out the most.)
• I was workshopped by Al Young who is the sweetest man I've ever met. He just exudes warmth and love.
• I hugged Al Young twice.
• I played with Amy Tan's dog.
• Greg and Ceridwen rocked the Follies - hell, the Follies were awesome. There were so many incredible performances. Next time, I am SO bringing a camera so I can record it all. If the Follies of the Squaw Valley's Community of Writers has not been filmed yet, it needs to be.
• My one-on-one workshop was with Rhoda Huffey and that turned out much better than I thought it would. I had a risky story and she approved and gave me some great compliments. Both that one and the one Al Young workshopped need some work, but they were well received.
• Al Young told me my story was so good that after I edited it to send to him and he would get it to Sasha Feinstein who is the editor of Brilliant Corners, a magazine that specializes in printing stories about jazz and jazz musicians. Needless to say that's really exciting.
• I read some amazing stories and slices of novels. I will be on the look out for these amazing writers I workshopped with to be published and get their books. I'm going to have a slew of new Facebook friends, a good many of them who are willing to read my stories and give me feedback.
• Wednesday my roomies and I walked alongside the Truckee River until my feet felt like they would fall off. It was a gorgeous day. We stood in the river and waved at rafters and tubers as they passed by. Then we headed to Tahoe City, absorbed the beauty of the lake, ate at Rosie's Cafe (which had a little bird, sparrow I think, that apparently was a regular visitor), and watched the sunset. The sky glowed pink and violet along the distant mountains on the other side of Lake Tahoe. We couldn't see the shore, just the faded mountains on the horizon.
• The last party was a blast!

The whole week seems like a blur. My body felt as if it would never end, my brain wondered why it had gone so fast. I was exhausted, got cricks in my neck, pain in my back, walked a lot, slept badly, stayed up late, got up early and ate some bad sushi on Friday (which caused me to nurse a two-liter bottle of ginger ale for the remainder of the day). The food wasn't bad, but it could've been better. We went to Safeway in Truckee for lunch and breakfast items (Jade, Sarah, Sam and I (Sam being a fellow MFAer from Eastern Washington U.) and we got Catherine some oranges). Suffered a couple of lectures, but nothing too grandiose. The bad of the week was minimal in comparison to the good. There was just too much overwhelming good.

I saw a shooting star, heard coyotes, laughed myself silly at Jade's chapter one and Judith's short story, at the Follies, and at Mark Childress', John Daniels', Louis Edwards', Al Young's and Luis Alberto Urrea's readings. I got teary at Teresa Jordan's "reading" (she actually told us a story - orated it - which was riveting) and Sarah's short story. The writer jokes! The endless writer jokes of happiness!

It was a whirlwind of good feeling and community. Writers from so many places gathered to share their skills and to learn and to enjoy each others' company. I find myself saying my own invented writing jokes now.

I feel as if I have finally settled into my fate. After graduation there was a thrilling feeling of being "graduated" with a Master's degree. Accomplishment. Relief. Satisfaction. When my diploma arrived, those feelings returned. When my thesis arrived, with its red cover and my name gold embossed on the spine along with the year, I felt a rush of excitement. I wasn't published but there it was - a year worth of work - in one place, looking like a book, even if it wasn't. But despite that excitement I was sick of my thesis. It was time for a long break away from it and time to work on other things.

But like any conference, the Squaw Valley Community of Writers sent a surge of renewal into my bloodstream. My love of words, of character, of my own stories, resurfaced and I left Lake Tahoe feeling alive and elated.

I feel like a writer.

~

QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"It is impossible to discourage the real writers - they don't give a damn what you say, they're going to write." ~Sinclair Lewis

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daytime| 2010-08-10 20:55 theme| My Day Trip to Kochi copyright| Public setting| Squaw Valley, CA character analysis| nostalgic

Revisiting an old blog/journal that I am trying to form into something a bit more like an article. Not just a retelling of a special day in my life, but trying to make it more than just a travel piece. Still needs some editing, I'm sure, but here it is. A moment of nostalgia and a promise to myself and to my memories.


