My first page in some time

The mist was getting heavier with the coming dusk. Kael traded his loping run for a slower pace. He had been on the run for almost two hours, fearing that the Jitanos would find his trail and quickly overtake him. Kael was a strong cross country runner, but he had never had such a cause to drive him on before. Adrenaline had carried him to this point, but fatigue was finally taking hold, forcing him to halt to try to catch his breath. He moved to wipe the sweat off his forehead, but found only the dried salt of his physical exertion. Without the exercise to occupy it, Kael's mind flooded with the events of recent hours and threatened to bring tears to his eyes.

"My father is dead." These were the words told in a harsh whisper to one's self. The image played in continous cycle in the mind's eye; the quick thrust of a blade and J'mish's mortal body slumping to its knees before its complete collapse in the mud. The tortured, choked scream of a youth hiding in the cornrows and then the wash of crimson. Kael remembered waking, as if from a dream, with fresh blood staining his form and the metallic taste of it on his lips, clutching his father to his breast and rocking to and fro, sobbing as his tears ran rivulets through the red gore on his face. The memory tore at him and hit with full force for the first time, racking his tired body with emotion.

- I failed him. I couldn't save him; I didn't even try.
- There was nothing I could do; he wanted me out of harm's way. What good would I have done him if I got myself killed? It happened through no fault of mine.
- Stop making excuses for yourself. I let my father die; a better son would have done something to prevent it. I am a failure to him.

Having already emptied his breakfast earlier, Kael bent over double and dry-heaved into the grass. As he stood tall, he sucked in a deep breath and ordered his frenzied thoughts. The Jitanos would be after him; that much he knew. Kael had been responsible for the carnage back at the farm, though he knew not how. The important thing was that the corpses he left surely had comrades close who would be pursuing him into the swamps. Kael had every intention of never meeting them. The best move was to make for the Haowtep and Neehemsehto. Their friendship and protection would be invaluable now. From what he could tell, Kael was still a few miles out from the outskirts of the goblin encampment. Feeling somewhat rested, he began walking in the correct direction.

Suddenly, a flock of red-winged blackbirds exploded from the marshy underbrush behind Kael. Out of habit, he instantly dropped to a prone position on the ground and scanned the stretch of land he had just come from. Though his eyes marked nothing out of the ordinary, a sixth sense alerted him that he was being followed. With a soft and practiced motion, Kael unslung his rifle from his shoulder and began to load shot and powder.

The sensation of illustration elation

I totally dig illustration and illustrators. It's an art form I've been crazy about since a young age and it goes hand-in-hand with my love of books and reading. Now, I'm not someone who has trouble reading books without pictures, but I do have to admit that they can add to the enjoyment sometimes. It's nice to have a visual reference for the words you're ingesting, even if it doesn't always mesh with the images I've created in my brain.
For some people, illustration gets a bad rap or simply doesn't get the credit it deserves. It's written off as too commercial and low-brow. I think that is absolutely ridiculous. I love Picasso, van Gogh, and Monet as the next guy, but that doesn't mean there is no room in my heart for Rockwell, Frazetta, or Giger. I think it's crazy that the art world took so long to come around and recognize Norman Rockwell for his greatness. James Montgomery Flagg, the artist who created the now-iconic Uncle Sam recruitment poster, once said that, "The only difference between a fine artist and an illustrator is that the latter can draw, eats three square meals a day, and can afford to pay for them."
It seems to me that most of the best illustrators today tend to gravitate toward the fields of science fiction and fantasy literature. However, that just may be how I perceive it since that is my favorite genre of fiction. Anyhow, I wanted to include a list (You all know how much I love lists!) of some of the greats in illustration, in my opinion at least. Where I was able to find them, I included their websites and homepages. So feel free to check 'em out and browse their work.

Norman Rockwell:
I was first exposed to Norman Rockwell's work as a young kid. My family had a big book of old Christmas stories and paintings that my parents would bring out every year in December. It was chock-full of Rockwell paintings from the Saturday Evening Post like the one shown here. Since then, I have always loved his work. I was lucky in that our high school had a pretty good art program that I was involved in. Every year we would take a field trip to the High Museum in Atlanta to see whatever exhibition was showing there. One year it was Norman Rockwell's work; it was thrilling to see his most famous paintings in person and appreciate what a master of his craft he had been.

"To us, illustration was an ennobling profession. That's part of the reason I went into illustration. It was a profession with a great tradition, a profession I could be proud of."
—Norman Rockwell


N.C. Wyeth:
I have a real soft spot for N.C. Wyeth. Not only are his paintings amazingly beautiful, but he spent a large part of his career illustrating the adventure novels of my boyhood. I can't tell you how many countless hours I spent in the worlds of Natty Bumppo, Uncas, Jim Hawkins, Robin Hood, and the Knights of Camelot. I was David Balfour in real life: kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson, James Fenimore Cooper, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and taken to lands of high adventure, daring escapes, and romantic rescues. What imaginative boy could ask for more? And after seeing Wyeth's illustrations it was clear to me that he understood that feeling just as powerfully as I did. He captured the essence and the electric excitement of these novels and transferred it to the canvas like no one else I have ever seen. It's no wonder that his son and grandson have followed in his footsteps and have also created wonderful art. I was also lucky enough to attend an exhibit of Wyeth's work in high school, this time in a small gallery in Marietta. If only I could have seen his take on the adventures of Kael and Corlienne. If I could have a list of people I could go back in history to meet, than N.C. Wyeth would certainly be on it.

