Not about work

Work is about all I've been doing lately.  Dealing with District Managers, holiday business, and things breaking.  I started several posts recently, but they were all just a bunch of complaining about work, so I ended up deleting them.  This post will not be about work.

So I'm going to write about something that happened a while ago.  A dream, actually.

I was with Laura in my San Francisco dreamscape, hanging out with awesome creators like Kaya Foglio, Shaenon Garrity and others.  When we first met, Laura and I hit it off, but starting a long distance relationship is difficult and whatever spark there had been at the beginning between us faded.  Later, she moved to Denver and I hoped we might be able to rekindle something.  No luck, unfortunately.  Somehow one of those situations was forming in the dream, and I was considering trying to make another pass.

Laura left the appartment to find a bathroom, because apparnetly the one there was filled with carrots (nobody was willing to explain why).  As soon as she left, someone turned to me and said that it wasn't cool what I was doing to Laura.  I told her I didn't understand, so she explained.  By trying to get in close every time we were hanging out together, I wasn't being a very good friend.  I would interperet any opening or supposed innuendo as an invitation.  It meant she always had to be on guard when I was around.

I realized she was right; it was a sobering thought.  Some of the best and closest friendships I've had have been ruined by exactly that kind of crap getting in the way.  I resolved right then that there would be no more passes, drunken or otherwise.  I wasn't too keen on giving up the possibility of a relationship, but the dream was right that it wasn't fair to put Laura in that situation.

And that was my last San Fancisco epiphany.

Writers group meeting at the bar

We had, in my opinion, our first successful writers' group meeting last night.  Mostly because it was more than just shuffling our feet and trying to figure out what we should be doing.  The goal we'd set for ourselves this week was to write and bring in 3-5 pages.  There had been a couple of half-hearted attempts, but I was the only one who actually had 3.5 pages with me (the beginning of The Underground Lecturehall).  Even so, we were able to discuss a lot about styles and what we do to get ideas and how we go about writing something.  My style was described as Orwellian.  And while I'm not sure it's entirely accurate, it's an awesome compliment to receive.

The most amazing compliment though, was that they were interested and wanted to read more.  That's something that in my memory has never happened before.  It seems like all my life I've had to beg and plead with friends and family to read what I've written.  Even when they actually do read it, feedback always comes in the form of, "Well, that's... um... a very well-written story.  You should keep it up."  In other words, it's clear that although they thought it was probably good work, they themselves either didn't like it or just plain didn't get it.  Thus discouraged, I return to my typewriter to try again.

Why have I kept it up, in spite of an overwhelming lack of interest?  The truth is that in the end, the only person I really write for is myself.  It wouldn't bother me even if the rest of the world declares that I am to writing what Vogons are to poetry.  Okay, maybe a little.  But the thought would never even cross my mind to actually stop writing.  I'd go crazy after more than a couple of months without some kind of creative outlet.  The only thing that would probably happen is that I would just stop showing my stuff to other people.

But these people actually liked it enough that they wanted to read more?  I didn't know what to say.  I can't wait to read what they bring in next time.

Sleepless weekend

I tapped into some inspiration last week and was going almost non-stop from Friday to Sunday, not counting those pointless hours spent working at the theatre.  Last night my endurance finally ran out after about sixty sleepless hours and I was forced to drag myself to bed.

It's odd.  While in the midst of my marathon, my mind was clear and sharp.  My muscles were sore and protesting the lack of rest, and toward the end I started drifting a bit and seeing imaginary movement in the corner of my eye, but for the most part I was fully coherent.  Now, after twelve hours of sleep, my brain feels like mush.  You'd think it would be the other way around.

The motion detector in the driveway doesn't extend very far, so it always switches itself off when I'm about halfway up the stairs.  It's also the spot where the trees block out the streetlight on the corner, and I find myself in a moment of complete darkness.  I love how clear the stars are in the mountains at night, and last night was a clear, moonless night.  Even as bone-weary as I was, when the light went out I stood there and stared up at the sky for a few minutes.  In that time three shooting stars fell, each in a different direction.  Another cool thing about having so little atmosphere between myself and the sky is that shooting stars are brighter too.

I missed my deadline for November, so I'll have to repay it with three works this month.

New video game: Fallout New Vegas

I got my hands on the Fallout: New Vegas game on Friday, and it's just as amazing as the last Fallout game!  There're stories, and moral decisions to be made, and all kinds of subtleties that aren't dumbed down for your benefit.

Really, it's the stories that I enjoy the most.  That's why I just can't get into MMORPGs like World of Warcraft and other games that are played primarily online.  Most of the time the only story aspect they have is long and floral prologue that sets the stage for the current situation.  After that it's just a bunch of aimless running around and fighting, with no real story progression.  Because if there was a point where you could win and end the story, you'd stop playing and stop paying those monthly online fees.  Unfortunately it's those types of games that make the most money, so they're the ones everyone's making now.

Another thing I especially enjoy is having the ability to make game-affecting choices.  Should I side with the escaped convicts, or the townspeople?  Should I take the bribe, or turn this murderer in?  Of course, I enjoy playing the hero, so I almost always choose to be the good guy anyway.  But it's fun to know that there was an actual choice to be made.