My Day Trip to Kochi


Lack of money and internet addiction can - and inevitably will - bring about a feeling of not having accomplished anything. Despite having been in Marugame two months, I have barely gone out into the wonder of Japan. At some level, one always argues with oneself, it's safer to stay home and mess around online than to go out and spend what little cash you have. Japan is an expensive place, but perhaps it is time I splurged.

Luckily, the bright side of this ever occurring dilemma was this simple fact: the 15th was payday!

I decided to take a risk. Waste around 20,000 yen and go about the local area. See the sights. Explore.

I went to a place briefly mentioned by a coworker called Kochi. It was not very local, but it was here on the same island of Shikoku, so why not? It would be an adventure, I thought. Anyway, since my bike had a flat tire, I walked to the station and arrived at about 10:30am. I bought my ticket, which cost 4,130 yen. I waited for my train, and wrote letters I mailed out the following day.

I described the area around me in these letters to my family. The station, the people, the vending machines, the yellow tiles and the strange billboards. I wanted to recreate what I was experiencing for them in my letters, and I think, in some of them, I managed that.

I then got on the very comfortable express train and began my journey across the island. I thought it was only going to take an hour max.

It took 2 hours.

Did I complain?

Let the resounding no echo in the barristers because that was definitely my answer. Why? Let me begin with the first 15-30 minutes of the trip. Not only did I see lovely towns, but really, there is something downright beautiful about the vivid green of rice plants. They glow. And on this hot summer day, sun beaming, blue gorgeous skies, very few brilliant white clouds, and a COOL BREEZE (oh my god do days like this really exist?), they shine. Glisten. Gleam. We made a stop at Zentsuji City. Some people got off, tourists maybe. A pair of older Japanese women. I saw them taking a picture by a statue at the station. One of the ladies saw me looking from inside the train and waved at me. I was so surprised, I smiled and waved back. A moment later everyone on the platform was waving at me!

I don't care one whit what anyone says about Japan, ever. The one thing that can never be argued is that these people are the sweetest and friendliest people I have ever met and probably will ever meet. And the rest of the events of the day only echo this observation. I felt so incredible at that moment, even as I pulled away from the station. I was just a lone, foreign face on a train, and strangers - tourists to the area themselves probably - smiled and waved.

Now, as to the why those two hours were the best two hours I ever spent on a train? Because to get to this particular town, which is quite literally on the other side of Shikoku from Marugame, I have to go through mountains. Lots of them. To say it's beautiful is akin to saying the universe is big. It almost demeans the magnificence of the area.

It stole my breath away. I mean... I can't really find words to describe how beautiful this really was, and those who know me understand how truly amazing that is because being verbose is one of my most annoyingly apparent qualities. I was glued to the window, staring out in awe every second of the trip. The trees and plants on these mountains were like the flat rice fields, I had just gone through. Brilliantly green with the glittering sunshine flashing through the leaves, the flickering light doing one of those incredible dances that you know could only really happen in one's imagination. The blue of the sky slivered between the mountains, and it didn't matter on which side of the train I was, I was surround by these colors more brilliant that I had ever seen them.

In the middle of those mountains there was a stop called Ooboke. It's quite literally a town sitting on the mountains. Bridges connect to the bits and pieces on either side, from one side of town to the other, and at the base of the mountains was this huge river! I didn't have to squint in order to see the people whitewater rafting on the river. There was nothing at the base of these mountains but the river itself. Just a dock that connected to a road that lead up the side of the mountain to the actual town. It was stunning.

I found myself jumping from one side of the train to the other to make sure I got every view possible. I was so sad that I couldn't take a picture because the train was moving! Even if I had tried, I had known it was going to come out blurred and that would do no justice to what I was seeing. But the image in my mind is as vivid now as it was when it was imprinted. It was amazing... I even began to get upset every time we went through a tunnel because I couldn't see outside anymore.

