2014 - Change is in the air

Not for the first time, I am having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that it is, yet again, a new year. Arbitrarily counted days, which aren't quite accurate representations of the Earth's rotation and tick marks that only somewhat scientifically represent the revolution of the Earth around the sun, marked by a new four digit number that has, now, for quite some time, indicated we are in the mythical land of the twenty-first century. A time which once was talked about with awe and hope and fear in the science fiction pulp novels I devoured as a kid. (Lots of fiber in books.)

So I haven't blogged much since this time in 2012. January 1 2012 was kinda the last serious blog post I put out. Which, I'm sure no one but me missed. I'm also fairly sure no one is actually going to read this one, any more than they did the one in January 2012.

So yeah. I skipped January 2013. Mostly, because right near the end of 2012, we lost my mother. She had catastrophic heart failure and fell down dead on the floor of her closet while looking for yarn for a craft project. It would be a lie to say it wasn't something we knew could happen, but I certainly wasn't ready for it to happen. My mother and I had a very complicated and frustrating relationship, but I never doubted she loved me, and I know she knew I loved her. It hit me hard, and it's taken a lot of emotional slogging to get myself to the point where I can write about it - and I really wasn't sure I could write honestly about my life without writing about her death.

(Note to self: have violent conversation with the universal sense of irony that caused a song called Mother to start playing as soon as I wrote that. Yeah. This time? Violence is a very good answer. I'm going to kick reality right in the proverbial balls.)

One of the oddest things about skipping a year on my traditional New Year's blog post is that I have two years to reflect on, not just one. I've come to some very odd realizations the past couple of years - which have been very busy, all things considered. I've quit smoking, starting vaping, quit two jobs and started one, been dumped and taken back, lost my mother, gained and lost friends, started playing an MMORPG, gained weight, lost weight and gained it back again.

I've shaved my head, started to get a handle on some anger issues I was ignoring I had, and written almost nothing of worth or value. I've read too much fan fiction (or not enough) and discovered that change is a lot harder and easier than we like to think it is.

Change happens, especially when we're not looking at it when it happens. Sometimes, we tell ourselves that it happens gradually, but I think there is almost always a moment where something shifts over and what was once one thing, or was once working a certain way, then starts being a new thing or working in a new way. Looking back, I can point out the moment I stopped being a guy who held the MMORPG community in towering contempt and refused to touch it with a ten foot pole tipped with a flamethrower and became a guy subscribed to an MMO he looks forward to playing with friends and family. I can point you to the moment when I put my pipe down for good and became a vaper. I can point you to the moment I realized why it is I 'don't get it' and why it is that I need to learn how to 'get it'.

But I couldn't have told you what those moments were when they happened. They passed quickly, without comment. Without thought. They whizzed by me and became immortalized only after I realized something had changed, and I looked back nodded at myself: "Oh. So that's what it was." Not really conscious decisions to create a change - just a ex post facto realization those moments had marked that a change had occurred.

However, those things we actively want to change? Those are harder. Sometimes, we view it as a process. Sometimes, we view it as a decision. We talk about backsliding or taking steps backward when we screw up and revert to what we did before the change. Often times, we berate ourselves and beat ourselves up about it. We blame circumstances. We blame ourselves. We blame others. We blame the universe, God, fate, random chance and the distortion of probability. And sometimes, each and every one of those things might be the cause.

I'm sure that there's some hippy feel-good theory floating around out there that says something like: "If we aren't ready to change, we won't. We'll change when we're ready for it. It will just happen." Annoyingly, there is some truth in that bleeding heart rhetoric. If I hadn't been scared witless by a serious bout of pneumonia in 2012, I might never have picked up my first vape, let alone given it a fair chance. I was ready for that change, because I didn't want to die - or worse, not have nicotine. (Blather on and scold me about my addiction in a different post, please.)

You could say I haven't lost as much weight as I want to because I haven't planned and prepared correctly. I haven't planned meals, set aside time to (ugh) exercise or done my research on what is actually a healthy diet versus the appalling (but tasty!) food I punish my body with on a daily basis. You could pat me on the head and smile at me and tell me that I'm just not ready to give up the emotional crutch that is tasty, unhealthy food and that once I reach some new stage of psycho-social development, I'll willingly walk away from the bacon laden cheeseburgers and into the welcoming arms of nutritious fruits and vegetables. You could also argue that I'm deluding myself into thinking I actually give two monkey fucks about losing weight or exercising, that I pay lip service to it because I'm a fat man who is constantly berated, commented on, advised at, and lectured at length about the fact that I am one rotund, cellulite ridden and overly fed first-world stereotype. That if I really cared about losing weight, I would bend my not-inconsiderable stubborn streak in the general direction of my excessive diet and sedentary ways and start doing something about it other than whining like a first-grader stuck sitting through a TV docudrama about the life cycle of the common houseplant.

The truth about deliberate change is that you have first have to acknowledge what you are actually changing. Not just that 'I want to lose weight' - but you have to say: "I am fat." And what you're changing? It has to have impact on you. It has to be something that when you realize it, you have to either care about it so much that you're willing to be ready to change and willing to put that work in, or you have to not care enough that you can let go of it without a fight. If it's not important, if it's not something you care about - you can let go of it easily. Mid way through 2013, I realized a word I used as a matter of course was offensive. Until the moment someone told me it was offensive, I had no fucking clue I was being an ass. While I have no objection to being an asshole when I know I'm in the right and I need to stand my ground and hold a moral or philosophical line or you've done harm to someone important to me. Or just been a bully. Or, really, lots of other reasons.

But accidentally offending a bunch of people, for no other reason than I use a word that offends them? Thta was an easy change. I haven't used that word since, and I don't plan on ever using it again. I know better now, and that word is now relegated into my arsenal of verbal grenades - words I don't use unless I'm being offensive to make a point. It's a word that gets used in a time of extreme necessity. (I have a lot of these words. I haven't ever had to use any of them.)

This was an easy change to make. It was a small alteration of my vocabulary that prevents me from being a dick. It took me no effort to stop using one word and use another in its place. It was a word I had no attachment to, no desire to use beyond it being what I felt was an adequate and accurate descriptor. Upon learning it was neither adequate nor descriptive, I put it aside and now use a word that is more accurate, more descriptive and not offensive.

