I have, so far, 3 books filled with ideas and purposely bought a new cell phone with a QWERTY keyboard just so I had somewhere to jot down ideas as they came to me.
Brilliant, yes?
Well, no, actually. My ideas seem to come to me just as I'm about to fall asleep or as I'm in the shower. Can't write or type in the shower... *grumble*
The other morning, I came up with a great idea for a comic book and of course I was in the shower. Fortunately, as soon as I dried off, I didn't bother changing out of my towel until I'd finished writing everything down. About 3,000 words written down and I was quite dry after the shower by that point!
I've got a friend and former-classmate from school who's interested in drawing it, so now I'm re-writing everything to give her more to work with. I've got the script, I've got the story and characters, and I've got an artist. Let's see how this one fares, yeah?
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Dreams
Last week, I had a horrible time sleeping. Going to bed wasn't an issue. Neither was falling asleep. I was pretty damned tired after a busy week of work the week prior.
The problem was, my dreams kept waking me up. In fact, over three nights I had the same *sort* of dream repeatedly:
And then I'm awake. Again.
For 3 nights this went on. And it wasn't just once a night, it was more like 5 or 6 times every night. Finally, exactly one week ago tonight, the dreams stopped.
To be replaced by this one:
The problem was, my dreams kept waking me up. In fact, over three nights I had the same *sort* of dream repeatedly:
I'd be doing... something, and suddenly someone would be standing beside me and telling me to stop what I was doing. As soon as I stopped, like a magician with a heavy cloak, the strange person would pull out 3 objects and tell me to interpret them.I only remember one dream vividly enough. Same thing again and when I was handed the objects, there was a container of kitty litter, a shovel, and a flute. "Interpret."
And then I'm awake. Again.
For 3 nights this went on. And it wasn't just once a night, it was more like 5 or 6 times every night. Finally, exactly one week ago tonight, the dreams stopped.
To be replaced by this one:
The woman on the train who constantly... daily... drives me crazy with the way she looks (and reads... it's so cute), and acts, is alone with me in a train station. She's looking at me and I'm looking at her. And she's biting her lip just like she does when she's reading the morning paper. And I finally, finally have enough nerve to talk to her. Months of sitting not 2 feet from her's done nothing, but now I'm suddenly compelled to talk. The time is right and we're all alone.And then I wake up.... the very next day, I heard this song and it brought the whole dream back to me. And as miserable as it made me when I woke up at 3 in the morning, I still have a skip in my step when I walk to work every morning. Especially those mornings with the sunshiney smile....
I walk over and she looks up at me (she's shorter than me). She says nothing but brushes her blonde hair away from her glasses (she doesn't wear them all the time, but she is today). I open my mouth and everything falls out at once. I tell her that I've got a big-time crush on her. I tell her I love watching the crinkle in her lips when she reads and the looks she gives annoying people on the train when they get in her way. And I tell her every time she smiles at me it's like the rain's have stopped falling and there's only a warm sunrise left to enjoy. I tell her I'd give anything to get to know her. Her dreams, her aspirations, the things she's alwyas wanted in life. And I tell her that if there's any justice in the world, there's someone loving her and telling her just how beautiful she is. And I tell her that, if there's nothing else important in the world, the most important thing for me to know, right now, is her name. If the looks, the smiles, the laughs she's done in front of me mean anything, the least I could get from her now is her name.
And then she crinkles her nose. She leans over to me and get close to my face. Her icy blue eyes look me over and I can smell the citrusy-smell of her perfume. She's as close as she can be without touching me and opens her mouth to speak. And she says to me "That's the lamest thing I've ever heard. This isn't Hollywood. There's no happy ending." And off she walks as the train arrives.
Misery loves the cruel way that you speak to yourself
And I love the cool way you look at me
And we've got a lot of time to get this right
At least that's how I hope it's gonna be
When you go looking for a little light real late at night
And you don't like the things you see
I'll be right here waiting in the dark for your knock
Oh, I want you here with me
I want you here with me
I hold you close and whisper in your ear
"There's nothing to fear"
I know the things you want to be
I don't know if they will ever come for anyone
Oh, I want you here with me
I want you here with me
Saturday, September 06, 2008
Human
During my morning commute a few weeks back, I'd noticed a girl giving me a funny look. I gave one back to her as she looked like one of My Kids.
