Stable as a One-Legged Table

17062_6575So you didn’t get rid of me that easily.

Though you should have because I don’t have anything new today.  I’m tangentially aware mostly by Internet osmosis that the Broncos won which I would say would keep people in a good mood tomorrow, but that hardly matters because I’m not really planning on seeing more than a handful.

Mostly, I’ve got my head in a whole other kind of game where I’m leaping around looking for shards and forgetting that this isn’t Assassin’s Creed and my character. It’s Dragon Age: Inquisition and I love it tremendously.  With the XBox controller on my PC, I am incredibly wibbly and wobbly and I have to pay attention so that I don’t run off of a parapet or something.  I am constantly throwing myself off the stairs when I don’t mean to and some times my character gets all mashed up because of it.  Which isn’t always a great thing when you can run around the corner and see a goddamned giant or a dragon or a bastard of a boss fight and suddenly, you’re dead because earlier you just ran off the stairs like your legs don’t work.  But actually my fingers don’t work.  But she doesn’t know that.  She’s just a clumsy spaz in her own reckoning, which I do like, because she needs a little humility given everything that’s going on in her little neck of Thedas.  I can relate.

I keep thinking that I shouldn’t write about gaming or how much I game (particularly Bioware, but not exclusively) because the general populace doesn’t truck with that.  I guess on some levels (levels, hah, see, ahem), I get that a piece of the puzzle is how I use my time.  But this makes me happy…

Speaking of my character.  From some angles I love her, from others, I despair for her soul.  And I no longer like her makeup, and I picked the worst possible hair, which is sort of a quasi-lady mullet and it’s only been like fifty hours of staring at her probably in much the same way as I would stare at myself if I allowed myself to be as self-absorbed as I come off here, but I think it doesn’t suit her at all the way I thought it did in the character generator.  Imagine if Miranda from Sex and the City and Brienne of Tarth had a lanky supermodel baby.  That is my character.  I made that.  On purpose.  And she has already macked on people with that face.  Also, she sometimes runs around in a really terrible outfit I would love to beable to change, but you CAN’T.  Also, I’m a human, which means certain things in the game – thus far – and already I’m figuring out my next run-through because you can already tell that changing up a few things will change up a ton of other things.

So that’s my life for the next fifty to two hundred next hours.  I did show up here, which is promising, and I am not dead, though I have questions about my current state of well-being.

Stealers Cove: Day One Hundred Forty-One

899900_89265830I am right in the midst of disbelieving that I have to go to work tomorrow.   After a rather lackadaisical week where the boss not being there and telling me she didn’t care when I came or went so long as things got done (well, she put it much more nicely than that) and where I came closer than possibly ever to the idea that I want to quit (it being a given that I want to quit from, but the much more important part, really is where I would go to and that’s not even begun to be processed) my job – now I have to  bottle all the loose anguish and get my shit together.   Sorry for the crazy sentence construction there.

I have…been angelic in some areas (food, exercise, keeping up for one week this idea of eating properly) and I have been pretty terrible in others(spending half the day accidentally playing Civ V.)   If I wonder, and sometimes, I must admit I do, where the time goes and why I’m not able to corral myself and behalf with intensity in the direction of my dreams.   Why I’m always short on time when it comes to the big ideas.  Well, it’s because five hours in a row slipped away while Montezuma crushed his enemies and eventually went into space.  That and I’m petrified to force myself to be exposed to anything that might make me stronger.   In part, I’m sure, because in order to get over that mental bridge you have to settle yourself down, strap yourself in and say, I am not the sort of person who can give more than an hour a day of her very precious time over to the video games.

That said, I have Bioshock: Infinite on as I type this.  I took a break because it is only a little bit petrifying.  I’m one of the few, I’m sure who ended up playing the base game without playing the original two, so now that we’re in the setting of the first two (is that a spoiler?, apologies if it is, but surely if you know enough about this to care one way or the other, you’ve already played it), I’m properly unnerved.  So this is a break from that as the room gets extra dark and I have to contemplate what else to have to eat because I know my calories are under.