The other kind of deliberate change s harder, because you actually do have fucks to give about it. There is something of you tied up in it, something that makes it important, meaningful or special. You might even hate it about yourself, but it's comfortable and known and you don't really want to give it up. It might be a security blanket, a passive bit of self-harm, or something that you've made part of your identity. I've been a fat guy so long - do I really not want to be fat? How will that change me, how I think of me, how other people think of me?

It's a bit scary when we realize we define ourselves and cling to those parts of ourselves that might seem negative - that even those negative things are important to us, part of how we think of ourselves. We don't often want to let go of those things, even when they hurt us. I have friend who prides himself on his ability to argue and debate anything. He loves to get into verbal sparring. But, he often alienates, hurts and pisses the fuck off most of the people he meets, because he's got no sense of proportion. He's a passionate asshole, with a vast store of knowledge, the ability to pick apart logical fallacies and use logic to turn anything you say into a point in his favor. He prides himself on his ability to argue, his love of debate - but he doesn't argue. He picks fights. He hurts people. Hurts his relationships with people, and is often profoundly lonely. He also realizes a lot of it is his own fault. But giving up that behavior he has defined himself by - right now, that hurts him more and scares him more than the consequences of holding into that behavior. Until the consequences outweigh the positive value he feels he gets from the behavior, he has no real impetus to change.

I've made a lot of changes over the past two years. I've also changed a lot in the past two years. Some of the changes have been deliberate and some have just happened, but I am not the same person who wrote his 2012 New Year's post. Yet - even with all these changes, even with not being the same person - the core of who I am hasn't changed much. I still don't understand (despite participating in and even looking forward to) the metaphoric reset we endure and embrace (approximately) every 365 rotations of our beleaguered planet.

A lot of changes have also happened around me that have affected me in profound ways - ways that I'm still starting to understand and may not understand for a long time yet.

One of the changes I hope to make permanent, a change that will last well beyond the 365 days of 2014, is that I want to write more. Not just because I hope people are reading the words I spew forth from my crumb-dusted keyboard.

Here's hoping that the impact of my realization that I am not writing - that the frustration of that outweighs the apathy that is slowly creeping through me as the years go by, and that this is the first post of many that so many of you probably won't read.

Welcome to 2014. For what it's worth, I hope the next 365 (approximate) rotations of planet Earth are productive, memorable and bring about the right kind of changes for you.

Happy New Year - or something like that

I never know what I'm going to write when I start one of these New Year's posts, but I always seem to find something to say - though, the quality of that something probably tends to vary. I mean, how often can a guy talk about all the things he fucked up the year before and all the ways he wants to fix it in the next year?

Especially since New Year's is such an arbitrary thing, and self-improvement and self-examination should be a constant and consistent process. It shouldn't be something we (I) do just as calendar rolls over to the next year. I mean - really? How many people actually keep their resolutions? How many people make serious and significant changes that stick, just based off a tradition that doesn't make a lot of sense when you look at it empirically?

It's sorta like deciding that you're going to fix everything about your life, one item at a time, one year at a time. If you're actually successful, you might actually have made some progress about the time you're stuck in the old folks' home, mainlining prune juice and praying you can remember the names of all the relatives who never come to visit you.

Hell, even if you make and stick to multiple resolutions a year, it still doesn't end up making sense. Why do people only seem to really want to change their lives as the new year starts? Okay. I get the whole idea of 'starting over with a clean slate' - but you really don't. All we really do is take a deep breath and hope that the next year is better than the year before it, despite that fact that all the problems we had in 2011 are still going to be there in 2012 - along with all the problems we haven't seen yet.

Yeah, yeah - I know. Old man Jayiin doesn't get it. What else is new? I rarely get it.

So, onto the part of this you've been dreading since my last New Year's post. Mostly, because I don't have many New Year's traditions (seeing as how I'm crap at holidays), so I might as well stick to the one I have and enjoy the fact I'm able to write something coherent in this blog once a year.

2011 was a year. I turned 31 and enjoyed the fact no one's taken a hit out on me yet.

Really, self? 16 years?

Odd, how some things change with time - and they seem, at least for me - to often be the things I didn't think would ever change. I'm not talking about things like religion, politics, health or hobbies. I'm not even thinking of interests or gut reactions or primal urges - not even that deep and abiding hatred of mornings you (meaning 'me') developed as a teenager.

Used to be, when April 3 rolled around, it was an important moment. A day of reflection and renewal of purpose. The whole day was spent with my thoughts drifting back to the same subject - a subject tinged with excitement, exasperation, fear and anticipation. A subject that made me hope and dread at the same time.

This year, April 3 was Wrestlemania. (Go ahead. Laugh. I know you want to.)

April 3 is the anniversary of the Katheryn story.

Not that I really expect that to mean much to some of you. Or even most of you. Just because you occasionally get bored enough to read my blog doesn't mean you know what the Katheryn story is, especially if you're a relative newcomer to my blog or my life.

Used to be, I couldn't stop talking about it. That's another change; at one point in my life, I figured I wouldn't ever stop talking about the Katheryn story. I couldn't. It was too integrated into my personal identity - especially my personal identity as a writer. It still is. And yet, I almost never write about. I almost never talk about it.

Why not?

I mean, this past April, while I was watching Triple H and The Undertaker beat on each other, the Katheryn story quietly turned 16.

Sixteen?! Really? Really? I've been writing on the same damn story for sixteen years?

Well, yeah. Kinda. Apparently, I'm stubborn, tenacious and (very likely) obsessive. (Those of you nodding your heads in agreement with the last one? Not cool, y'all. Not cool.) I don't accept defeat and keep trying, no matter how many times I fail!

(Or, if you want to get technical, I haven't failed yet, because I haven't shelved the project and decided I'm done with it. If you want to get technical.)

Or...or, I'm a lame-ass punk writer who can't get up off his fat ass, dig down deep and write the bloody thing already. (I can hear the 'told you sos' through the cybernetic ether. Apparently, I've been told such before. Who knew?)

In truth, the Katheryn story is hardly the same story it was when I started it back in 8th grade. It's gone from being a cheesy fanfic that won a middle school writing contest (how sad is it that I'm still proud of that?) and has turned into it's own universe, complete with a history that starts before the beginning of time, a deep mythos, and a very complex and (I think) amazing world to play in.

