Good Possibility

Three major things happened this weekend. The first of which, and most detrimental, is the leaving of one of my good friends as she prepares to take off to Japan for a year. It's one of those bittersweet partings where it blows harder than the Big Bad Wolf because I'm gonna miss her, but at the same time, I can't help but be happy for her, considering this has been one of her dreams for the last few years: living in Japan. And you can't help but give her mad props for not only chasing after but also fulfilling a dream. I'm jealous.

The second is that this is the friend that I was borrowing the funtime Wacom tablet to make the last two months' comics. SO, this loss will, most likely, cause delays on the comic front. It may return to the every other week schedule for the next month or two, since scrounging up $300 will take some time.

Lastly, and least importantly, I saw Wall E and loved it. The makers of--I still can't get my mind around this--the 2006 Oscar Winner, Happy Feet, should look at Pixar's latest entry and learn a thing or two about making a film with a message. Wall E is gorgeous; it's message is relevant and illustrated in an interesting way; and the 103 minute film is just plain fun. Go see it if you haven't already. (But if too-cute robots aren't your thing, Wanted provides a good time of violence and humor. You can read my review here.)

Big Weekend... and the Highlights Are Pretty Much Covered

If you're anything like me--and in this, I think you will be--you're either freaking out to go see Wall E or Wanted, two of the bigger blockbusters for this summer. As I am ecstatic for Wall E, seeing it will be my goal for today. Luckily, or not, I was able to get my Wanted fix at midnight last night--tired as I am for the rest of the day. (I'm really going to try my best to get up a review for Wanted by today, but there are no guarantees.) For a quick blurb though, it's worth your time and cash. The action is sweet, sweet, and James MacAvoy puts on a more amusing performance than even Myers as Guru or Sandler as the Zohan. Check it out if you don't mind a bit o' brain splatters and a heavier dose of f-bombs than other recent flicks.

I must say that I'm rather proud, since I stuck to my guns and finished my novel's second draft, however, it sucks malignant tumors how once you finish with something, you check back over the beginning and realize it's worse than reading a 400-page history on green beans. A break from this whole thing sounds like heaven, but I need to get the general order of things together and ensure that the character I cut is actually missing from every page. Stupid details and having to worry about plot holes.

Writing is dumb. And yet, if I stopped, I think I'd explode. Talk about a catch-22.

Call Me for the Casting

So I was watching this classic clip from George Carlin, and all I could think about was that if they ever made a biopic for him, Russell Crowe IS him. Submitted for your consideration are these two pieces of evidence.

Carlin/Crowe

Whatever. Just random musings to start out yours and my day.

As for the other goings on in my life, I WILL FINISH MY SECOND DRAFT OF MY NOVEL TODAY. That's not just a goal; it's a promise. So I'm pretty excited. And to celebrate, I'm going to get me a big "A" Dr. Pepper with pellet ice. These small things make my life better. Then, to top it all off, I'm going to check out a midnight screening of Wanted. Cheesy as some may think it looks like, that flick is going to melt faces. Timur Bekmambetov is a director to be reckoned with, and a filmmaker that I hope to see more and more on American soil. Check out his Night Watch and Day Watch. Those are two adaptations that blow their literature counterparts away (though they do make a lot more sense after reading at least one of the novels). I'll try and get a review for Wanted up by tomorrow, but seeing as I'll be quite sleepy, you may get nothing until the normal Tuesday fair.

Old School Animation

With how easy it is in today's world to fake animation, via programs like Adobe After Effects and Aniboom's tools and ToonBoom, it's rare to find any of today's animation NOT have some type of computer effect: be it computer generated graphics, or the simple movement of a character across the screen by setting starting and stopping points. For me, it's more than a little refreshing to take a look at some of the animated films of yesteryear, to truly experience the purity of animation. And when I say yesteryear, I mean yesteryear.

Last night, I had the privilege to watch Lotte Reiniger's 1936 film The Adventures of Prince Achmed, which is the first feature-length animated film. As you can see from the still, this flick was insanely detailed. And what's crazier is the fact that all of this was cut out. Every slit that isn't black was hand cut, then moved around a la South Park style. This film truly is a sight to behold, and well worth any film or animation buff's time, especially since it is a mere 67 minutes.

