Monday, May 30, 2011

4:04 AM (Error)

Logic not found.

So, this is something that is slowly driving me nuts, and that is, logically, there is no significance to be associated with strings of identical numbers, especially date/time stamps. There just isn't, really. So why does the brain latch onto them? Why does that pop up everywhere as something of significance?

Well, like a lot of other answers given: most writers are human, and most readers are human. Human brains are hard-wired toward pattern recognition and the easiest, most obvious pattern is 11:11 11/11/'11 (which happens once or twice per time zone this year, incidentally, depending on if you use military time or not.)

I latch most often onto a string of 1s, if it was non-obvious. 3:33 too.

Short, thumb-typed post because I'm going to enjoy the weekend with a minimum of stress. Delicious holiday pay and rest. Monday is a normal day off for me but hey, getting paid for nothing is kind of awesome.

Money is also kind of awesome.

Oh, two things: one, is anyone else weirded out by M's description (the yellow hoodie mostly) cropping up in the latest Marble Hornets? I'm aware most of the Mythos regards MH as Not Real But Entertaining And Probably Ruined Your Life, while The Tutorial gets an Is Real And Should Be Your First Stop, but it's still creepy.

Two: expect some gushing in the non-distant future about both Rift and League of Legends. That'd be because they're how I'm currently passing my free time. (My otherwise empty work hours are sort-of dedicated to this cross-stitch pattern I'm working on.)

Lastly, why the title? That's when I started this post, silly! ... It's raining again.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Marker board freewrite

Going up now because I'm thinking about it. Bit early. Bought a marker board for work.
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Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Humans Through Alien Eyes

They inhabit fragile, constantly-dying bodies. More than three-quarters of their mass is fluid, yet they are functionally solid. As suggested by this contradiction of terms, they are exceptionally flexible and mobile entities. However, they are also quite resilient against all manner of threat.

They require sustenance at least once per full rotation of their home planet, or they become diminished in both mental and physical capacities. They consume, as is to be expected, a significant quantity of fluids to maintain an optimal balance. However, they also consume organic matter, generally obtaining such from other deceased life-forms.

When damaged, they often vocalize to signify distress. Depending on the exact kind of damage, they may also secrete fluids. However, it is not unheard-of for their greasy outermost layer to interfere with the secretion of fluids, so instead, such fluids will gather underneath the outermost layer, resulting in discoloration of same. If damage of either nature occurs in the topmost portion of the body, cerebral and/or motor functions may become impaired, resulting in debilitations up to and including death. Damage can also occur in the solid portions of the body, most commonly in the form of fractures or breaks in the bone structure. This may also result in disability.

In regards to physical form, they are generally symmetrical, with two of almost every major piece, although often, the "superfluous" second part is still vital to normal function. To elaborate on this point: they are possessed of two eyes, two ears, two brains, two arms, two legs, two hands, two feet. Even the external parts that are not duplicated are, instead, bifurcated, such as the nose (with its two nostrils) and tongue (subtly split along a center line.) In addition, even several internal organs are also duplicated, and in most cases, the organism is capable of normal function even after the removal of the superfluous unit.

They walk with an impractical, bipedal gait, in which they deliberately throw themselves off-balance, then catch themselves, using the forward momentum so generated to propel themselves along. While walking, they often appear as though they are about to collapse entirely. Were it not for developed reflexes, not to say an incredibly acute sense of balance, it is apparent that they would.

The human condition seems to be one of embracing dualism and inconsistency.

Culturally, they tend to be very warlike and often will not surrender except to improve their own position.

Use caution.
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Monday, May 23, 2011


These broken walls trap me inside
I'm isolated ....

Or: This is why we can't have nice things.

I'm still debating on whether or not to post this, especially as it's become kind of a moot point, anyway.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: you can't trust people. Everyone hurts everyone else, and, ultimately, everyone is in it only for themselves. Anyone who tells you otherwise is either too naive to know the truth - or they're trying to get something from you.

This is also why I didn't get to go to Heaven for the Rapture, see?

I'm going to be honest here, since it's damn near impossible to open up in real life.

Cold words on a blank screen, no?

I can't hang onto friendships in real life. The closest I come is these near-intangible online relationships. It's just too much risk to allow anyone close to me into my heart, also.

And I'm not even a Runner. Hah.

Of course, it doesn't help any that I'm a loner-type to begin with, I don't smoke, I don't drink, I don't do drugs. I don't go out and par-tay, so it's not like I'm terribly likely to meet people. And most of the people in this city don't exactly share my interests, either - and the ones that do, I've already happily cut myself off from as well. Bastards probably don't even know or care why. Fuck 'em.

Why is that, that I can't bring myself to open up?

