Originally, I had been looking forward to Monday as a new day to canvas the town for jobs and accomplish things. However, when I realized that it was a national holiday (one of poor origin and depleted purpose) that became a thing of the past.
However, tragedy befell that day. Or, tragedy of a sort. An active World of Warcraft account is now considered, from the common hacker's viewpoint, of more value than a credit card. Credit card security is such that the damage one can do with the resource is more limited than would seem, and the repercussions are pretty heavy. WoW accounts, however... once you take virtual objects with value and sell them for cash, the trail stops. Game administrators can restore the accounts to their rightful owner, and can restore items to those accounts, but they can't undo the the transaction where the thief has gotten real value for virtual objects.
There's a pretty common ploy, for both identity theft and account theft called a phishing scam. Basically, phishers create a mock website that looks identical to a trusted site that would request your personal information. You enter your information thinking you're gaining access to a site that has a valid reason for your information, and the information actually ends up going into a database. They use the information to gain access to the original website (or WoW), change those details, and they now own whatever you have.
This is what happened to Sam, and her WoW account was taken by nameless, faceless and likely asiatic hackers. In their cleverness, they did so on a holiday and thus all the hotlines were closed, all password retrieval information was altered, and she was without recourse for the next 24 hours. She was upset by this, and when Sam came home from work an hour or two later, they departed for four or so hours... Sam to get her nails done, and Steph to get boarding for the basement floor.
I sank into a marathon of Criminal Minds. What a great show. I did laundry all day, and managed to clean all my clothes and linens while enjoying six hours of criminal forensic psychology. Makes me miss my Psychology classes. That night I made Carne Asada Tacos with Home-Made Nachos, and I reworked a tomatillo sauce recipe that came out really well. Success! Monday night I set out a list for myself for Tuesday. Organization! How strange from me...
Steph has lent me an iPod mini for my use around the house and at the gym, a (relatively) old hand-me-down of her own, and loaded it with a variety of music. She had accidentally taken this with her that morning throwing off my original plan of rising and immediately going to the gym. I continued to hunt down reference letters from my professors, got some guidance on how to handle a bank switch (mine is not regional to this area) and prepared a letter to go certified mail to my bank in NJ (they need to stop charging me account). When Steph got home, we passed off the iPod, I hit the post office and the gym, and then came back to make dinner. Chicken Chardon, Caesar Salad, Whole Wheat Spaghetti and some mashed potatoes. The potatoes were not part of the meal, but there was a foot tall box with barely an inch left in it and it was taking up space. Screw that!
One of Sam's grand children, Zion, is staying with us for a few days. Either he's home-schooled, or they simply don't care about his education. I don't really know, I'm not asking questions, he's not my kid. I'm good for the first few hours, then around three o'clock the sound proof head phones come on.
Tomorrow is a job interview at the Bungalow! I'm hoping it goes well, even though it'll be extremely part time. I've got copies of my resume prepared and the Bungalow is located in Broad Ripple, the heart of the "college town" part of Indianapolis. Perhaps I'll find more than one opportunity while I'm there.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Labor Day Has Nothing To Do With Labor.
Labor Day is preventative to labor. Or at least to employment. Namely, mine. Having found one or two walk-in opportunities, needing to stay on the trail of professors who have promised recommendation letters, and various of a similar nature seemed to fall pleasantly into this weekend where no one could be contacted or generally anything accomplished in this vein.
So I took to accomplishing things of a more domestic and leisurely nature. I didn't want to. My spider senses tingled at the notion of not being forward-pointed in action, even if I was in thought. But I did.
Friday was my first visit to the gym. Work-out's qualities are determined by how sore you are the next day, and given my desire to not move my arms over my head Saturday, I consider it a success. When I came back, I served up a pork roast from the slow cooker that had been cooking for nearly eight hours. Attempts to carve it went poorly, as it fell apart if you so much as looked at is crossly. Jess (Tyler's Mom, Sam's Daughter, Requirer of the Spongebob Cake) brought me the materials with which to create it. I attempted to do so that night, hoping to get it out of the way for the next day, but the VALU-BRITE cake mixes were... unsatisfactory. The horrible, goopy, mutant mess of sugar and sweet could not ever conceivably be turned into Spongebob. Or anything else.
While this was going on, the world Descended Into Madness. Along with Tyler and Jess's visit, Steph's sister and her husband came up, with their five children, to stay the night. This was the first time I spent considerable time in my room, because I felt, as wonderful as these people are, that this many would be overload, and that I was, at best, a non-essential piece of their family reunion. This being the case, I politely retired to the quiet room upstairs, and caught up on True Blood.
While I've mentioned it, True Blood is an excellent series. It's well acted and well written. The attitude and kitsch is great and sets it apart from other vampire series. Some of the characters are so strong willed that it borders on being a little two dimensional, but the solid acting makes it worth it, and some (like Lafayette, Tara, and Terry, mostly the non-vampires) are done in such a way that make them really interesting to watch, without the mechanisms of the central characters. It's also based off a book, like Dexter is, and I'd heartily recommend both. Dexter I probably like a little better though. The inner monologue is great and Michael C. Halle owns that part in a way that's scary.