More than likely, I will pull together a full review for the film at FilmMedium, and if I ever get back into the History writings--I was trying to write a history for animation--you can bet an essay will be devoted to Lotte Reiniger and her films.

Last but not least, if you're bored, or want to know about how good Get Smart and The Love Guru are, we've got reviews, and a new comic is up.

Rambling Media Man

I don't really have much going on that is noteworthy, nothing of real entertainment or amusement or heartbreak, just me and some random real life boring crap.

So, this is pretty much a quick rant on a few recent things having to do with the media. The first of which is now almost old news: George Carlin's death on Sunday. While I can't claim that he was one of my favorite comedians, I can say that he amused me. Plus, as all the heartfelt obituaries have said, he was a pioneer for vulgarity, and being a pre-vert myself, I can't help but give a moment of silence for a funny, fellow pre-vert.

On the book front, I finished both The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and The Bus Driver Who Wanted to Be God & Other Stories. Oscar is, by and large, one of the best books I've ever read. It's heartbreaking and amusing, catering to both regular literary fiends and comic geeks alike. The blending of pop culture and real life is nothing short of beautiful in this book. As for Bus Driver, it's like most short story collections: Some are amazing; others are sub-par. Though due to its shortness, I'd still suggest it to anyone--especially those interested in the Flash Fiction form.

And lastly, my review for The Love Guru should be up, here, soon. And come tomorrow there will be a new comic as well.

(Oh, and if anyone knows or deals with Freewebs.com and can give me some feedback on them, I'd be much obliged. Trying to get that new comic of mine up and going. Thanks.)

I Swear... If He Wasn't So Cute...

My cat, that is. The little bugger kept me up a good chunk of the night because he needed to jump into the blinds for NO REAL REASON. Now I'm tired, rather pissed, and thinking that this day is going to last forever, and that I won't get much done on my novel today--especially since I need to finish up my review for The Love Guru.

I hope it's normal to fantasize about humane ways to kill your cat when it keeps you up half the night, which my thoughts then kept me up the other half of the night. I thought about just rubber-banding his legs together, trussing him up like a Christmas turkey and leaving him in the other room, but couldn't think of where I could procure any bands of rubber. It's hard to think of anything more than an immediate solution when you really just want to sleep. In the end, I solved the cat dilemma by throwing my pillow at the stupid thing. I think it freaked the crap out of him enough that he decided not to keep attacking the blinds needlessly.

Arr... the things we do for cats, and the things we don't do TO them.

Adaptations

I just finished Etgar Keret's novella, "Kneller's Happy Campers," and I must speak about such things. For those of you that don't read a film's credits, the film Wristcutters: A Love Story is an adaptation of "Kneller's..." And I must say that both compliment each other quite well. I'm rather torn as to which I preferred. The best thing I can compare it to is the difference between Fight Club and Fight Club. One is not really better than the other, but I think that there is an odd synergy between the two. They are good in and of themselves, but when combined with the other, they create something new.

I say this because, while I enjoyed Fight Club, the book, I couldn't help but wonder if it was because I could already SEE Brad Pitt and Edward Norton in my mind's eye. That I didn't need any of the description, which Palahniuk doesn't give anyway, because I had their mugs in my mind. The same goes for "Kneller's..." I'd already seen Wristcutters and had all the characters planted in my brain, waiting to sprout across the page. And all I could picture throughout the novella were the scenes from the film. Makes me want the opposite to happen. To read the book first, then see the flick, but with the way I am, I doubt this will ever happen.

In all honesty though, I think that's what a good adaptation should be, good enough to stand alone, have a few elements changed to offer something "new," but in the end, it's really just a good tribute/homage to source material.

There are a few things I'd love to adapt. There is this game Psychonauts that would just make a killer comic series/graphic novel. And I have a fair share of books that I'd love to see hit the big screen. Alas, I have yet to be famous and hit my stride and make friends with all these famous people that will not only allow me to adapt their material, but pay me to do it too. So, Tim Schafer, if you're reading this, let me make Psychonauts into a comic. I swear, you won't be disappointed.

