It has been longer than I would have wished since my last post. I must confess, part of the problem has been my breaking down and embracing Facebook, and reconnecting with many people from my past. It's become second nature to post there than here, although I think that short phrased bursts are not something that I would commit to permanently.
Reconnection. That's a strange concept in a lot of ways, as you attempt to initially reach out to someone you've not seen or heard from in years if not decades. The first steps are always the hardest: The awkward approach and communication, followed shortly by the attempts to navigate through topics that you might have discussed in the past while feeling out the person you're connecting to. It's not an easy process, but one that I think is necessary to maintain the connections of friendship.
In the last month and a half, I've reconnected with old classmates, friends, co-workers, and people I've had in my life at one time or another. The strangest part of those moments is that each of them represents me at a different time, and while they are all part, I still realize that they are only aspects, and not the whole. It's like seeing a cross-section of yourself and finding out the old strengths and weaknesses laid open for display. The toughest part is that many of the people in that medium now have access to each other, and you see where the disconnect in yourself if while seeing them interact.
While there is no such thing as complete honesty in the electronic frontier, and even here the complete truth is often shielded, I'm finding that there is a degree of seeing the day to day changes in people to be very telling and truthful. I'm not deluded or ignorant to the idea that such truth is still a matter of what people want the world to see, far from it: I think that such is an indication, nothing more.
I would like to say that the period of reconnection is something I enjoy. I suppose however my luddite nature and the fact that I prefer personal interaction and communication to digital is still a big thing, and that while the internet, social networking, and even blogs allow us to stay connected and express ourselves, there are slight barriers I've found we all put up, the parts of us that we still live in private and wish no one to see, and to seek those out would be closer to voyeurism, something I'm not particularly fond of.
More later
- M -
Friday, November 13, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
The national novel writing contest.
So here we are.
Not sure I like what I have, and it's under my skin regarding it. I started with my first idea, and the information and wording were flying. I could use what I've already written, but I don't want to jinx the idea which is the furthest along (49,569 words on that) with this one.
I listened to the advice of a favorite author of mine who suggested to start over when I hit a block. Hence, I'm liking the novel writing month.
So, I'm posting the first snippet of the new idea here. Thoughts are appreciated from the other authors in the nanowrimo.:
August 31st, 1689: The Prologue
The wagon pulled through the late summer shadows, finally stopping over the small overlook which presented a better view of the bay. While it was clear the large pines tapered away from the bayside, it was still a rough and broken landscape, so unlike their native Massachusetts. The Reverend, sitting dourly among amid the planks, nodded to the heavyset man to his side. While both wore the puritan style, neither man looked particularly like their brethren. The older minister’s gaunt features and gray pallor seemed to offset the ruddy heavy-faced companion, who despite the trappings of his black frock and hat, showed an obvious display of wealth rarely seen since the founding of the original colony.
“As I told you, brother Jonathan, the land is supple, accessible, and has the natural bay to shelter the boats and protection from the open sea” the heavy man added, slowly walking about to stretch his back, which made his considerable girth shake.
“Indeed” the Reverend said, looking around and shielding his eyes to take in the environment, ‘And of the natives? Tell me good brother Abraham, would they share your willingness to share this land with a new colony?”
“Strangely, they accepted the payment without question” Abraham nodded, looking around, “They of course spoke of in length regarding the spirits here, but I must confess…” Abraham paused, taking white cotton kerchief out to wipe his brow which had become drenched in sweat, “I believe that the talk was merely to drive up the price and to assure alliance”
The Reverend simply nodded, taking his own hat off to wipe his forehead. His dark gray eyes seemed to scan the land, and he felt himself color slightly as he recalled with great detail the discussions and disagreements that had led him to seek out Abraham Van Houten in the first place, and propose the new colony. The Reverend continued to look out across the bay, seeing the outcropping of rocks in the distance that seemed to lead up to a flat plane, an unusual feature. The Reverend watched for some time, trying to take in the surroundings, and understand the magnitude of what he was going to do. Must it come to this? His own thoughts on the matter, questioning each element of the decision, broken only from the chain of memory and thought by the sounds of Van Houten’s voice.
“Hmmm?”
“I said Reverend Jameson, I think with the right time, this colony could become very prosperous” Van Houten motioned, “The price is well-paid I think, and with that, I think that the colony could become self-sufficient within the next two years”
Jameson nodded, still not fully wishing to consider the break from the main colony. Van Houten was greedy, and Jameson knew it was making a deal with one who served the church in name only. The Dutchman had been already asked to leave another colony for his need of excess, and rumors had abounded that Van Houten and his new bride were not willing colonists, that even Van Houten had left a wife and children in Europe made Jameson smile politely at his companion, veiling the rising sense of disgust that continued to visit him.