Even if Kochi hadn't been wonderful--I would go back just for the trip through the mountains. I would've paid more just for that pleasure. That alone felt more than adequate for the 4200 yen.

Finally, after 2 hours of bliss, I neared Kochi. The mountains vanished, and I got plains again and 'real' cities/towns. I heard that as you got near you were supposed to have a fantastic view of the ocean - I probably misheard - because I didn't see the ocean. I thought that perhaps it was via a different route, so as I arrived, I was somewhat disappointed. Either the ocean or the mountains, not both? I remained a little disappointed, but becoming less and less so as I walked outside and saw... well, it was basically what looked a lot like any other city I had been to in Japan so far. The local ones. But sitting right in front of the station was this tram... and well, I thought, grinning and in a suddenly much lighter mood, why the hell not?

So I got on the tram, having no idea where it was going or even how to pay for riding it. Even though it said the name in romanji so I could read it despite the blasted kanji, it meant diddly to me. I looked around as we rattled and screeched, looking for a place to begin my impromtu wandering journey. I saw the local Arcade - an outdoor mall of sorts in American terms - and decided to stop near there. I had also caught a glimpse of this nice little bridge and fountain on the other side of it as we rattled by. I thought, well, let's start with the monuments and stuff. Stuff always being something of intrigue.

Getting off, I rummaged for change, holding up the line - hey, I really didn't know what I had to pay for it - and I wandered by the opening of the Arcade, passed it, and found this little park. I worked my way through it, taking pictures. It was a really lovely design. There was a small pond-like river down the center, graced with a bridge and a gazebo. Hanging flowers dangled from the occasional tree, and grew out of lone steps in the still water. There were also a few of the those steps seeming to wander down the river, and then stopping in the center, as if to grasp the view from that spot. Some people were laying about in the gazebo, a few others just standing seeming as if they were contemplating, and other laying on the random benches, staring over the lovely sight. I moved through it with an enchanted step, because it was just too nice not to be enchanted by it.

As I came out of the little park, I saw this steel, modern artish building and my first thought was - damn that's ugly. I wonder what it is. I took a picture of it, because why not? Then I decided, well, let me wander in! So I do, looking around like the curious tourist I am and see in great big letters...

"INFORMATION"

Blink. I'd just found the information center of the city.

I found myself grinning stupidly at the rush. It was so odd. I felt like... It was just too much of a coincidence. It was too lucky. It made me feel so fantastic. My skin still gets goosebumps and my face immediately bursts into smiles thinking about it.

So I went to the counter and the lady there eagerly helped me, displaying her amazingly good English and I, my craptacular Japanese. She pulled out maps and pamphlets and English/Japanese-Japanese/English dictionaries and we get down to business!

Her name is Yumi and I dedicate this tale of my adventures to her. Without her, my day in Kochi would not have been as much fun, amazing or rewarding.

We sat there for at least an hour, chatting about ourselves, planning out my day and the potential things I could do. I even thought about staying the night at a hotel and continuing to see the city on the morrow as well! Then, we even thought of going somewhere else to sightsee... but it didn't work out with my available time. But, to be honest, it didn't matter. She set me up with going to Kasturahama, a sightseeingish beach in Kochi. She gave me all the information I needed, which bus stop, which bus, which stop and I thanked her so much that we were giggling like old friends as we waved a brief adieu.