Stupid Nestle.... and Knuckle Crackers

I'm still rather peeved at Nestle. Dirty company, up to their old tricks.

Anyway, I'm about nose deep into my novel right now, and I'm finding it hard to concentrate/devote any time to anything but busting out the next draft of that thing. I had one of those moments the other day where everything just sort of fell into place, the catalyst domino toppled and everything else started making more sense than before. So that's cool.

What's not cool is people who crack their knuckles and neck. (Well, I suppose they can still be cool.) I swear that tiny pop makes me cringe just as much or more than pre-tubby Steven Seagal breaking bones and jabbing pool cues into thug's throats. I don't like it. Be polite, like your farting, and pop those joints in another room, out of earshot. (Though I realize that this rant does nothing for anyone, unless you know me, and if you know me, then you know that I can deal with it. So, really, what I'm saying is that we've all wasted our time.)

Lastly, I'll leave you with two new things that thrill me. Don't know if you like Coldplay, but the new album is quite good. Different but still good. And if you need some extra time to waste online, you could do worse than going here. This woman is brilliant and her comics amuse me. Go there, smile, then love me for finding her for you.

Those Marketing A-Holes

Everyone has seen A Christmas Story right? I mean that has to be a staple of America's holiday season, right up there with Chuck Jones' How the Grinch Stole Christmas and Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life (though I still don't understand why this is the penultimate Christmas flick, watch it here in June, it's a whole different film.) You remember that part where Ralphie FINALLY gets his little orphan Annie decoder ring? How he frantically scribbles down the numbers, his excitement building because he KNEW that this would be the message to end all messages? And while he's hiding out in the bathroom (the only place a guy like him can think), his brother pounding on the door, he translates the message, number for letter, and ends up with what? A crappy commercial for Ovaltine. Chocolatey as it may be, who wants an advertisement plug for their secret message? Just goes to show you what heartless bungsniffers advertisement agencies can be. No wonder the world is slowly sinking into depression--considering everywhere we look we're condemned to feel bad about ourselves.

Anyway, what brings on this whole tirade to begin with, is that you'd think that the general market would've seen that Christmas Opus of yesteryear and thought, "What jerks, giving commercials in place of a kid's fun activity." But apparently someone down at Nestle decided that it was a good idea. I don't know about the rest of you, but Gobstoppers are one of the best candies ever. Period. And they always have some stupid little activity on the back of the package. Guess what was on the back of my newest box of sugary sweetness? An Oompa Loompa Cryptogram with a secret message just for me. I can hear you now, "What does it say? What does it say?" I'll tell you what it says, it's a freaking plug for their website: "Check out Wonka's Web site, www.wonka.com." Seriously, what the balls? That's just rude, especially when the answer comes in the form of their additional plug, a tiny logo that says, "Enter the world of Wonka. Wonka.com." I swear, if this wasn't such good candy, I'd boycott the purchase of any more Nestle/Wonka candies... but I can't, I loves the Gobstoppers and Runts.

In other non-hard-candy news, there is a new comic for your viewing pleasure here, and my Incredible Hulk review is up.

(I have to add an addendum to this blog, because, while linking all the fun stops for you to check out along the way, I discovered that Ovaltine is a--get this--NESTLE PRODUCT. Those A-holes are STILL DOING THE SAME FREAKING THING! For serious, make a candy connoisseur want to cap a candy maker...)

The Pluses and Minuses of Other People's Weddings

Bear with me here as I get a bit sappy. Other people's weddings make you remember your own, give your memory a swift kick in the happiness chops--which isn't all bad. It's good to think about those occasions where life was about as good as it can get, unless of course someone stood up and screamed that they'd knocked up your wife the previous month, or your mother-in-law pees on your dress, or your best man gets thrown in jail during the bachelor's party with you in tow. Sure, things can go wrong, people can get married for the wrong reasons, but it's still a day that you pledge your love, truthfully or not, to someone for life. It's a big thing. And other people's weddings can help your lackluster day shine brighter.