I should mention that today was our belated mother’s day celebration, which was extra nice because of the little scare my mother had yesterday.   We got lost for 30 seconds until she remembered the right name and location of the restaurant she wanted us to go to – but we did get there.  And I did eat something that was not a pancake or a waffle or anything syrupy.  If I’m dead honest, it was a bit bland, but I’m so glad she had a good time with all of us there and we could be grateful.  You know, as you do.

Weird post, sorry! 

 

 

Vox Populi: Day Thirty-One

I am somewhat sure that in the archives is a post called Vox Populi.  I checked and…apparently not.  Perhaps another blog, another time.  Which fits, I think with the game from which I’ve filched the title, my dear new (only to me) Bioshock Infinite.  I’ve done my best to take breaks today and clean counters and re-apply blankets to couches and empty the dishwasher, etc.  Also, I’ve been distracted by the snowtide which has seemed to come in and out on our shores and what had melted off and left black asphalt has now returned and coated nearly everything in white again. However, now I’ve been pulled pretty deeply into the magic of the game world so I have to be mindful of the time and my hunger and caring for myself.

I told myself, self, I said, dear self, if you’re going to pause the game, then you’d ought to take a moment and write a hundred words or so and then go back to playing so that the job will be done sooner rather than later and you’ll be back to devoting your full attention to this compelling universe.  Better that than raging at yourself for not being able to make a storm pattern move out of the sky.

I suppose of note is I think today is the 1500th post on this blog.  I have been blogging daily essentially since January 1, 2010, though there were thirteen or so posts that were written in 2008 and 2009 before I had the epiphany that demanded this task of me.  It has helped, or at least it has never hurt, though some nights I’ve been sick and some nights I’ve been miserable with pains not of the flesh.  It has been a constant and it’s important, in my estimation, to now and again put down in words the value of being somewhere, on paper, every day.  That I’m doing something – something that feels right to me even if it isn’t curing cancer or fighting terrorists or travelling to the moon.

My confidence is the thing it gives me.  

And so with confidence, I can report that this diet thing is happening at the moment.  I cannot speak to forevers, forevers are a mighty long time away from now, and I can say that I have done it imperfectly, with diet aids and salted meats, but I feel better.  In most ways.  When you sit in one spot stewing in your own anxieties, the spoilage is fairly unavoidable, but I’m more than ready to cut out the oxidized bits and continue tomorrow with these good thoughts in mind.  Got another whole day of weekend, got a Super Bowl party, got more to do and play and be and feel.  So yeah, it isn’t as sour as it felt an hour ago as I was sitting in the dark, gaming away.

Since I’m going to Italy and there may be the tiniest chance that I’ll have an excuse to tack on going to England for that trip, any and all of this is going to pay off.  It’s not just for some boy or for some future I keep shunning, it’s for a real situation where everything will be benefited by a strong body, an open heart, and lots of this confidence coming from all sides.

Boo meet yah?

Okay, that’s the worst.  I’m going now.  For REAL.

Neutral Good: Day Fifteen

Okay, so here’s the five hundred word dash.

I’ve had a very good Saturday and I want to squeeze the last little bit of juice out of it before I have to collapse into bed, so I know you’ll forgive me if I rush along and make perhaps less sense than the typically tiny iota of reason that I provide here.

It was good because I cleaned like a madwoman for a while and got the massive wads of clothing in my room sorted a bit – winter clothes out, summer clothes put back away. There is a great deal of floor visible in my room.   Now I have that second level cleaning that is so hard for me to do for some reason – the detail work, pulling books out of the bookshelf and organizing them so everything isn’t sideways and full of askew paperwork.   But a major chunk is done, with lots of clothes set aside to give away that I don’t care about whatsover and were just bulk in my closet.   The cleaning, too, was really physical, and given that I was at it for four hours or so, I feel like that I got something of a workout in.  Even if the Pandora 80’s Cardio channel did not live up to the hype.  Come On Eileen is not exactly going to get your heart pumping.