Frank Frazetta:
Frank Frazetta is a rockstar. He started off drawing for comic books, funny strips, and even Playboy magazine. He eventually got into movie posters and book covers. He's influenced a diverse group of people ranging from George Lucas to Glenn Danzig. I didn't really discover Frazetta and his work until about a year ago, but he's quickly become the equivalent of Wyeth for my adult, college years. A few years ago I got into pulp fiction pretty hard-core and became an avid Robert E. Howard and Edgar Rice Burroughs fan. Some of my favorite Frazetta pieces are his depictions of Conan the Barbarian, Tarzan of the Apes, and John Carter of Mars. For someone like me who loves these characters and their adventures dearly, Frank Frazetta's visual style perfectly captures the physicality, mystique, and sexuality of the stories. What is amazing is the sheer speed that Frazetta was able to churn out his work. I wouldn't be surprised if he has amassed a portfolio of tens of thousands of pieces. And the guy is still trucking at age 78! I guess he has had a series of strokes and now has to paint left-handed and a bit slower, but he still has unquestionable talent. Added bonus: he draws some pretty hot chicks!

John Jude Palencar:
If not for Mr. Palencar, I might not have ever been exposed to H.P. Lovecraft. For me, that is a terrifying thought more dire than anything Cthulu or Dagon could dredge up. I think I was a freshman in high school when my dad bought me my first collection of Lovecraft tales for a Valentine's Day gift. He told me the only reason he picked that particular book was because he thought I would like the cover illustrations. Well, he was right about that! I fell in love with Palencar's art and Lovecraft's prose instantly. I don't know much about the artist and he doesn't seem to have a website, but I see his work everytime I browse through the sci-fi section at Borders. A lot of his pieces are dark in tone and smack of Hieronymous Bosch influences and that is perfectly fine with me.


Michael Whelan:
This guy is just good at what he does. He has done illustrations and book covers for just about all of my favorite science fiction, horror, and fantasy authors. I mean we are talking about Stephen King, Tad Williams, Robin Hobb, Lovecraft, Asimov, and more. That's quite a list if you ask me. My favorite work of his are the pieces he did for King's The Dark Tower series. The truly amazing thing is that Whelan has won 14(!) Hugo Awards over the years and he's even up for another this year.

James Gurney:
Like most kids, I absolutely loved dinosaurs growing up. It should come as no surprise that the Dinotopia books were amongst my favorites. The stories are a magical mix of paleontology, naturalism, archaeology, history, and imaginative narrative. And the pictures are just so beautiful and mesmerizing. Best picture books ever in my opinion.

Ralph McQuarrie:
Being a huge Star Wars nerd, I am of course a big fan of Mr. McQuarrie's work and concept sketches. To this day I am still amazed at how well he captured George Lucas' ideas and how much of his concepts, from Darth Vader's helmet to the look of Star Destroyers, are reflected almost identically in the films.

Drew Struzan:
Just an amazing artist who has created some of Hollywood's most memorable movie posters. He has worked with George Lucas and Steven Spielberg numerous times over the years and has contributed wonderful images for films like Star Wars, Blade Runner, Indiana Jones, E.T., and Back to the Future. Fabulous stuff.


Bernie Wrightson:
I first came across Bernie Wrightson's artwork while reading Stephen King's Cycle of the Werewolf in middle school. I can only read that short little book once a year, because the images are so frightening and deliver the fear of the monster so completely. He did some great work for The Stand as well. Wrightson was a co-creator of the Swamp Thing comic book and has worked on concepts and illustrations for many films and comics, including an illustrated version of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Most of his stuff that I have seen tends to lean in the horror and macabre direction, often depicting rotting corpses and terrible monsters in minute detail. For me, his work in inks is the best. The man knows how to put together ordinary contour lines in an incredible way. And he draws a mean Batman as well.

The Brothers Hildebrandt:

Tim and Greg Hildebrandt were some of my personal favorites growing up and have been since elementary school. They did cover illustrations for a lot of the books I was reading in those years. Mostly The Lord of the Rings and children's books by Patricia C. Wrede and Bruce Coville. I have always loved their dragons. They also were responsible for the original Star Wars release poster. I had wanted to grow up and draw for a living like them, so I have tons of drawings I did as a kid that I had modeled after their work. Their work was a big part of my childhood and I'm very thankful for that.