In (further) truth, I might have just set out to write a story that I didn't have the tools, skills or experience to tell. I've had to cut my teeth on smaller projects, less ambitious tales and less complicated worlds in order to learn how to write what I want to write. Which is why I can safely say I haven't been working on for 16 years.

True, it's a rare day that goes by that I don't think about the story. (Stop smiling and nodding knowingly. Obsessions are completely normal. Healthy even. Just ask Freud. Just don't ask him while he's anywhere near that picture of his mother.)

None the less! All asides aside, the Katheryn story is a huge part of my life and has never stopped being a huge part of my life. I don't really see it as some kind of 'magnum opus' (at least not since I graduated high school), but I do see writing it as a goal. I also realize that not everyone (as in, almost no one) wants to hear me babble about the Katheryn story all the time. Or most of the time. Or even as much as I used to.

It's rude to be that guy (or, at least, that form of that guy) - and Real Life(TM) has taken over much of my existence. Varying jobs, schools, chores and other things necessary for the smooth(ish) day-to-day operation of my life take up a lot of time. A lot more time than I wish it took. But, there you have it. Life sucks, takes a lot of time to deal with, and no matter how much I whine about it, no one else will do it for me until I have enough money to pay them to do so.

(Now there's a goal...)

But for the 15th and 16th anniversaries to pass unnoticed? Kinda...bothers me a bit. Mostly, I think, because I realize that they depress me. After working for so long, I have so little to show for it?

That...and I know that of that 16 years, I've been a functional, intelligent writer and reasonable facsimile of an adult for less than ten. I think that's the bottom line of this whole post and whole ponderation.

Katheryn may be turning 16, but she's hardly the same girl she was when I started writing her. And though she defined who I was as a writer for a long time, she stopped doing so years ago, because I am no longer the same person - or the same writer - I was when I started writing her.

Her story is not the same story; her world is not the same world - and I am no longer quite as enamored with what I once created. I now know I am better than I was and know I can do far better than I once did.

And that...is a whole helluva lot cooler than any anniversary will ever be. So I'm good with having spent her 16th birthday watching some rather excellent pseudo-violence and eating awesome tacos with my friends.

Hopefully, the next 'anniversary' is just as good as this last one.

Another boring and pointless blog brought to you by jayiin's bored subconscious. And for anyone who really cares, I'm actually writing on the story, using Camp NaNoWriMo as convenient excuse.

Any resemblance this blog may have to mealy-mouthed self-analysis and carefully considered excuse crafting to avoid accepting responsibility for the fact I still haven't finished it is purely coincidental. Because I'm a grown up.

ad astra per aspera

Git 'er done

Getting things done.

I write a lot about this, because it's a constant challenge for me. (Or, I should say, whine a lot about this.) There are a lot of productivity articles, blogs, books, seminars, webinars, college courses, etc out there to help with it. They teach techniques, skills, tools and offer all kinds of advice on finding ways to accomplish tasks.

I'll admit it. I've read some of those articles, books and blogs. I've peaked at notes from seminars and webinars. I even attended a few of those free classes when I was in college (way back when). I've tried lots of different techniques, skills and tools. I've listened to and tried out all kinds of advice.

Yet, I keep finding myself behind. There's always stuff I'm behind on or haven't had a chance to get to. Some of it is mundane stuff - chores, filing, investigating this or that or the other. Some of it is pretty non-essential stuff - gaming errata, gaming itself, fanfiction, etc. And some of it is fairly important, such as research into my health insurance plan or remembering to bring something into work or remembering to pay something on time. (Sorry, ADC!)

The consequences for not getting these things done vary from task to task. Not remembering to bring something into work can make my job harder and sometimes mess things up for my co-workers. Not investigating my health insurance means I don't always know what I can do with it other than throw money down on co-pays when I get the sniffles. Neglected chores leave me with a disorganized, cluttered and occasionally dirty space and the need to be up late doing laundry when I should be sound asleep.

Worse than consequences for me are consequences for other people. Often times, other folk are counting on me to get something done for them. When I do what I invariably do and drop the ball, I let people down or leave them hanging and I hate doing it.

I hate being the guy to drop the ball and I try really hard not to be that guy. Yet, I constantly find myself looking back and realizing I've done it again.

So much for evolution

You know, one of the reasons I'm not fond of the theory of evolution(1) is fairly embarrassing: it means having to admit the men in my family, myself included, are probably more closely related to cavemen than we'd like to admit.

It would explain a lot of things really. It would explain why, despite our adaptability, occasional (and surprising) calm, our general level of intelligence and our addictions to modern conveniences we seem to have the ability to tap into some primal depth that lets us go longer and work harder than circumstances should allow.

(Was that fairly arrogant? Yes. Am I sorry for it? Not really. I probably should be, though.)

It would also explain other things. That we tend to favor going through obstacles instead of around them. Why we have so much trouble dealing with social niceties like passive agression, dropped hints and small talk. Why we tend to be more interested in getting things done and being practical than making things pretty. (Why worry about interior decorating when there are chores and projects that need doing? Why sit and watch television when there is work waiting? Why play competitive sports when we can compete against others in 'number ot things accomplished in the shortest amount of time'?)

It would also explain why, without any real reason, the reptile hindbrain kicks into a high gear and sets us off on irrational, unnecessarily aggressive protective tears for no rational reason.

Writing Errata and Etc

We aren't going to talk about my failure to blog these last few weeks. Really, we aren't. Becuase I'm lame and I know it.

Yes. My blog has been suffering from neglect. Sadly, with this post, I will have posted as much in Jan - Feb 2011 as I did all of 2010.

It's not from lack of ideas or inspiration. Or even from lack of time. For the first time in a long time, I can say that I seem to be on bottom-dead-center where my writing is concerned and I can't honestly say there is anything to blame other than myself.

So. Mea culpa. Now what?

Writing one blog post won't do a damn thing to help me get serious about writing again; neither will blogging in general (even if it is good practice). I'm reading plenty, have plenty of creative input and enough free time that I could be plugging away at half a dozen writing projects.

I can say, however, that I haven't been completely useless on the writing front. There are things going in the orbit of my writing that are (slowly) providing me some impetus to get off my fat ass (or should that be 'sit my fat ass down') and write.

