Staying

(strong)

Through it all, I live.
I'm continuing to write, more and more with each passing day. I completed Ch.6 - at sixteen pages, no less - and it was pronounced by Martin to be his favorite chapter yet. Now, Martin is not the final word on chapter quality - how I miss Margaret and Marla's daily comments - but it's an excellent start. The only points of confusion where plot decisions, not writing, so I will take it. Now it's onto Ch.7, the new Ch.4 (Sitiani and Cain in the Inn), all the while fixing up the order/POV of Ch.1-4 (currently).
The light is still far down at the end of the tunnel... but it's getting brighter.

The rest of the parts of life are going well. After a small scare (required every few months), work has settled to its usual state (meaning alternating hard work with hard fantasy stat checking).
Dodgeball is going well for Team HTD - minus Dave's broken finger - with a league-leading .962 win% and a bead on the #1 seed for the playoffs.
Basketball and Team CLAB is good too, with a 3-1 record and some great team chemistry.
The apartment is slowly being taken over by God of War II for the PS2. Amazingly cinematic game.
And despite some tough nights, I have had a glass of wine or two with my roomates, played sports without thinking about my heart every five seconds, and managed to fall asleep at night, surrounded by darkness and accompanied only by thoughts of how simple it is for a faulty blood-filled pulsing sack to go wrong... and how it only takes one mistake to be permanent.
I'd like to live to 72. The average male lives until 71 in America - the average woman, 79. Most of the Calland women live long, healthful lives. The males... not so much. We burn bright, but we burn out.
We all burn out sometime, of course. I'm less concerned about that. And 72 or 32, I'm enjoying every flicker of this flame a great deal more.

All-In

(heart pounding, sweat beading)

That's how it was on the felt at the Texas Hold 'Em table at AC. Really, it takes a couple of times playing there before you even begin to get comfortable at the table. My very first hand of the night I spilled chips everywhere. So nervous. But I began to settle down - this was my third time at AC - and ended up winning $156. No slots, no blackjack - just a good night at Hold 'Em. I am all about that.
But what made me happier was the way I won; not just one big hand, I won on bluffs, slow plays, some smart gambles and using my muscle when I had it. Two hours, insane fun, and some cash besides? Thank you Lady Luck. I kneel and kiss your feet.
The rest of the weekend was great too. Hanging out with the guys was an absolute blast, from Hershey to the hotel to AC to the trip back. I even made it back in time for my dodgeball game, which Team Hit The Deck won in a pounding, 9-2. With the two point match bonus, this puts Hit The Deck at 33 points out of a possible 39 for a .846 winning percentage. Team Heinz, hated archrival and in first place ahead of Team Hit The Deck at the beginning of the week, won as well, but only by the slimmest of margins, 6-5. This gave them 33-of-39 for an .846 winning percentage. That means for the first time in team history - which is impressive considering Hit The Deck was one of the inagural teams of the league three seasons ago - we are in at least a tie for first place.
And Heinz is up next Monday!
The anticipation is intense. Dodgeballs will fly. More details as events warrant.
After getting things in order Tuesday - including a heartbreaking last second loss in basketball - life is back in order and I am back on the blog. Tonight I'm headed off to Sesame Inn - greatest Chinese restaurant in the land - with Julie. I plan on enjoying heavily.
I need to write some more to my story, but I'm in a Warcraft kind of mood. That Undead Level 4 is a bitch!
Good weekend ahead - writing conference and bro day with Mike. I am pumped.

Freeeeeeeedom

(every man blogs... not every man really writes)

Oh, you know your muse is on when she comes up with a title and opening without so much as a hint of a thought.

My project is over.
OVER!
The long work hours, the early starts, the undetermined late finishes, the weekend work, the upgrades, the logging in from home, the general mental weight of how much had to be done - what can be summed up as 'June' - is done.
Officially, anyway. Unofficially, the system is still a bit slow and has some kinks. But it's still working, damn it, and that means that the dreaded sense of urgency - the now now NOW NEED IT DONE NOW - is finally dissapating. I have room to mentally breathe, which I wouldn't have understood until I actually got out of it. How can I tell that things are better? Well, for example, Caissa is running around like a virgin that just discovered the fun times being with the opposite sex can create. I've been writing TFOR like a fiend, and she's wanted to blog all weekend, though that would have been tough in internet-poor Chautauqua. But now that I'm back, work seems like it was before. Work hard, but you could take some time to rest, or take a breath, or get a drink... and after everyone's gone, it's not so hard to remember it in a blog entry.

Saw fireworks last night, which was nice, and am going to basketball tonight. Dodgeball Mondays, basketball Tuesdays, and volleyball Thursdays means I am at least staying in shape better than I would before. Julie's playing dodgeball and volleyball too, and I'm stunned at the way she's taking it - i.e., very well. She's open to learning and trying to have fun. Example 14,879,206 of how confusing the female gender is.

Seeing the family over the weekend, we now have our 10-team fantasy football family league lining up. I am absolutely pumped for it. Combine that with my friends' league and my work league, and I will be in fantasy heaven come September... as I expect to be in a heated race for the championship in fantasy baseball at the same time.

Trying to stay in touch with all my friends. I'm hoping to see Martin for a writing conference tomorrow night, hoping to get Stoph to come down to Pittsburgh on a weekend, and I haven't heard anything from Margaret but will send her something around July. She's probably collecting all kinds of bedtime stories... if you know what I mean.

A new month and some free(r) time. I am looking forward to it!

So Many Paths

(but which way will you go)

In the midst of total work madness, I find myself coming to a crossroads in life.
Isn't that the way it always works? It's not during a relaxing, uncomplicated time that you could devote 100%, or even the majority, of your time, effort, and thought to so that you came to a calm, rational decision about the matter. Instead, you have to work around a crazy schedule with multiple responsibilities, mulling over the problem in stolen moments when you probably should be doing something else.
Julie will be visiting this summer and it will most likely define the next few years of my life - in particular whether I'm headed to a long-term relationship with a very distinct goal or I am single again for the first time in over five and a half years. The sheer enormity of it is so big that it is difficult to grasp mentally. I need to think what is best not only for myself, but her. If I didn't have such faith that what is best for me is best for her and vice versa, I would probably be terrified that what was best for her would be worst for me, and vice versa.
Ah well. At least I can see the issue coming. Sometimes you run into huge crossroads in life blind, casually choosing your path, maybe (if you're lucky) with some hint that your choice will have massive complications - though you have no idea what they could be - and only far down the road realize your choice has changed your path forever, and there's no way to turn around and go back. That's the funny thing about time. It's a one-way street. And you look back at the crossroad fading in the distance, wondering what could have been if you had taken the road less traveled.
In life, we don't regret what we did. We regret what we didn't.
That kind of revelation is extremely unpleasant.