Doing as the wonderful Yumi instructed, I went to the correct bus stop and took the correct bus to get there. It was this rickety thing that was really actually kind of cute. It seemed ready to fall apart with every jolt of every pothole in the road, but it hung together with vibrant tenacity. Before we got to Katsurahama, in fact about only half way there, everyone else on the bus had already gotten off, so I attempted to talk to the driver to make sure I knew where I was going. We ended up chitchatting in a blend of broken English, broken Japanese and fluent Japanese (on his part only!) for the rest of the jaunt before getting to Katsurahama. He was funny, soft spoken and very amused (and oddly impressed) with my beginning Japanese. He laughed at my puzzled expressions and I laughed at his. He was a sweet older gentleman, and he even took me on a bit of a scenic route, alongside the ocean.

I had thought the sky had been practically glowing with life in how vibrant a blue it was. But the ocean... God, I'd missed the ocean. The scent of the salty ocean air filtered through the open windows and filled the bus with a gentle sigh. It was a quiet moment of pleasure and it made me long to rush out and run along the beach.

When we arrived, a bid farewell to the happy bus driver, and set my feet down on the famous ground of Katsurahama. At first there was a litter of shops, so I bypassed them for the moment and I headed straight for the good stuff. The beach. The sand was mostly stone, and it had several beautiful rock formations in the water, a cliff side that ran alongside. I rolled up my pants happily, and put my feet in the nice cool water. I was so incredibly happy. I had just been fantasizing about doing that and here I was! Near the ocean again and enjoying it as much as I could! I took at least a hundred pictures.

There was a stone walkway and a bridge that lead up to the cliff. I took my time and climbed up the steps, taking as many pictures as I could, pausing to grasp the different and breathtaking views. There was an ancient shrine on the cliff, a couple of monuments to founders and to the ocean gods, and two toris. Lots and lots of pictures. Oh yes. I lingered for a long while up there, staring out over the beach, watching the people on the sand, watching the water crash against the rocks. It reminded me of stories I'd heard before, and even as I watched I began to make up my own. I revelled in my silent fantasies, feeling the wind blow, inhaling the sweet salt of the air, and loosing myself in the beauty of the horizon.

Eventually, I wandered back down to the shop areas, my mind still on the amazing experience and began to browse. Inspired, I bought myself my first official souvenir in Japan. A straw hat. The triangle ones. With kanji painted on it.

I, the crazy gaijin, wore the damn thing most of the day.

I barely made it to the bus back on time (I really did spend the day cutting it close), because I had the munchies and got myself tako (octopus) on a stick dripping in yakitori sauce and a lemon icee thing that didn't taste even remotely lemonish. Got on the bus, and enjoyed the ride back toward Harimaya-bashi (the name of the street I had gotten on from). I ate quickly and desperately tried not to make a mess. I did nonetheless, apologized to the bus driver profusedly and picked up after myself. I got off a little weirded from where I got on and ended up walking back through the little park to get to the information place.

They had added stuff in the three hours I'd been gone.

I took pictures of that too.

I went back up to the Information building and reunited with my lovely compadre, Yumi. She'd found me an ATM. She really was my angel in this city, watching out for the wandering Cuban-American gaijin. I was already running low on cash and wouldn't be able to afford the trip back if I didn't get to one quick. We chatted for longer than we were supposed to-and I ended up running out towards the ATM waving crazy goodbyes to Yumi.

I gave her my email address. I hope she sends me a message. I'd love to see her again the next time I go to Kochi.

I got to the ATM in the nick of time (that cutting it close bit again), and took out another 5000 yen. Woo. More money down the toilet. Anyway, I decided, even though it was already 6pm and my train left at 7:30pm, I'd try to get some grub and see one more site on the map. I had four highlighted.

Koya Temple.
Kochi Castle.
Jyosei Park.
Kochi Dai Shrine.
and Hirome Market.

The latter was where to get the grub. I love Japanese food. So I decided, all right, the castle, the park and the shrine are a little farther away and I don't have enough time. So let's do the Temple and then the food and then head back. Good reason to come back. Do the other stuff!!

So I headed down one of the main streets, Ohashi-dori, same street as Hirome Market and Koya Temple, and marched to the temple, looking around constantly so I'm not run over and so I can see the temple. And, as usual when looking at too much at once, I almost pass it. Thank god for accurate maps!