• WizardTales, the fantasy fanfiction site I've been part of/on staff of off-and-on since around 2006 has just re-opened it's doors after about a two-year haitus. This time around (third time's the try, right?) we're simplying things a bit and doing things somewhat different. Mostly behind the scenes. Somehow, I've been handed the Red Hat (site admin, for those who don't know MMM parlance). Things are (of course) moving slow, but they are moving. Fanfiction remains a strong inspiration and motivation for me.

• An old friend contacted me early on this year and made me an offer; thusly, I find myself as a member of UK Authors. I haven't been there very long, and the culture and attitude of the people there is vastly different than any other writing community I've been a part of. I'm not sure how I feel about it yet or how I feel about the welcome I've recieved. They don't seem interested in discussing craft as much as they seem to enjoy irritating each other around the boards. The quality of writing is about the same as I've found on other internet forums - some of it is fantastic and some of it is terrible. They have real support and a thriving community of poets there. In all truth, I'm not much of a poet. I've written a few decent ones, but nothing special. And I seem to have lost the knack of it over the years. The jury is still out on UK Authors, bu being there is making me realize how much I need to write.

• the Katheryn story is nearly 16 years old, and for the first time in almost six of those years, the story is starting to make sense. Writing the (first part of the) prequel for NaNoWriMo in 2009 was a good idea. It shook loose some of the cobwebs and helped me see more of what I really wanted the story to be about. Setting it down for over a year was an even better idea, because now that I have some distance, I've started to untangle the knot of issues at the core of the story and started to make some real progress on how I want to write it.

I think I had an idea too ambitious for my skills and I'm only just now really coming into the level of skill and maturity I need to write the story and do it justice. It's taken awhile, but I think I'm finally getting there.

• Forum-based RP has always been something that gets my creative side moving - the same goes for tabletop RP. I'm hoping to make more time for both in the near future. (And, if I can actually keep some momentum, my next post will be about tabletop RP. Someone please hold me to that.)

Hopefully, some of this does something. Because I can honestly say I am not a bad writing. I might even be good.

Recently, a good friend of mine called me up and left me a very serious voicemail.

She had run across an old story of mine that was loosely based on real events, answering the question "what if" about a real scenario. She'd found and read the story when she googled herself (she was in the acknowledgements, because the names had been changed to protect the guily) and thought: "Oh shit. Was I that kind of asshole to him?"

Truth: she wasn't. But the story made it out that way. Sort of. (The narrator was an emo pussy version of myself. He whined a lot and very much had a fatalistic 'life sucks' attitude.)

The story was good enough she was afraid the events were real and she wasn't remembering what happened right. I wrote that story about a decade ago, so obviously - I don't suck if I can write a story well enough that someone who knows better doubted their own recollection of events.

I need to get off bottom-dead-center and write.

If any of my friends out there want to help with that - nag me about writing. Nag me until I'm mad. Ask me about stuff until I have to start writing just so I can make everyone stop nagging me.

Either that, or just keep throwing things at the back of my head until I start writing and stop sitting around saying "I should write."

Otherwise, I will turn into the loser I'm afraid I could be.

Very Good Day

This is my third attempt to write a blog for this week.

The first attempt was a boring and dismal failure, talking about the death of my old computer and getting a new one. Big news in my life, but not really the stuff folk want to read about. I was kinda proud of it, too. It had links to the computer's specs and it talked about how annoying (humiliating) it is for me as an an IT professional, (after a fashion. If you squint real hard at my job) to know nothing about Windows 7 - not even enough to know which version I would need for what I do.

Boring. I still wanted to write about it and I still might, if I can find a way to make it remotely interesting to the rest of you.

The second was about responsibility. A bit philosophical, but boring.

Instead, I'll tell you about my Very Good Day and my Very Good News.

The Very Good News is that by the time I get this posted, I will have been dating (officially) my girl for six months. Yay us! Truth to tell, I never thought I would write something like that every again. But, there it is. Just goes to show that things can work out way more awesome than I think they can.

And before you go hide under your desk from my flood of words, I'm not going to give you a 'how we met' story. Seriously overrated, writing those down. Especially since this one is a lot of me banging my head on my desk saying "Bad me. No treat. Cannot has girl."

When, in reality, I could have. And do.

No. It is today that was very good.

2011

This post brought to you a week late by computer failure, utter exhaustion and insane amounts of work.

I am thirty years old.

It's odd how much that surprises me. It's almost like I didn't expect I would make it this far - that somehow, reality would somehow stop and I wouldn't turn thirty. I can't even claim I didn't see it coming because eighteen months ago, I was pretty worried about turning thirty.

Why (w)angst over it? Because I'm supposed to! Didn't you know? Thirty is the beginning of 'middle age' and soon that slow, inevitable decline into decrepitude will begin. The fun, good part of life is ending!

Or, so I'm told.

Yeah. I call bullshit.

I once wrote about the new year being an arbitrary starting over point; most age milestones are the same thing. I often call it 'magic number theory' - the idea, propagated by popular culture and social conventions, that having lived a specific amount of time automatically confers necessary knowledge, wisdom and skills.

It's especially apparently supposed to be a bit like leveling up in a video/computer/role-playing game. There will be a cool sound effect, some lights, maybe some sparkles and - boom! - you just suddenly know and understand. When you hit the magic number, you suddenly grok life.

(Of course, when you hit this arbitrary benchmark and you don't suddenly get new knowledge, wisdom and skill, you can't very well admit to everyone else you didn't get your level up, now can you? After all, they obviously did. It is most imperative and important that you pretend, because no one should know you don't have it all figured out yet. But only for a little while, because surely next year will be the magic number!)

Just for the record - thirty is not my magic number.

The Trenchcoat Mafia Goes On Vacation (Part I)

My Living Legendary in February marked a huge change in my life - bigger, I think, than I knew at the time. In reality, this started in September with my decision to travel to Seattle to meet Abi and spend time with my brother Iridanum. This entry is the start of a new kind of blogging for me - that of a serious writer and as an industry professional - as well as the odd religious musing. Livejournal will remain my blog for day-to-day bullshit and randomosity, but anything I consider of import will also be mirrored on Blogger and my new Wordpress account. I've dabbled with serious blogging in the past, but this is the first time I've actually had, you know, a plan. Some of you will think this silly or arrogant...well, too bad. I'm a writer, and you can't be a writer without thinking you have something of substance to say.