Fear, mostly.

Every gods-damned time I've left the door open, left myself vulnerable that way, opened up fully to another person, I've been hurt. Every time I've seen others do the same, they've been hurt. It's a weakness and a liability, and it's a stupid, avoidable one at that.

And what benefits does it give? This weakness so many people allow themselves to entertain? You can't say procreation, because broken homes wouldn't exist if both parents were necessary for the raising of the child after that initial conception - and that initial conception often, and easily, occurs in moments of physical passion, rather than emotional attachment. One could suggest instead companionship, love, friendship ... it is true that humankind is composed of social creatures. If they do not receive enough social contact in their formative years, humans lose an enormous chunk of that spark that lends them sentience. As to the actual ties, however ... they don't seem necessary to one's survival.

Just a vulnerability. Just an avenue for hurt.

Being with, or even near, other people also compels change. Generally it's small and ignorable over any distance, but in close, physical proximity, it makes itself known acutely. Living with another person forces you to plan around them, work around them. Your defenses have to incorporate them, or you risk hurting them - and by extension, yourself. It limits your freedoms, forces all manner of unnecessary restrictions on you. And then even if they don't hurt you themselves, then they die, or leave, and you're hurting anyway.

And, for what?

All of the benefits, save perhaps pooled fiscal resources and an extra eye to those defenses, are fully intangible. Companionship, love, whatever you want to call it, you know what that really is?

"I've got a knife lodged in my back, I just don't know it yet."

Yes, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of weakness. I'm afraid of vulnerability. I'm afraid of being forced to change, and I'm afraid of things changing around me. I'm fucking terrified of forming any kind of bond with any other person, because doing so is basically synonymous with being hurt - and I'm afraid of pain.

What kind of psychotic, reckless fool isn't?

I'm here alone
And isolated ....

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

You All Meet In A Tavern

Or: But I don't even drink!

So, tavern-based roleplay. It's like a single's club for dark, brooding, sociopathic menaces to society. I haven't had to stoop to this in a while.

Tavern roleplay, like the aforementioned single's club, is a great way to meet people. The very nature of the place demands people attend. My very first experiences in roleplay, in fact, were through tavern RP - in ancient MSN chat rooms where typing speed determined victory - no lie! Nowadays, if your characters get into a violent conflict of interest and the other guy responds with a rapid-fire series of posts detailing the utterly one-sided victory he's just stolen from your battered corpse, you turn and walk away, slapping him with an /ignore so fast their head spins clean off.

At least, that's what I do.

So, anyway, there are some benefits to tavern RP, but there are some drawbacks as well. Like I mentioned up there in the subtitle (who reads those anyway?), the tavern just isn't the place for everybody. Raise your hand if, like me, you've never set foot in a bar for recreational purposes.

Now, put your hand down; you look kind of silly.

I imagine anyway. No, I really can't see you.

The point is, not every character is going to work well in a tavern. Shy characters and claustrophobes spring to mind. Honestly, would Loner McWoodsy - the high elven ranger so feral he understands his wolf companion better than other people - really spend much time in any civilized establishment at all? Really?

No, not really.

That's what I thought.

Not only that, but what about all these great warriors, mages, healers, and little kids? (I've seen it.) I'm reminded of the scene in the original Mass Effect where Shepard tells off General Septimus for acting like a drunkard instead of the proud military man he's supposed to be.

Assassins I can forgive, since they need a place to meet up with potential employers but ...

I guess what I'm trying to say is, if tavern RP is the only kind of RP you have on your server, there's a problem. And the problem is only highlighted, underscored, italicized, and in bold print when even that's nonextant.

So I moved servers. I'm quite content with the change.

Nothing else to report though.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

It's Late

I'm idly curious.

Edit: ....What the god damn hell was I smoking when I went to bed last night? This is a dream journal post... I might refrain from doing those in the future. W.t.f. Hilariously, I started tapping the majority of this out at 5:55 this morning, too. Also correcting typos.

So, ramble-y, post ahead.

Eldritch Abomination dragons & talking to them -sense of, "cannot be fully understood."

Kind of as an elf/storyteller thing. Keeping "the old ways" alive?

Wanting to sing, "March of Cambreadth" despite not really knowing where Cambreadth is.

Never stopped me IRL.

Talked to a man for a big chunk of it too. When did I have time to do that? Can't remember anything I said or anything about him. Odd.

Kind of an Irish or something countryside and a lot of random travel.

Being briefly stuck in some kind of spirit world, incorporeal. Three layers. Need money to rematerialize? 5c, 5s, or 5g depending on the level. Cheapest to do one at time.

Earth dragon - black - for history and old things, blue dragon for knowledge.