As soon as I got up Saturday, I resolved to fix the cake issue. First I had to make sure that after offering the family to take a piece of mutant looking but thoroughly edible cake, that someone had put it out of the way of any enterprising dog who could eat himself to illness. After making sure of it, I drove without the GPS to the grocery store to get cake mix from a brand with a real name. Having secured some help from Ms. Betty Crocker I returned home. The significance of travelling without the GPS is important, I get to know the area far better that way. However, one way streets need to be better marked.
The rest of the day was spent in the kitchen, exhausting myself with culinary experimentation. My normal dinner of three at five or six or sometimes eight got moved up to four and expanded to a party of seven. A monster-sized Caesar salad, a fresh loaf of italian bread, a tray of home made meatballs (for which I had no recipe and totally winged) and an enormous pot of penne arabiatta thoroughly impressed our guests, satisfied my roommates, and really hit the spot when I finally sat down to it later that night (I didn't eat with them because I had dirtied nearly every pot in our possession and wasn't going to truly enjoy my dinner until I had cleaned the kitchen. ) That being done I thoroughly enjoyed the rest of my evening after they departed for a family birthday party by showering and enjoying some relaxation.
Sunday was an easy day for me. Steph and Sam left shortly after I ate lunch, and were gone for several hours. I played some PS3 (I've played almost no video games since I've been here, it's been kind of nice actually) and went to the gym again. I didn't even have to make dinner, as they decided to eat some of the leftovers that night. We got a layer of the floor down in the basement, which made me feel great, and if that had been the only thing we got done all day I would have considered it a success.
I'll cover Monday and Tuesday tomorrow... the hour grows late.
So I took to accomplishing things of a more domestic and leisurely nature. I didn't want to. My spider senses tingled at the notion of not being forward-pointed in action, even if I was in thought. But I did.
Friday was my first visit to the gym. Work-out's qualities are determined by how sore you are the next day, and given my desire to not move my arms over my head Saturday, I consider it a success. When I came back, I served up a pork roast from the slow cooker that had been cooking for nearly eight hours. Attempts to carve it went poorly, as it fell apart if you so much as looked at is crossly. Jess (Tyler's Mom, Sam's Daughter, Requirer of the Spongebob Cake) brought me the materials with which to create it. I attempted to do so that night, hoping to get it out of the way for the next day, but the VALU-BRITE cake mixes were... unsatisfactory. The horrible, goopy, mutant mess of sugar and sweet could not ever conceivably be turned into Spongebob. Or anything else.
While this was going on, the world Descended Into Madness. Along with Tyler and Jess's visit, Steph's sister and her husband came up, with their five children, to stay the night. This was the first time I spent considerable time in my room, because I felt, as wonderful as these people are, that this many would be overload, and that I was, at best, a non-essential piece of their family reunion. This being the case, I politely retired to the quiet room upstairs, and caught up on True Blood.
While I've mentioned it, True Blood is an excellent series. It's well acted and well written. The attitude and kitsch is great and sets it apart from other vampire series. Some of the characters are so strong willed that it borders on being a little two dimensional, but the solid acting makes it worth it, and some (like Lafayette, Tara, and Terry, mostly the non-vampires) are done in such a way that make them really interesting to watch, without the mechanisms of the central characters. It's also based off a book, like Dexter is, and I'd heartily recommend both. Dexter I probably like a little better though. The inner monologue is great and Michael C. Halle owns that part in a way that's scary.
As soon as I got up Saturday, I resolved to fix the cake issue. First I had to make sure that after offering the family to take a piece of mutant looking but thoroughly edible cake, that someone had put it out of the way of any enterprising dog who could eat himself to illness. After making sure of it, I drove without the GPS to the grocery store to get cake mix from a brand with a real name. Having secured some help from Ms. Betty Crocker I returned home. The significance of travelling without the GPS is important, I get to know the area far better that way. However, one way streets need to be better marked.
The rest of the day was spent in the kitchen, exhausting myself with culinary experimentation. My normal dinner of three at five or six or sometimes eight got moved up to four and expanded to a party of seven. A monster-sized Caesar salad, a fresh loaf of italian bread, a tray of home made meatballs (for which I had no recipe and totally winged) and an enormous pot of penne arabiatta thoroughly impressed our guests, satisfied my roommates, and really hit the spot when I finally sat down to it later that night (I didn't eat with them because I had dirtied nearly every pot in our possession and wasn't going to truly enjoy my dinner until I had cleaned the kitchen. ) That being done I thoroughly enjoyed the rest of my evening after they departed for a family birthday party by showering and enjoying some relaxation.
Sunday was an easy day for me. Steph and Sam left shortly after I ate lunch, and were gone for several hours. I played some PS3 (I've played almost no video games since I've been here, it's been kind of nice actually) and went to the gym again. I didn't even have to make dinner, as they decided to eat some of the leftovers that night. We got a layer of the floor down in the basement, which made me feel great, and if that had been the only thing we got done all day I would have considered it a success.