None the less, I acknowledge the chances of anyone reading this entire thing are slim to none.

Preface: Back in 2004, my life had a significant change when my fiance left me. This turned out to be a good thing, for both of us, despite the unpleasant drama that resulted. Soon after, I was given the moniker 'The Trenchcoat Mafia' and associated with the Republican party. A lot has changed since then - I'm not Republican (or a member of any party) and I'm no longer so desperate for social interaction I'll go with any group that will have me. Although I now think of myself as a member of the Knights in Slightly Tarnished Armor, I am still the Trenchcoat Mafia and tend to use this in posts when I go walkabout.

So without further adieu -

The Trenchcoat Mafia goes on Vacation: Part I:

Two Knights Ride on Dayton

I had no idea what I was doing. I never do, when I leave Autin. I don't travel well - food allergies, (being) fat, fibromyalgia and a lack of desire to be out and about with people make me a cranky and unfun traveling companion. Yet, there I was - two weeks off work, my bags packed, only two pairs of pants without missing buttons or holes in unfortunate places, very little money and a two-day car ride staring me in the face.

Exhausted. But successful?

You know, I think if I were a bit worse at doing my job, I might be less stressed.

That said, my guts are better, I've dug somewhat out of the hole, and now seem to have found a backhoe as opposed to a shovel. Go me?

Today, I managed to sort through the major, uber-urgent items, but I haven't managed to get to the 'get organized' part of my plan. Still, I'm not drowning as badly as I was. Progress is progress, even it's measured in inches instead of miles.

I think I'm a bit too successful at the new job. For each thing I attempt, I create three new things to do. In terms of PR, I don't have money to work with. Let's face it - Dragon's Lair is a small business. While growing, we're not there yet. My job is to get the store exposure. My major tools? The website, my writing and my brain. Traditional PR tools for a business are advertising in various mediums and word of mouth. The problem with a niche business like Dragon's Lair in a city like Austin is that we have more competition for our niche than most niche businesses. There's only one store in town that specializes in fixing electric razors, for example. There are two or three vacuum stores in Austin, but they aren't all in the same geographic region.

However, Dragon's Lair has three direct competitors all in the same region of the city.

I can put stuff up on the website, send out a thousand newsletters, post up flyers, even get small mentions on the radio, but if no one is visiting the website, then nothing I do matters. I think the trick of it is actually going to be community. Some niche businesses have communities surrounding them, but very few are actually built around an existing community. Sure, a Janitor's Union might decide they like one vacuum store over another or a group of sharp-dressed businessmen might prefer going to the Shave Store more than buying from a large retailer, but there aren't really communities built around the use of vacuums or electric razors.

Gamers, comic book readers, manga and anime fans - these people, by their very nature, form communities. Without those communities, the interests or hobbies could not thrive. Playing games by yourself is not nearly as much fun as playing them with other people who are just as passionate about games as you are. Reading comics is fun, but discussing comics with your friends is even more fun. Same with anime and manga.

Gaming groups, comic reading clubs, manga and anime clubs - these communities exist with or without Dragon's Lair.

(Yes, Dreamsaint, the whole community thing did not escape my notice. You can stop chuckling at me anytime.)

I need word-of-mouth advertising to work for us. I need us to be a presence- a positive presence - in these communities. I need us to be the first place people think of when they think of gaming or comics or anime and manga. I need us to be the place people start and end at when it comes to providing them with the product and customer service they want. The problem with this is that Dragon's Lair is not a part of these communities. The other gaming/comcis stores? They are. They sponsor and host big events, such as Staple or their customers write internationally published and distributed gaming modules.

Why are they able to get this kind of recognition and we aren't, when we have more resouces, more longevity and more collected experience in our industry than any other store in Austin?

Because they have been able to reach out to and become a fixture of those communities.

I know some people argue that Dragon's Lair is too professional, too much like a big chain in policy and procedure and dress code, but that's a fallacy. Barnes & Noble is a major chain, but where ever they are, they are plugged in to the local community. The host signings by local authors, allow writers' groups to meet at cafes and allow writing seminars to be held in their stores. They provide a venue and support for these events, and the people who attend these events buy books and want to keep patronizing the locales that provide their particular group a place.

And big chain stores like that have smiliar policies and are even stricter about uniforms than we are.

So if both big-name chain stores and smaller gaming/comics stores can manage to do what I think we need to do, why can't we?

Inertia.

The First Law of Motion. Sir Isaac Newton defined inertia as this: A body at rest stays at rest, and a body in motion stays in motion, unless it is acted on by an external force. Dictionary.com also defines inertia as a lack of activity.

In order to correct the problem, I need to figure out why we have inertia. Why we're a body at rest instead of a dynamic force moving forward. Okay, so part of it is a lack of resources. Part of it is that we're sitting on our laurels. We're one of the oldest and most established game/comic stores in central Texas. For a long time, that's been our selling point. We're stable, we're steady, we're always here, so people can rely on us.

I like that. It's a good starting point.

It's time to get us moving again. The problem with being such a large and established presence is that getting us moving means I'm fighting physics. (Not that I haven't attempted to thwart natural laws before.)

I have to work carefully, slowly, and with great deliberation. I have to build us into communities, and I have to do it in ways that don't require money. Well, where money can open doors, so can hard work, persistence and follow-through. It's a lot of work. A commitment of time and resources.

Most of those resources are me.

Good thing I'm stubborn.

However, I think I can do this. I'm going to be going to YomiCon on Friday and I'm going to present some information to the Fandom Association of Central Texas' board on Saturday. The only snafu there is that I'm supposed to be off and spending time with Musuko.

And at some point, I'm supposed to go visit MuggleMomma to have lunch and pick up some software I need for the new computer.

The fact of the matter is that I'm able to start building these connections and integrating myself - and thus the store - into these communities and using those connections to reach out to other communities. I just hope I can actually make this work instead of falling on my face.

A lot of this is harder than I thought it would be. Some of it is easier.

I think, though, that once I dig myself out of the hole I'm in that I'll be able to do more than just frantically keep up. I'll be able to be more pro-active than I am now, and I'll be able to start integrating the San Antonio store into their communities. First, I have to figure out what communities there are in San Antonio and contacting them.

There's so much work ahead of me that it's daunting, but I can't tackle it all at once. I have to take it one thing at a time, one process at a time, and I have to get organized so I don't drop the balls I'm juggling.