She was one of My Kids.
It turns out she's working less than 2 blocks away from my office downtown, so I've earned myself a new coffee buddy.
There are two stories in one here and I'm telling the funny one first. 'P' is one of My Kids I've rarely discussed before. She came in and did her job and we'd talk about college and studying and life/sport in general, but that was about it. She did a fine job and I liked her, even though she was mistakenly "hired" to work for me.
When we were organizing our new hire orientation, DQ (remember Drama Queen? I wish I could forget her!) spotted 'P' and thought she was one of the other girls. 'P' was rushed over to the orientation room, given her info pack and started to learn of her job responsibilities and such. I was running late (most likely putting out fires) and was scheduled to talk about 45 minutes into the orientation. When I came in to speak, needless to say I was curious who this girl was, since I'd interviewed all the others and had never seen this one before. I got the story later from DQ, proving once again just how incompetent she was. I decided since 'P' went through the orientation, if she was willing we'd keep her on and see how she did. And she did fine.
It's hard to believe now that the case of mistaken identity occurred nearly 5 years ago. But it did.
Cut back to 2008 and the funny story... The guys I work with decide it's time for a Starbucks break. There's 2 within walking distance of our office (isn't there everywhere?) and I convince them to go right instead of left --since the one to the right has better service. Right we go and we're sitting and enjoying our drinks when my supervisor points out this brunette looking over at our table. I, somewhat casually, look over and she smiles. I've told the guys about my past and my reputation, but it's time to put it into action. "Guys," I said, " She's giving me the look. I'm gonna go talk to her." "Oh right," says my supervisor, "Good luck with that!" as he laughs. I get up and say to him "I bet you in less than 5 minutes, I can get both a kiss from her and her phone number." He laughs some more and I turn and walk to this girl. As I'm walking, one of the guys chuckles "It's his wife." But one of the other guys has met my wife and clears that up. "Nah, it's gotta be his wife." But the one guy is insistent "That's not his wife."
I'm now talking to the girl. I laugh, she laughs. Then she gives me her phone number which I put in my cell along with a picture of her. As I turn to walk away, I stop with an "Oh wait, I forgot something" look and turn and give her a kiss on the cheek --which she then returns.
:)
My supervisor and co-workers are shocked into silence. I'm the man.
Actually, I'm the jerk who set them all up because 'P' is one hilarious girl. She also took their picture with her cell because she loved the look on their faces!
OK, that was the funny, here's the other part of the story.
'P' and I did go out for coffee a couple times since. She's filled me in on her life and what's she's been up to work-wise and love-wise. She's doing really well and I'm happy to hear it all. I like hearing that My Kids are doing well in the big world. She also tells me how she hated working for me. She hated my boss (From Hell!) and she hated DQ with a passion. She didn't like my immediate co-workers either. "But if you hated everything about it, why are you sitting here, willing to talk to me?" I ask. "Because you were different," she replies, "You weren't them. You treated us differently." "How did I treat you differently?" I was curious. "You treated us like we were human beings," she says.
In my 7 years working there, with the 900+ people I interacted with over those 7 years. With all the hard work and effort I put in and never felt got paid out, 'P' summed up in one sentence everything I needed to hear. She justified the 7 years in less than 30 seconds. Thanks, P!
She was one of My Kids.
It turns out she's working less than 2 blocks away from my office downtown, so I've earned myself a new coffee buddy.
There are two stories in one here and I'm telling the funny one first. 'P' is one of My Kids I've rarely discussed before. She came in and did her job and we'd talk about college and studying and life/sport in general, but that was about it. She did a fine job and I liked her, even though she was mistakenly "hired" to work for me.