“yes..” Jameson said, “The colony could support itself here”
Far off in the distance, across the great bay, Jameson watched and searched for some sign of divine guidance that would signify his right decision. When it did not come, Jameson felt a little afraid, caught between the possibility of what might be and the security of what is. It was not too late for the Reverend to make amends, although that would indeed force him to grovel for forgiveness, something his father had warned him never to do. No, despite his disgust at the corpulent Van Houten, it was clear that the colony here would be able to do the lord’s work.
It was now only a matter of gathering what was necessary and beginning. Jameson kneeled down and picked at a handful of earth, feeling the coolness of it, moving it between his fingers and realizing its richness. The land was good land, and yet, the nagging feeling of something being….off….continued to plague him.
“Let us begin” Reverend Jameson said, in almost benediction. The tone of his voice sounded somber and serious, and even Van Houten knew it was a moment of something more than just a statement: It was as real a beginning as if Reverend Jameson put spade to earth.
It would take time. Years would be necessary to truly make the colony work, but time is what they had barring the natives, disease, famine, the elements, or the enemies of mother country. The land seemed to welcome them, and yet, it wasn’t a welcome that felt as sincere as a welcome home….more as if it was welcome between a harlot and a regular patron, one of false sincerity and tempestuous will. The land was both profane and profound, and neither could it be mastered nor be broken. If the two men truly understand what they had set in motion, it could be considered doubtful that the colony would have been founded, for even as the land was sweet, the deep shadows held secrets that would never fully be revealed. Those deep shadows seemed to collect secrets, touching those first families and holding them fast in the web of a giant, shadowy spider that seemed to weave around them the promises of what could be, and the reality of what is.
Not sure I like what I have, and it's under my skin regarding it. I started with my first idea, and the information and wording were flying. I could use what I've already written, but I don't want to jinx the idea which is the furthest along (49,569 words on that) with this one.
I listened to the advice of a favorite author of mine who suggested to start over when I hit a block. Hence, I'm liking the novel writing month.
So, I'm posting the first snippet of the new idea here. Thoughts are appreciated from the other authors in the nanowrimo.:
August 31st, 1689: The Prologue
The wagon pulled through the late summer shadows, finally stopping over the small overlook which presented a better view of the bay. While it was clear the large pines tapered away from the bayside, it was still a rough and broken landscape, so unlike their native Massachusetts. The Reverend, sitting dourly among amid the planks, nodded to the heavyset man to his side. While both wore the puritan style, neither man looked particularly like their brethren. The older minister’s gaunt features and gray pallor seemed to offset the ruddy heavy-faced companion, who despite the trappings of his black frock and hat, showed an obvious display of wealth rarely seen since the founding of the original colony.
“As I told you, brother Jonathan, the land is supple, accessible, and has the natural bay to shelter the boats and protection from the open sea” the heavy man added, slowly walking about to stretch his back, which made his considerable girth shake.
“Indeed” the Reverend said, looking around and shielding his eyes to take in the environment, ‘And of the natives? Tell me good brother Abraham, would they share your willingness to share this land with a new colony?”
“Strangely, they accepted the payment without question” Abraham nodded, looking around, “They of course spoke of in length regarding the spirits here, but I must confess…” Abraham paused, taking white cotton kerchief out to wipe his brow which had become drenched in sweat, “I believe that the talk was merely to drive up the price and to assure alliance”
The Reverend simply nodded, taking his own hat off to wipe his forehead. His dark gray eyes seemed to scan the land, and he felt himself color slightly as he recalled with great detail the discussions and disagreements that had led him to seek out Abraham Van Houten in the first place, and propose the new colony. The Reverend continued to look out across the bay, seeing the outcropping of rocks in the distance that seemed to lead up to a flat plane, an unusual feature. The Reverend watched for some time, trying to take in the surroundings, and understand the magnitude of what he was going to do. Must it come to this? His own thoughts on the matter, questioning each element of the decision, broken only from the chain of memory and thought by the sounds of Van Houten’s voice.
“Hmmm?”
“I said Reverend Jameson, I think with the right time, this colony could become very prosperous” Van Houten motioned, “The price is well-paid I think, and with that, I think that the colony could become self-sufficient within the next two years”
Jameson nodded, still not fully wishing to consider the break from the main colony. Van Houten was greedy, and Jameson knew it was making a deal with one who served the church in name only. The Dutchman had been already asked to leave another colony for his need of excess, and rumors had abounded that Van Houten and his new bride were not willing colonists, that even Van Houten had left a wife and children in Europe made Jameson smile politely at his companion, veiling the rising sense of disgust that continued to visit him.