Don Maitz:

Ever since playing the computer game Betrayal at Krondor and reading Raymond E. Feist's novels set in the legendary but realistic world of Midkemia, I have been hooked. Arutha conDoin, Jimmy the Hand, and Locklear are some great characters and I love to re-read about their travels and travails. I guess it helps as well that the cover illustrations are fantastic. It's hard for me to pick a personal favorite because Maitz' work for all the books is fantastic. Which is great, because as far as I can tell, he is the only artist who has tackled the world and characters of Midkemia.

John Howe:

From the moment I saw his paintings, John Howe has always been my favorite Tolkien artist. Don't get me wrong; Alan Lee, the brothers Hildebrandt, and others are phenomenal as well, but I am just a Howe loyalist. My favorite part of the LOTR books has always been the moment when Eowyn reveals her true self to the Witch King and immediately dispatches him. And Howe's version of it takes the cake for me. I also love his Balrogs!

H.R. Giger:

H.R. Giger must have had some messed up dreams because he comes up with some crazy visuals for his art. Of course, he's most famous for his conception of the titular monster in Alien, but his talents are far-ranging. He's been involved with numerous films, has done album art for the likes of Debbie Harry and Danzig, and has even designed his own Giger-themed clubs and furniture! I'm sure this guy must be a huge deal in his native Switzerland.

Brian Froud:

I can't imagine anyone more obsessed with the world of faeries, elves, and goblins than Brian Froud. He's put out several beautiful books of illustrations along with collaborator Alan Lee and worked with Jim Henson to create the look of the worlds of The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth back in the 1980's, which will always be two of my favorite childhood films. In addition, Brian's wife did the original model for Yoda for George Lucas.

Annie Stegg:

Perhaps my favorite illustrator of all time is the one that I am fortunate enough to know personally. She is an amazing woman as well as artist. Her work varies from comic books, illustration, portraiture, and even 3-D animation. Time and time again she blows me away with her creative talent and the skill of her work. I hope we can collaborate on creative projects many times in the future. I am sure that someday she will easily be as known and recognized as any of the previously listed artist. And that just might give my writing a much-needed boost.

Well, that's all of them. My favorite illustrators and sci-fi/fantasy artists. They aren't in any particular order; I just listed them as I came to them. I hope you enjoyed reading this post as much as I did writing it. It took me a while to finish it, but I was able to stroll down memory lane and visit some old friends. My hope is that I might have opened some doors for you, and that you might discover some new interest or pleasure in the artists and artwork just as I have. Cheers!

Lady in the Water

At first glance, there doesn't seem to be much to get excited over this summer in terms of blockbuster movies. I was excited about this past weekend's The Da Vinci Code and the upcoming X-men 3 but I have heard so much bad press and mediocre reviews that my anticipation level is down. But I still think this summer has the ability to be a sleeper in terms of the quality of some of its films. And from what I've seen and know of M. Night Shyamalan I think his latest offering could be a driving force.
I'm not crazy about everything he has done and I wouldn't say he is one of my favorites in terms of his movies, but I really dig this guy. I think he's one of the best storytelling talents in the industry right now, and it's great that after the runaway success of his simple little ghost story that he has the ability to pretty much do whatever he wants. And you know the studios love him; he puts people in the seats and his flicks generate a lot of hype.
Of course I was interested that he was making a new film to be released this summer, but the newest trailer I saw today really hooked me. I am really intrigued now, and I think this could be a movie that I'll love for ages if it delivers. And while he has always worked with sci-fi and horror subjects, it'll be great to see this newer, more fantastical movie. And I can't help but be reminded of another movie that dealt with a fantasy land in danger of destruction that included a very frightening wolf hunting down the hero. I'd have to say this is definitely my most-anticipated movie of the summer so far.

My totally sweet life: Part 2*

*Cautionary note: If I were you, I would not read this particular post. The author suffers from severe clinical depression and at the moment is feeling quite morose, bitter, and self-abusive as a result of the day's events. He is using this blog to capture his current thoughts to later examine them in a better light. This post is being written for posterity and therapeutic purposes and is not meant to entertain or lightly "fill you in" on the author's day or present state of mind. To be quite honest, it will probably make for very awkward and uncomfortable reading and you will come away with nothing positive. This warning is written with the utmost sincerity.

* * *

So today was the perfect capper for a perfectly shitty week. Since I couldn't run with my normal crew this week, I had to work with another manager who works out of N. Gwinnett and Forsyth Counties. Normally this would not have been a problem and would have actually been a good thing, since his material is generally better than our own. However, we were working Suwanee and I was stuck working neighborhoods that were predominantly Asian. I don't fucking speak Asian, and as such could not sell anything and made no money this week. To make matters worse, my normal crew was working gravy and everyone was making all kinds of commission. In two weeks when they all bring in $500-900 paychecks, I will be getting a fat $150. Literally. And it couldn't have come at a worse time; I'm desperately going to need that money in two weeks to pay rent and survive. As it is, rent is not going to get paid. So thanks to my fucking boss, who after bitching about how I was gonna screw up his paycheck, totally screwed mine in return.