When we were organizing our new hire orientation, DQ (remember Drama Queen? I wish I could forget her!) spotted 'P' and thought she was one of the other girls. 'P' was rushed over to the orientation room, given her info pack and started to learn of her job responsibilities and such. I was running late (most likely putting out fires) and was scheduled to talk about 45 minutes into the orientation. When I came in to speak, needless to say I was curious who this girl was, since I'd interviewed all the others and had never seen this one before. I got the story later from DQ, proving once again just how incompetent she was. I decided since 'P' went through the orientation, if she was willing we'd keep her on and see how she did. And she did fine.
It's hard to believe now that the case of mistaken identity occurred nearly 5 years ago. But it did.
Cut back to 2008 and the funny story... The guys I work with decide it's time for a Starbucks break. There's 2 within walking distance of our office (isn't there everywhere?) and I convince them to go right instead of left --since the one to the right has better service. Right we go and we're sitting and enjoying our drinks when my supervisor points out this brunette looking over at our table. I, somewhat casually, look over and she smiles. I've told the guys about my past and my reputation, but it's time to put it into action. "Guys," I said, " She's giving me the look. I'm gonna go talk to her." "Oh right," says my supervisor, "Good luck with that!" as he laughs. I get up and say to him "I bet you in less than 5 minutes, I can get both a kiss from her and her phone number." He laughs some more and I turn and walk to this girl. As I'm walking, one of the guys chuckles "It's his wife." But one of the other guys has met my wife and clears that up. "Nah, it's gotta be his wife." But the one guy is insistent "That's not his wife."
I'm now talking to the girl. I laugh, she laughs. Then she gives me her phone number which I put in my cell along with a picture of her. As I turn to walk away, I stop with an "Oh wait, I forgot something" look and turn and give her a kiss on the cheek --which she then returns.
:)
My supervisor and co-workers are shocked into silence. I'm the man.
Actually, I'm the jerk who set them all up because 'P' is one hilarious girl. She also took their picture with her cell because she loved the look on their faces!
OK, that was the funny, here's the other part of the story.
'P' and I did go out for coffee a couple times since. She's filled me in on her life and what's she's been up to work-wise and love-wise. She's doing really well and I'm happy to hear it all. I like hearing that My Kids are doing well in the big world. She also tells me how she hated working for me. She hated my boss (From Hell!) and she hated DQ with a passion. She didn't like my immediate co-workers either. "But if you hated everything about it, why are you sitting here, willing to talk to me?" I ask. "Because you were different," she replies, "You weren't them. You treated us differently." "How did I treat you differently?" I was curious. "You treated us like we were human beings," she says.
In my 7 years working there, with the 900+ people I interacted with over those 7 years. With all the hard work and effort I put in and never felt got paid out, 'P' summed up in one sentence everything I needed to hear. She justified the 7 years in less than 30 seconds. Thanks, P!
Slipped
I used to be organized. I had to re-write that last sentence. It originally said I was "quite" organized, but I don't think that's exactly true. Growing up, my room was always messy --not that I liked that. I don't like messes, but they sure like me. And once a mess gets too big, I never know where to start to clean it up.
Even now in my little office, I have boxes stacked on boxes, games stacked on games, books & comics stacked on comics & books... and trading cards, and DVDs and rolled posters in the corner, a messy pile of clothes in the corner and an impressive array of empty cans close to my feet (and what could possibly go wrong there?).
I've always wanted to take a picture of my office for a professional website and have little links explaining different things on the walls and shelves:
Mostly things that slipped by without noticing until it was too late.
This problem has been getting exponentially worse over the past little while. I can look back over the past 8 weeks and see things where I told myself "You have time, it's still weeks away" to "It's a week away" to "It's tomorrow" to "Aw, crap."
In early July, I'd booked some tables to sell off some of my stuff that just won't make it to eBay because of the logistics of it all. There's value there, but the time to get it on eBay, sell it, pack it, and ship it is too much. But to put them in a box and say "this is the price" and hopefully sell a majority of it would be a boost. Early July I booked the tables for this weekend. And only yesterday did I realize I never sent the money to pay for it. I emailed the organizer and wasn't at all surprised to receive a message back saying "I gave away your tables." Understandable, and I only have myself to blame.