“yes..” Jameson said, “The colony could support itself here”
Far off in the distance, across the great bay, Jameson watched and searched for some sign of divine guidance that would signify his right decision. When it did not come, Jameson felt a little afraid, caught between the possibility of what might be and the security of what is. It was not too late for the Reverend to make amends, although that would indeed force him to grovel for forgiveness, something his father had warned him never to do. No, despite his disgust at the corpulent Van Houten, it was clear that the colony here would be able to do the lord’s work.
It was now only a matter of gathering what was necessary and beginning. Jameson kneeled down and picked at a handful of earth, feeling the coolness of it, moving it between his fingers and realizing its richness. The land was good land, and yet, the nagging feeling of something being….off….continued to plague him.
“Let us begin” Reverend Jameson said, in almost benediction. The tone of his voice sounded somber and serious, and even Van Houten knew it was a moment of something more than just a statement: It was as real a beginning as if Reverend Jameson put spade to earth.
It would take time. Years would be necessary to truly make the colony work, but time is what they had barring the natives, disease, famine, the elements, or the enemies of mother country. The land seemed to welcome them, and yet, it wasn’t a welcome that felt as sincere as a welcome home….more as if it was welcome between a harlot and a regular patron, one of false sincerity and tempestuous will. The land was both profane and profound, and neither could it be mastered nor be broken. If the two men truly understand what they had set in motion, it could be considered doubtful that the colony would have been founded, for even as the land was sweet, the deep shadows held secrets that would never fully be revealed. Those deep shadows seemed to collect secrets, touching those first families and holding them fast in the web of a giant, shadowy spider that seemed to weave around them the promises of what could be, and the reality of what is.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Halloween-Time
Before it goes further, things are going remarkably well at the moment (as I hope not to jinx it), and I am hoping that things will continue. I was hoping that I'd have more news on Dad, but at the moment, things are simply on edge with this.
Today I thought I would focus on that most favorite of times for me, Halloween. While I'm not always the most outward celibrator of the tradition, Halloween always and will continue to always hold a special place in my heart. For one night, it seems that the magic that brightens the world from being such a gray place is at the zenith.
I've listed some of my favorite moments, but a handful belong to Halloween. From Halloween parties of the past to the events in the wee hours of the morning, Halloween holds a strength I normally do not see elsewhere in my life for a good time. I love the period leading to Halloween, and I love the moments during the early morning of the 31st, a feeling of electricty in the air that is unique even from such holidays like Christmas: A feeling that something is going to happen, but you're not quite sure what it is until it is over.
I've gone over my earliest good memories of Halloween in my youth, and the feeling it has always had of costumes, parties, and just the energy. I've had remarkable experiences on Halloween, and it has remained one of my best times.
One of the best memories of Halloween was in Westminster, coming back from a party nearly twenty years ago in a fog as thick as pea soup. I remember well coming back on the the old Poole Road, heading to a friend's at two in the morning. At that time, Poole Road was in heavy woods along pastures, hills, and a small ditch with less than a handful of houses nearby. I remember the fog was so thick you could literally not see more than ten feet ahead, and I made the decision to stop the car, headlights on, and get out. I knew it was every bad horror movie cliche known to man, but I walked in front of the car, and stared into the deep fog, hearing the sounds of the woods, defined to a new level by the experience and the fact it was Halloween (Although, technically November 1st). It was a wild experience, and I remember hoping to see something out there, some proof that made Halloween and the things associated with it possible. What I did see I'll keep to myself, but the experience stayed with me in a good way, and I walked back to my car, heading off again for my destination.
If Christmas is a holiday of family and the closeness of loved ones, Halloween is the time to yourself, one of those holidays in which is as much an individual experience as one defined by those around you. Yes, the parties in my life have been akin to legendary, but the experiences have each been unique and powerful, no matter what I've done. Halloween is to me as powerful a time as the original pagan holiday or the feast of All Saints: It is a holiday where a real sense of belief can be kept, and for a moment, you are as much a child as you were when you first went out trick or treating. One of the worst things I had to do was quit Trick or Treating, it was the true end of childhood, as it represented a true passage from childhood to adulthood, the ending of an era and the start of a new one, a concept that Halloween represents.
I still carve jack-o'-lanterns. I still love the crisp and overcast autumn days leading to Halloween. I still watch the same horror movies each year. I still look forward to costumes and disguises. Most importantly, I still hope to find that foggy night, to walk out in front of that car, and see that spectre that justifies the belief of child and adult alike, the spirit of the season.