My volleyball team got knocked out in the semifinals in heartbreaking fashion, being only three points away from the championship match at one point before losing. A good season, though there is a personality or two that is wearing on the squad heavily. That kind of issue is non-existent (thankfully) on the dodgeball team, who start their season this coming Monday with immense anticipation. Coupled with Tuesday co-ed basketball - in which I have both volleyball and dodgeball members, including my sister Emmie - I will be playing dodgeball on Mondays, basketball on Tuesdays, volleyball on Thursdays, and even refereeing dodgeball on Wednesdays if there are enough signups. It is going to be simply wonderful.

I had a nice little meeting with Martin the other night, which really woke up Caissa and made me miss writing. I simply must continue hammering away on getting the first draft done. I'm getting bogged down on the details, in trying to make things the best they can be before moving onto something else, and I realize now that I would be better served trying to get down my first draft of everything and going back to correct it. I have a rare-in-instance but strong-when-it-comes perfectionist streak - we're talking someone who completed every level of Doom I and II with 100% kills, items, and secrets, not to mention complete beatings of other games like Burnout 3 and Soul Calibur II - and maybe that's what's going on here. Either way, I plan on upping the production of new material, not just working on what's already there. Martin inadvertantly (though not completely) gave me a wonderful idea, so I have even more incentive to write, most likely at the expense of my work.
Big surprise there.

New computer coming today or tomorrow. Excitement!

I Am Blogimus Maximus

(and I will write my entry, in this life or the next)

Dodgeball was absolutely infuriating last night. We played a team that didn't rush for the balls, didn't try and throw, didn't try to entice action. They would get one of us out, then go to the back line and wait. The new, bigger court makes it nigh-impossible to get anyone out if they're on the back line, so they would merely wait for us to throw. If it was an easy throw, they caught it. Anything tough, they moved out of the way. Then, they either rolled or dropped the balls back on our side. With the very large court, catching always had a large advantage over throwing, so it would have behooved our team to not throw at all and merely wait for them to throw. But you know, our team didn't come to play an hour of roll-the-ball-back-and-forth.
I am personally steaming and have already filed a complaint with the head of the league.

On a better note, I am still healthy, and eating tons of food at meals, despite my rather large tonsils. This bodes well for tonight, as I am off to Olive Garden with Martin for a writing conference night. There is no better food to discuss a story over than Olive Garden breadsticks, spaghetti and meatballs, and unlimited Pepsi. I'm drooling just thinking about it...

I beat Grand Theft Auto III: San Andreas the other night. Chalk one up for the Gold Master of Burnout 3 and the ten-time completition of every single player Final Fantasy ever made. Soul Calibur III will eventually be coming out. I'm thinking that's next on my list. What better way to defend my Soul Calibur II skills?

Random thought day today. I'll have a more cohesive entry tomorrow.

Assuming the voices in my head let me.

I'm Going Off The Rails

(riding Bel-tra(i)n)

It's here. It's that time again. Full on fantasy baseball madness.

I must preface this by saying the actual sport incites fury in me. You don't get a more unfair and slanted playing field than the MLB. And tonight Bonds is talking about hanging them up. I can only hope. This huge steroid scandal has been disgusting, as much for the total obviousness of it as the actual revelations. Giambi? Using steroids? Stunning. When your head is the size of a small continent, something is going on. But Bonds is the most egregious of all. People do NOT suddenly jump 30 homers at age 35. It's absolutely unheard of and insane. Oh, the tripling body size? The wildly misshapen head? Yeah. Here's the sad thing: I still think Roger Maris's record 61 homers in a season has yet to be legitimately broken. And that's just sad. I feel bad for all those players' records that are now thrown by the wayside... by illegitimate means.
But with fantasy, I don't need to care about that.
I don't need to care that the Pirates entire roster isn't worth the the Yankees infield. The left side of the Yankees infield. I don't need to care about the lack of a salary cap, the wildly overpaid players, the greedy owners and equally greedy union.
All I need to care about is personal statistics, in the ultimate game of statistics. And throw in friends...
Talk about a great way to stay in touch!

For those of you who don't know, you can't comprehend. Draft is Monday. Until then, it's studying time.

There's Beauty In The Breakdown

(so let go)

Margaret's CD continues to dominate my musical side.

I got some real bad news at my doctor's appointment today. The doctor took a look at my tonsils and was still unhappy with the size, and was more unhappy with the scarring that had formed on my right tonsil (the one that was incised twice). The scarring isn't too much of a problem - how many women list 'tonsils' on their list of desirable things to look at? - but what the scarring signifies is that my tonsils are too busy still trying to fight off an infection to spend time healing correctly. That means I'm not out of the woods.
Today is day 11 of the 20 day run of Clindamyacin, a stronger antibiotic than Augmentin, which had surpressed the infection but hadn't killed it. So my medication runs out around March 26 or so. If by late March I'm feeling the same symptoms that I am now used to recognizing - achiness, followed by chills and fever, followed by throat swelling, followed by the really bad stuff, ear pain, severe pain swallowing, and inability to completely open my mouth, it's straight to the knife. Tonsillectomy. And for adults, a tonsillectomy is - get this - a 10-14 day recovery. That means two weeks of work, sports, all of it, gone. Plus the fun of surgery.
Damn it! I want to be rid of this freaking thing. I am sincerely hoping that I will end my medication... and nothing happens. No sickness. It suddenly doesn't look that good. I'm healthy now - and have been - but I recognize that that is more becuase of the medication I've been on holding down the infection's symptoms. But I can't stay on medication forever. If this doesn't work.... blah. Don't even want to think about it.

Dodgeball finals were incredible. Pictures and video were taken, so I think I'll save the update for when I have actual visual evidence. It was incredibly fun, though. What an awesome sport. I've got like 14 people signing up for next year, for 12 roster spots. Insanity!

Last night of volleyball - barring miraculous playoff entry - tonight. I have to run off now so I won't be late.

I'll leave with what almost made me wet myself on Dave's profile tonight.

Susie -
If you want to see your doll again, leave $100 in the envelope by the tree out front. Do not call the police. You cannot trace us. You cannot find us.

Sincerely, Calvin.

It's Everywhere

(it's in my raccoon wounds)

My brother and sisters love this quote. Family Guy = incredible show.

I had a great writing conference with Martin tonight. We traded stories and it was an absoulte blast. Chapter 1 really got some excellent comments. The key to a good reader isn't someone who says, "This needs this here, this needs that here" - they simply tell you, "I liked this." "This confused me." "I don't understand this." "I was excited here." That really shows what the reader is feeling, and Martin has gotten immensely good at this. I returned the favor, discussing his short story that he has due for class (in a much more corrective fashion, but his is by far still in the conceptualization stage). It's really turning out well.
What a fun night!

The support for dodgeball has been nigh overwhelming. The dodgeball league for the PSL (Pittsburgh Sports League) opened at noon. By 12:14 PM, it was sold out. Unbelievable. Thank goodness I got my team in there! And better yet, Stogie, a girl on my volleyball team, has paired with me and we are first on the waiting list for Thursday night co-ed basketball. So if we got on a team, I would be playing dodgeball Tuesdays, volleyball Wednesdays, and basketball Thursdays! I would have a blast AND be in shape. My medication has my tonsillitis down, my weight has stabilized (at 191) and I finally feel healthy.
Health really is something that people take for granted. By far, enjoy it while you can. Getting old is a bitch!
...He said at his ripe old age of 22. ;)

I have to go to bed now, lest I oversleep and miss work. And that would be, you know, bad.