I'll cover Monday and Tuesday tomorrow... the hour grows late.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Drops in the Bucket
Several months ago I announced to my playing teammates that I would be leaving World of Warcraft to focus more on... well, Life. It's waxed and waned on me, ultimately becoming nothing more than an annoyance, but I enjoyed it briefly afterward knowing that my time with it would soon be coming to an end. Last night I uninstalled it, and all its paraphernalia and said my final goodbye in an unceremonious way (donating ridiculous amounts of things to the guild bank).
This lead to a (relatively) productive day! Slept in by about an hour, then went about writing some cover letters for online applications while I rebuilt my internal supply of coffee. Coffee is to Me as Spinach is to Popeye. Around noon I set off to Broad Ripple, a sub neighborhood of Indy, to apply at The Bungalow, an art boutique owned by a friend's wife. I went in, applied, and have an interview for next week! Prospects look good.
I also got my gym membership set up, at a great rate. The place is bigger and cleaner than the last gym. They've got a wing of cardio machines with flatscreens inset, as well as a separate "Cardio Cinema" where movies play and the room is filled with cardio machines. Private showers that are extremely clean, a sauna, and a lap pool. It seemed like a good fit, and I'm going to try and make an hour or two a daily routine there.
Upon my return home, I finished the grocery list for the week (got a great lineup), and we went shopping. We ordered pizza for dinner tonight because we didn't have a big enough buffer between weeks for miscellaneous. The nice lady at the pizza place thought I worked at Hero House, the comic shop down the street. I wish! She's desperately hoping they'll be successful, because the neighborhood could really use some affordable retail. I'm also hoping for their success, because why not? ART: One of the owners is a perfectly nice guy, but has no energy in his personality. May hinder his business.
I decided to help out an overworked mom and make her son's cake of choice. So at some point tomorrow, I'm making a Spongebob Cake. Jeez.
This lead to a (relatively) productive day! Slept in by about an hour, then went about writing some cover letters for online applications while I rebuilt my internal supply of coffee. Coffee is to Me as Spinach is to Popeye. Around noon I set off to Broad Ripple, a sub neighborhood of Indy, to apply at The Bungalow, an art boutique owned by a friend's wife. I went in, applied, and have an interview for next week! Prospects look good.
I also got my gym membership set up, at a great rate. The place is bigger and cleaner than the last gym. They've got a wing of cardio machines with flatscreens inset, as well as a separate "Cardio Cinema" where movies play and the room is filled with cardio machines. Private showers that are extremely clean, a sauna, and a lap pool. It seemed like a good fit, and I'm going to try and make an hour or two a daily routine there.
Upon my return home, I finished the grocery list for the week (got a great lineup), and we went shopping. We ordered pizza for dinner tonight because we didn't have a big enough buffer between weeks for miscellaneous. The nice lady at the pizza place thought I worked at Hero House, the comic shop down the street. I wish! She's desperately hoping they'll be successful, because the neighborhood could really use some affordable retail. I'm also hoping for their success, because why not? ART: One of the owners is a perfectly nice guy, but has no energy in his personality. May hinder his business.
I decided to help out an overworked mom and make her son's cake of choice. So at some point tomorrow, I'm making a Spongebob Cake. Jeez.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Hooooo!
Immediately upon entering the house, I noticed (or was noticed by?) the pack of animals that live here. Two dogs; Angus, a pit bull/dingo mix, and Adrian, who I have no clue. He's adorable, but patently ridiculous in every sense. He's small, with curly reddish brown hair, and an overbite. The two large cats are named Junior and Wilemina, and I rarely see them. Occassionally, one sneaks into my room and uses the bed, until I kick them out (I am currently not accepting animals in there.) On the other hand, are two kittens who do not actually belong to the house. They are being watched over until one of Sam's relations settles down in their home (they're relocating, or some such). One is black, with white mittens, and the other is stripped with all range from white to black. The black is named Sookie, and the other... well, the other has six toes on each paw. Noticing this, I came to the conclusion that he must be trying to evolve thumbs, and therefore, is attempting in the long run to be come a Thundercat. (In case you're not aware, the Thundercats were a popular anime in the late 80s/early 90s, involving humanoid felines with creatives names like"Lion-o", "Panthro", "Cheetara", and "Tigra.") So, I addressed this kitten as Thundercat, and eventually it suck. Thundercat is my little buddy, and Steph has trained him to climb up your body when you say "HOOOOO!" (another reference to the cartoon.)
For the first two nights in the new place, I slept on the couch. With Sam's surgery and all the rest, the basement is not near ready, and the upstairs room was still in the process of being cleared out. Not that I minded at all; I have come into this with the interest of a transition into independence, to developing a routine that involves keeping my space clean and generally taking pride in everything I do. If that means doing things from the ground up, than perhaps its all in the best interest of forming good habits. On the first full day here, we cleaned out the room that would become my bedroom, and began looking for beds. Ironically, none of the ones were purchased... Steph found a full bedroom set for 50 bucks on Craiglist. The next day, she went to check it out in person, and decided it was a good deal (it was!) and brought it back right then. By the third night here, I was in a new bed! It's double the size of the one I had at home, and is very comfortable. I slept like a baby that night (unfortunately, I didnt for the next few, and kept waking up oriented paralell with my headboard). I bought my own towels, which felt far more momentous than it really was (they're towels -_-) and collapsible laundry baskets. I took an hour and moved all the stuff out of the heap it was in the dining room, and into neatly stacked piles in my own room.