As for the downsides, it all depends on how well you know the bride and groom, and their attendees. Even then, it's going to be boring for everyone but the mothers and grandmothers. For serious, weddings are boring. Especially if you don't really know either the bride or the groom.

If you're wondering, yes, I recently attended a wedding of a couple that I only slightly knew--they were more the friends of my wife. It was nice enough, but only because my wife didn't make us go to the reception. I can lose an hour and a half from my day and not be too peeved. Anything more than two and I start to get pissed. (This all goes back to that selfish part of me I discussed in this blog.) There is only so much boring a guy can take before he wants to start throwing folding chairs into the crowd and see what happens. Though this rarely happens since most of us are born with such wonderful inhibitors that keep us from doing such terrible things. (CURSE YOU INHIBITORS!!! [The camera pans back as I scream into the tiled ceiling over my desk.])

Anywho, @@The Incredible Hulk@@ review should be up soon. So should Logan's review for @@The Happening@@. And expect a new comic tomorrow that will finish up the bit of an arc I had going.

How is This Possible?

I want to know how, by some weird happening, how my boss can bother me MORE while he's on vacation then when he's here in the office. Since his disappearance, I've been receiving epistle-length letters instructing me what needs to be done over the course of the day--many of which don't really apply to my job description.

I think when he can actually see me face to face, he ends up feeling bad about asking me to do these things that he KNOWS are not a part of my job, so he doesn't ask. But, man, once that distance is established and he can just write me a manual for Monday, then let the instructions begin! On the plus side, he is still gone and I can spend my time writing my The Incredible Hulk review, which should post sometime tomorrow.

Tonight should be devoted to the starting of Wednesday's comic, but I'm losing my oomph. This once a week business is taking its toll. Oh, well, I made a commitment, and until something better comes along or another project ousts it, I will continue on with the weekly posts. (Perhaps I will keep things fresh by doing a small side-story that isn't related to the site, but something even cooler. I shall chew this over.)

Until tomorrow...

Surround Yourself with Good Peoples

Once again, my wife and friends have saved me from my writerly funk. It's amazing what a few people that believe in you can do for a person. I was able to ignore Diaz's brilliance and write my own drivel--which is what all authors write, drivel. What you do with the crap stain on your pages is up to you. Do you clean them up or let them stink? Plus, once I get this draft done, I think I'll be in a good spot to take a bit of a break, get my mind focused on something else for a few months, so I can come back to Eli's (my main character) world and kick his ass something fierce.

In other news, my wife and I went and saw Iron Man, preparing for today's release of The Incredible Hulk. Iron Man was much better the second time around--especially without the crappy audience, namely, a drunk thirteen year old that kept laughing at her friend's potty humor. I might slap together a mini-review for Filmmedium, since we have yet to put one up for this summer's blockbuster opener. A review should be up for The Incredible Hulk by Tuesday--at the latest. Logan is covering Shyamalan's first "R" feature, though I'll be checking it out soon enough. Not many films can compare with that man's sense of composition and camera movement.

Alright, I'll leave you on these positive notes and wish you all a lovely weekend.

The Detrimental Muse

I'm all for things being so freaking awesome that it sparks whatever little goblin that lives in your creative organs and fires them up, but sometimes, the world proves that too much of a good thing can be bad. Every now and again there is that piece of work that makes me just want to cry because it hurts how perfect it is. Then there are the things that have to go in, fiddle with your inner gears, and change your outlook for the rest of your life.

Lois Lowry's The Giver sprouted my eternal devotion to books.
Jeunet and Caro's The City of Lost Children made me want to be a director.
Failure's "Fantastic Planet" plucked a heartstring that is still twanging.
Alan Moore's The Watchmen showed me what comics could be, thus making me want to create my own.
My brother's art threw me into a lifetime of doodles.
And now there is Junot Diaz's The Breif Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao.