The brakes on my truck are completely shot. Last week they started squealing really bad to let me know to take them in to get fixed. But I didn't have the money for that last week and figured I could stretch it out a while until I could afford it. This week they started to grind . . . bad. But what the fuck can I do!? I have to drive to work, to probation meetings, to the doctor. I can't fix them, but I can't not drive either. And now after today, I've probably turned a $100 job into a $500 job. I certainly fucked up my truck majorly driving to and from Atlanta today. Just barely tapping the brake pedal set my truck and I to cringing. The sound of metal-on-metal grinding has been so loud that people were staring at me and I didn't think I would be able to stop in time in some occurences. Driving around was surely dangerous today, and I fucking killed my vehicle.

Why did I have to drive to Atlanta? I had therapy at 11 in the morning that I had to go to. I haven't been since December. I went the one time and thought I was cured. Yeah right. It took me a couple of months but I was back being depressed by mid-March. I made an appointment to go a couple of months ago, but I woke up feeling depressed and worthless and just didn't go. So I definitely wanted to go today. I've been looking forward to it all week; I even bought a depression workbook to work through and change my thinking when I'm down. I knew today was going to be a busy day; I was having lunch with Annie at 1pm after therapy. I woke up real early, made sure I had directions to Annie's work, ran to my friend's house to feed his dog, and left with plenty of time to make it to the Gwinnett health care clinic. I even factored in that I couldn't speed since I'm driving illegally to make sure I gave myself extra time.

At quarter 'til 11 I was still a little ways away but confident that I could make it despite the unexpected traffic and construction on 316 that I ran into. But it had been so long since I had been to the clinic that I was a little unsure of the correct exit. I got off where I thought it was and instantly realized that I had made the wrong decision. 5 minutes left. I backtrack and get off at Riverside instead. That's not right either. Oh shit, where the fuck is it? I know I'm close. I'm starting to freak out. I call the clinic to let them know I'm running late and I'm lost. The receptionist gives me some directions but by this time it's over. It's eight past 11 and I'm going through the same traffic I was just in and I realize I'll never make it in time for any kind of meeting and I start to get upset and I start to cry and I start to hyperventilate and have a panic attack. All the while, I'm trying to navigate my way through traffic, trying not to get in an accident, trying not to get pulled over and go to jail, trying to brake as gently as possible because my brakes are through with the squeaking and squealing shit and now it's just grind, Grind, GRIND. I'm a 23-year old grown man crying in broad daylight, in public, because he is late for a doctor's appointment. I fall into depression and my mind starts to race with all sorts of half-cocked conclusions and self-judgements.

My stream of consciousness ends up looking something like this: Fuck! I can't believe this is happening - I'm so angry that this is happening to me - Why did I let this happen to me? - This isn't happening to you, you caused it to happen - You're an idiot for letting this happen - You should have looked up directions for the clinic, you knew you weren't sure which way to go - You're a loser - You should have called while you were driving; that would have been pretty easy - Only a fucking moron, an idiot, a fucking loser like you would have let this happen - You did this to yourself you fucking loser - People hate you - The reason people don't like you is because you are a piece of shit - You brought this all on yourself - I hate myself - No one likes you, they think you are a fucking loser and this is why - Who cares what other people think, the only thing that matters is that you know what a piece of shit you are - No one will ever love you - Who would love you? - No one can ever love you because of this - You will always be alone.

And so I am left drained, driving away towards Marietta and Annie, completey missing my therapy session because of my mini-anxiety attack. The whole time I was right there but I couldn't get enough of a grip to make it. I had been so out-of-sorts when I talked to the receptionist that I couldn't mentally process what she had been telling me and I ended up going the wrong way when I was almost on top of the place. So now I've missed the last two meetings and I have to pay for those sessions that I got nothing out of. Money I don't have to blow.

I ending up making it to Annie's work and we went out for lunch and had a lot of fun. I started to feel better and it was the best part of my day by far. But this is about the bad stuff.

The rest of the day was just small stuff and little mental rants against myself, nothing quite like as intense as my breakdown this morning.

- I wrote 0 sales at work and made no money whatsoever when I sorely need it. Awesome.

- My dad called me last night to see how I was doing. I didn't answer and he left a message. Do I dare call him back and tell him about how I fucked up another vehicle? And if I ask him for money to fix it, which is my only option for getting the money anytime soon, how bad is that gonna fuck up things between more? "Hi Dad, it's me Timmie. You remember, the absolute fucking wastebasket of shame that you call your son? I'm 23 and I still can't function on my own." And I also have to tell him about how I quit school again for the third and final time. I now owe the US government about $5000 for the 0.0 credit hours I obtained this school year. Yippee.