So I’m proud about that.  Also proud that I did not eat terribly and I did not cave to hunger and make a bad decision and actually ate vegetables today which were fresh and delicious and filling along with some sugar-free teriyaki sauce.  I added in some carrots because it’s been two weeks without them, so we’ll see if some carrot apocalypse will come down on my head as a result.   Unfortunately, I’ve been so home-bound and stuck-in, cleaning and watching the Broncos fight it out and win over the Cowboys, that the grocery store trip I needed to make didn’t happen.  So I’m telling myself I can just get some and put it on ice when I get to work.  Or just have coffee, though that doesn’t exactly make me super happy and I think will lead me to gnawing feelings in my stomach and Monday stress + hunger typically leads me into bad places.  So, we’ll do what we can to avoid that.

I have played some games in here – to distract me from all of this work that depresses me and interspersing the two actually has made me relatively productive.  But I apparently killed the wrong rakshasa in Neverwinter Nights: Hordes of the Underdark and I’ve spent way too long trying to figure out how to get around that without having to go back to a way earlier save point and now I have the item code that should be a good workaround and that’s the reason I’m putting so much haste into today’s post.

Suffice to say, I am good.  I feel like a very industrious Anna Bates, you know, before she fell in love with Mr. Bates.  Just neutral good.

Last Minute Sally

It’s funny how you can be happy and freaked and miserable and calm all at once, and all below the surface.  Story of my life, really, but I made some progress today if only just for knowing a little bit more about what the problems are and putting out a few potentially hot fires, kicking the can down the road for a few more days on the rest of them.

Yeah, I need to go on a diet.  Not for anyone but myself.

I just played through the Omega DLC for Mass Effect 3 and two things I knew would happen certainly did.  One, I loved it.  I loved being back in that world and omni-blading through upgraded and revved-up mechs and letting Ms. Shepard do her thing.  But also, two, and it follows that because of the nature of DLC, it’s kind of depressing that Shepard will never get to chat to anyone about the events she just went through because they didn’t record responses for everyone on board.  It was never going to happen, but now I’m just watching her shift her weight on the crew deck and because I’m tired and have so many other things going, it’s going to be ages until I play through with her again especially given the ending.

Okay, yeah, the computer just died and with it all my motivation for life.  Sorry.  I have to rush and now I…just….yes.  Okay, time to get all that composure back and write something beautiful about the weather or something.

But really, the weather has been the biggest blessing this year.  I know that I would be out of my everloving skull right now if on top of all of my work stress and life stress, if I also had the pressure of snow driving on my head.  I think I’d just give up.  Go pack a bag and jump off the side of a cliff or something.  It’s been in the low 60’s all week and will be through our big holiday outdoor event extravaganza on Friday, and foreseeably, the parades on Saturday.  Not having to navigate that is such a relief.  I know this just happened this year and really, it’s not exactly nice to prance around singing the praises of global warming for the hugely selfish reasons I have…but Al Gore can suck it right now.

Went to the party tonight.  Wore my regular work outfit, not the green dress, but felt alright about it since I had makeup on and my hair was alright and I got compliments that I looked okay and there were boys.  Men, I guess, if you want to be technical.  And I sort of sat at my desk and watched them mingle with other single girls, having provided them this lovely ambiance for mingling, and felt…it wasn’t nothing and it wasn’t something.  It was just a twinge.

Cotton mouth and an urge to vomit.  What a way to leave you.  Sorry I’m such a last minute Sally.

You should cross my path tomorrow.  Just by accident.   We don’t have to say hello.  Just nod a bit, and know.

Gamer Funk

Well, we all know what is coming.  My frantic admission that my five hundred words today will be mostly made up of completely meaningless wordplay, double talk, and slyly constructed, but entirely weightless rhetoric.   This is Saturday and I know I should give it my all, but I’m engrossed in my game and being here and focusing on the creative aspect of myself: the writer persona, is grating.

I’m enjoying someone else’s creative turn, the epic immersion of working a character up through a grandly-paced game, feeling her experience grow as she gets stronger and faster and smarter and suffers all the slings and arrows that the game makers can throw at her.  It does make me think about how nice it would be to be able to give someone else that completely fluid and three-dimensional experience through my writing.  To leave someone absolutely drooling with the vividness of this invented world and the richness of character.  It would be well beyond nice, it would be reaching a bucket list type of goal.