Happy Halloween.
- M -
Today I thought I would focus on that most favorite of times for me, Halloween. While I'm not always the most outward celibrator of the tradition, Halloween always and will continue to always hold a special place in my heart. For one night, it seems that the magic that brightens the world from being such a gray place is at the zenith.
I've listed some of my favorite moments, but a handful belong to Halloween. From Halloween parties of the past to the events in the wee hours of the morning, Halloween holds a strength I normally do not see elsewhere in my life for a good time. I love the period leading to Halloween, and I love the moments during the early morning of the 31st, a feeling of electricty in the air that is unique even from such holidays like Christmas: A feeling that something is going to happen, but you're not quite sure what it is until it is over.
I've gone over my earliest good memories of Halloween in my youth, and the feeling it has always had of costumes, parties, and just the energy. I've had remarkable experiences on Halloween, and it has remained one of my best times.
One of the best memories of Halloween was in Westminster, coming back from a party nearly twenty years ago in a fog as thick as pea soup. I remember well coming back on the the old Poole Road, heading to a friend's at two in the morning. At that time, Poole Road was in heavy woods along pastures, hills, and a small ditch with less than a handful of houses nearby. I remember the fog was so thick you could literally not see more than ten feet ahead, and I made the decision to stop the car, headlights on, and get out. I knew it was every bad horror movie cliche known to man, but I walked in front of the car, and stared into the deep fog, hearing the sounds of the woods, defined to a new level by the experience and the fact it was Halloween (Although, technically November 1st). It was a wild experience, and I remember hoping to see something out there, some proof that made Halloween and the things associated with it possible. What I did see I'll keep to myself, but the experience stayed with me in a good way, and I walked back to my car, heading off again for my destination.
If Christmas is a holiday of family and the closeness of loved ones, Halloween is the time to yourself, one of those holidays in which is as much an individual experience as one defined by those around you. Yes, the parties in my life have been akin to legendary, but the experiences have each been unique and powerful, no matter what I've done. Halloween is to me as powerful a time as the original pagan holiday or the feast of All Saints: It is a holiday where a real sense of belief can be kept, and for a moment, you are as much a child as you were when you first went out trick or treating. One of the worst things I had to do was quit Trick or Treating, it was the true end of childhood, as it represented a true passage from childhood to adulthood, the ending of an era and the start of a new one, a concept that Halloween represents.
I still carve jack-o'-lanterns. I still love the crisp and overcast autumn days leading to Halloween. I still watch the same horror movies each year. I still look forward to costumes and disguises. Most importantly, I still hope to find that foggy night, to walk out in front of that car, and see that spectre that justifies the belief of child and adult alike, the spirit of the season.
Happy Halloween.
- M -
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
A bit of fiction
"I put six bullets in him" Tull added, shaking his head while wiping the sweat away from his brow, 'And it only made him mad'
"Men don't walk after six bullets" added Lem, looking down the canyon, "Hell, a man gets unlucky, one does the trick"
"That's what I'm saying" Tull said, narrowing his eyes while turning away from the canyon, "I don't think it was a man"
"Looked like a man" Lem added, "Bled like a man"
"Bleeds like a man" Tull mirrored, "But not a man"
"Then what? What is it then Tull?" Lem asked questioningly
"One of them" Tull nodded, rising up to his full height and moving from the edge of the canyon wall. For a moment, Lem said nothing, only moving to stroke his salt and pepper moustache while the younger man moved to his horse.
"We don't have anything for them" Lem finally said, taking a breath and nodding, "It's a fool's errand to go down there unheeled"
Tull rummaged for a moment in his saddlebags, finally coming up with a handful of .44 cartridges, dull and heavier than the normal load. Within a second, Tull had switched the load in his pistols, and took a deep breath.
"I didn't come this far to give up, and I ain't giving up now" Tull answered, tossing the handful of collected shells onto the ground. Tull's eyes fell on Lem, and Lem could feel a deep and uncomfortable weight settle on him. To Lum, it was the most uncomfortable moment in recent memory, until Tull finally turned away.
"Head back in Lem, you can't help me now"
"We're in this together Tull" Lem protested, realizing as he spoke the sound of his own voice dying away with the breeze that kicked the dust up.
"Lem....you can't go, you're not heeled...and I need you to tell the rest of them about this" Tull added matter-of-factly. Tull didn't see Lem relax, but knew the older man was relieved just the same.
"You know Tull..." Lem added, "They've probably passed over the twilight with her".
"Yep" Tull answered, "And I guess I'm going to have to as well"
Tull looked out across the canyon bottom, covered in the shrubs and low trees leading to the far mountains. Pulling himself onto the roan, Tull said quietly, "I'll go to the east side of hell before I let them have her".