- I found out I have to go pay an old solicitor's ticket next Wednesday. The AJC is paying for the $131 ticket but I have to drive to Gwinnett Co. to pay it. How will I get out there without a vehicle? And if I don't make it, they will issue a bench warrant, which will in turn red-flag my probation, and I will go to jail. I will have to go to court again for breaking probation after I paid most of my fines and just finished my community service and my DUI school. I'll probably have to do more hours and pay more fines and I'll be on probation for another two years instead of getting off in December. I'm already panicking thinking about this.

- We were in the gas station after work, and the new girl told me she was sorry I didn't make any money this week. I told her it was just more evidence for why my life sucked. The woman in front of us in line turned around and gave me a look like I had just admitted that I was planning on slitting my wrists tomorrow.

- DUI school starts at 9am. I have to be there at 8:30am. Since my truck is dead, I have to walk the 3 miles to get there. Can't wait.

My overall feelings right now:

I still feel depressed but I'm beginning to feel better. After going back over my earlier thoughts to write this blog, I realize how stupid and irrational my thinking was on the way to therapy. The fact of the matter is that I missed it and that sucks, but it was no reason to go the obligatory 12 rounds of mental fist-a-cuffs with myself. I realize that I am in a pickle with my truck, but I think I can find a way out of it if I slow down, breathe, and think it through. I will find a way to not go to jail on Wednesday. Writing all of this down has helped me to deal with the feelings and take them one at a time, rather than tackling everything at once. I feel better about my situation and not so, "It's over. You might as well be dead." However, I don't feel all that good or great, and I don't think I should be entitled to feel good. I have fucked up by not taking care of the brakes sooner and by not doing as well this week at work as I should have. I'm laying too much blame elsewhere and I need to take some responsibility. Overall, I think I can work through this week.

Positives to take away from today:

- I had a good time with Annie and we had fun at lunch. Everyone does not hate me or think I am a loser obviously.

- I will finish DUI school this weekend, which is a big step towards putting a lot of my problems behind me.

- My only real obstacle that is preventing me from digging myself from out of a financial hole is fixing my truck. If I can overcome that I will be almost homefree.

- I am sitting here writing about a shitty, depressing day in my blog. I could have given up, bought some alcohol, and just holed up in my room getting drunk and feeling sorry for myself. I could have had a "who cares" attitude and blown off DUI school, making a bigger problem for myself. Instead I have used this opportunity to examine my thoughts and try to constructively avoid this kind of situation next time.

* * *

Seriously, did you just read all of that? Dude, I feel for you; it took me about 2 hours to write. I'm sure you spent double that slogging through all the drama and self-abuse. I'm sure you think I am crazy, and I'm okay with that. A lot of times I think I'm a little crazy myself. I apologize if you were bored or weirded out or whatever while you read it. I really am. I wish I could write about humorous and happy things all the time, but sometimes I need to put down what I feel. I'm glad you read my blog and I hope you won't stop because of a few depressing posts, but I have to admit that I write this primarily for me. It does help me feel better and I can't afford to censor myself or pull my punches just to save you or I a little embarrassment. But I can assure you that most of my posts won't be of this nature and I'll always leave a cautionary note for the ones I do write. So feel free to skip 'em and just read the entertaining stuff. Unless this is entertaining for you, in which case you should probably get yourself checked out.

The Dunce-cap Marvel

Penguins are precious, one of life's great treasures

I wouldn't say I'm a compulsive liar, but I'm sure I do it more than the average person. It's right up there with the whole lust/adultery in the heart thing in terms of bad stuff I do often. I've lied to get out of work or to get an extension on a test or paper for school. I mean, who hasn't? My conscious will usually kick in and I'll feel guilty for awhile, and then I'll go back to whatever I was doing in the first place. But sometimes I just lie for the entertainment value, which I usually never feel bad about. I'm sure it's technically lying, but I love to make up stories and exaggerate and spin tall tales. Hell, I mean that's what I would like to do for a living and get paid for, right? It's not really hurting anyone, so what's the harm? So said the boy who cried wolf. Maybe I'm feeling guilty lately cuz I figured I would air out some of the tales I've told recently and in the past.

- I once told my friend's girlfriend that I personally knew John Mayer and was very good friends with him. I told her that I had met him through my cousin when they both were living in Boston, and that I was the one who convinced him to move to Atlanta and switch from blues guitar to his current sound. I kept it up for a few months and I'm pretty sure she believed me for awhile.

- I've convinced many people that I had a black grandfather and that I was 1/8 African-American.

- After a buddy suggested it as a sure-fire way to pick up chicks, I started dropping the fact that I had written Finding Nemo. I let it slip in casual conversation and say a few lines in 'whale-speak' before acting embarrassed. It works.

- Sometimes when I'm out downtown I'll introduce myself as some made-up name. Tommy Barbados is a personal favorite.

- My roommates are pretty gullible and I've got them to bite on a few different stories. I guess it helps that we didn't know each other before this year. They bought that a was a pretty successful amateur boxer when I was younger. I was actually on the verge of signing a professional contract when I suffered an untimely career-ending injury. I also convinced them that I had driven my car under a tractor-trailer to avoid a serious accident after we saw that exact stunt on TV. And the other week I told them I was a bad-ass high school baseball player and once had a 27 RBI game with 4 grand slams. I overexaggerated that one and it didn't take.