This Is Ourselves

(under pressure)

I have always liked Queen, but getting the Platinum Collection has allowed me to hear songs that never really made it here (they were always much bigger internationally than they were in America). So while most people only know "We Will Rock You", "Another One Bites The Dust", and "We Are The Champions" (with a nod to "Bohemian Rhapsody") , I have gotten to listen to "Innuendo", "It's a Hard Life", and "Miracle". Just incredible stuff. I also am in total awe of Freddie Mercury's voice, something which has been validated by my friends Dave and Nate, who both argue that he is top 2 best vocalists ever. Let me tell you, I'm floored. His range and power are just inspiring. "Living On My Own" is a must-hear.

The last two days I have played a doubleheader of dodgeball and a volleyball match. I'm sore and exhausted, but so happy. I'm healthy again, active again, not a fat slug (okay, I was never fat) laying around. Also, I'm still on my new, stronger tonsillitis medication and all symptoms of illness have completely disappeared. Now, I'm not totally excited - my last medication did the same thing, and when I got off of it it came back - but at least that's better than nothing happening at all. I'm going to stay on this for the full course and I refuse to get off of it until they kick me off. I want this illness dead. You know, kind of like when you step on a cigarette and smear it on the bottom of your foot - which I incidentally would like to do to a number of people who smoke them - and wipe it out of existence.

Dodgeball may be the most fun simply-organized sport in the world. Total, utter blast. Everyone who was sort of "Eh, should I play, what's it going to be like" can't stop talking about how much fun it is. Now I've got 10 people signed up for next season... and the season doesn't even start for 3 weeks!! Yikes!!!

But as they say, if you can dodge katana-wielding ninjas bent on bloodsworn revenge, you can dodge a ball.
Well, okay, they don't say that. But it sounds real cool.

I'm Driving Only Three Wheels These Days

(but my dear, how about you?)

Some might say I'm mad for the last few entries I've written. I'll agree. They're freaking books! It is usually a plus that I can type almost as fast as I think - and much faster than I can write - but my apologies to those who don't read quickly. It's like a copy of 'War and Peace'. My advice is just to skip it.
These are only thoughts of madness anyway. :)

Martin is going to get help rough-cutting his movie from Margaret, as well as others. I am psyched about this because the man was under an intense workload as it was, which led to some ugly deadline panics, something he does not handle particularly well. The response to the movie has been nothing short of astounding, with a number of people commenting that "the story looks real good", and "finally, a fanfilm with an actual story!". Those kind of comments are wonderful to read, and while I didn't write the whole story myself, I made a lot of major changes to the script, and more importantly, helped come up not just with ways around plotholes, but solutions that made the story stronger. I distinctly remember Martin coming to me having had the realization that an entire fight scene needed to be cut and the script desperately needed to be patched together.
I could use a dose of humility/reality here. Not only were these not all my changes, but the changes I did make ruined work already done or made more work to do for all the cast and crew.
It will all be worth it if this film comes off as the people who worked years on it dreamed it would.

It looks like my weekends are severely tied again as classes are interrupting my life schedule. Visits to Nova and Syracuse are in jeopardy. Damn education. It's like a disease - or like my tonsillitis - in that it keeps coming back. To quote Calvin and Hobbes:

Calvin: "That's it! I'm not going to school anymore! I just want to remain ignorant for the rest of my life!"
Hobbes: "Is it a right to remain ignorant?"
Calvin: "I don't know, but I refuse to find out!"

So sore from dodgeball. So sore - I stretched all the wrong muscles. I went into my stretch as if I was playing basketball or volleyball, heavy emphasis on running, jumping, neck movement. I should have concentrated on rotating to throw and bending down to get low. Now my lats and glutes are just on fire. Feel the burn.

Simple entry tonight. Let's not scare the public.

If You Can Dodge An Antique China Set

(you can dodge a ball)

This is how I start all of my e-mails to my dodgeball team, only with a different thing each time, each one better than the last. So far we've had traffic, a snow delay, silverware, and those fuzzy things that stick to sweaters. I think the next e-mail will include the late Marlon Brando.
As the entry suggests, I played dodgeball tonight and it was so much fun I can't begin to tell you all of the great things that happened. It's a co-ed league with organized rules, which, while I think of them as basic, some people who have played the game only remember everyone running around and killing each other. Let me tell you, dodgeball at my elementary and junior high had more strategy than any other game out there. It was just a blast to play.
The highlights...

Opening Scenario:
With the school for whatever reason locking up the matted court, we were forced to play on the basketball floor hardwood, which is not forgiving when diving away from heat-seeking missles. The opposing team had a guy even taller than me, and most of their guys had decent arms. The big guy had a gun. (Terminology as we go along.) Their girls, on the other hand, did little more than cringe, and on occasion their throws would not make it past the deadzone (halfcourt). Our team - Team Hit The Deck - was comprised of myself, Catcher; Chris Cox, Thrower, coworker and my best friend and mentor at SEL who had not played dodgeball since he was 7 (30 years ago); Stogie, Dodger, a left-handed tall woman from my volleyball team; Matt Anderson, Thrower, former mailroom guy at SEL, my age with a cannon; Robin, Dodger, another member of my volleyball team known for being timid, shy, and small; and Stella, Catcher, a drafted individual who was funny and had nice hands. Our subs couldn't make it, so we were on our own, the 6 of us forced to play all 11 rounds straight, 8 minute rounds or until all players were out.
The game was on.

Most Violence:
By far the most violent part of the game is the beginning, when everyone starts at their respective endline and rushes to the middle to get one of the three balls sitting in the deadzone. Since this is the only time in the game when you can enter the deadzone, and you can't be out while in it, total pandemonium ensues. I won a race to a ball at the beginning, and was a half-step slow the next time, but used my volleyball finger strength to reach in with one hand and rip it out of the opponent's arms. My opponent returned in Game 3 with a flying shoulder check as I went to get the ball. From then on it was mass insanity. Similar events were happening with the other two balls, and as the balls quickly got divided the throwing, catching, and dodging was on.

Most Fun:
I have to say the most fun part of the game (in a general sense) is that middle part of the game, where you're alert, not looking at anything in particular but using your peripheral vision to spot threats from all angles, muscles tense and prepared, ready to dive to the floor or make a saving catch. The back and forth nature of the game is utterly fantastic and I can say I was sold after 45 seconds. It only got better as it went.