In early August, I had an opportunity to get some hockey cards signed by one of my all-time favorite players. A forum I'm a member of had a notice that he'd be in the region at a hockey camp in mid-August and that one member would be present to collect stuff and get them signed. I'd already designed some cards with his image on them and my thought was: "Great. A little touch-up here and there and I can get these printed and mailed off." I needed to do about an hour's worth of work on them, save them on a portable flash drive (seriously, how convenient are these babies?) and get them printed at a local drugstore. Total time: 2 hours, max. Total cost: $3, including the envelope and stamp. The camp was mid-August and the day after it was over I realized the work I'd done never even made it to the flash drive. I'd missed out completely.
Around the same time, I'd received an email about a contest designing a goalie mask for the local NHL team. Sweet! A big chance to promote myself and my apparent-artistic abilities. I spent hours culling images and symbols for the mask to make it truly inspired and creative: suiting the personality of the goalie who would eventually wear it. The contest closed August 25th and I realized on September 2nd that I'd neither finished it nor, obviously, submitted it.
Another date missed. And another. And then another.
I'm mad at myself. I'm just behind in everything I'm doing and for everything I'm working on, there's never a completion. It just keeps going because I keep slipping. I need to change this NOW.
But I don't know how.
Even now in my little office, I have boxes stacked on boxes, games stacked on games, books & comics stacked on comics & books... and trading cards, and DVDs and rolled posters in the corner, a messy pile of clothes in the corner and an impressive array of empty cans close to my feet (and what could possibly go wrong there?).
I've always wanted to take a picture of my office for a professional website and have little links explaining different things on the walls and shelves:
- The comic picture on the wall which is the cover to a magazine that had my first published work.
- The enlarged picture from my trip to Scotland where it looks like we're all walking off the end of the world.
- The video game poster for the very first game I (proudly) worked on.
- My Cthulu action figure.
- The autographed hockey cards (designed by yours truly).
- My Weighted Companion Cube. And if you don't know what that is...
- The... boy, I hope that's an empty energy drink can.
Mostly things that slipped by without noticing until it was too late.
This problem has been getting exponentially worse over the past little while. I can look back over the past 8 weeks and see things where I told myself "You have time, it's still weeks away" to "It's a week away" to "It's tomorrow" to "Aw, crap."
In early July, I'd booked some tables to sell off some of my stuff that just won't make it to eBay because of the logistics of it all. There's value there, but the time to get it on eBay, sell it, pack it, and ship it is too much. But to put them in a box and say "this is the price" and hopefully sell a majority of it would be a boost. Early July I booked the tables for this weekend. And only yesterday did I realize I never sent the money to pay for it. I emailed the organizer and wasn't at all surprised to receive a message back saying "I gave away your tables." Understandable, and I only have myself to blame.
In early August, I had an opportunity to get some hockey cards signed by one of my all-time favorite players. A forum I'm a member of had a notice that he'd be in the region at a hockey camp in mid-August and that one member would be present to collect stuff and get them signed. I'd already designed some cards with his image on them and my thought was: "Great. A little touch-up here and there and I can get these printed and mailed off." I needed to do about an hour's worth of work on them, save them on a portable flash drive (seriously, how convenient are these babies?) and get them printed at a local drugstore. Total time: 2 hours, max. Total cost: $3, including the envelope and stamp. The camp was mid-August and the day after it was over I realized the work I'd done never even made it to the flash drive. I'd missed out completely.
Around the same time, I'd received an email about a contest designing a goalie mask for the local NHL team. Sweet! A big chance to promote myself and my apparent-artistic abilities. I spent hours culling images and symbols for the mask to make it truly inspired and creative: suiting the personality of the goalie who would eventually wear it. The contest closed August 25th and I realized on September 2nd that I'd neither finished it nor, obviously, submitted it.
Another date missed. And another. And then another.