That's my current goal. To get myself set up so I can juggle more, better, faster. I have to have an infrastructure to support what I want to create.

On a different note, I switch back to religion for a moment. Just a random moment in time that left me shaking my head in wonder at how God works. The Men's Lab at the Well has just started reading Wild At Heart by John Eldredge. I took one of the store cats to the vet today, and was reading the book while I was waiting for him to come see the kitty.

When he came in, he noticed the book! Not only is the vet a Christian, but he's probably fairly close to the Wellian ethic (if such a word can be applied to our way of doing things). He wants to chat a bit about the book when I finish it (he's apparently recommended the book to a lot of men he knows). I think I'm looking forward to that chat. That's a relationship I never expected God to work on, especially not like that!

Considering how much resistance we've had to starting the study, I'm not surprised God started using it within ten minutes of my starting to read the book. I wasn't actually going to participate in the study, mostly because I feel out of place at the Men's Lab, but after getting a prod from the Holy Spirit and having my father, of all people, ask me if I was going to participate and then seeing firsthand how much resistance there was to us doing this, I had to take part.

If only because thumbing my nose at anything that tells me 'you can't do this' is really an avocation for me.

(I was serious before: when dealing with serious Christians, you either have to decide we're crazy or decide we're on to something.)

Though I still have no real idea how I'm going to dig myself out of this hole and accomplish the things I want to accomplish for myself, I think it's at least possible for me to do so now.

Hey two posts in a row with actual content. Who saw that one coming? (And this one didn't even have bullet points. I almost miss them!)

Because failure is not an option

Bullet points, because they work so well. And I'm a fan of lists. One of these days, I promise to write real entries with real content that might have some relevance to me other than venting the pressure cooker that is my brain.

• My innards have issued their demands for my surrender, most of which appear to be a drastic change in diet. I think I am going to have to quit soda almost completely, at least for awhile. Tea, water and juice appear to be all I can drink if I want to not have issues. Also, eating more than tiny amounts of food (not even a regular-sized meal!) sets my guts off. I think this is a combination of a stomach bug and stress. I haven't ever had a reaction to stress like this, but I also haven't been this far behind at Dragon's Lair before.
  
  I know what this is. I thought I had avoided this fate. I'm nearly 30 and it hadn't struck me down yet. But it runs in both families. It was inevitable, I suppose. I mean, I got most of the other bad genes, why not IBS, too?
  


• The new laptop is the first new computer I have owned in five years. Transitioning to a new PC has been harder than I thought it would be, mostly because I have fine-tuned my old machine to the point where it's all set up perfectly for me. There's more sentimental attachment to this old machine than I thought I had, too. I almost feel guilty putting it out to pasture and switching to the new computer, but I know it's necessary. Although this old laptop can keep trucking for awhile yet, I think I'd feel guilty if I worked it to death. Odd, the kind of attachments people develop, isn't it?


• Musuko is coming into town at the end of this week. This is made of awesome and win.

Have I mentioned I'm behind on a LOT of things I need to do? This isn't just stuff I want to do, these are things I need to do. I have utterly failed at my job this week, more than I ever have at this job. I can't do that. I can't be like all the other people who have been promoted into awesome positions at the store and then developed fail. I won't be like them. I refuse.

I don't think I've even talked about my new position at work yet, but after whining about how far behind I am for the past four days, I think it's an overdue blog.

So! Storytime!

When I first started at Dragon's Lair, I had trouble getting into the groove. I was part-time and I don't do well part-time; I prefer working full-time, because I feel like I actually get things accomplished. I had left the pool job, was going to ACC, and my training at the new job was practically non-existent. I would say that for most of my first 90 probationary period, I was unsure about the job and they were unsure about me. I was asking a lot of questions, all the time. I was asking how and what and when and where and who and most importantly why. I wasn't sure I was comfortable with the store manager - AB - because she seemed to be very quiet, where the other two managers, PB and JK were very loud and vocal and present.

PB was my trainer. He's an awesome guy. He's the guy everyone, even me, wants to hang out with. He is one of the three or four most charismatic people I've ever met. He's smart, attractive, very fit and is able to talk about anything to anyone for any length of time. He own any conversation he's a part of, and is pretty much the most brilliant salesman I've ever met. He's also one of the worst teachers I've ever had. He was a Marine until circumstances forced him to leave the Corps. He threw me into the deep end with barely any training. He would give me a sketchy outline of what needed to be done and then leave me to my own devices.

I found out later that some of this was because there was no established procedures for a lot of things and that I was starting on the heels of a major personnel upheaval. The store was in some serious flux and most of the institutional knowledge had left. Not only that, the people I was replacing were the kind of people you don't want doing more than mopping floors under close supervision.

Now, I'm a smart guy. Once I realized that the lack of direction and supervision wasn't going to change, I had to change tactics. My last few jobs had taught me how to deal with micromanagement and exacting expectations from very present and involved management. Since Dragon's Lair was the exact opposite, I realized I couldn't count on my bosses to help me out. I started doing things my own way. I could say I took the initiative, but that sounds too self-promoting for what I was doing. I was trying to swim in the deep end of a business I didn't understand. I knew role-playing games, had a sketchy knowledge of comics, and absolutely no knowledge of miniature gaming, let alone the artistic side of miniatures. I had a growing knowledge of manga and anime, mostly in terms of finding out how much of it I really, really didn't like.

I'm horrible at math, and was expected to do some important money-math every time I closed out a register I was barely trained on.

So I did what I'm best at. I read. I read every comic I could get my hands on. I spent hours on wiki learning about the things I didn't know, so I could function with them. I read the help files on the point-of-sale program, which I found on the internets.

Without direction, I took the daily checklist as the Holy Writ and spent hours every day dusting, straightening and sorting the store until I could tell you where something was without looking. Whenever I got the chance, I got customers to talk my ears off about their favorite games, comics and manga.

And like I said, I asked questions. I discovered who could and would answer questions and who wouldn't. The manager I had been least comfortable with I discovered was anything but soft. Instead, I discovered a retail chess master - the Grand Admiral Thrawn of comic and games stores. Quietly, with a nudge here and a nudge there, she was shifting us all into positions and duties where we were best suited. She and LR, the office manager, would answer my questions with endless patience and with as much information as even my vast brain could hold.

