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.