I'm mad at myself. I'm just behind in everything I'm doing and for everything I'm working on, there's never a completion. It just keeps going because I keep slipping. I need to change this NOW.
But I don't know how.
Monday, September 01, 2008
Listen
I had a mini-"discussion" with my sister over Facebook the other day. She's totally hooked on the new Kid Rock song which just made me shake my head again and again. Kid Rock? Gah.
It's hard to believe we're related, my sister & I. We had a musical mini-meme (and I had to explain what a meme was...) and our tastes in music couldn't be more different.
Now to convince my sister to give it a try...
It's hard to believe we're related, my sister & I. We had a musical mini-meme (and I had to explain what a meme was...) and our tastes in music couldn't be more different.
- Where I'm listening to the Creaky Boards, she's listening to Kid Rock.
- Where I'm listening to Sufjan Stevens, she's listening to Def Leppard.
- Where I'm listening to Mock Orange, she's listening to Black Sabbath.
- Where I'm listening to the Stars, she's listening to Poison.
Now to convince my sister to give it a try...
Buddies
Dreama, for one, gets on my case about my love of women. I can't help it, I'm addicted.
:)
But, I will say, some situations I do not enter into on my own and this latest adventure can solely be blamed on my wife for both encouraging it and praising me for it! Praising!?! Yeah, I know!!
It all started when my father-in-law's stepsister and her family came to visit from the East Coast. I'd met the family once about 10 or so years earlier. Needless to say, there's not too much I remember about the family, except that the couple have 3 kids: twin boys and an older sister. I should have remembered that a lot can change in 10 years...
It was a hectic day at work and I was relieved to know that I could come home to a hot meal and visit with family. It's true, I like my wife's family better than my own, so what could be better than adding more family into the mix? I got to the house and walked through into the kitchen. I shook the uncle's hand "Hey, Uncle *** nice to see you again." I hugged his wife "Aunt ***, you look great!" A good wave to the boys: "Hey boys! Wow! You've grown!" And then I turned as the 18 year old daughter bounced into the room.
While my mouth said "hello" my brain had other words in mind. "Holy shit!" was pretty much the only words revolving up there. Beautiful, bouncy 18 year old blonde girl. My brain died in that instant.
To make matters worse, she gave me a huge hug. She was very excited to meet me because current job involves one of her favorite activities and my last job entailed her ultimate favorite activity. So, she was really wanting to meet me! And, needless to say, we had plenty to talk about. Dinner that Thursday night came and went. We continued talking about various things until I said I really had to get home (it was, at this point, close 1 in the morning and I leave for work at 6:30). So, another hug and off I went for home to sneak into bed and try my best not to feel like like some old pervert. My wife rolled over as I got into bed. All she said was "I"m so glad you two are getting along so well! Keep it up."
I think all I managed to say was "Yuh-huh."
Friday was a difficult day at work: I was tired. And I also had to tell my friends about the hot blonde I was encouraged to spend time with the night before. I love being a "hero."
When I got home that night, it was back to the in-laws' for dinner again. The dinner conversation all seemed to revolve around this poor girl's inability to keep her bathing suit top on whenever she goes swimming. I heard stories of her brothers loosening her top on her and stories of her diving prowess and to come up out of the water sans top. It was almost too much for my imagination to take. And the the uncle asked the big question: "What are our plans for tomorrow?" Without a moment's hesitation, the wrong brain of mine spoke:
"We could go to the beach."
Silence. No one spoke for a few moments. And then, the uncle nodded his head "The beach sounds great."
What?! No one should be listening to me at this stage, especially the father of the 18 year old hottie who can't keep her bathing suit on. Why are they listening to me!?!
Aside from spending a Saturday at the beach, we also went shopping in various locations around Vancouver and had a great dinner at the only restaurant close to work that I had yet to try. And no, fortunately for my mental condition, the girl did not lose her top at the beach (but was still quite the sight to see.