Best Catch:
This award goes to Robin, who came out of nowhere to make a stunning case for a role as Catcher. In Round 6, we were up 2 to 1 - by which I mean we had Chris and Robin left, and they only had one guy. That guy, though, was their best thrower, the tall guy with a gun, and he unloaded a rising fastball to Robin, who already is stretching for 5'5". Somehow she stepped slightly to adjust her angle and got her hands around the ball, taking the force of the blast right under her chin, but hanging on without a bobble for an incredible game-winning catch. The team erupted and the quiet and timid Robin raised her arms in triumph and was mobbed by teammates. Catch of the Night.

Most Annoying:
Not that it was annoying, but the ref called an extremely tight out of bounds game. Having a foot on any line meant you were out. And that counted for catches, dodging, and throwing - regardless of the circumstances, you were out, even if you made a Jerry Rice-like catch on the sidelines, keeping two feet in, then stepping out. You had to stay in the whole time. Most Annoying is slightly unfair, as the ref called an excellently fair game, calling out opposing players as much as us. However, we struggled to adapt to the deadly touch of the lines.

Most Pain:
This award goes to the third game, when I was the last man standing against two of their decent males. They adopted the 2-at-once tactic, and though their aim was sketchy their timing was good, and I had to be careful of dodging away from one right into the other. Finally, my opening came, as the timing was off on the first throw and the second throw floated a bit. Standing near the back line, I dodged to the right to avoid the first, and threw my body back to the left to lean back and catch the second. The motion, however, took me off balance, and I wavered, leaning backwards to the back line. In desperation, I threw my legs out from under me to get to the floor as soon as possible and kill the momentum backwards, landing my full weight on my left butt cheek, which, while plump enough for sitting, was not meant for falling to the hardwood floor. I looked back; my butt was just grazing the line.
"Out!" the ref said, blowing his whistle.
My butt cheek throbbed for the rest of the night, doubly insulting because 1) you can never just clutch your ass and go "ooh, feeling it today" in public and 2) it was only the left one, so now going up stairs is killer, but only every other step. Oh, and 3) I WAS OUT!
There is no pain like the pain of being out.

Best Quote:
By far, the best quote was after Robin was tagged by a throw in her chest that she almost had but lost at the last moment. "Damn," she said to me as she joined me on the bench, "first he nailed the left boob, now he nails the other one!"

And now, the top 3 highlights of the night:

Best Kill:
Surprisingly, despite my Catcher status (an unofficial designation, but important to strategy), I ended up with the Best Kill of the night. Early in game 2, our teams traded missed throws, one ball going into each corner (which was a ways away from the play). The third and last ball was in my hands, with four ball-less targets. I ran up to the front middle at full speed - dangerous to throw from, but the other balls were far away - and threw my whole weight into my throwing motion, aiming at one of their big men. He started moving left, anticipating the coming throw. But as my arm came around, I held onto the ball in a full windmill and began tracking left quickly, following his motion. He stopped, realizing what I was doing, just as my arm came back around in a sidearm throw with all my sideways motion behind it, and I unleashed a tailing cannon shot.
BOOM!
The ball took the guy in the chest with a boom that echoed throughout the building. (Being non-sting dodgeballs, the balls have weight but are covered with a light foam covering. It stops the sting, but it doesn't prevent a good beatdown!) My whole team went nuts, still in the middle of the game. I pegged the guy again later as well, but the team voted that the power, plus the setup and finish made it the Best Kill of the Night.

Best Play:
Down to 2-on-2 in a heated round 5, we were facing yet again a tough duo of their two best men (including their gunner), while Chris and Robin dived for cover. Chris's throws occasionally had some heat, but were incosistent and Robin's throws tended to land far short of their target. Robin and Chris spread wide, creating two targets, and the opponents decided to try to pick her off first. Robin dodged a ball coming from the side, and got off-balance, making a prime target for their big gun, who unloaded his best fastball of the night and cracked Robin in the chest, almost knocking her over and sending the ball flying almost to the ceiling.
Chris, despite being on the opposite side of the court, took off, a 37-year old IT manager giving it his all for the team. He raced to the diagonal opposite corner, where the ball was just coming down, and slid feet first at the last instant, trying to get under the ball. Now I have to put this into slow motion, although in reality all the following happened in less than a second. Chris grazed it with his fingertips, but his momentum carried him forward, his head hitting the ball and bumping it up slightly. Somehow Chris stayed with the play, getting his hands back to his face to get another piece of the ball as it came down, and then - sliding now completely on his back - reaching back over his shoulder and snagging the ball on the third juggle, pinning it to his shoulder and the side of his head. The team went nuts. Robin, who was about to be out, was saved. Their big gun was out, and their last player foot-faulted on the very next play. Team Hit The Deck was absolutely bananas. Play of the Match and of the Year so far: Chris Cox.

Final Outcome:
After starting up 2-0, the games became tight. The match was tied at 2-2, 3-3, and 4-4 in this best of 11 (first to six) match. But as the match got late, our lack of subs really began to show. Mental errors from exhaustion contributed to our downfall in a very winnable Round 10, and the match was called due to time (and some questionable rules interpretation). We finished on the wrong end of a 6-4 score. Since there is one point awarded for each round, and two points for a match win, Team Hit The Deck picks up 4 points. Not a bad showing, particularly since it got down to the wire!


Next week is the doubleheader, which should be more fun then you can handle. Everyone on the team loved playing, and it looks like we got a fabulous group. On with the dodgeball madness!!


Because remember: If you can dodge the late Marlon Brando, you can dodge a ball.

Take The Dice Away From The Baby, Mama

(before he craps all over the floor)

A huge win for my volleyball team last night! We lost the first game in a heartbreaker and were down big in the second. The whole season could have turned around on what happened next, which was the team coming together in a big way (it's what volleyball is all about) and coming back to win games 2 and 3 in a knockdown, drag-out brawl. It ups our record to 6-9 and puts us back in the playoff hunt. I love it!

I'm going to try and complete chapters 1-3 of The Flames of Resistance by the end of this weekend. The key night will be Friday, as I will have nothing to do but write, write, write. Martin will be expecting those chapters, so I hope to have them all done by that time. I need to have some actual rough drafts together, and then we'll go from there.

I talked to Stoph the other day and mentioned my bonus off-hand. He hadn't heard - I never remember who I tell what (or what I tell who, for that matter) - and wanted to know the details. I told him, a bit reluctantly, and he congratulated me, also a bit reluctantly.
Christoph was my roomate in senior year of college, and our only major source of strife (in the sense of a recurring problem that was never resolved) revolved around my choice of work. I was a computer programmer, he was a computer engineer, fairly similar fields, and Christoph could not believe that my plan for my life was to work for a company without 1) ever looking at any other options and 2) without even knowing what pay or benefits I would get. I, on the other hand, had had two years of internships with the company, loved the people and the culture and the work, and knew the company to be very employee-centric. Moreover, I didn't generally care about the exact dollars; I loved the fact that it was in Pittsburgh, I loved the company, and that was good enough for me. This pissed off Christoph to no end.
"You should be looking around!" I distinctly remember him saying to me one night (and this conversation came up many nights). "You should be able to start at at LEAST $50,000, at minimum!"
"You've lost it," I said, or something like it, "this isn't the late 90's tech boom anymore. They're not pulling sophmores out of college and starting them at 80k. Those days are over!"
Naturally he didn't take well to that at all, and told me I was an idiot for throwing away thousands of dollars, perhaps tens of thousands, because I wouldn't even go out and look. I told him to enjoy his money, because he could make 70,000 a year and be miserable and I would take my 30,000 and love my job.
Gradually we both let it go, each one still holding firm. We never did see eye-to-eye. It was our only uncompromised argument of the entire year.