It was in this span of 1-3 days that I spoke with Steph and Sam about the potential of The Arrangement. Basically, The Arrangement is as such: Personal Chef services in exchange for room and board. They were immediately amenable, and it became even easier when I found out that they drink their breakfast (protein shakes and what not that need only be purchased, not prepared) and that they'll often eat leftovers for lunch. I only need to prepare dinner! Wunderbar! I've really enjoyed it. Cooking is a persistent learning experience, it is very rewarding, it is methodical and organizing, It is very cathartic, particularly if I get to do it in quiet with just some music. In Adjacently Related News: I've become Neurotic about Kitchen Cleanliness, which is not eased by the smallness of the kitchen. It is about half the size of the one back home.
After that I began scoping out jobs and exploring the nearby area. I'm beginning to know things well, and keep walking downtown (about sixty blocks to the heart of downtown, round trip) to get an idea of what's near me. At the time of writing this, I have eleven job applications out, and more are going out daily. Many of them are online, which process slowly, and entry levels are always easy to disregard. I will continue in the carpet-bombing manner until I get something that sticks, because it is necessary. 'Nuff said.
Progress in the basement is slow, but each step is very satisfying. We've cleaned out the stairs and alot of junk, and wiring is fully done. I've bleach bombed it several times to ensure vermin-eradication and this weekend we'll be putting down the flooring and pricing out drywall.
While Will was here, Rockband 2 became our frequent after-dinner entertainment. With three (four, when Sam sung for us!) people to play, we really got into the total experience and had a great time. Today, Steph and I did a few sets while Sam was working the 4-8 shift and we've gotten to the point where we really can't progress anymore with me playing on Medium. Now I've got to practice new fingering sequences and learn how to play again on Hard! Oh well.
In other entertainment: Friend of Stephs (hereby named properly as Chris) hosts a group of people over every few weeks to watch UFC fights. UFC is Ultimate Fighting Championship, which is a type of Mixed Martial Arts. Basically, like Boxing except less technical, and like Wrestling except not fake. I really didn't think I'd enjoy it, but in the spirit of this whole thing and exploring new things and meeting new people, I went for and had a really good time. I will definitely be participating again.
That's a lot of writing for today... I'll try and think of more developments that I haven't covered here already to write about tomorrow. Tomorrow's Agenda: Grocery Shopping, Resumes and Applications Downtown, and Gym Membership!
For the first two nights in the new place, I slept on the couch. With Sam's surgery and all the rest, the basement is not near ready, and the upstairs room was still in the process of being cleared out. Not that I minded at all; I have come into this with the interest of a transition into independence, to developing a routine that involves keeping my space clean and generally taking pride in everything I do. If that means doing things from the ground up, than perhaps its all in the best interest of forming good habits. On the first full day here, we cleaned out the room that would become my bedroom, and began looking for beds. Ironically, none of the ones were purchased... Steph found a full bedroom set for 50 bucks on Craiglist. The next day, she went to check it out in person, and decided it was a good deal (it was!) and brought it back right then. By the third night here, I was in a new bed! It's double the size of the one I had at home, and is very comfortable. I slept like a baby that night (unfortunately, I didnt for the next few, and kept waking up oriented paralell with my headboard). I bought my own towels, which felt far more momentous than it really was (they're towels -_-) and collapsible laundry baskets. I took an hour and moved all the stuff out of the heap it was in the dining room, and into neatly stacked piles in my own room.
It was in this span of 1-3 days that I spoke with Steph and Sam about the potential of The Arrangement. Basically, The Arrangement is as such: Personal Chef services in exchange for room and board. They were immediately amenable, and it became even easier when I found out that they drink their breakfast (protein shakes and what not that need only be purchased, not prepared) and that they'll often eat leftovers for lunch. I only need to prepare dinner! Wunderbar! I've really enjoyed it. Cooking is a persistent learning experience, it is very rewarding, it is methodical and organizing, It is very cathartic, particularly if I get to do it in quiet with just some music. In Adjacently Related News: I've become Neurotic about Kitchen Cleanliness, which is not eased by the smallness of the kitchen. It is about half the size of the one back home.
After that I began scoping out jobs and exploring the nearby area. I'm beginning to know things well, and keep walking downtown (about sixty blocks to the heart of downtown, round trip) to get an idea of what's near me. At the time of writing this, I have eleven job applications out, and more are going out daily. Many of them are online, which process slowly, and entry levels are always easy to disregard. I will continue in the carpet-bombing manner until I get something that sticks, because it is necessary. 'Nuff said.
Progress in the basement is slow, but each step is very satisfying. We've cleaned out the stairs and alot of junk, and wiring is fully done. I've bleach bombed it several times to ensure vermin-eradication and this weekend we'll be putting down the flooring and pricing out drywall.
While Will was here, Rockband 2 became our frequent after-dinner entertainment. With three (four, when Sam sung for us!) people to play, we really got into the total experience and had a great time. Today, Steph and I did a few sets while Sam was working the 4-8 shift and we've gotten to the point where we really can't progress anymore with me playing on Medium. Now I've got to practice new fingering sequences and learn how to play again on Hard! Oh well.