Someday, it will happen.  It’ll happen when and if I put the work in to write and edit my work and let myself free of the shackles that say if I write or do something even in rough draft form that isn’t perfect, we’ll all go up in smoke and be revealed as the great, royal frauds we are.

But, my dearest ones, today is not that day.  Being here and talking about the frame of things (quite appropriate to Dragon Age 2, though) is not quite getting to the meat.  I think I don’t know how to carve right to the quick, but it probably would be an easier feat if I had a point in advance of my beginning to write.   I have no point.  Just the effort of circuitous writing to prove that I am not just twisting in the wind as some soulless administrative assistant beating her head against the desk in between coffee runs and complete meltdowns.

Let’s not think about meltdowns.  I am happy to report that I have at least conquered one aspect of the deadly “gamer funk” and got myself up and washed and moved out of this blissful self-induced coma that marathon gaming provides.  We were talking about it in the car today when my sister mentioned going to a midnight game release at a local Gamestop.  The overwhelming gamer funk.   It’s the smell of decay, and sweat, and food and settling into your greasy clothes and rubbing your orangey, snack food caked fingers all over your face and not caring because you are in your zone.

I can get in that zone, uh, I’d like to say to a degree.  I like to cut off access to all the parts of myself that so disapprove and are so critical and just play.  But at the same time, the game will eventually come to a close and the story will have to end and reality will return and the solid truth will look you in the mirror that there’s never a bad time for a bath. Just splash some water on yourself.  Please.

Think about it, won’t you?  Thank you.

Deathless Prose

It’s over.  Almost.  My poor Shepard.  Poor me, really, who has to wait these long months until she can can have another immersive adventure being the woman who can do anything and for a friend, would.  There’s nothing left to do, no planets left to explore, no new missions.  I told myself I wouldn’t allow myself this awkward post-game funk, but here it is.

Wait, what?!

Okay.  Okay.

Let’s talk about the new plans.

The new plan is a single thing.  Get through this week without falling into crazy food situations and I’ll consider it good.  This week is the culmination of six months of major events for me.  Once this Saturday is over, I’ll be my own person again.  Or at least I’ll go on vacation for an extended weekend and then I’ll be my own, home-bodied person again. Maybe start working on some writing projects.   I have been wicked stressed and…yes, wicked stressed…and dealing with everything has sucked.  Let’s be frank.  It’s been a huge catalyst for me not being able to be on track with anything the first three months of the year promised.  This is the cycle and while I haven’t been able to figure out a way around it, at least I know that it exists and until I do find a way around it, spring and summer –  event season – is going to throw everything diet wise out of whack.  And that’s a long time for a lot of damage to be done, believe me.

Today has been a fire sale day.  All carbs must go.   Just this aggressive eating.  You look at it from the outside and it sounds fucking nuts.  It is.  But when it works, it works wonders. We are racing towards surfeit because that’s the only stop sign I seem to yield to lately.  I’m pondering what the Shepard diet is.  She must have bad military-type rations and not really think about it that much.  I am fully aware that she’s just a computer generated badass, programmed to delight and inspire me and she doesn’t actually eat anything, but if we play along…Shepard has so much going on and she doesn’t have to have fire sale days.  She might drink now and again, but none of that froo-froo stuff that’s full of sugar.   She just eats when it’s time to eat and that’s it.   Does the best she can with what she’s provided and while she may drag the Normandy through some Ilium drive through now and again, she’s got a life and a mission and things are bigger than how many pieces of bread can she eat in a given day.  She wouldn’t even think to ponder that.

Shepard Diet starts tomorrow.   Survive and conquer diet.

Got a few non-gaming things done and vacuumed as was necessary.   Go N0t-Growing-Into-The-Couch team.

Time to pull on those knee-high combat boots, get our war paint on, and do the Sunday Night Dance of Denial and Eventual Acceptance of the Inevitability of Mondays.

I realize if you don’t play Mass Effect this is all meaningless, but I was never one for meaning much to other people.