I finally noticed because I started to walk passed the street it was on, looking for it, and see the giveaway architecture and these bunch of festival like decorations. So with a wide grin I head to the temple, thanking that luck of mine that seemed to be continuing.

Let me clarify something before I go into my amazing experience at this temple.

At this point in August, Obon was going on in Japan. It's about a week of celebration and family get togethers. They visit graves of those departed, leave sweets and flowers for them, pray for them at family altars, and pretty much thank their ancestors and their deceased loved ones for caring for them and they wish them well in the afterlife. I've been talking to my students for the passed two weeks, trying to figure out what I could do for Obon, despite being a gaijin. They told me because I was a gaijin, there was no way for me to celebrate Obon. After all, none of the above is something a gaijin like me can do.

Evenutally, I accepted the fact that I couldn't do anything to celebrate Obon.

With this information still lingering in the back of my mind, I walked into this temple and I was surrounded by lanterns. A group of old women were wandering about helping people with their lanterns, selling the lanterns, making them and lighting them. I found myself once more enchanted.

And I began to hope.

Please! Oh please, ran the thoughts through my mind. Let this gaijin make one!

I timidly approached one older lady and ask in my distorted childlike Japanese if I can make one. She said it costs 1000 yen. And, barely containing my happiness, I willingly paid for it. The problem was...I didn't have much cash left. I needed to make sure I saved that 5000 I just took out for my trip back home. And the original 10,000 I took out that morning was dwindling quickly. So even though I wanted to make several lanterns... I did only one.

I wrote down the name of the person and my name in katakana for nice old lady doing the calligraphy.

Nicholas Acosta.

Even now, I start to cry as I remember.

The paper was done, they gave it to me, they made it into a lantern and they lit it for me. I wanted to go into the actual temple, but the lady led me to another portion (I guess the newer portion), and showed me into the room where people were praying. She grabbed a young man (who actually turned out to be the priest at that temple) to help her translate and she offered me to stay for the ceremony at 7. I wanted to so much.

I told him I couldn't - that I lived in Marugame and my train leaves at 7:30pm. For a moment, I almost thought they were going to offer for me to stay in their home so I didn't have to take the train back and could stay for the ceremony. They didn't...but it certainly looked like they were considering it.

But did I tell them that I would stay for a while and pray. I told him who I did the lantern for. Nicholas Acosta is my cousin. He died January 6th 2000. He was 12 years old. I sat there by myself for a while and prayed. I cried.

And every time I retell this story, either vocally or in writing, I find myself crying again.

Another old lady eventually appeared, with another young person, a woman this time, to help her translate. The young woman was an English teacher for a private school and she just got married in June to the priest! I thought of the young man I'd spoke to earlier and thought they made a lovely couple and told her so. She helped me translate for a bit. The older woman wanted me to stay. Both women comforted me when they say my red face and I appreciated their incredible kindness. She told me she was going to sing in the ceremony. I told her that I was so sorry I couldn't stay, that I wanted to but couldn't.

She gave me 2000 yen.

I honestly don't know what compelled her to give me the money. The younger woman said it was for "my journey." I couldn't refuse. To say I was moved and honored is to mock my own feelings. The memory of it now gives me twists in my chest and brings a sharp sting to my eyes.

I don't care what anyone ever says about Japan. It is the people make that land beautiful.

I spoke to the younger woman for a while, even after the older woman left. She told me some things about herself (the aforementioned) and about the temple. They had the biggest moving lanterns in Japan at that temple. I felt so bad that I couldn't stay longer, though I considered it over and over in my head, whether I should stay or go.

Eventually, I left. There was a great part of me that didn't want to go, but responsibility and lack of money is a heavy weight, and I didn't want to give them any of it. I left, but I left feeling moved and honored so deeply that I felt like crying again at the wonder of it. I told her I would come see her again. I promised.