In other entertainment: Friend of Stephs (hereby named properly as Chris) hosts a group of people over every few weeks to watch UFC fights. UFC is Ultimate Fighting Championship, which is a type of Mixed Martial Arts. Basically, like Boxing except less technical, and like Wrestling except not fake. I really didn't think I'd enjoy it, but in the spirit of this whole thing and exploring new things and meeting new people, I went for and had a really good time. I will definitely be participating again.
That's a lot of writing for today... I'll try and think of more developments that I haven't covered here already to write about tomorrow. Tomorrow's Agenda: Grocery Shopping, Resumes and Applications Downtown, and Gym Membership!
More than a year
Since my last post. But most of the people who care have been close (geographically speaking) and found out the details themselves. So, while I've been terribly lax in keeping up with this, I will start --- At this point my writing is interrupted by an evangelist at my door. I kindly tell them that we're fine with our faith, and to please go. They do not leave, so I begin explaining the concepts of Secular Humanism, which is tantamount in these parts to licking the devil's ball sack, and they flee-- at the point in which I depart.
We left later than scheduled. I stayed up until two AM Sunday night packing, and didn't want to get up. Fifteen minutes here, and there, extended goodbyes (of which I was, more than once, the first to cry) made me late in picking up Will. A quick hug with Mrs. Will's mom, and we were on the road. Having not eaten and being devoid of gas, we stopped at Dunkin Donuts for the former, and got our first fill up.
Then we went west.
We went three hours without stop, through the long and ultimately un-interesting Pennsylvanian landscape. We stopped only for Will to give the gift of freedom to the distilled remnants of his large iced coffee which, unoccupied with the task of driving, he drank much more quickly than I. Another three hour stint and we were at our destination for the night, a nice little roadside Super Eight just that-side of the Ohio/Pennsylvania border. We indulged the deepest, teenage id and ordered a large, stuffed crust hawaiian pizza from Pizza Hut, and a large order of bread sticks. Now, I would never agree with Jacky that Pizza Hut is the best pizza, or even in the top ten. However, at that moment, in that place, it hit the spot. A few hours later, I passed out, with my alarm set for early in the morning, and the GPS pre-programmed for the next day's destination.
I woke up, and was surprised to find that Will had taken all the bedding off his mattress, and arranged it on the floor next to the wall. After waking him up, he went to go take his shower, and I set about the normal morning routine wherein, regardless of location, I use my spider-senses to detect coffee. Having procured two six-ounce cups of coffee and a few mini-donuts (BTW: WHO decided that six ounces was a serving of coffee? Did you forget an exponent? Get out of my breakfast), took a quick shower, and we set off.
Ohio looks about the same as Pennsylvania, until you're past Cleveland, and it looks like the boondocks. At some point here, we stop heading west, and set course Northwest towards Grand Rapids. Once in Michigan does the Midwest start to look sufficiently Midwesterly (it's a word because I said it.)
It's worth mentioning at this point that the car makes this entire trip, about 18 hours, on about fifty dollars worth of gas. Also, cruise control should run for President. On a platform of being totally frickin' awesome.
Tuesday dinner time finds us meeting Kevin and his wife Lesley, who we've played with for a few years and never met before. They're exactly like the virtual entities we've come to know, and we have a good time. Playing SSMB leads to a brief weight lifting routine (Kevin and his brother do this every week. I participate, Will opts not to (pussy). However, they soon decide that it's too hot and stop after a half hour. Ironically, Kevin's brother suggests we go get icecream. All that aside, I was sore the next day despite the relative brevity of the work out), and then a few hours of chatting about various games. Kevin ends up deciding to join one of ours, which makes me happy, as adding new players keeps up the pace.
We sleep in a finished attic room, with no air conditioning. However, it was a wonderfully cool after the sun went down, and we slept well. The next morning we met two more people we've played with for a while, whom are also close friend's of Kevin. After a few hours of chatting, and a quick lunch we set off again.
By dinner time, we were in Indianapolis. It's a small big city, but the city-sprawl goes pretty far. For a good fifty miles in any direction out of the city, the highways are lined with the retail locations and strip malls of any good metropolis. And after about fifty miles, it suddenly drops off, as if they had run out of concrete, and is overgrown with corn fields and other properly Mid-Western features.
The house is large, and old, and well-decorated. It reminds me a great deal of New Hope-ish bed and breakfast in its style, and is filled with the electic relics of people with good and varied tastes and interests. In the dining room, hanging on a rack, are a monumental size of golden wings crafted by Sam. A solid wood china case stands next to it, and next to that is a shiny black cabinet engraved with oriental artwork. The living room hosts a massive, stone fireplace, in front of which is a convertible-red drumset. In one corner of the room is a cast iron birdcage, sans birds. On top of a solid wood stand, is a large flat screen TV, a DVR, a game cube, PS3 and a Wii. Hanging on the walls are large, colorful, non-objective paintings that ar clearly done with a palette knife. I can tell that I will like it here.