I carried a lot of bitterness from that, convinced that if he was starting out with the expectation of starting at a minimum of 50k in what was then still just coming down from the height of the lack of jobs crises, then he would be waiting a long time. I mean, I was angry. Most people have - or shortly will have - experienced the nervousness that is inherent with every senior's second-semester life: worrying about the future. Some people worry about not knowing what to do. Trust me, making a decision isn't all that much easier. Christoph put a lot of doubt into my mind, and it made me angry, because it was such a huge career choice that I made. But I was so sure that I would be happier than he would be even if I was being paid $20,000 a year that I was still angry whenever I thought about it. So when I found out what the salary was that I was being offered by my company to work full-time, I was stunned. I would have worked for half as much. And Christoph couldn't find a job that started at $50,000 a year. There weren't any. This wasn't the late 90's anymore. He ended up getting a job doing something that really wasn't along his line, definitely didn't pay a lot, and had nowhere near the company culture that mine did (and few do, the reason I picked this company). He would complain about it sometimes, as he has a hard-working streak that is admirable by itself but ill-suited to a company that basically wants to slack around and just do enough to get by. And since the end of senior year in May, when he's had two jobs and I've been working hard programming in mine, I think we both realized over the past eight months that I was right.
I am a person who tries not to gloat. But I couldn't help feeling very triumphant, which of course then made me feel bad about it. But I was so angry that he had put so much doubt in what was originally a pretty rock-hard decision that it tried to come out angry. I think Stoph realized that he was wrong too. So I definitely wasn't planning on bringing up the raise or the bonus with him. And when I did by accident, it was awkward. I didn't feel happy about it at all. Stoph is a worker that most people would kill to have on their team. Slightly headstrong, if you can point him in the right direction he will work his tail off for you. We were a great team senior year because he got me fired up and I got him mellowed out. It mixed very very well. But the one issue was our different career decisions, and now I feel awkward discussing it at all.

In fact, my raise/bonus didn't go over well with almost everyone who is in the corporate world. Christoph, of course, but Julie's reaction was painfully monotone, more painful because I know what she was holding back. Nate is working 75 hours a week without pay and Dave is in a field that he has zero training in whatsoever and works in the kind of company where the winners of the backstabbing and infighting get the promotions. There wasn't much to relate to at all.
Actually, the one person who had the best reaction of all was Margaret, who really congratulated me and was coming up with ideas on how to use the bonus. Go figure. Really, the irony of this world is stunning.

A recommendation to all thinking about what job to take. Take the one that makes you the happiest. Don't take the money. Money is nice. But you'll find that you begin to dislike coming to work so much, that you'd pay all that extra money you're getting just to get a job that you would like doing. I don't love every day of work here. But I am challenged, enthused, surrounded by good people and in a good environment. And those are things that most people can't get, no matter HOW much money they have.

Tonight I'll be going to my grandmother's to help redo her DVD/VCR/TV/Webmail/Toaster Oven combo. This thing has about 40 bazillion wires, and if they're not all connected just right only two of them will work at a time, or only three will work at all, or the TV can only get channel 17 if the Toaster is set to a power level of 5, or some other form of madness. So they call me.

Who you gonna call? Bacon Bits!
(doo doo, doo doo, doo doo, doo doo, doo doo do do doo)

Get Off The Stove, Grandma

(you're too old to ride the range)

Really, I think country music is sometimes unintentionally riotous.

Today I woke up with my throat being a little sore and my tonsils a little inflamed. I didn't play around and went to the Pharmacy to pick up my second bottle of antibiotics that I was on. They are very effective against tonsilitis, and I think I had stomped on it with the first bottle and it was almost dead, but now it's had time off the antibiotics and it's trying to make a comeback. No chance! Four hours after taking the first antibiotic, there is already a noticeable reduction in swelling and pain. The second one tonight will knock it back down to the floor again, and from then on it will be like stepping on a dropped cigarette and smearing it into the concrete. I'm done with this sickness!

I've got volleyball again tonight, and Lord knows we need a better performance than the atrocity we put up last week, which dropped us to 4-8. A 2-1 or 3-0 win tonight would be very big, if for no other reason than team morale. Also, we are still fighting for that ever elusive playoff spot.
Dodgeball also starts this coming Tuesday! What I wouldn't give to have some of my Mt. Lebanon friends or (heaven forbid) some of the Moulden 108 crew on the team. There would be Voit sandwiches for everyone. But I'm playing with half volleyball team members and half IT coworkers, so this should be interesting. :) I can't wait!

I still haven't decided what to spend my bonus on. (I feel like a bit of a prick writing that.) I think I'll get something simple and be done with it. After all, it's not as much after Uncle Sam took A BIG, WHOMPING BITE out of it. You wouldn't believe what the tax laws are for bonuses. Federal tax starts - starts! - at 25%. 25%! Right from the start! And after that are also tripled rates for state tax, local tax, social security tax, disability tax, added tax, foreign tax, tacks tax, another tax, made-up tax, annoying tax, and pointless tax.
God, my life is so bad, getting taxed on my bonus. ;)

A movie that is coming out and I would like to see is "Constantine." I preface this by saying I'm very interested in movies about Heaven and Hell, or at least have a major religious tint to it. It's part of the reason I find "The Exorcist" terrifying and wonderful, and part of the reason I still remember the little-known "Bless the Child" (a movie about a 6-year old girl who is the successor to Jesus and who followers of the Devil attempt to corrupt). I refuse to find anything out about it though, since I think critics are some of the worst things there are. They either raise or lower expectations, so that your mind is already changed before you see the movie. Then, after you walk out of the movie theater, you realize, "man, the critic was wrong, I really liked the middle part of the movie", or "They made me all excited for this movie and I'm now even more depressed about it being terrible." Critics get paid to give their opinion about movies. Boy, what a nice job that would be to go out and see movies and then get paid to give my thoughts on them to others.
So, I'll probably go see it once it comes out. Perhaps that's a good use of my (slightly chewed on) bonus.

Had a great phone conversation last night with Margaret, had a good poker night last night online, got the drunkest IM ever from one of my college friends and even cooked noodles without too much of a problem.

Life is too short not to enjoy your time.

Dangerous

(but rewarding)

I have been described as such and am honored to be so.

