Out of the MUDD and MUCK into Oblivion

My younger brother has been kind enough to take me under his wing and give me a crash course in gaming. Although, I'm afraid to say that I'm really bad at jumping from game to game. Where some people might play one game for a few hours and then try something new, I like to wrestle with something for ages. In a rather mulish way I'll beat my head against a wall until I burst through. Or pass out. Whichever comes first. That said, he's being amazingly patient with me in this endeavor and has even gone so far as to help me set up an Xbox Live account (he, in fact, is the reason I have an xbox at all now). Now, I say 'help' not because I'm not technically savvy and couldn't figure it out for myself. No, I can figure out the particulars. It's just that damn 6 - 15 character username that gets me every time. When faced with defining myself in such a small, irrelevant way my mind goes blank. Cue my brother and his friend with suggestions. Some of you might be happy to know that I didn't steal the following names away from the world last night:

Angry Alan Thick
Lovely Carl Winslow
Be Bea Arthur

Although, I think that my brother's friend my have taken some form of 'Lovely Carl Winslow' by now. And if you were curious about 'Kirk Cameron', 'Lisa Turtle' or 'Kelly Kapowski' they were all taken. I'm pretty happy with what I ended up with, though I can't claim it's clever or even similar to any of my usual monikers. But if you see 'candace cameron' running around, it's me.

The only down side to having my own xbox live account instead of playing on my brother's is that I had to restart my Dragon Age Origins game. Really it's not such a hardship because I hadn't gotten so far. The interesting thing is that by going back and playing again I unlocked different accomplishments and have different characters in my party. It's interesting to me that the choices I make matter so much. That's the sort of thing that I love. Years ago when my brother introduced me to Knights of the Old Republic he lost access to his xbox for an entire week.

Now, the fantastic thing about Dragon Age is that, even for someone like me who is accustomed to MUSH/MUCK/MUDD platforms and not a heavy console gamer, it is easy to slip into the game play. Control functions make sense and after a little bit of fooling around with are really natural. The controls for Mass Effect I'm much clumsier with. I ended up having to invert the controller because somehow making up into down and vice versa made more sense to my head. Go figure.

Maybe I'm just inherently better with sharp pointy things than guns. Hm. Something to ponder.

Spinning my Wheels

Three weeks of holiday goodness means (for me) not only catching up with family and people I haven't seen in a great while, but also glutting myself with as much media as possible. Where I feel I have been falling down in the area of visiting people (note lack of car and irrational anxiety when it comes to phone conversations) whom I love deeply, I am confident that I am getting my fair share of media. Surprisingly, all forms.

Initially when I packed my back to head to the (not so) sunny south I convinced myself the following would be utterly vital:

• 2 cookbooks
• 1 book on the Okefenokee to return to my grandmother
• 5 fictional novels I've been meaning to read for ages
• 1 Nintendo DS, charger & a Final Fantasy game
• 2 sets of knitting needles
• 3 skeins of yarn
• 1 laptop & charger
• 1 sketchbook & bag of drawing pencils
  

Dave managed to convince me that, no, I do not need five books to read. So, I only brought three. To be fair, I have read two of those in addition to going through one skein of yarn... even if the second skein I started was not one I brought with, but one my mother purchased for me today. But, hey! I need something to do while I watch Dexter with my brother.

It's strange catching up with the things that I've been neglecting. With reading, for instance, it's like gluping down ice cold water from the hose after spending a long day out playing. Nothing else can taste so good. I race through the words, tumbling forward recklessly not caring about meaning. It was probably a good thing that I read Real Murders by Charlaine Harris first. One of her first books, I gather, and her early writing style leaves something to be desired. I probably would have liked it more if it weren't set in a fictional Georgia town that is almost (but not quite) a lot of cities I know. I felt like not only did she not do her research on more than several occasions, but she just didn't go far enough. She was skirting the edge of the pool and occasionally dipping her toes instead of just doing it and leaping in like we wanted. That said, it was a light and fluffy read. Interesting to see where she has come from, but I'm glad that her writing has improved a great deal in the nineteen years it's been since that novel was initially published. I finished the whole read in about a day and was left wanting more. Not of that, per se, but of words in general. As it would turn out, I was in luck. Soulless by Gail Carriger is positively amazing. I mean, the cover boasts that it's about vampires, werewolves and parasols. What is not to like?