Over the next fourty-eight hours I must reconcile the strange feelings that accompany Steph suddenly having a face. Having known her for a year, through the internet, it is a lesser trial to mentally relocate this disembodied voice into a real person. Sam, her wife, is utterly laid out, having had surgery on her spine the day before, but she is in good spirits. We've arrived at around seven pm, and so, Steph gives us a quick tour of the house, and then of the nearby neighborhood (that is to say, about two blocks in any given direction). We order a pizza, and while it's being cooked, explore the new comic book store that has opened up two doors down from the pizzeria, just today.
Indy likes its comic books. I've seen almost ten different comic book stores at this point, and being host to gencon, know that the metropolis certainly has more than its fair share of gamers, nerds, and the like. I've already applied for jobs at two of them :)
More to come! SOON.
We left later than scheduled. I stayed up until two AM Sunday night packing, and didn't want to get up. Fifteen minutes here, and there, extended goodbyes (of which I was, more than once, the first to cry) made me late in picking up Will. A quick hug with Mrs. Will's mom, and we were on the road. Having not eaten and being devoid of gas, we stopped at Dunkin Donuts for the former, and got our first fill up.
Then we went west.
We went three hours without stop, through the long and ultimately un-interesting Pennsylvanian landscape. We stopped only for Will to give the gift of freedom to the distilled remnants of his large iced coffee which, unoccupied with the task of driving, he drank much more quickly than I. Another three hour stint and we were at our destination for the night, a nice little roadside Super Eight just that-side of the Ohio/Pennsylvania border. We indulged the deepest, teenage id and ordered a large, stuffed crust hawaiian pizza from Pizza Hut, and a large order of bread sticks. Now, I would never agree with Jacky that Pizza Hut is the best pizza, or even in the top ten. However, at that moment, in that place, it hit the spot. A few hours later, I passed out, with my alarm set for early in the morning, and the GPS pre-programmed for the next day's destination.
I woke up, and was surprised to find that Will had taken all the bedding off his mattress, and arranged it on the floor next to the wall. After waking him up, he went to go take his shower, and I set about the normal morning routine wherein, regardless of location, I use my spider-senses to detect coffee. Having procured two six-ounce cups of coffee and a few mini-donuts (BTW: WHO decided that six ounces was a serving of coffee? Did you forget an exponent? Get out of my breakfast), took a quick shower, and we set off.
Ohio looks about the same as Pennsylvania, until you're past Cleveland, and it looks like the boondocks. At some point here, we stop heading west, and set course Northwest towards Grand Rapids. Once in Michigan does the Midwest start to look sufficiently Midwesterly (it's a word because I said it.)
It's worth mentioning at this point that the car makes this entire trip, about 18 hours, on about fifty dollars worth of gas. Also, cruise control should run for President. On a platform of being totally frickin' awesome.
Tuesday dinner time finds us meeting Kevin and his wife Lesley, who we've played with for a few years and never met before. They're exactly like the virtual entities we've come to know, and we have a good time. Playing SSMB leads to a brief weight lifting routine (Kevin and his brother do this every week. I participate, Will opts not to (pussy). However, they soon decide that it's too hot and stop after a half hour. Ironically, Kevin's brother suggests we go get icecream. All that aside, I was sore the next day despite the relative brevity of the work out), and then a few hours of chatting about various games. Kevin ends up deciding to join one of ours, which makes me happy, as adding new players keeps up the pace.
We sleep in a finished attic room, with no air conditioning. However, it was a wonderfully cool after the sun went down, and we slept well. The next morning we met two more people we've played with for a while, whom are also close friend's of Kevin. After a few hours of chatting, and a quick lunch we set off again.
By dinner time, we were in Indianapolis. It's a small big city, but the city-sprawl goes pretty far. For a good fifty miles in any direction out of the city, the highways are lined with the retail locations and strip malls of any good metropolis. And after about fifty miles, it suddenly drops off, as if they had run out of concrete, and is overgrown with corn fields and other properly Mid-Western features.
The house is large, and old, and well-decorated. It reminds me a great deal of New Hope-ish bed and breakfast in its style, and is filled with the electic relics of people with good and varied tastes and interests. In the dining room, hanging on a rack, are a monumental size of golden wings crafted by Sam. A solid wood china case stands next to it, and next to that is a shiny black cabinet engraved with oriental artwork. The living room hosts a massive, stone fireplace, in front of which is a convertible-red drumset. In one corner of the room is a cast iron birdcage, sans birds. On top of a solid wood stand, is a large flat screen TV, a DVR, a game cube, PS3 and a Wii. Hanging on the walls are large, colorful, non-objective paintings that ar clearly done with a palette knife. I can tell that I will like it here.
Over the next fourty-eight hours I must reconcile the strange feelings that accompany Steph suddenly having a face. Having known her for a year, through the internet, it is a lesser trial to mentally relocate this disembodied voice into a real person. Sam, her wife, is utterly laid out, having had surgery on her spine the day before, but she is in good spirits. We've arrived at around seven pm, and so, Steph gives us a quick tour of the house, and then of the nearby neighborhood (that is to say, about two blocks in any given direction). We order a pizza, and while it's being cooked, explore the new comic book store that has opened up two doors down from the pizzeria, just today.