- I was talking to my ex last night and she mentioned the March of the Penguins movie. Without thinking, I immediately proceeded to tell her that I was sponsoring an orphaned baby emperor penguin named Chuckles. He lives in a Chilean wildlife conservancy and just $17 a month pays for his food, habitat, and the medicine he needs to live. Annie sees through me pretty well, but I did get her to laugh. And isn't that what it's all about?

Yeah right . . . so when does the next Batman movie come out?

My totally sweet life

What's a good word to describe the last few days? I think 'trying' would be perfectly applicable. This past weekend wasn't the absolute Hell-fest I thought it would be, but it certainly wasn't peaches and roses either. Let's recap, shall we?

I got a pretty meat-mop paycheck on Friday. Normally that in itself wouldn't be too big of a problem to worry about. But when I have DUI school ($300 bucks!?; are you fucking kidding me?) looming on the horizon, followed by a wedding (I have yet to purchase a gift and I desperately need something to wear and look half-way presentable. Probably won't even be an open bar.) the next weekend it starts to become a pressing issue.

I made the pick-up on a dog to keep me company for the week:
"Well, this is a pretty cool dog."
"Yeah, totally sweet dog. But that's Jenkins' dog. Your dog is over here." Anyway, irreverent 'Baseketball' reference aside, I agreed to watch over my buddy's basset-beagle, Bagle, for the week while he's out of town. Great times all around until I had to clean up the shit it deposited upon my kitchen floor this morning. Damn it.

I went to the emergency room yesterday. Thought I was having a heart attack or something. I broke out into a sweat and everything. Thought about calling an ambulance even, but I figured if I was gonna die I might as well save some money doing it and drive myself. I wait around for two hours to have some young, hot-shot doctor shoot me a smug look and write it off as my acid-reflux. Oh shit . . . this is remarkably idiotic; who goes to the ER for heartburn? I can't wait for that hospital bill that I don't need. Let's see, this is the third time I have had an EKG and chest X-ray for this and it still looks fine? Hypochondria anyone?

And the reason why I am writing this post and not working right now is because my boss suspended me today. Last week we had a big ordeal with the Gwinnett Co. PD over solicitor's permits. So my boss starts breathing down everyone's neck to go and get them. Well, I can't get one right away because I don't have a valid license. I've been driving illegally the last month and I would have to go buy an ID card at the DMV to get a solicitor's permit. This is where the financial situation hits me again: I can't afford to purchase both right now. Besides, it makes more since to get mine in a week since I can get my license back after DUI school. Why spend $40 on something I'll use for a week? I try to explain this to my boss and he basically throws a temper tantrum. Then I tell him I can't work but three days next week because of the aforementioned DUI school and wedding. He goes into a rant about how I'm personally going to be the reason why he defaults on his mortgage and loses his house and his truck to the bank. He hangs up the phone on me without even listening to how I've already solved the problem of working out of Gwinnett this week. And even though he cries about how I'm not a "team player", I still show up at the weekly meeting, which he uses to call me out, though I can't go to work today. You know I used to consider my boss one of my friends, but I guess those days are gonna be over from here on out. It's nice to know what some people actually think of you, even after 2 years of toeing the company line and bending over backwards so someone else can look good. Fuck you very much.

But I guess it's not all bad. I'm going to spend the free evening working on my book and thinking about how I stuck it to the man this weekend by getting 22 community service hours for the price of 4. The Dunce-cap Marvel: proving the system doesn't work since 1982. Outskis.

Mel Kiper

Mel Kiper needs to get a life. I mean, the guy surely knows what he is talking about and is the go-to guy for the draft, but the dude needs like a hobby or something. He just put up his Big Board for the 2007 draft!? I love NFL football as much as the next guy, but I am just not interested. I'm still thinking about the draft we had two weeks ago! In two fucking weeks, he has analyzed all the college players that will be graduating and possibly leaving early after this season? Mel, take a vacation. There's no way this guy has a family; this is a classic example of being married to the job. And I'm not really convinced he knows anything about real football either. Sure he can evaluate possible talent for teams, but has he really taken the time to watch a real football game? I'm convinced that ESPN locks him up in a little room like the gimp from 'Pulp Fiction' and brings him out for a month out of the year. What a life.

714

Well, I guess Bonds is gonna tie up the Babe here sometime soon. Hell, he might be doing it right now as I type this. I just got home and checked ESPN's website and it looks like he hasn't done it yet, but even if it's not tonight it's sure to be by the end of the week. My hope of his knees exploding and forcing him to retire doesn't look like it will pan out. Oh well, no big deal. I, for one, will never acknowledge it when he hits 714 and beyond. I think it would just be amazing if everyone just ignored the fact when he hits it. No media coverage, no Sportscenter mention, nothing at all. If only it would land in the bleachers and no one fought over the ball, just simply threw it back on the field to show we couldn't care less what Mr. Bonds does. But that won't happen. Grown men will fight over the ball to sell it on Ebay and every baseball analyst who works in Bristol will continue to kiss Barry's ass. Most everybody I know has a "Who cares if he was on steroids?" attitude and will tell me to get over it and just accept it. But I won't; I'll carry this torch 'til the day I die. Guess I'm just old-fashioned that way.