I found two new blogs yesterday. One is Margaret's, and her stuff is always interesting to read. Besides, hers looks a lot prettier than mine.
The other one surprised me - Ryan Corbi's, my little brother from Singers. Great guy, wonderfully deep guy that doesn't try to be deep. A man of faith and a man of horrendous sexual comments. Some woman is going to get really lucky with him.
Two great new blogs to read. :)

Our team lost all 3 games last night to fall to 4-8. We played a good team, but our serving abanonded us in game 1, our serve receive in game 2, and our passing and hitting in game 3. None of these bode well for competitive volleyball. The only highlight of the night was Nate going up for a middle hit and obliterating this thing. The other team's big middle blocker deflected it sideways, but it lost none of its velocity and hit a rather well-endowed female opponent directly in the chest. I am not making this up when she grabbed her chest and yelled, "Ow!! ...Now I'll never be able to breast-feed!"
Question here. Do women think that getting in hit in the chest is as painful as a guy getting hit in the groin? Having been on the receiving end of my share of groin blows (usually from basketball) I can tell you that when you really get hit there, it's excruciating. You know you've gotten hit bad if the pain sort of goes up and resides in your kidneys. Ouch. This is why whenever other guys see another guy get nailed in the family jewels, the instinctive reaction is to wince and shield the area. They know the pain.

This actually leads to a long-standing discussion I've had with some friends. Is it better to be a man, or a woman? I've come to my own conclusion, but let's look at the evidence.

Women (minuses):
- That time of the month. Leak in the plumbing.
- The 'joy' of childbirth. Like an elephant through a Cheerio.
- Women stereotypes. Sexism, less able to handle high-powered jobs, seen as sexual objects first, the list goes on.
- 9 months of pregnancy. Like carrying around a bowling ball, and you can't exercise, can't run, and can't bend over.
- Multiple fluctuating hormone events. Puberty, time of the month, pregnancy, sexual peak, menopause, all of them can send the recipient to LaLa Land.

Women (pluses):
- Freedom of any hair style. Try being a guy in the corporate world with hair longer than your ears.
- Choice in 'good' clothing. Dresses, formal jacket, all colors and designs. Men have the choice of: a suit.
- The joy of childbirth. A beautiful miracle.
- Longer lifespan, by an average of at least 9 years. What would people pay for 9 more years of life?
- Women stereotypes: demure, not meant for physical activity, etc. Trust me, there are many women who use this to their advanatage. How many guys have come to kill a large spider or clean the gutters at a woman's bequest?
- Vastly more accepted sexual behavior. Guys are supposed to like all come ons from women. If I gave a smile and a wink to a female coworker, I could honestly be fired. If I tried to get a woman in trouble for the same, I'd probably be laughed at.

Women (conclusion): More pluses than minuses, but some of those minuses are BIG minuses, namely the time of the month and the nine months of pregnancy. Both of those would be rough to handle. The fluctuating hormones seems to effect some women more than others. I actually have great respect for women who I can't tell when they are having some wild hormone run. On the other hand, I've known women that announce their body processes like a train schedule.
Ah well. On to:


Men (minuses):

- Male stereotypes: strong, unemotional, decisive. You'd really be surprised how unconsciously people still follow these.
- External genitalia. For all women who think this is not a big deal, I urge you to watch a guy's face after he pictures these five words: "Baseball bat to the gonads."
- Sex-inherited diseases. Having only one 'X' chromosome makes us very susceptible to a lot of things. The vast majority of women never have to deal with male-pattern baldness, colorblindness, hemophila, all 100x more likely in men than women.
- The prostate exam. It doesn't get much more unpleasent than this.
- Draft. Women will never be required to fight in a war. This is far scarier today than it was four years ago.

Men (pluses):
- Male stereotypes: Let them play the game, boys will be boys. A certain amount of leeway is given where destruction is concerned.
- Physical attributes: In general, it has been evolutionarily true that males are stronger, faster, and taller than females.
- Sexual promiscuity: If a woman sleeps with three guys in a week, she's a slut. If a guy sleeps with three women in a week, he's a hero.

Men (conclusion): The other side of the coin, I think there are more problems with being male than most people give credit for. The pluses, on the other hand, have been banged into everyone's head since the beginning of time.


FINAL CONCLUSION: So what do we come out of this with? Ah-ha. I would normally say this is a pretty even match. However, there is one element that has been overlooked, the ultimate wildcard, the one element that does indeed mean that IT IS BETTER TO BE MALE THAN FEMALE! I present you:

Men (pluses):
- Can pee standing up.

I have talked to more women who state that this is their biggest lament. Not pregnancy, not physical attributes, not even the once a month drag, but the inability to pee standing up is infuriating. It's so easy! The woods, the fields, just 'zip' and there you go!
In conclusion, women do not, Mr. Freud, have penis envy. They have pee envy.

I don't allow comments on my blog, but I would love to hear thoughts on the matter - from both genders - if I left off pluses or minuses for either side. Maybe I'll publish a collection of thoughts on the matter. You know where to find me.

Small Earthquake

(breeze coming through)

Today I arrived at work at 8 AM. I proclaim, if not health, normalcy. And that means the blog is back on schedule! I've had it with this sickness... and missed days of blogging. I've come to like this thing.

Congratulations to the Patriots. Love or hate, for them to win three Super Bowls in four years in the salary cap era is utterly amazing. And they've done it from the day in 2001 when the Rams had all the fireworks going off as they announced all their star players as part of "The Greatest Show on Turf"... and the Patriots chose to be announced as a team. No individual accolades. One for all and all for one. And it's worked.
Besides, it was a great game. Philly put up a major fight. They'll be a force again next year - though hopefully not as much of one as the Steelers will be.
The Super Bowl also marks the beginning of the dreaded black hole of Pittsburgh sports. This city has, is, and always will be a football town, but whenever the Steelers are done playing, Mellon Arena is rocking during Penguins games. But with the NHL lockout, there's... nothing. All I can look forward to is the Pirates spring training in April??
I know I've lamented about this before, but really, this is a dire situation.

Yesterday I got to have a great writing conference with Martin, who gave me a number of ideas about magic. My magic system has a small but annoying hole in its logic regarding blocking, and I needed to hash out some ideas about what was feasible and what wasn't. Some interesting theories were proposed, including the idea of magical injury. Then I got to talk to Margaret over IM, who took the discussion one step farther and suggested that for blocks to only have 'one setting' was disanalogous (I think that's a word) to the rest of the system. Intriguing ideas. My muse will be working on this heavily.

Julie is coming up this weekend for Valentine's Day. I am happy and wary at the same time, as a number of my friends have suddenly had problems of the women variety recently. In a discussion with one of them, I brought up a Calvin and Hobbes comic which I think just about sums up the entire relations between the genders. Calvin has built a duplicator that creates a copy of himself, but it's only a copy of his good side. So he has his good side duplicate clean up his room, go to school, do his chores, etc. What he doesn't realize is that Calvin's duplicate also has a crush on Susie next door, and starts writing her love notes. He takes them over to Susie, and Susie - thinking this is Calvin - takes them as sarcasm and kicks him out. Meanwhile Calvin hears from Hobbes that the duplicate has left to give Susie love notes and he's stunned - his reputation is at stake - and sprints over to Susie's house to stop him.