In essence, I got trained by the highest levels at Dragon's Lair and came to even more realizations. PB and JK were dropping the ball, on a regular basis, when it came to the clerks. AB had noticed this too and quickly promoted slim_frame to manager. slim_frame is small, fierce and one of the best managers I've known. Where AB is quiet and nudges, slim_frame pushes and jabe and gets in your face about things.

By the time my first 90 days were up, I realized how little structure there was for clerks, mostly because of the previous management. So, I cheated. Everyone knew I AB and LR were telling me how they wanted things done. I just started telling everyone else that the way I was doing it was the way it was supposed to be done. Most of the time, I was just repeating what AB was telling me, but some of the time, I was creating systems and organizational structure on my own, applying my gift for organizing chaos. (A gift, which, it pains me to admit, I got from my mother.)

That got noticed.

AB started giving me additional duties. First, it was handling returns - sending damaged and overaged product back to distributors. I was asked to run a few errands here and there. Then I was asked to take over shipping. Somewhere in there, I staged a coup and got to take over newsletter. JK was doing it, but he's not a writer. I pointed out to AB that some customers had complained to me that the newsletter was full of errors and fail, and she basically said: "if you think you can do better, then do it."

I did.

Over the course of a year, I refined and changed newsletter. I still have more I want to do with it. Same with the website. Somewhere in there, I ended up becoming a training mentor and the Opener five days a week. As my job duties changed, I've ended up working a Monday - Friday schedule that is generally set around the 9-5 model.

Recently, I went to AB and basically told her I was thinking about leaving the store, because I wasn't making much money and was feeling like there wasn't potential for advancement. I wasn't needed as a manager (and wasn't sure I wanted to be a manager), but I wanted more. The stuff I would be really good at, the PR, is outsourced for the most part.

AB and I had a long talk and she basically promoted me from clerk to webmaster. I have more control over the web page, more time to promote the store online and in venues our outsourced PR person can't or won't promote us through. I also get to run most of the errands, and visit the San Antonio store.

I have more time to focus on shipping and returns and all the other duties I had been assigned. Like when I first started, there's not a lot of official direction - I have a set of goals and things I know AB wants, but it's up to me to create it and make it happen. It's up to me to make this work.

This is a rare opportunity for a guy without a degree. To be able to work PR and web for a successful, established business and to create my own niche job and job duties. I can define what my position at the store is and show them how many ways I can be useful.

Only this past week? I've dropped the ball. Partially because I'm sick. Mostly because I'm sick. And partially there are some bumps in the road in terms of transitioning to the new position; my co-workers, many of whom I have trained, are used to me being out on the floor, on register and able to back them up. I'm still able to back them up and available as a resource - after all, customers always come first. Dragon's Lair is what it is because of our customer service. However, as I'm moving into the new job, I realize how much some of my co-workers take what I did for granted. They're used to me being there at 9am to open the store and being on register...so if they're not there exactly at 10am for the first shift, it's oaky. Because I would be there.

If they wanted to wander off and talk to friends or work on projects that take all shift, that's okay, because I was there. I can man the front, help the customers, do my own duties. the checklist, and whatever the managers had for us that day all by myself. If there was a rush of customers, I would always call them up to the register and let them go back to their project when things slowed back down. I could always be counted on to skip my break to make sure someone else got theirs. I could always be counted on to schedule breaks, make sure everyone got everything done, and keep things flowing at the front. I would write notes to everyone else and keep abreast of what was changing in gaming and comics.

Because that's what I did.

In all fairness, I would have done just as much of that had my co-workers not done their own thing. Nor are most of my co-workers lazy. Almost all of the folk I work with on a regular basis have a solid work ethic and feel comfortable working on their projects (most of which are assigned to them) because I'm at the front, and even my extra duties (things above and beyond the daily checklist) are things I can do at the front end as opposed to in the back and on the sales floor. Nor does walking the floor, helping customers or doing daily chores throw me off those duties. Nor can any of them be expected to have the same level of multi-tasking I do. I've been working a lot longer than most of them and have carefully trained and cultivated my ability to multi-task over a series of years. It was a deliberate and careful training, too - multi-tasking is a learned skill, one I've honed for a long time. That they took advantage of my skills to make their jobs easier is not a mark against them. Rather, I think, it's something they should have been doing. Why shouldn't they let me do what I do well while they do what they do well? It's a mark of a good team, I think.

I could never manage sections the way some of my co-workers do. JW is the mistress of the DVDs and manga; AK is the mistress of Vertigo and DC. RL and MR handle Marvel, board games and the CCG cases. LP handles the miniatures, even though his job is Events Coordinator.

It didn't hurt anything if they were a bit late, because I was already there. Most of my co-workers have two jobs, are college students, or are working parents. That extra few minutes grace was something I could - and did - give them because I understood that they had a lot more on their plates than I did, even with my work at the church and the occasional tutoring job.

Now, I can't give them that level of support. Getting stuck on the floor for any serious length of time sets me behind. Having to do someone else's job as opposed to my own - which now encompasses a great deal more work than I expected - sets me back.

So part of what's happened is I've been set back and set back and set back - and then I got sick. Now, I'm in a hole. I think I can dig myself out of it, but I need a bit of time and space to do that, and I'm not getting it.

Mostly, my problem right now is that being sick meant I was too tired to work effectively. Part of is that I'm not organized. I'm not on top of things like I need to be.

Hence, a plan. First off, I need to get some urgent things done and out of the way so I can make way for just enough space to update my calendars, update my to-do lists, and figure out a plan of attack for the rest of it. I need to finish getting my new computer up and running as soon as I can so I can shift over from my laptopt to the new, more portable and less space intensive computer.

Then, I need to show AB that I'm worth it. That she didn't make a mistake by letting me basically write my own ticket.

It's going to be a helluva a hard week, especially since it'll be a short week.

But I haven't failed at this job yet. I haven't failed at Dragon's Lair yet.

I refuse to accept failure now.

As an end note, I want to thank everyone who's been commenting on my journal and supporting my personal blog challenge. Your involvement has been invaluable; knowing people are reading this makes it easier to blog every day.

I think, by the time I crawl out of this hole, I'll be ready to tackle my own writing again. Maybe sort out just that much more of my life.

Because I am so very, very tired of failing at life.

Really? Really?