Good news . . . for me

Tonight I found out that my cousin sold her house and she is for definite moving to South Carolina. Well, I mean she was coming to Columbia no matter what, it was just a matter of how soon with her house being sold and all. I'm friggin' estatic cuz she's the jam and we're pretty close and now we are geographically close as well. But I also realized that it kinda sucks for her. She's giving up a really cool town in Chicago and her sister and her parents. When she first knew she had to move I hoped her and her husband would go somewhere cool so I could go visit them there. But I ended being really glad they were gonna just be an hour and a half away. So now I'm torn between feeling happy cuz she's close and feeling guilty for feeling happy cuz her family is losing proximity to a really awesome daughter/sister. I'm a selfish bastard. Hopefully it all works out for the best and Karen and my aunt & uncle come down to visit a lot and everyone sees everyone often. I mean there's always Savannah St. Patrick's Day 2007.

Enchiladas con salsa verde y dos margaritas

Saturday was not the best of days. Nothing major, just a myriad of little things. And it wasn't really that I was depressed; just the events of the day built up and took a lot out of me. I just got a little worked up over things that I have absolutely no control over. Looking back on it, my only mistake was buying the cigarettes. And now they sit on my bedroom window sill, mocking me, that dumb camel laughing at the fact that I gave Mr. Reynolds $4 for two smokes and a nearly-full hard pack to throw in the trash.
But while the day was nothing special, I did have a good time with a friend I haven't seen in a long time. I was aching to go to Agua Linda for some enchiladas and a couple of ritas, but I didn't wanna go alone. After woefully acknowledging that I don't know that many people and with the ones I do know probably ignoring my calls, I finally got in touch with Claire. Surprisingly to me, she answered the phone and almost immediately agreed to go with me. We made it to the restaurant, ate dinner and had some nice conversation, and went home. That was it. Pretty simple actually, but very appreciated by me. For a good hour and a half it was just ordinary, normal people life. It wasn't going out with glorified drinking buddies to get wasted downtown or sitting at home feeling lonely and sorry for myself; it was just a run-of-the-mill human social activity. We talked about school, work, Spring Break, and summer plans. It was pleasant and it was great. It really pulled the day together and I flat-out just enjoyed myself.
The good thing for me is that I was able to take myself out of how I was feeling and find something, even something as mundane as eating at a Mexican restaurant, and use it to take my mind off things and just plain feel . . . better. While I'm sure it's nothing for most, that was big deal for me. And it reminded me that I do have friends, no matter how down and out I feel sometimes, and that I too can be charming and funny and a pleasure to be with. I mean the last few times I had hung out with Claire I was a total weirdo and a jackass. Yet she still answered the phone. I don't have to be some Quasimodo lame-o if I don't want to be. For someone who has the social skills of Frankenstein's creature, there is hope that I can make some new friends or re-connect with old ones and not have to sit at home in the dark, curled in the fetal position in the corner on a Friday night. That is, unless I want to.

Quote of the Week:

"All men who have achieved great things have been great dreamers."

- Orison Swett Marden

At the Movies: United 93

Is it too soon for a movie about 9/11? That's the big question everybody is asking I guess. I think the answer is yes . . . and no. If I had lost a loved one on that day, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be rushing to go see a flick about it. In fact, I don't think anyone should be rushing to go see United 93. I think that is why this movie works. I'm glad that this is the first film to deal with the subject head-on. It didn't overdramatize the facts or look to create some patriotic 'I'm glad to be an American' melodrama. It was almost like watching a documentary; the events just unfolded as they did and probably happened. The terrorists weren't over-Arabized or stereotyped. The passengers weren't made into extraordinary heroes that had been born for the moment. They didn't get together and decide to save the world from the terrorists. They were depicted as normal people who were scared and unsure of what was happening and simply . . . reacted. I didn't stand up and cheer for them as they struggled to overtake the men who had overtaken their lives. I just watched. And cried. The film doesn't take any shots or criticize anyone for anything. It simply presents a picture of that day and specifically that flight. I felt a duty to see it, but I won't watch it again. I'll think about those events and I'll remember how I felt that day. Those are all the thoughts I can share for now. This is a harder thing to write about than what I thought. Was it too soon for me? I'm glad I saw the film, but I think anytime will be a little too soon for me. I was taught to always remember days like 9/11, but how I would like nothing more than to forget and escape the reality of it. But I will remember and I will tell my children if they ask.