Calvin: (knock knock)
Susie: You again?
Calvin(frowning): Uh oh. Was I here before?
Susie: What? Of course you were!
Calvin: Uh oh. I'm not still here, am I?
Susie: YOU'RE STANDING RIGHT THERE!
Calvin: WELL ANYONE CAN SEE THAT! AM I HERE ANYWHERE ELSE?!?
Susie's door: (slam)
Calvin(walking away): Sheesh. Who can fathom the female mind?
Hobbes: I like 'em anyway.


God must be laughing himself sick up there at his results of his two gender decision. Priceless entertainment.

There's Nothing Worse Than A Bad Dream

(unless it's waking up to a worse reality)

So the AFC Championship game was depressing.
Not because we lost. I'm fine with that. No rookie QB has ever even made it to the Super Bowl, and its easy to see why. The pressure is off-the-charts intense. Also, the Patriots played a great game. They mixed up their play-calling, were opportunistic on defense, and didn't make any mistakes. They are going to their third Super Bowl in four years for a reason.
But losing the way we did - Roethlisberger throwing an interception on his first pass, the 60-yard strike immediately following that quieted the crowd, and it was all downhill from there - we were never really in it. And that was the worst thing of all.
A close second was my sickness rampaging through my body as I taxed it to the limit. Sitting for four hours in sub-zero windchill was rough. Although you can't say I didn't come prepared. As I left for the game, I was wearing:

- 3 pairs of socks
- Boxers
- T-shirt tucked into boxers (heat conservation)
- Jeans
- T-shirt tucked into jeans
- Windbreaker pants over the jeans
- Sweater tucked into windbreaker pants
- Fall 'woobie' over sweater
- Winter coat over 'woobie'
- Pittsburgh Penguins winter hat
- Pair of winter gloves
- Winter scarf covering face
- Shoes

So that helped a lot. Nonetheless, I have no voice today. I know I was giving the virus every chance to get back on its feet and hang around a little longer because I went to the game. Thus, since then, I have been completely on the offensive. Rest, liquids, and medication. It's a shame, really, because I haven't seen or talked to practically anyone for three weeks. Martin and Luke left me a message the other night on my voicemail saying that they were eating at Eat N' Park, all of a 3 minute walk across the street. But even if I had gotten it on time, I couldn't have gone. I'm that wiped out.
The battle rages on.

At least I now have the Grand Champion score on my family's LOTR Pinball machine, topping the charts with 101 million. I had that thing rocking.
Since when did Saruman the Wise abandon reason for madness?!?

Bill Cowher's Moustache

(and the Pittsburgh Steelers with a baseball bat)

This entry is an absurdly early one. Why? Because this sickness, which just won't totally go away, has kept me up all night. It's been a completely awful night, one filled with chills and fever dreams, which I think are my least favorite part of being sick. Really awful.

And I really need my rest, too. Why is that? Only because

I AM GOING TO THE AFC CHAMPIONSHIP GAME

Can you believe it?!? Absolutely incredible!! This is all because of my dad, who has utterly lost his mind this season. A member of my family goes to a Steeler's game once every year at most. Usually, any given member of my family goes to one Pirates, Steelers, or Penguins game total in a given year. However, during the 1991 Stanley Cup run, my dad went nuts. He called in every favor he had accumulated, pulled every string he had and was going to every other home playoff game there was. It paid off, culminating in the Penguins' first Stanley Cup ever.
Fast forward to 2004. Sensing a special season, the likes of which happen once every couple of decades, my dad has once again lost his mind and is calling in every favor and pulling every string he has. And apparently he has a lot. My grandmother, Rosie, and I got to go to the New England Patriots game where we whomped them 34-20 and broke their record 21-game winning streak. My dad and Grace went to the Philadelphia game the next week. Dad also managed tickets to (I think) the Cleveland Browns game and even got tickets - for 7 - in Buffalo, during Buffalo's last game of the season where if they had won they would be in the playoffs. Oh yeah, and he was there (with my grandmother) for the New York Jets cardiac arrest overtime thriller last week.
And now we're down to the AFC Championship Game, and my dad has called me up and told me he has two tickets and wants me to go.
I believe the only appropriate response to this is 'squeeeee'.
All you Pittsburgh fans out there, root hard! Cheer long! This is going to be a tough, tough matchup. I'm encouraged because the Patriots actually don't match up very well against our style of play (as opposed to how well they matched up against Peyton and the Colts). This is the big one, the big game. I really think we have a chance to pull this off. We can do it! I will be most likely half-sick in the stands in below zero wind chill. No matter. They will need to cart me away to get me out of my seat for this one.

HERE WE GO STEELERS HERE WE GO

Muse-gasms

(late night muse fun)

Last night was intense! Woo!

First off, during the work day the IT Development Team was called in for a meeting with our boss, Jim. Jim is a great boss, but we were still worried because no one seemed to know what this meeting was about. Jim explained it was about our bonuses. He went on to explain about how one of the big projects wasn't done, and that is more the fault of some than others, but we take things as a team and everyone would take the same hit on their bonus across the board, etc, etc. Everyone looked unhappy but nodding, knowing that this was the case. Everyone but me - I was grinning like an idiot. I had no idea I could get a bonus! It's hard to be unhappy about lowering an amount I didn' t even think I had coming. The Penguins commercial from the mid 90's, where the guy walks into his boss's office and proclaims he is leaving for another job because they're offering him a bonus and goes on to one of the great strange sequences ever, has been running through my head all day.

The first night of volleyball was last night. An absolute blast, despite the fact that I was exhausted (from the sickness) and my voice gave out on me because I used it way too much. But Team Try was victorious, 2 games to 1, and in our 8-team league only 4 teams make the playoffs, so every game is critical. A good start.

But the big thing, and the title of this post, was what happened late last night. I had been in bed for roughly an hour, and it was 12:30 AM. I was still trying to fall asleep. And all of a sudden, my muse - who I affectionately call Caissa - went nuts.
I mean she went bonkers, in what I would characterize as one of the top-5 "need to write" moods I've ever been in. I was sick, I had work early the next morning, I was exhausted, no matter! I broke out the laptop - which handedly worked well right on my bed - and wrote til 2 AM. I was pounding out ideas and sections. The breakthroughs my muse was coming up with were incredible. I busted through two plotholes that had antagonized me for weeks and wildly solidified critical backstory and character considerations. It was amazing! My muse went, to coin a phrase, totally off. Perhaps she had a lot of built-up tension after not being able to do anything for a week and a half while I was sick.
For those of you who don't write, you might not know what I mean when I say I "had" to write. Let me tell you, when your muse takes a hold of you, your life is no longer your own. It's really not your decision anymore. When she wants to write, she wants to write. End of story.
How ironic that my muse is female. ;)

Do any female writers out there have muses that are male?

My room still smells a little funky from this weekend - a story I have yet to tell. It will be good. But first I must open a window.

If Caissa lets me...