I don't think I've ever read something this perfect. It's so good that it makes a wannabe writer such as myself want to just say "Screw it. If there are people like this out there, why does the world need me?" Luckily, for every life-changing book that hits the shelves, film that flickers in theatres, album to download, there are about a thousand more that out and out blow. I hate the moments like this, when I'm so inspired by the work of another's hands that I loose the tangibility of my dreams...

The Solitude of Someone Else's Addiction

My wife is completely and utterly addicted to World of Warcraft, and the odd thing is, I don't mind. Maybe it stems from the fact that most video game/film/comic/book nerds dream about having girlfriends and wives that are into the same nerdy things. Maybe it's the fact that she is just plain gorgeous. But most likely, it's all because I'm a selfish person and like to be able to do whatever the crap I want, without having to worry about someone else.

Take last night, for example, I wanted to watch my netflix that I was almost sure she wouldn't enjoy. What happened? She played Warcraft and I watched Eagle Vs Shark. I suppose I can see how that Gor-Ram game might ruin lives and marriages, but when combined with a guy that was the youngest of three and often had to entertain himself, the alone/neglection time is a good thing.

Besides being spoiled, only childs, get so used to fending for/entertaining themselves that it screws up relationship mechanics. You get used to doing things solo and not having to worry about someone else's wants. I might not be an only child, but when your brother is out the door and you've still got six or seven years at home alone, the dynamics change, quick. I've learned to live hermit-style. Though, on the flip-side, if it wasn't for my wife, I'd probably never have much of any human contact, because I get SO used to being alone. Weird how things balance out. I get to boggart all my time and still have human contact. Hooray for Warcraft.

(I did play the game off and on for a few months, but all of my other projects conflicted with the all-consuming nature of the Craft.)

As for Lego Indiana Jones, I'm a little disappointed. I'd heard it was even better than Lego Star Wars, but there are too many ledges to fall off of and lose all those hard earned pieces. Pisses me off. It's still a fun co-op game though, but it will need to be played in smaller doses, at least until the ledges become less cliff-like and more wall-like.

In other news, Kung Fu Panda review can be found here and a new comic here.

What the...

I saw a dead guy's picture in a magazine today. The casket was all open and people standing behind him all sad. He had a yellowish tinge, one that did not bode well with me. Odd as it may be, when it comes to real life and real death, I'm more squeamish than a 10-year-old witnessing their first birth photos. Give me all the blood and guts you can throw at me in a film, but the minute I know it's real, I go ghost pale, and my stomach becomes a gymnast. I thought seeing this picture was a rude way to start my day--it's not like there isn't enough to screw things up, but I get to start it off with a yellow dead guy and my boss talking about how he has to put his cat down after 18 years of life, which is what brought on this whole rant to begin with.

Some of you might be returning for a Lego Indiana Jones and World of Warcraft rant; instead, you get my death musings--about pets. Seriously, I can't imagine owning a pet for 18 years, having it be one of your best friends and then putting the thing down. It's hard enough for me to even imagine parting ways with either of my two cats of seven years, let alone after 18 years. (My six month old cat though, that's another story.) The whole thing made/makes me think about the degrees of sadness, the problems we face and deal with. How if something goes missing after a small amount of time, we can let the wounds heal faster, but the longer things are around, the harder they are to let go. I think I'm going to be screwed once I'm a crotchety old man. I'll have to make sure I die before my wife. I'm selfish like that.

I don't know where I'm going with this, and I honestly don't really want to keep thinking about it. So, sorry for putting a damper on your day--if I did. On the good side of things, I should be ranting about the video game world tomorrow. Plus, a new comic will be their for your enjoyment, and Kung Fu Panda should post here soon.

The Funk has Lifted--Just in Time for Another One

Life has become routine again. I've readjusted to my normal, non-vacation life, plowing through the words upon words that I must copy edit to earn my keep. Though, things aren't nearly as good on the writerly front.