George

I was talking to lada earlier about my previous post. After much heated discussion concerning certain scenes and shots that George Lucas had deemed Ok to subject us fanboys to, she asked me why I wouldn't be more angry with him. Tricky question. Sort of like: If God loves me so much then why did he create spiders? That's valid. I tried to explain the situation to lada and I think she understood it enough for a non-fanboy crazy about Star Wars.
George Lucas is a maverick filmmaker. It's something I've always loved about him. It's that quality that moved him to make a series of independent space operas that had no connection to the studios other than a vague distribution deal. In case you didn't know, Star Wars is the most successful independent film ever made. Blows the Greek Wedding thing away. Bulletpoint here is that George doesn't care what people think. And sometimes that's us fanboys.
When the Special Editions came out I loved them. What 15-year old kid wouldn't? They made Star Wars relevant again; something to be discussed. They gave an outlet for a kid who didn't have much else. But were they the classics? Of course not. My favorite film of all time, Return of the Jedi, was completely butchered. I could have backed out of my loyalty to Mr. Lucas then and there. But I didn't.
Out of a lot of people, I understand what it is like to have a creative vision, especially one that changes frequently. Sure, I wasn't personally happy with some of the changes he made, but they were his changes to make. It's what made him great; he didn't follow the normal rules of Hollywood. I think that's why we love George Lucas. In the process of adding to an industry that he loved, he completely changed it. Everything post-Star Wars is exactly that; it probably couldn't be made before the summer of 1977. At the least it wouldn't have made money.
The fact of the matter is that George is something special, something that comes along a couple of times a century. This is a man who I have never met, probably never will, and that I have no personal experience with. Still, this is a man who has influenced and impacted my life, no matter how indirectly, in a way that few men in my life have. This man made dreams come alive and helped my imagination run wild without fear from conservative elements in society. Suddenly, it was Ok, even encouraged, to make up stories and just simply BELIEVE. Few people have had such an impact on my childhood, and frankly my entire life. That might sound incredibly weird or psycho, but that's the beauty of it. I couldn't care less what other people think; it's my life and my passion. If you don't share it, that's fine as long as you don't try to beat me down about it. George Lucas is a man who gave me hope, dreams, imagination, and six films that have fiercely shaped my childhood and the years that have since followed. And that's why I can put up with dumb Special Edition revisionist history.

Oh Glorious Day!

Imagine this padawan learner's unadulterated bliss upon learning that come September 12, he will own the classic Star Wars trilogy on DVD. Not the Special Edition, no extra scenes or shots at all, just the original 1977, 1980, and 1983 theatrical releases of the films. We finally got George to break down! I thought this day would never come; I've hoped and prayed for it, and now after long years of CG Sarlacc pits and revised Greedos it is finally going to happen. I was just wondering two days ago if this would ever happen. I thought, "No way while George has control over it. Maybe when he joins the ethereal mysteries of the Force, God forbid this ever happening, his estate might finally release them." But he finally caved and we simple members of Nerdom have our victory! Praise be to the Father Anakin, the Son Luke, and the Holy Force!

A list of Special Edition extras I won't be missing:

- Greedo shooting first
- That atrocious Jabba scene in the hangar
- Ian McDiarmid replacing the old woman who played the Emperor in ESB
- The Star Wars music video in Jabba's palace (I so loved the song that Max Rebo's Band originally played)
- The cruel fate of Oola the dancing Twi'lek (one could have guessed from the screams issuing from the Rancor pit)
- Boba Fett pimping bitches
- The Sarlacc with the beak and CG tentacles
- Han Solo's dumb revised line as he rescues Lando; the original "Trust me" had so much irony and meaning after Lando's sell-out of Han
- The score at the end of ROTJ that replaced the original Ewok tribal song (some of my favorite music of the films)

As you can see there is a running theme here with ROTJ; the Special Edition of that movie sucked hard-core. However, there are a few Special Edition treats that I enjoy.

- Dewbacks!
- some of the expanded Mos Eisley shots
- more shots of the Wampa ice creature
- expanded look at Cloud City with the pink sunsets
- the shot of the Bantha herd as Jabba's Sail Barge flies past

Now if we can only get them to release the theatrical version of TPM that they tried to cover up. Damn you Rick McCallum!

Note to self:

Don't try to work on your novel in the community computer lab again. What a complete waste of time! A little tip to the gay guy and his gabby girlfriend sitting behind me: SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! I know you guys are BFF and everything but have a little Goddamn respect for everybody else in here. This is a library environment, a silent sanctuary for studying, not some place to hold damn social hour. So take your fucking shiraz or merlot or whatever crappy vino you're getting into and go back to your apartment. Go watch 'Sex & the City' or something, because it's clear that you're not too serious about getting your work done. You're just keeping us from doing ours during finals week.
And to the people talking on your cell phones: SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! Who are you talking to at 1:30am on a Monday night!? No wonder all you people have to pop 12 Adherol to concentrate and get anything done. Nobody has any damn manners these days and it's pathetic. It's days like this I wish I lived in a Fascist dictatorship. At least they follow the rules.