Merry Christmas To All

(and to all, a hot sausage)

Well, I'm back from family time. Now, this is a blog break I can understand. I wasn't even at my apartment for three days, and my aunts and cousins and grandmother were here with the rest of my family, enjoying the great holiday. So a good gap in the blog, one that was expected.

Besides, after the last entry, I needed one! Man, just re-reading that thing makes me remember how vivid that dream was. I'm pretty sure I scared some people, which is never my intent but seems to happen anyway. (Now there's a life metaphor.) Why can't I ever have a dream where all I would write would be, "There was a duck. The duck went into the water. The duck quacked. The end." I'd take that.

Got to see the Steelers kick some ass this week. I hate Baltimore more than any other team - they are the old Browns, and the recent history is just as unpretty as the old. So beating them 20-7 was absolutely fantastic... especially when the win wrapped up the AFC home field advantage throughout the playoffs while basically knocking the Ravens out of the playoffs. 14-1.... GO STILLERS!

I didn't see Martin tonight because he and Jessie are, well, going to Vegas. Just like that. No warning. The conversation was basically like, "Mat, can't meet, I'm going to Vegas!" "Um... ok... good luck?" That's it. I'll have to call Margaret and come up with a different time to meet. This is going to throw my plans awry because I have so many people coming in between Dec.25 and Jan.10, but I'll meet with them somehow.

My family gift this year - which my Mom got without my Dad's knowledge - is a Lord of the Rings pinball machine. This is simply the coolest thing in the world and the most fun pinball game I've ever played. It's wonderfully intricate and all the voices are the real voices of the actors. A lot of the quotes are right from the movie (and there are a LOT), as is all the music, but there are some new ones. For example, when collecting souls from The Path of the Dead to light the Return of the King Multiball, Gimli constantly says things like "500 more!" and "250 more!". My ultimate favorite so far is when you start the Gandalf vs. Saruman quest, which shows Saruman closing the doors around Gandalf. Then Gandalf says, "When did Saruman the Wise abandon reason for madness?" in that great tone. Completely, utterly fun.
Aside from that, I also received DVD's like Dodgeball and Hero; unexpected things like a Texas Hold Em strategy book and a fine chess set; and boring-but-useful items like clothes and pots and pans. Admittedly, having only one pot in the entire apartment can be problematic.
My ultimate gift was a 10-game ticket plan to the Pittsburgh Penguins! Yes!!! That will be awesome..... if they ever play. It looks more and more like a gift for 2005. I'd still rather have them really fix the game, no matter what it takes, but when the Steelers are done - and they hopefully won't be till Feb. 6th, but they will end sometime - it will be a long, dark winter and spring until I'm rescued by - fake cheer - baseball. Enjoy the present, Pittsburgh sports fans, the future looks grim.

But all in all, this Christmas was great. I love seeing my brothers and sisters. Hanging the ornaments, reading the Night Before Christmas, followed by the Miscellaneous Book of Fun's Night Before Christmas written by Rosie, Grace, and Mike, featuring tear-inducing lyrics like:

When above on the roof there arose such a clatter
Mat didn't move from his bed, he couldn't care what was the matter
Away to the window Mat crawled like some trash
Threw up the window, and said, 'What the squeege is a sash?'

Now if THAT isn't Christmas, I don't know what is.

Julie should be in tonight, kicking off my "Everyone in the world visits me" run. Simultaneously, I have to mail out some gifts to people who live in far away lands - like California - now that I'm back and have access to a working post office. And all this while I try to write my story and still work.

But the Blog must go on...

Do Not Try To Live Forever

(you will not succeed)

This quote is actually not dark at all. It is more of a calling, a realization, so people can focus on what is important. I could go into so much discussion about it - about the finality of death, and how it shapes our entire existence. There, now, three times already I've deleted entire paragraphs to the discussion. I don't want to go into it right now, mostly because its hard to cross the bridge to understanding without falling into the abyss of fear and denial.

I guess I'm just in an introspective mood.

This is probably because of what I read last night. As I mentioned before, Marla sent me an IM the other day. The IM included a link to her journal, and it is wonderful because she is putting chapters of her story in there. I am enthralled. This was the story that I mentioned a few entries ago, the Elements, and it is a pure delight to read Marla's writing again. She was one of the three 'M' s that really helped me when I was just beginning my story. Finding out that all three of them wrote themselves was a wonderful turn of events. I would kill to read anything written by any of the three, so getting the opportunity - particularly after such a long time - to experience it again made my night.

I think that's one of the things that got me introspective, though; Marla's writing has an intelligent and philosophical edge to it, so that at times you feel like you're immersed not just in the story and the characters, but in an idea. Well, that's not right. I'm not sure how to put it. But it makes you think, about which characters are right, which are wrong (sometimes both) and why.

Another reason is because it reminds me of my later years in high school and the beginning of college. Those were intense years. I had so much fun and met so many people and learned so many things. I wish I hadn't made so many mistakes - but the lessons that I learned from them burned in me, sometimes so strongly it took a long time to figure out why they still affected me so. Hell, sometimes I still think I haven't entirely figured out why I think about them all the time. But those events aren't going anywhere; they are part of my past, and can't be changed. Ah, well. I am sure that no one dies without guilt. It's more important that I use what I've learned. The mistakes serve purpose that way.

I'm going to Richmond tonight to see Julie, and then we're driving back Sunday morning/afternoon. Normally, this would impinge on the game, but the Steelers are playing on Saturday at 1:30 PM this weekend. Score! Nate, Margaret, Claire, and all other kick-ass Stillers fans know what I'm talking about. Oh yeah! This season has been absolutely incredible. I've watched every game. The whole city has near lost its mind over it - every day the paper has 4 articles on the Steelers, and don't get me started on the Sunday GameDay or Monday Quarterback editions that have the approximate weight of Marlon Brando. This town has, does, and will always love the Steelers. It's one of the binding glues of the city that makes Pittsburgh...Pittsburgh, like the crazy hills and the rivers and the ability to order a sandwich and have fries and coleslaw end up in the sandwich without even ordering either. Which reminds me of a riotous takeoff of a Christmas Carol that's being played around Pittsburgh - "Santa Claus Is Comin Dahntahn" - the Pittsburghese version of Santa Claus Is Coming To Town that is impossible to keep a straight face throughout. If you don't know how to sing in a Pittsburghese accent, then sing this out loud, and congratulate yourself on learning new Pittsburgh words at the same time.

Yinz better wahtch aht
Yinz better not paht
Yinz better not cry,
I'm tellin yinz (hauscome?)
Santa Claus is comin dahntahn

He's makin a list
He's checkin it aht
He's gowen find aht who's nebby an 'at
Santa Claus is comin dahntahn

He knows if yinz's a jagoff
He can see inside your haus
He knows if you've been workin hard
Or sittin on your caach (caach caach caach)

Yinz better wahtch aht
Yinz better not paht
Yinz better not cry,
I'm tellin yinz (hauscome?)
Santa Claus is comin dahntahn