I'm on the downward slide of the 2nd draft of my novel, and you'd think this would give me a boost, a second wind to push through to the goal, triumphant, arms in the air, feeling the breeze on my sweating pits. It's quite the opposite though. I'm so close to being done, and I'm so sick of looking at the thing that I just want to call it good and quit. Plus, after having my first acceptance back in April, I'm itching to polish up another of my short stories, make like a flasher and expose the thing. Normally, I'd just take a quick break, spit-shine one of them and get it in circulation, but time--as usual--complicates things. There's about a month until my next residency, which I'd like to have my 2nd draft in hand before I ever pair up with my next mentor. I'm tempted to take a complete break from the novel and just work on short stories this semester--or the newest project that has been sloshing about my noggin, but I will still need to finish my 2nd draft before starting on something else--especially since I'm so close to the end. The last thing I need to do is eject my brain from my novel's world right at the last minute. I guess I'll just do the proper thing, quit complaining (though why else does half the world even blog?), put my nose to the grindstone, and get this friggin' thing done. My social life might just go to poo.

In the meantime, my review for Kung Fu Panda should be up soon. I'll get you a link come tomorrow. Same with Don't Mess with the Zohan--I hope, depends on Logan. Either way, be sure to join me tomorrow and my further exploits, most likely revolving around Lego Indiana Jones and World of Warcraft.

Gun DAY!

So just to prove that I have some manly instincts or needs or some third man-type thing, here are some picks of me holding big guns. Perhaps I'm just trying to make up for a lack of something, but then again, maybe I just like to shoot the crap out of inanimate objects.

Me after I just plinked about six of the 10 cans with one load of the SKS.
Both my wife and I shot a rock--yes, a rock--from about two hundred yards out. Apparently the rock was only about 3 X 3, but I couldn't say for certain. All I can say is that is was friggin' teeny in the scope. Though as for anyone that says you can learn shooting from a video game, I'd say it's about right.

In other, non-shooting news, I've been thoroughly enjoying this comic called Erfworld. Funny stuff, especially if you are a bit of a nerd such as myself. I also plan on seeing Kung Fu Panda today. I don't have much hope for it, but you'll be able to read the full review come Monday. I'm more excited about You Don't Mess With the Zohan, but Logan is going to do that one instead--since I am supposed to be the animation buff after all.

Anywho, have yourselves a mighty fine weekend, and I'll catch up with you on Monday.

One of These Days...

Today was supposed to be gun day, where I would tell you all about my shooting adventures and put up some pretty pics of me and large weaponry, but due to weather conditions--a stupid tornado warning had me unplugging all of my technical equipment--I was not able to scan said pictures. (Yes, I am one of the few that is not in the digital age and still uses a film camera.)

In other news, a new comic was put up last night before all the raging winds tromped through town. I realize that the type is quite small and that it reads somewhat awkwardly, but until I find a good, solid way to do these things, I will continue to have these few bits to iron out. I'll make sure to download a few more good fonts from these folks. Maybe one of these days I'll finally get on top of everything and every single comic will be fantabulous...

Otherwise, I can knock off some more of the promised list, things like the Lady of Supreese. After I mentioned her, I realized it is one of those stories that you had to be there for, otherwise it just isn't funny. Instead, I'll just say that drawn on eyebrows can be a very bad, bad idea.

As for the readings--though I never changed my "Currently"--I read this book called The Resurrectionist by Jack O'Connell. I'd recommend it to any of those into comic books or Chuck Palahniuk. It doesn't have Palahniuk's energy, but the story's plot seems like something he might've written. As a warning though, it is one of those books that had to grow on me. I wasn't sure how I felt at the end, but after I kept thinking about it--a good sign for any book--I couldn't help but be impressed. So if you want a fast, fun read, I'd check it out.

My goal is to get a crapton done on my novel. I wanted to have a second draft done by my next residency, but I've got more than a hundred pages to sort through, not to mention the few major changes I need to clean up at the beginning of the thing... sigh... I need to start taking speed.

Food Service

If you ever want to find out what type of an asshole someone is, take them out to eat. There is just something about restaurants that brings out the worst in people. They might be the nicest, bestest person in the world, but you'll see what they are really made of when you take them for a fat steak and waffle fries. Watch how they treat the waiter or the waitress, even the hosts, or if they demand to see the manager. You'll soon see what hidden darkness lives inside them--especially if the food comes out wrong.