We stayed up late Friday night talking, until around 2am. After a busy Saturday, I'd planned on getting to bed early, but my wife convinced me to entertain the girl when she came over that night to play Guitar Hero. We played games and talked until 4. Sunday was more of the same and I was definitely feeling the effects of being... 29 (dammit!) to her 18. I was a slug getting to work on Monday. I had a couple pictures on my phone which I shared with the guys. Most saw me as a super hero by that point. That's me: Pervo, the Sleepless Man!
The family left early Tuesday morning. As sad as I am to think my new buddy is en route for home, I'm also really really happy I can finally calm down and get some sleep. I"m not built for 18 year olds. It was a great lesson my buddy taught me.
:)
But, I will say, some situations I do not enter into on my own and this latest adventure can solely be blamed on my wife for both encouraging it and praising me for it! Praising!?! Yeah, I know!!
It all started when my father-in-law's stepsister and her family came to visit from the East Coast. I'd met the family once about 10 or so years earlier. Needless to say, there's not too much I remember about the family, except that the couple have 3 kids: twin boys and an older sister. I should have remembered that a lot can change in 10 years...
It was a hectic day at work and I was relieved to know that I could come home to a hot meal and visit with family. It's true, I like my wife's family better than my own, so what could be better than adding more family into the mix? I got to the house and walked through into the kitchen. I shook the uncle's hand "Hey, Uncle *** nice to see you again." I hugged his wife "Aunt ***, you look great!" A good wave to the boys: "Hey boys! Wow! You've grown!" And then I turned as the 18 year old daughter bounced into the room.
While my mouth said "hello" my brain had other words in mind. "Holy shit!" was pretty much the only words revolving up there. Beautiful, bouncy 18 year old blonde girl. My brain died in that instant.
To make matters worse, she gave me a huge hug. She was very excited to meet me because current job involves one of her favorite activities and my last job entailed her ultimate favorite activity. So, she was really wanting to meet me! And, needless to say, we had plenty to talk about. Dinner that Thursday night came and went. We continued talking about various things until I said I really had to get home (it was, at this point, close 1 in the morning and I leave for work at 6:30). So, another hug and off I went for home to sneak into bed and try my best not to feel like like some old pervert. My wife rolled over as I got into bed. All she said was "I"m so glad you two are getting along so well! Keep it up."
I think all I managed to say was "Yuh-huh."
Friday was a difficult day at work: I was tired. And I also had to tell my friends about the hot blonde I was encouraged to spend time with the night before. I love being a "hero."
When I got home that night, it was back to the in-laws' for dinner again. The dinner conversation all seemed to revolve around this poor girl's inability to keep her bathing suit top on whenever she goes swimming. I heard stories of her brothers loosening her top on her and stories of her diving prowess and to come up out of the water sans top. It was almost too much for my imagination to take. And the the uncle asked the big question: "What are our plans for tomorrow?" Without a moment's hesitation, the wrong brain of mine spoke:
"We could go to the beach."
Silence. No one spoke for a few moments. And then, the uncle nodded his head "The beach sounds great."
What?! No one should be listening to me at this stage, especially the father of the 18 year old hottie who can't keep her bathing suit on. Why are they listening to me!?!
Aside from spending a Saturday at the beach, we also went shopping in various locations around Vancouver and had a great dinner at the only restaurant close to work that I had yet to try. And no, fortunately for my mental condition, the girl did not lose her top at the beach (but was still quite the sight to see.
We stayed up late Friday night talking, until around 2am. After a busy Saturday, I'd planned on getting to bed early, but my wife convinced me to entertain the girl when she came over that night to play Guitar Hero. We played games and talked until 4. Sunday was more of the same and I was definitely feeling the effects of being... 29 (dammit!) to her 18. I was a slug getting to work on Monday. I had a couple pictures on my phone which I shared with the guys. Most saw me as a super hero by that point. That's me: Pervo, the Sleepless Man!
The family left early Tuesday morning. As sad as I am to think my new buddy is en route for home, I'm also really really happy I can finally calm down and get some sleep. I"m not built for 18 year olds. It was a great lesson my buddy taught me.
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