Indy likes its comic books. I've seen almost ten different comic book stores at this point, and being host to gencon, know that the metropolis certainly has more than its fair share of gamers, nerds, and the like. I've already applied for jobs at two of them :)
More to come! SOON.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
On Pain of Death
Recently, in one of the few conservations I've had with a member of my family in the past two weeks, it was divulged to me that the lack of blogging would soon result in aggressive retaliation. Whether or not this was the exaggeration of the person on the other end of the phone (who is known, in some circles, for a special brand of storytelling) is unclear, I agreed that I should get on this, and as it seems, I need to start from some time back. It's beginning to be a pattern that reflects poorly on me.
Airplane rides cannot be compared to car rides with any accuracy. People say comparing apples to oranges: apples and oranges are very comparable...they're both fruit, they're both eaten by many people, one's round while the other's got a little foot-like appendage...This, good people, is all comparison. Airplanes and Cars? They go from Point A to Point B. It ends there. I will say however, that there is a certain thrill, equal parts fear and adrenaline, that is derived from watching layers of clouds beat down against a metal wing and be thoroughly repelled as pure force propels you above the reaches of other men.
Getting off the plane and going through customs was nothing what like anyone had told me. There was no harsh germanic barking, no sniffing dogs, no large man named Wilma with a pair of rubber gloves and a bottle of KY jelly. No one even looked at my bags. They stamped my passport, without saying a word, and I was free to go. The benefits of my grandfather's generous donation are more than mere transport, as his elite status provided my baggage with the same priority as his own would receive, and allowed me to catch it on the carousel literally as soon as I got there. The Kuxhauses were waiting for me just beyond that gate, and we were headed back to their house in Bann, a little suburb of Landstuhl, all of which is within the Kaiserslautern Military Community, or KMC.
More to come... On Pain of Death?
Airplane rides cannot be compared to car rides with any accuracy. People say comparing apples to oranges: apples and oranges are very comparable...they're both fruit, they're both eaten by many people, one's round while the other's got a little foot-like appendage...This, good people, is all comparison. Airplanes and Cars? They go from Point A to Point B. It ends there. I will say however, that there is a certain thrill, equal parts fear and adrenaline, that is derived from watching layers of clouds beat down against a metal wing and be thoroughly repelled as pure force propels you above the reaches of other men.
Getting off the plane and going through customs was nothing what like anyone had told me. There was no harsh germanic barking, no sniffing dogs, no large man named Wilma with a pair of rubber gloves and a bottle of KY jelly. No one even looked at my bags. They stamped my passport, without saying a word, and I was free to go. The benefits of my grandfather's generous donation are more than mere transport, as his elite status provided my baggage with the same priority as his own would receive, and allowed me to catch it on the carousel literally as soon as I got there. The Kuxhauses were waiting for me just beyond that gate, and we were headed back to their house in Bann, a little suburb of Landstuhl, all of which is within the Kaiserslautern Military Community, or KMC.
More to come... On Pain of Death?
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Long Time Coming
Seeing as how I haven't posted in almost two weeks, and people are badgering me, it's time for a blog update.
The U.S. Customs Service is some maligned, accursed creature, composed of equal parts bureaucracy, paperwork and flesh, spawned within the deepest, darkest pits where even the demons don't go. There's something exceptionally poetic, no, accurate, about the fact that the Philadelphia customs building was used in Ghostbusters. I can't remember the exact line, but it goes something like "a place mathematically constructed to be the seat of pure evil." I never even entered the building, merely stood outside it for just over an hour, and it's shadowy influence still hangs around me.
So, yes, after getting up at ungodly hours of the morning (while my classmates slept in, because, they too, were part of the Customs Agency's depraved plan to kick me repeatedly in the nads) and rushing out of breakfast (because, apparently, cellphones turn themselves off, or take a nap, or simply become inoperable, as they feel like it), clenching the handle of the car with a white-knuckle grip as I contemplate the horrendous possibility that we won't make the appointment, to get lost three or four times, to stand in a line with three hundred other people, they too have a nine-AM appointment, for naught. About 15 feet from the door, a phone rings. A cellphone, my father's. He picks it up, and by some unquantifiable mix of divine providence and wholly unnatural mischief, my mother's voice announces that "The UPS guy was just here. Michael's passport is here."
I don't really know if your blood can boil from frustration while you heave a sigh of relief. I tried, though.
Thursday night was a good time, and it really pained me to think that, despite our promises of reunions and re-uniting, there was and is the possibility that we would not be together this way again. Of course, that's true: we wouldn't be together in this environment ever again. That's what made it important, that's why it was special. My understanding is that there are already plans for a November reunion, but it'll be interesting to see if that actually happens. Eric and I created paper plate awards for the whole group, which, if you're unfamiliar, are mock awards. Stuff like "Most Likely to Force a Cripple to Dance" or " I Bring My Pillow to Lecture Award". That was a lot of fun to make, to present, and we were well-recieved.
