We do what we must because we can.

I should have known that the writing class wouldn't fly. I hate the idea of on-line education.

The problem is that I was really ready for the sort of thing that threadwalker used to complain about, referencing her own self as perfect example. People go into an art, and people want to do all the crazy cool business, want to break all the rules. But that's not how it works. You do have to master fundamentals and learn the sort of journeyman craft before it makes sense to move on to the next level. So I was ready to be taken down a peg.

Instead, I find myself as the one who's ( Read more... )

I'd almost combine those two, and say that academics always was my calling, and that the best thing for me to do would be to try and work back up to it. Maybe even work back up to it through some alternate route, a sort of scholarship through the gutters of actually doing Aristophanes out somewhere. But really, that's just compensating. That's a pipe dream, based on the fact that I couldn't cut it as an actual academic trying to get a degree, so maybe I could cut it being a rebel academic. It doesn't work for the exact reason I already cited earlier, that it's always - always - about laying the groundwork and then doing something interesting. And whether I don't have the patience or don't have the humility or just so simply missed my window of opportunity, I don't know and it really doesn't matter.

All of that, however, doesn't matter, because the act of dropping out brings up a whole other array.

I readily admit that I started taking classes to meet people. Now, why I don't like saying that is much more obvious. Most of the time, "meet people" means "look for romantic partners." Quite simply, no. Not that I'm not interested (there was revelry over my imaginary girlfriend last evening), but that I really do need to make more friends. Nearly exclusively, the people I hang out with are the people I went to college with, most particularly the same three people, which, while I feel blessed by the situation ... well, I'd be tired of me by now, even if they aren't. I seemed to have a bunch a while ago, but this all constitutes another reason to be upset about the events of the last five years.

In '02, I couldn't walk down Milwaukee without running into someone I knew, but now drydem, who's lived here not quite two years, has a bigger network than I do? Something has gone horrifically amiss. So I'm ready to take responsibility for and about it. I recognize and accept that I tend to be a cold fish, partially out self-sufficiency, partially out of fear. I'm willing to do what I can to take those steps that put myself out there with like-minded individuals.

What I forgot was that I hate ( Read more... )But I'm left with a slowly growing sense of utter insufferably, which totally shows, and totally cuts into anything.

Seriously, though, someone you don't really know is talking about Shakespeare, and makes a clear factual error. Not an interpretive error (though there's some subjectivity if you squint) but wrong in the details. Is this an entre? Is this when I'm supposed to interject with, "actually, there's are low comedy bits to Julius Caesar, like ... well ... the opening scene." Maybe I don't have the self-confidence to think I should, or the social skills to do it without coming off as a jerk, but I'm really not seeing it.

Though, in the way I think about it, Clowning was the last to go, because writing broke my spirits first.

This summer, I wanted to get back into writing, so I took a class at The Second City. First, I should have known that something was up in that I didn't want to tell anyone. I felt incredibly guilty. If I'm doing anything education-oriented, it should be towards the completion of the Bar.

Second, I didn't like telling anyone because, unless I'm doing something that's bragging about writing, I don't like talking about writing. I don't like talking about writing because of the following conversation:

FALLEN_SCHOLAR: I don't really know what to do with my life. I don't really have a bliss to follow. I'm still trying to figure that out.

OTHER PERSON: Well, is there anything that you really like to do? That you're really good at?

F_S: Not really; my life is primary a warning unto others.

OP: There's gotta be something.

F_S: Okay, I like ( Read more... )

This has not worked.

My eyes hurt.

So, the Fallout: New Vegas trailer.

FALLOUT: NEW VEGAS!

I'd be as hesitant to like this as any old school Fallout player, except that that's pretty clearly a NCR flag. Unlike, say, the Brotherhood of Steel or the Enclave, NCR is a faction in the Fallout universe that deserves toying with. More to the point, the idea of NCR versus Robo-Vegas is similar to, though vastly distinct from, the "original" Fallout 3, AKA Van Buren.

That the game is now in the hands of Obsidian is ... well ... is a null point, overall, but could mean some interesting things. Obsidian's motifs are much better than Bethesda's motifs.

What I'm as worried about as anything is that I'm beginning to slip into an 'ends justify means' mode.

Such a bad idea. But when I'm stuck between failure and evil, what the hell?

The only real problem is that I'm not evil enough, and prone to fold under duress. That I must not.

Something surprisingly highly ranked in terms of a list of ways to be awoken that leave me grumpy is to people having sex outside my window.

All the wrong time at that. Not early enough to miss it because I was still awake, not late enough to shrug it off an just get out of bed early. Equally poorly timed in as a meta-conceit.

Some days, I'm just not alcoholic enough.

GRAH!

Arriving a day early, the DVD set for Doctor Who, Season 4.5.

Mere ownership - simple possession - brings pleasure. Now to decide when and how to watch it.

My spirit animal is a flight of cicadas. I would not like to be them.

FALLEN_SCHOLAR: Wow, it sounds like a really great deal, except for the terrorist living in the basement.

PROBLEM: Instructor complains that characters talk too much.

ANSWER: Write play in mime.

Actually, I do have some idea.

Today I had a few moments where there was a sensation that I can't quite describe, but that I associate with my carbon monoxide incident, which makes me wonder if, in fact, it was actually some other sort of problem that may have included or been aggravated by carbon monoxide. It's an uncomfortable flush feeling, which then rolls into a sense that my heartbeat is somehow hollow. Of course, I could extrapolate that into a general worry over my health. The drinking and diet are not the best right now, and the late hours aren't helping any. I've been doing a lot of writing on that, and as it all relates to the carbon monoxide, and it makes me wonder if I'm approaching a sort of conceptual bookend for that sort of period of my life, where I can finally start back to living a more positive life.

Along with that, my writing life has proved extremely unusual of late. I'm surprised by what's picking up and what isn't, by what I'm interested in or tearing apart or not doing so. It's frequently playing to the opposite of what I'd expect.

Today is odd. I don't particularly feel like myself, but nor do I particularly feel positive or negative about that feeling.

Google's autocomplete is truly the new poetical form of our era.

Who wants to start a betting pool over whether we get to see the unpublished works or not?

It's things like this that give me reason to live:

Museum Directors Talk Trash over Superbowl; wager landscapes.

I don't like sports. After all, I went to Earlham.

The thing is, though, I like sports as an idea, or as a concept to use. That is, to say, a RPG or other sort of game that incorporates an underlying sports motif. It's a perfect blend of contest and management. It's fighting, but without actual death, but of equal importance, its management. A season is, necessarily, a long war. There's an implicit and obvious sort of quartermastering necessary, and it's much more "morally just" as opposed to the Adam Smith Hates Your Guts of provisioning an army fighting against Team Evil.

As always, this remains one of those things I'm alone in, for wanting both the soft parts and the hard parts.

I just made a very important catch on a document about to go out. I feel very lucky right now.

Yes, no, not at least without an indirect statement.