Soulless is one of those books that found me rather than the other way around. During one of my random jaunts in a bookstore during my lunch hour (a time frequently spent sneaking away to peek at books I know I won't have time to read during the school year) I was drawn towards the bright pink around the bold font. While the description on the back was intriguing, I must say that it was the author's bio that made me purchase the book more than anything else. It reminded me of Orli, and goodness know how I love that woman as well as her writing. I must say that Soulless was far from disappointing. It was clever from the top down. The characters were engaging and I found myself drawn into this Victorian world that had hints of steam punk without making me want to cringe at the 'hipness' of it all. No, there is a definite reason this story is being told. The heroine within this book is full of agency. She's someone I would like to be. Roman nose and all. I urge you all to pick it up and give the pages a turn. The words are a bit dense, but it's rewarding. Like bunt cake. So delicious!

When I not reading I, surprisingly, have been indulging in a great deal of video games. The new Mario for the wii. It is both fun and frustrating. And multi-player divorce mode is next to impossible for me. I find that my teammates are always jumping on my head or I forget who I am and end up bubbled. But I like it even if my timing skills leave a lot to be desired. It's fun to remember the original game as I stumble through the levels of this new one.

My netflix account, too, has been getting a fair share of use. But I think I will save my review of Lost in Austen for when I have decided exactly how I feel about it. I keep waffling back in forth on that one. Cleverly done but... hm. Better not to launch into it.

So, all in all the holidays are going well in my little corner of the globe. I hope that you and yours can say the same. And for goodness sake, do stay safe! We only have a little left of 2009 to get through and I want to see that everyone makes it! I'm tired of people skipping out on us.

It's a Dancing Revolution

After spending many a night in Chicago looking for The Most Epic Dance Party Ever(tm), I found it after being in Atlanta less than 12 hours. It turns out that the kids at Nonis really know how to have a good time until early in the AM. My friend JC was one of the DJ Du Jours along with his friend Preston, who was celebrating his imminent departure. Apparently he's New York bound.

Now, Dave had been telling me of Nonis and West Egg for ages, but I didn't think much of it. Possibly because I could not understand the sheer amount of AWESOME-sauce without being there. Now I know.

We pulled into the gravel parking lot of a low building. One of the few smallish buildings amidst sky scrapers in the almost bad section of town. We enter through the patio that has been strung with C-9 Christmas lights. Their large, multi-colored glow provided a welcoming illumination in contrast to the dull orange light pollution that is the Atlanta night sky. Inside, we were plunged immediately into this darkness. I fumbled around after Dave and Jamie who both knew where they were going as I waited for my eyes to adjust. When they did finally adjust I took a good look around the place. It was decorated like some older relation's house, complete with old armoirs and photographs of happy people from the 1950s. I felt like someone took advantage of their Grandparents being out of town for the weekend and threw the most kick-ass party ever.

The place was hopping.

So much so that it took me a moment to catch my breath and get my bearings. Just as well, really, since I was catching up with people I hadn't seen in months. It was the sort of night where the drinks kept coming, but I didn't have to pay for any of them. Which is to say, fantastic. At one point Dave looked over at me and said, "My favorite part of the evening is coming up soon. The more the DJs get drunk, the more erratic the music is." This proved to be true. But it also goes to show you that some people have awesome taste in music no matter if they are drunk or sober. Never once did the beats lag and never once were people like "Ugh....not this song." All selections were met with an eager cheer and frantic dancing. Dancing that I, naturally, was only too happy to take part in once I got my bearings.