Thursday was also the internal closing ceremony. We were brought to the Field House, instructed to don our blindfolds and link hands and to close our lips. For a good fourty-five minutes we marched, arms extended and eyes blinded, in silence. While our professors were nearby to help prevent us from colliding with things, we still managed to run into things and off the paths, but seemed to devise a mechanism to aid others... after hitting an object, the person ould drag their feet, making it easier for us to follow the sounds around the obstacle. Eventually we stopped moving and it became apparent where we were. Gentle crackling, smell of smoke, and light bleeding in through the edges of our blindfolds foreshadowed the bonfire we saw when we removed them. We were told to pick up a stick from a stack near the fire, and to announce one thing we brought to the program, and to place our stick in the fire. Afterwards, we each claimed a small stone and announced what we were taking from the program. Then we sat around and made smores for a bit, before returning to the dorm, where we threw a huge party for Michelle. Thursday was Michelle's birthday, and the dance party that pervaded four bedrooms and the hallway certainly seemed like a celebration.
Graduation was good, but longer than it had been planned. Though we practiced that morning, we still managed to botch the coordinated rise and sit maneuvers, and through self-correction made ourselves look even worse. However, Alex's poetry, Dan's violin performance and the drum ensemble's performance were all amazing, as usual, and made it worth it. Air Conditioning would have been nice. From there, we packed up and left rather quickly, despite some other parents' inability to park. We got home by six o' clock, and my always-awesome friends Paul, Will and Duane came. We had a good time as usual. Sam wasn't able to come, but she sent her mother over with a GIGANTIC bag of candy, which was, as always, incredibly sweet of her. Thanks again, Sam.
I'll put up another post in the next 48 hours about the flight and the recent stuff in Germany.
The U.S. Customs Service is some maligned, accursed creature, composed of equal parts bureaucracy, paperwork and flesh, spawned within the deepest, darkest pits where even the demons don't go. There's something exceptionally poetic, no, accurate, about the fact that the Philadelphia customs building was used in Ghostbusters. I can't remember the exact line, but it goes something like "a place mathematically constructed to be the seat of pure evil." I never even entered the building, merely stood outside it for just over an hour, and it's shadowy influence still hangs around me.
So, yes, after getting up at ungodly hours of the morning (while my classmates slept in, because, they too, were part of the Customs Agency's depraved plan to kick me repeatedly in the nads) and rushing out of breakfast (because, apparently, cellphones turn themselves off, or take a nap, or simply become inoperable, as they feel like it), clenching the handle of the car with a white-knuckle grip as I contemplate the horrendous possibility that we won't make the appointment, to get lost three or four times, to stand in a line with three hundred other people, they too have a nine-AM appointment, for naught. About 15 feet from the door, a phone rings. A cellphone, my father's. He picks it up, and by some unquantifiable mix of divine providence and wholly unnatural mischief, my mother's voice announces that "The UPS guy was just here. Michael's passport is here."
I don't really know if your blood can boil from frustration while you heave a sigh of relief. I tried, though.
Thursday night was a good time, and it really pained me to think that, despite our promises of reunions and re-uniting, there was and is the possibility that we would not be together this way again. Of course, that's true: we wouldn't be together in this environment ever again. That's what made it important, that's why it was special. My understanding is that there are already plans for a November reunion, but it'll be interesting to see if that actually happens. Eric and I created paper plate awards for the whole group, which, if you're unfamiliar, are mock awards. Stuff like "Most Likely to Force a Cripple to Dance" or " I Bring My Pillow to Lecture Award". That was a lot of fun to make, to present, and we were well-recieved.
Thursday was also the internal closing ceremony. We were brought to the Field House, instructed to don our blindfolds and link hands and to close our lips. For a good fourty-five minutes we marched, arms extended and eyes blinded, in silence. While our professors were nearby to help prevent us from colliding with things, we still managed to run into things and off the paths, but seemed to devise a mechanism to aid others... after hitting an object, the person ould drag their feet, making it easier for us to follow the sounds around the obstacle. Eventually we stopped moving and it became apparent where we were. Gentle crackling, smell of smoke, and light bleeding in through the edges of our blindfolds foreshadowed the bonfire we saw when we removed them. We were told to pick up a stick from a stack near the fire, and to announce one thing we brought to the program, and to place our stick in the fire. Afterwards, we each claimed a small stone and announced what we were taking from the program. Then we sat around and made smores for a bit, before returning to the dorm, where we threw a huge party for Michelle. Thursday was Michelle's birthday, and the dance party that pervaded four bedrooms and the hallway certainly seemed like a celebration.
Graduation was good, but longer than it had been planned. Though we practiced that morning, we still managed to botch the coordinated rise and sit maneuvers, and through self-correction made ourselves look even worse. However, Alex's poetry, Dan's violin performance and the drum ensemble's performance were all amazing, as usual, and made it worth it. Air Conditioning would have been nice. From there, we packed up and left rather quickly, despite some other parents' inability to park. We got home by six o' clock, and my always-awesome friends Paul, Will and Duane came. We had a good time as usual. Sam wasn't able to come, but she sent her mother over with a GIGANTIC bag of candy, which was, as always, incredibly sweet of her. Thanks again, Sam.
I'll put up another post in the next 48 hours about the flight and the recent stuff in Germany.
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