And I will.

I left with stinging eyes, a smile and heart I could feel quite prominently in my chest, and headed toward Hirome Market for dinner.

Hirome Market... Well, the best way to describe it in American terms would be like a giant food court. Only it looked like no other food court at all in the United States. All the tables and chairs were made of wood, looking more like benches and stools rather than tables and chairs. Even though it's technically in a building, all the shops inside were designed to look as if they were outside in a festival street. I wandered about for a bit, watching my time, and ordered seafood yakisoba. For those who don't know what yakisoba is - it's damn tasty. Noodles, cabbage, onions and seafood, fried on a skillet with soy sauce. So tasty. I watched the people as I waited for my food, admiring the festive and yet relaxed ambiance, watched the teenagers and adults, watched the animated bustle of people moving about and eating. When my food arrived, I was stressed - yet again - for time, so I ate fast and hurried out of there.

I headed back for the main intersection on Ohashi-dori and took the tram back to Harimaya-boshi. I got off and felt lost. I knew I had to take another tram to the station-and I didn't know how to do it.

I was cutting it close again.

A lady who got off the train with me, suddenly spoke English to me, asking me if I was headed toward the station. Setting aside my surprise, I said yes-she was heading there herself. She asked somebody next to us and found out we had to go to a different 'tram station' in the middle of the road. So we headed over there. She was tall, and kind of big all around and spoke English better than anybody else I met. She even understood my mutterings to myself.

I thought to myself as I puzzled over her, she must be half Japanese.

A few moments later, we got on the tram, paid for it and finally got back to the station. I ran and got my ticket and then hurried to my platform. Another 4,130 yen gone.

Just in time.

Two more hours to get back to Marugame, and then the 20 minute walk back home at almost 10pm.

The day was fantastic. I plan on going back and seeing Yumi and the lovely people at the temple again. I don't know when, maybe in September, when I have to go through Kochi to get to Ashizuri. But I will see them again.

It was the most marvelous day trip. It was the most adventurous thing I'd ever done and the most rewarding.

My only regret? On the ride back I couldn't see the beautiful countryside again. It was too dark.

Addendum: I never did return to Kochi, nor did I ever get a chance to travel to Ashizuri. Time and money whirled away and soon I was gone from Japan altogether and my time there just vivid memories.

But I won't break that promise.

I will return to Shikoku one day in this life. I will go to Kochi, the temple, Ashizuri, and with any luck, see those wonderful people, Yumi and those of the temple, once more. It was only one day, but those brief friendships I made will last me a lifetime.

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daytime| 2010-08-07 13:05 theme| Musings in Transit copyright| Public setting| Boise Airport character analysis| contemplative

Some last minute insanity before leaving to this slightly surreal trip.

Yesterday, I sold stuff. That was good. Spent most of the day outside selling stuff. The only downside was that selling stuff for most of the day, didn't allow for me to run the other last minute errands I needed to do to prepare for this trip. I didn't have an itty bitty bottle of conditioner. I hadn't printed out my story yet. I didn't even know if the cartridge would last me the story. And I didn't have any paper to print it out on anyway.

Luckily, the powers-that-be gave me the best downstairs neighbor in the history of neighbors. She had to do a run to Wal-mart. I begged a boon. She got me copy paper.

It was lonely, after she'd gone and I was out there, willing people to buy things. I called everyone I knew that was still in town, hoping that someone was free to pass by. Brent said he would but didn't until much later (and I had packed up what was left and gone back upstairs), Amanda had just come from Spokane and was already back in Cheney. Lindsay came and went. Got up the guts to try calling Amaris again. She didn't answer. Called Amanda again and she told me about Amaris' "art walk" and that I should go.