The single most fantastic thing about Nonis was the utter lack of the creeper element. At some (read: most) clubs I've had the pleasure to frequent, you're in trouble if you don't have at least one wing-man to battle the creeper element. You look out for each others back and, maybe more importantly, each others drink. But here, in this small building packed with strangers, I felt completely comfortable in charging into the dance floor alone. Then again, that's easy for me to say when I knew at least seven people there. But, still. The point is that it was the most epic party to have ever rocked. The sort that you only see in 80s movies. Heck, at one point the dancing could not be contained by the building and everyone spilled out to continue dancing in the middle of Edgewater.

So, in closing, my dear Chicago... You're going to have to step it up Hardcore.

Tis the Season

I arrived back in the (less than) sunny south on Saturday and today is the first day I've had to catch my breath at all. It's strange to be idle. It feels decadent and it leaves me with a sense that I'm doing something wrong. I thought I would combat this with shopping online for holiday gifts. But, it turns out that I hate shopping online. This is something I didn't realize about myself and I am more than slightly surprised.

You would think (or, at least, I would) that anything to avoid the crowds at a mall would be worth-while and awesome. And, yet, not so much.

I find it impossible to have any emotional attachment to objects without being able to physically touch them. The pictures don't really tell me what anything is, either. Most of the pictures are terrible. And if they have 'action shots' of the items then I cannot see my family/friends using them-- just whoever it is in the badly taken picture for the online store. And then there's the whole 'happy accident' of shopping. In the real world you go to a mall/retail store/outlet/etc and wander around aimlessly until something jumps out at you screaming "I WAS MEANT FOR ---!". But most things on the internet are screaming, anyway, so I find it difficult to sort the good stuff from the spam.

Maybe the trick is knowing what you want in advance. That, too, is a problem for me. Shopping for people is so difficult. I have a dim idea of what people would like but at the end of the day I have trouble thinking material things are useful. I imagine it will all get piled into a closet and forgotten by new years, anyway. How do you buy someone a truly useful gift without having it be as lame as socks* or as noncommittal as a gift card?

Ideas?


Edit:
Upon reflection I've decided that some socks aren't lame. For instance, knit socks are pretty amazing. As are fuzzy house socks. But plain white socks....maybe not so much.

Let's just leave it how it was.

Tonight I finished the last final of my first quarter of grad school. A model of the Big Apple Circus copied from one of my professor's designs. A terrifying, but (surprisingly) fun project. This morning was my final for Freehand drawing and on Monday I turned in my Script Analysis final (it was due today). With that in mind, I realize that I may not yet be at a good vantage point to look back and see what I've come away with so far. All the same, I am startled by the marked difference in work dynamics between myself and each of my comrades in arms.

In all honesty, my work isn't that great. Not bad, mind you. Just not great. I turn everything in on time and have not had to pull an all-nighter all quarter. In fact, the latest I have stayed up to get a project done is 2:30am (I think). I've tried to work steadily and use my time wisely. Some things I understood and some things I wrestled with until I could clutch the coat-tails of understanding. I'm on what I think is the path to comprehension. Only, just now I can dimly make out the shape of what I'm holding onto and I'm hoping it isn't something with large teeth and a hankering for mousy brunettes.

My classmates, on the other hand, are amazing. I love sitting back and watching them think. They are all quick and sharp. I'm frequently left dizzy with how swiftly they've grasped a topic and moved onto the next one while I'm puzzling something over from yesterday. Or the day before. But, what's more, they aren't just in it for themselves. If they have a triumph they want to share it with others. If there has been a breakthrough that makes life easier and helps side-step the sometimes intense desire to slit your wrists, it's passed along. It's humbling, really. I cannot express how grateful I am to know each and every one of them.

I cannot help but wonder, though, what is wrong with me that I cannot muster up a good gut-wrenching sense of despair when I realize I put my staircase on backwards. Granted, my model is no where near perfect (as much as I would like it to be) and even though I am proud of it tonight I know that tomorrow I will hate it by the end of class period, I'm just ready to be done. I wish that I were like the others. They keep pushing themselves to improve. I never think I'm coasting at the time....am I?


Also, I have CA glue in my hair. I'm pretty sure that's the exact opposite of TV-hair. Nnngh.