________
Just getting ready to finish and start my November writing. What do you think? This is rough, be gentle
"Men don't walk after six bullets" added Lem, looking down the canyon, "Hell, a man gets unlucky, one does the trick"
"That's what I'm saying" Tull said, narrowing his eyes while turning away from the canyon, "I don't think it was a man"
"Looked like a man" Lem added, "Bled like a man"
"Bleeds like a man" Tull mirrored, "But not a man"
"Then what? What is it then Tull?" Lem asked questioningly
"One of them" Tull nodded, rising up to his full height and moving from the edge of the canyon wall. For a moment, Lem said nothing, only moving to stroke his salt and pepper moustache while the younger man moved to his horse.
"We don't have anything for them" Lem finally said, taking a breath and nodding, "It's a fool's errand to go down there unheeled"
Tull rummaged for a moment in his saddlebags, finally coming up with a handful of .44 cartridges, dull and heavier than the normal load. Within a second, Tull had switched the load in his pistols, and took a deep breath.
"I didn't come this far to give up, and I ain't giving up now" Tull answered, tossing the handful of collected shells onto the ground. Tull's eyes fell on Lem, and Lem could feel a deep and uncomfortable weight settle on him. To Lum, it was the most uncomfortable moment in recent memory, until Tull finally turned away.
"Head back in Lem, you can't help me now"
"We're in this together Tull" Lem protested, realizing as he spoke the sound of his own voice dying away with the breeze that kicked the dust up.
"Lem....you can't go, you're not heeled...and I need you to tell the rest of them about this" Tull added matter-of-factly. Tull didn't see Lem relax, but knew the older man was relieved just the same.
"You know Tull..." Lem added, "They've probably passed over the twilight with her".
"Yep" Tull answered, "And I guess I'm going to have to as well"
Tull looked out across the canyon bottom, covered in the shrubs and low trees leading to the far mountains. Pulling himself onto the roan, Tull said quietly, "I'll go to the east side of hell before I let them have her".
________
Just getting ready to finish and start my November writing. What do you think? This is rough, be gentle
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
What....the...hell
For some time, actually nearly for a decade, I've supported RPGs in the Mid Atlantic region. In that time, I've rarely had my credentials or purposes questioned, but of course, there is a first.
Maybe I'm just not in the mood today, but clearly, it makes me feel like a hillbilly cousin to WOTC, which isn't too far from the truth. It's okay to be the Hillbilly cousin, but knowing it and being called out as it are two different things.
I've been involved with the gaming in the metro DC region for the better part of twenty years, I'd like to believe that despite it all, despite everything, I've built a number of connections, but I've never had them questioned by someone I've not heard of before.
While I understand the 'cover your ass' comments, I've issue with apparent rudeness. I don't go out of my way to cause people duress, I don't put my hands on people, and I don't sully or insult their particular venue, and I don't expect it from them.
This actually pisses me off.
More later
- M -
Maybe I'm just not in the mood today, but clearly, it makes me feel like a hillbilly cousin to WOTC, which isn't too far from the truth. It's okay to be the Hillbilly cousin, but knowing it and being called out as it are two different things.
I've been involved with the gaming in the metro DC region for the better part of twenty years, I'd like to believe that despite it all, despite everything, I've built a number of connections, but I've never had them questioned by someone I've not heard of before.
While I understand the 'cover your ass' comments, I've issue with apparent rudeness. I don't go out of my way to cause people duress, I don't put my hands on people, and I don't sully or insult their particular venue, and I don't expect it from them.
This actually pisses me off.
More later
- M -
Monday, September 14, 2009
A crossroads of Direction
Well, it had to happen: Leaping forward into new technology.
- Joined Facebook, and almost immediately reconnected with friends I've not seen in 20+ years. A weird feeling after all this time, and speaking to everyone from faithful friends to my little sister.
- Spent time away from the current situations and realized I'm not so certain where I am is healthy for me.
-Debated the value of a place versus the real identity of it.
- Waited to hear on Dad, and realized I needed to focus on Mom's health too.
- Ended up more tired than at the beginning of things.
More later. Just a quick update.
- Joined Facebook, and almost immediately reconnected with friends I've not seen in 20+ years. A weird feeling after all this time, and speaking to everyone from faithful friends to my little sister.
- Spent time away from the current situations and realized I'm not so certain where I am is healthy for me.
-Debated the value of a place versus the real identity of it.
- Waited to hear on Dad, and realized I needed to focus on Mom's health too.
- Ended up more tired than at the beginning of things.
More later. Just a quick update.
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