Originally, I was iffy. I wanted to go, but I had so much stuff still to do. Not to mention lugging stuff back up the stairs if I didn't sell it all. But when I gave Amaris another ring, she finally did pick up. We chatted about the Art Walk, about her move to Seattle and what we could do together if possible, her trip to Guatemala, and apparently after the Art Walk, Amaris and John were going to go to the Viking Bar to see the Booze Fighters. Who? I asked in my ignorance.

"Rox, the Booze Fighters are that great blues band we saw at Zola's on your birthday forever ago, remember? The night I met John?"

Cue spaz of utter excitement. Screw responsibilities. Screw stress. Screw all the crap I still had to do before I left in the morning. I wasn't going to get any sleep anyway. Probably one of the last chances to hang out with Amaris, John and Amanda, and fittingly listening to a GREAT blues band (and I loooooooooooooooooooooooooove me some blues~~) that I saw for the first time on my 26th birthday, after knowing them only a few months, and was the night Amaris met her love John, the Mad Dancing Lumberjack. There was just so much emotion, connection, and nostalgia wrapped up into that one thing. Spending the evening drinking and talking and listening with my three closest friends in Spokane, with a great blues band that I inadvertently introduced them to on one of the best birthdays of my life, and on that birthday managed to give my friend the opportunity to meet the love of her life... Just thinking about heading out to the Viking later to see this band made me teary. So I called Amanda, set up a time for her to pick me up and then started to move my crap back upstairs.

She was supposed to pick me up at 5:20 PM. I hopped into the shower, dripping with sweat at 4:50 PM. I was out at 5:06, running around trying to get dressed, getting sweaty again, when Amanda called me at 5:15 to say she was outside. Cue panic.

Still, I made it out by 5:20, even if I was still carrying most of my accessories in an ungainly way.

Art walk was nice. A little awkward at first for me, because Amanda, Amaris and John knew a lot of the people at these places that I didn't. And by the time my feet were starting to hurt (remember I had lugged furniture down and up stairs in blistering heat), we were on our way to the Viking.

I cannot begin to describe the amount of happiness I felt. John dancing with Amaris to the music, tasting the coolest beers ever - Dragonsbreath (awesomest name for a beer EVER), Old Chub (dangerously tasty--seriously. Tasted like a soda! SO GOOD and quite high in alcohol! NOM.), and Elysian Pisner (name says it all doesn't it?) - talking and laughing with my two closest friends, just enjoying each other's company, reminiscing, catching up, planning for the future. By the time I got home at midnight, I was tipsy and I was so happy that I had tears in my eyes.

Course it was midnight and I had a flight to catch in nine hours and I had shit I still needed to get done.

So the craziness began. My printer was a bit of a bitch at first, but soon it was printing its little heart out with the copy paper the amazing Shannon got for me.

Unfortunately, the stapler Michi sent me could not handle the 18 pages (and I wasn't allowed to bloody well do them double-sided, grrrrrr). It's this little itty bitty thing not designed for handling the immenseness of a writer's mass amount of thick paper pages. And the things needed to be stapled. On top of that, even if I had wanted to break the rule and use paper clips, they were already packed away in a sealed box.

In desperation, I reasoned I could borrow a stapler at the airport. But if I did that, I couldn't check in my bag. I had to have the papers on me. And if I didn't check in the bag, then I couldn't bring my shampoo and lotions. So I repacked. One mostly empty duffel bag made to carry, mostly, my bottles of stuff, and another mostly empty carry-on to hold the papers.

Then, on copy number thirteen, the ink cartridge died.

Cue a panic frenzy. How was I going to get these copies out? I needed these done!

To be honest, this is all kind of a strange blur. Somehow, I eventually remembered that there was a copy machine at Rosauers (though expensive), that I could probably buy a stapler there to boot, and I could get the check that Mama and Papa sent me cashed, so I had the full $200 in cash and all I had to do was write a check for $160 (thank you Rio for the message you left me). I prepped everything as much as I could, set my alarm for 6AM, and crashed at 3AM.