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Friday, May 13, 2011

Not Much To Say

Same crap different day.

Rift is a very fun game. I am pleased.

Don't really have a lot of time. Not a lot going on in my head right now. Security is apparently tightening up again.


Leave you all with haiku.

Gold rains from the sky
In a very subtle plot
Coins cause concussions

Deceive everyone
With the new wardrobe feature
Mage in miniskirt

Death rains from above
Seeping in from foreign planes
The world in peril

Monday, May 9, 2011



"Hey, look!" My coworker finally gets my attention. I trail off in the middle of explaining that no, I can't help him; he's got entirely the wrong company to help him, why the hell was he calling me?
Small, black, probably harmless, size of a thumbnail.
Everything freezes. Can't hear anything.
Calm. Calm.
Pick up large flat plastic pattern-piece.
Slow, still.
Crumpled up, broken, tiny.
Dead, crushed.
Sound returns.
Can't focus.
More of them?
No. Probably not.
I don't care about your problem, there's a spider.
Don't say that out loud.
Finish explaining who to call.
Under my chair, no, under the desk, no, behind the computer, no, no, no.
He's gone, type something basic, don't care, going to lunch half-an-hour early, need to calm my nerves. Don't even care.
So, hey, I'm a bit of an arachnophobe.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

What Do You Mean It's Not Symbolic?

A note from the author-thing: forgive me: on reviewing this it's really, really choppy. And I really didn't check out the symbolism, it pretty much just wrote itself from memory. Oh - next week is going to be hellish, for my work schedule, so I may not post much or lengthy. Starting Friday.
The mind wraps its secrets in symbols.

I don't really like bathing much.

Everything's a symbol, you know?

Sword's a symbol. In this case, it's protection - the best defense being a good offense, you know? One sword.

Water's a symbol. Usually life. In a cup, overflowing, it's emotion, and the connections between people. Three cups total, counting the sing which leaks and therefore never gets used.

Nudity's symbolic. Why do you think "naked in front of a crowd" is such a common recurring dream?

Know what that symbolizes? Vulnerability.

I really don't like bathing.

Three wands, for use on my ears, and with my pentagram that's a full representation of the suits, isn't it?

Single lightbulb? Thought, idea, knowledge, reason, action. "It is better to light a single candle than curse the darkness." Two burned out bulbs. Only one left. Alone in the end.

Everything's a symbol.

Hell, even the hair caught in my brush is a symbol - think, "personal effects for creepy voodoo ritual." Squick.

Ceiling's red. Rage, fire, power, life.

Claustrophobic, tiny little windowless room. Cramped mental space.

Locks and doors are symbols of protection - but you never know what's on the other side of a closed door.

Mirrors, obviously.

Reach far enough and the massive skin irritation from hard water can even be symbolic. Say - let yourself become unguarded against the onslaught of raw emotion and get hurt/inconvenienced/annoyed.

The handprint on the foggy mirror? (Still there from weeks ago, incidentally.)

It's already inside the room.

Y'know, or something.

Monday, May 2, 2011

This Last Weekend

Or - if you don't like a certain Internet meme, you can stop reading here and come back Wednesday for the Tarot motifs.

The Black Rook fell, and when he went, he went to Retirony.

I feel like I've lost a friend, which is ... odd. I've never met the man, never done more than trade words in passing. But the world seems ... slightly less safe now that there's one less Player in the Game.

I've got this odd ... belief system that's sprung up without me being fully aware it's happening. The idea is, the more people the Tall Man is following, the safer nobodies like me are - even if we actively choose to taunt Him from our safe, sheltered homes. (This whole thing being moronic anyway. I'm well aware it's just a meme gah.)

I wouldn't be a very interesting protagonist anyway. I've got no friends IRL, I don't remember dialogue, and the "Runner slowly goes insane while ignoring The Rules" plot looks to have been pretty much done to death. No? Yes.

I dunno. Finished actually reading The Tutorial, and then I finished Vivere Disce and left a nice little comment or something. Now there's a happy blog, though, isn't there. Didn't I mention somewhere that the idea of Proxies was more chilling to me than things which should not be?

My sense of time, location, and balance are all already fucked, what's reality itself thrown into the mix, anyway?

But humans are bastards. That's unquestionably true. And giving someone who's already a bit unhinged a reason to target me seems ... unwise.

I guess what I'm trying to say is: there's really nothing the Slender Man could do to me that a particularly determined psycho with a grudge couldn't - and there are lots and lots of those running around, while there's only one of Him.

There's a reason M warns against the other homeless people.

Oh. And the other night some fucker got into and rifled through my car. Thanks, asshole.

Fucking drug neighborhood.