Seeing as I've worked in food service before, both as a pizza delivery guy and a cook at an Old Chicago, I've seen and dealt with some of the larger peckerheads on the face of the earth. And honestly, most people aren't all that bad; it's those few dingleberries that make the whole ass stink. But my past week of cafeteriaesque service, made me more pissed than the three bears after they'd discovered Goldilocks. It got to the point that I couldn't even smile at the nice folk walking through the line. I had pre-judged them all and decided that they were greedy black holes that could never be sated. Then there were those that tried to take multiple deserts, pick through the pre-assembled salads just to steal a few extra tomatoes, and pester for the last of the sausage links--after they'd already had two to three helpings.

Granted, people need to eat, and buffet style foods promote gluttony, but holy crap, people, show some respect. Calm down when something goes wrong. People make mistakes. Seriously, even a bukkake chick is more well respected than wait staff--at least there are rules for participating in the former, but like Smokey the Bear says, "Only you can prevent forest fires." And by that I mean, "Only you can respect someone else."

In a world that's becoming increasingly more alienated, it's hard to argue with one's further retraction and hermitization, seeing as the majority of today's interactions involve an insincere asking of "How are you?" No one cares outside of your small community of family and friends, and even then, f & f might not care either. People will always need to eat, and until they figure out a way to deliver food via a complicated air pipe system--like the cool things at bank drive thrus that whoosh and hum--we'll have to deal with someone. I guess I'm just re-stating the age old advice that more than a few of us need to take to heart: Don't be a dick.

I'm Home?

Have you ever gotten home and realized that you didn't want to be there anymore, that it didn't even feel like home, and you hated the dull carpet smell, the pasty walls, and the humming air conditioner?

So many people say that you need a vacation to recover from your vacation, but this time, I just felt like the thing should never end, that where I was visiting is where I needed to be, closer to my brothers, my parents, my cousin, my in-laws, closer to the things that matter: family. Normally, I try not to be a sap for this kind of thing, but after two years away from any of them, I finally, really and truly, miss them. (Sorry for all the adverbs. Apparently writing sappy family things calls for many of the cursed parts of speech.)

We pulled up in between the yellow lines of the cracked parking lot, and I felt like I didn't belong, that I didn't even want to try and belong, that I just wanted to get away from the heady spring flowers, the muggy air and make like the gingerbread man and just run, run, run. I don't think I'd even mind being eaten in the end...

What's worse is that I don't even know what to do with this feeling, shoving it into a ball and trying to bury it somewhere between my kidney and gallbladder doesn't seem to be working. Trying to ignore it only makes me chew on my nails. And the unease it's causing makes me want to quit my job, give up my writer dreams, and hobo it up in a box in my brother's back yard.

Anyway, this has been more than enough ranting for one blog, and now that I've got this off my chest, I'll fill you in on the details of my vacation, time away, including: food service fun, the Lady of Supreese, shooting guns, reading good things, watching random flicks, and other such amazing facts. Hope you enjoyed my fable. I'll try to hook up such things when I'm on vacation, or if I just feel lazy, which is ironic since they take more work than these ramblings. Oh well. Such is the life of a wannabe many things.

p.s. my review for Prince Caspian is finally up. I think...

Shattered Suns and Broken Hearts Pt. 8 of 8

Darkness fell, soundling like singing stars, like bells, like fairie laughter. And they held on to one another, their hands gripped tight tight, walking through the shadows, ready to grow their own light, provide their own warmth, and find the blinding beauty in the other.

Shattered Suns and Broken Hearts Pt. 7 of 8

Then he heard another's voice, another screamer, broken and shrill, another shooter. When she'd stopped, he said, "Mad at the sun?"
"What gave it away?" She eyed him, the mascara smeared down her cheeks. "The gun or the screaming?
"I can see it your eyes."
She smiled, her lips trembling, and he extended his shaking hand. She twined her fingers in his as the faint sound of cracking fell into their ears.