Needless to say, I was a zombie for about an hour while I did the final preparations before 7:27 AM when I caught the bus to the airport. I had coffee at the airport. Too expensive, but had no choice. Got on my flight without issue and we left on time. Soon the insanity of Squaw Valley will begin, but at least, I seem to have survived so far. As an aside, it was mentioned in the notes from Squaw Valley that it was recommended NOT to bring a laptop to the workshop, but uh, no way I was leaving the laptop at HOME. Nooooooo waaaaaaaay. Without it I'd be going crazy right about now.

You see, I have no book to read, while I am in transit. All of mine have been packed away. I lent Lindsay Deception. I hope she likes it, but she's not done yet, and I'm letting her take her time. I'll get it back before I move out (since I think Hannah took my Ravished to Japan...).

I had a nice chat with my neighbor on the short flight from Spokane to Boise. And then realized I had to kill waaaaaaaaay too much time when I arrived here. So I meandered over to the TravelMart to see if there was a book that would catch my fancy.

Angel's Game.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh~~~ <33333

Want.

Pick up.

$15.95.

>_<;;;

Put back.

Sniffle.

Pick up.

Read back and blurbs. Sigh.

No fair.

Put back and hurry out before I do something stupid.

So, to get my mind off Angel's Game, I'm going to muse here about my romance novel potential. Jot down some notes. See what boils out of my brain.

So.

Notes on a potential romance novel:

I’ve been having such issues with coming up with what my first romance novel should be. Werewolf? Cubanita? I know the O’Connors must be patient until I have a name for myself and therefore and can truly reap the benefits of their genius.

Cubanita: Pros and Cons

Pros - I know the culture well. I can describe it with confidence, really get into it and actually enjoy it versus what I had to do with that bloody thesis. There aren’t enough Latin women in romance literature. That could be a niche for me, and I want to get us loud, curvy, slap that ass woman out there. Potential cash cow here because of the Cuban family. It’ll be fun to write and I’ll probably make myself known for having Latin characters. I like that idea.

Cons – I might be stuffed into a “category” because of my Latina heroines. Like there’s “black” romance and “gay” romance sections, though to be honest, I’ve never seen “latin” romance section. I face the same problem as with my thesis. People like it so much they don’t want to see me do anything else which would drive me insane. Also, what ideas are there that don’t seem trite and cliché to me? Writing about something I know well has the potential of being boring, and anything having to do with the family will probably feel that way, and feel dangerously literary. But if she’s just a standard Cubanita working in Miami, who dates and works and has adventures, then we should be safely in romance novel territory.

Werewolf: Pros and Cons

Pros – I could probably involve la Cubanita. I love werewolves. They need a better presentation. Wolves equals pack equals cash cow. Supernatural stuff like this very, very in. I’ll be very involved because werewolves are sexy, and I can make them even sexier.

Cons – Werewolf in Miami? Unlikely. I have to be REAL creative for that one. I can get the Cubanita out of Miami, but that just makes my life complicated. It is ridiculously popular now and there is the threat of getting critiqued badly because my take on werewolves doesn’t fit in with the “norm.” (Not like I give a shit.)

Historical: Pros and Cons

Pros – I like history. Can be totally separate from the werewolf and Cubanita stuff because like Amanda Quick, I’d probably have to use a different name for them. I can finally write my Richard III book! It doesn’t have to be literary. Besides, I want Richard to live happily ever after (even if we all know he doesn’t). This will take some creative history working—kind of like my Arthur book! This would be epic!

Cons – Going to need to do research. Blergh. Sometimes research is fun, but lord can it be a massive pain in the ass to. Richard… does kind of die. Young. That is a problem, unless I get very, very creative. Might be worming my way into Phillippa Gregory’s territory. Don’t know if I can get away with that.

Ah! Food's here!

To be continued...

~~~

QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand." ~George Orwell, "Why I Write," 1947

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