More bullet points. Maybe some real text. Because I fail at my own blog challenge just like I seem to be failing at life right now.

• I'm so stressed I can barely see straight. I need space and time to work on things, but I'm not getting it. My family won't leave me alone long enough to work on anything, and I can't think my way through getting dinner, let alone getting anything done. People need to talk to me about things before scheduling them.


• My brand-new computer may as well be a paperweight at home, because the wireless adapter is too advanced to connect to the home network. Ergo, I cannot has internets. I can't download anything. I can't chat. I can't get on my websites. In a word? Fail.


• I got sent home from work sick today. I thought I would go home and work on things and start getting caught up. But no. I ended up in the bathroom for a time. Then I slept. Why do I always feel guilty for being sick? Some days, I almost wish I had the lack of work ethic my 'peers' seem to.


• My innards are still staging their insurrection. They have yet to deliver demands for my surrender.


• Instead of sleeping in on a Saturday, my only real day off during the week, I am not getting to sleep in. I am not getting to work on things. No, I am taking the dogs to a 9 AM vet appointment. Why is is people schedule my time without talking to me first? I know I have no life. I know I'm supposed to serve others. I know being a good person takes sacrifices. But really? People could talk to me, so I can arrange all the things I'm supposed to do for everyone to make sure it all gets done.


• And really? I don't want to hear from most of you about taking time for myself or doing things for myself. Because the things that would help me or would let me do that, most of the people I know are either unable to unwilling to do, so unless you're one of the people who actually read the things I write or have helped me when I've asked for it, don't go there. (And if that comment makes you feel guilty - don't. Either you're able to help or your not.)


• I fail at newsletter this week. By all rights, my boss should write me up. I'm frustrated because I schedule one night a week to be able to do newsletter, and when I don't get the stuff on time, it crams me up pretty bad, but I still should be able to do it because I'm supposed to have time at work these days. If only I could start chewing through my list again. If I don't start getting a handle on things, I'm going to fuck things up again.


• No, I'm not overcommitted. I'm sick and crazy things keep happening to get in the way of me getting things done. People keep having emergencies.


• It's 11:30 at night and I have (sort of) had one meal today. I should try to eat, but cooking is too much damn trouble beacuse as soon as I leave my room, Mom wants to talk to me about things. I'm not allowed to be cranky, frustrated or stressed, because it makes her feel like she can't talk to me. I have to be a fucking cheerleader for her all the time. I can't be frustrated with Dad beacuse then he wants me to explain it all to him. No one wants to either just do the things I ask or get out of my way so I can do things. They all want me to explain everything, which takes more time, and then offer ideas, solutions and criticisms on what I do. I could go out and spend money on fast food (again), but really? Why can't I be allowed to function in my own home?


• I want Mom to turn off the TV when she wants to talk to me. I can't talk over it. I can hear it through my headphones.


• I have a cell phone full of contacts and a list of people who say 'I want to help', but no one can talk when I call and want to vent. But when someone else needs/wants me, lord help me if I'm not there. How does that work?


• Why can't the TV be off for even an hour or two? Just long enough for me to let my brain collect itself. I could go out to the garage, but then I have to be miserable in the heat. People wonder why I can't stand to watch television. That's why. It's never turned off. It's never silent. Ever. And no, I can't ask her to turn off the TV. That opens up a whole new can of worms I want to deal with even less than I want to deal with the TV.

Intense day

I went to Dragon's Lair San Antonio today.

It was interesting, excited and you really want to hear all about it. But if I tell you, I'd have to kill you. Or they'd have to kill me. Or maybe both. Either way, there would be a dire need for a backhoe and a mop, not necessarily in that order.

I got to (finally) meet Soror in person, which was awesome. We've emailed each other often enough about work-related things that putting a face to the email was good, and having a better working relationship (and hopefully a friendship) with someone from the San Antonio store is going to be a goodness.

The trip was fun; getting to hang out with AB and just chat about things both work and non-work related was fun. She and I have always gotten on well, and she's the best boss I've ever had. Every promise she's made me has been kept and everything she's tried to do with either store, she has so far accomplished or has made great strides towards accomplishing.

It was just an early morning, a fairly long time in a van, some heavy lifting, some crazy, some drama, and then more time in the van, more heavy lifting and then going home.

I found out that is just as insane as I knew she was. And that her Vision is going to become real, very fast. We're going to have some awesomeness soon. I also found out I am far more behind on everythign than I thought I was.

My new computer was there when I got home. It's been five years since I had Now, the case needs to get here.

It's been five years since I got a new computer, and I'd forgotten how much work went in to setting one up and getting it ready for use. I'm not nearly done - in fact, I've barely started.

I'm pretty excited, but I failt at blogging tonight since I'm so bloody tired.

I think I'm going to go to bed and catch up as best I can tomorrow.

Wish me luck.

Epiphanies, Visions and the Insanity In Between

"Eventually, when dealing with Christians, people have to decide one of two things: either you're delusional or you're on to something."
- - Dreamsaint

Okay, yeah, that's a paraphrase, But 'tis fairly true, I think. The quote struck me today, both because of the lack of comments on my last blog, and because of something someone said to me today.

I know I' m not delusional. I know I'm not crazy, either.

Insane? Well...that one's open to debate, now isn't it?

Have you ever met someone with an Idea? Has someone you know ever come to you with something so outrageous, so inspired and so freakin' insane that you wanted to laugh at them...and then watch and see if they could pull it off?

Has someone ever told you a plan and made you wonder if they were standing on the edge of greatness?

Greatness. That's right. I went there.

Greatness. It's a good word with a lot of meanings, such as "unusual or considerable in degree, power, intensity" or "extraordinary powers; having unusual merit; very admirable" or even "of noble or lofty character" - to say nothing of "distinguished; famous" and "important; highly significant or consequential."

I had that moment today.

A friend of mine presented an ambitious, insane and absolutely brilliant plan to me, and all I could do was start laughing. The more she talked, the more I laughed. All the while, another quote ran through my head...this time (no surprise) from Star Trek.

Risk is our business!
- - James T Kirk

Truth? This plan has nothing to do with money. Nor is it anything people haven't tried a thousand times before. Or thought of a million times more than it's been tried. Nothing new under the sun, right? No, this plan has to do with something near and dear to me, something embedded soul-deep in the most primal aspects of me.

Writing.

Fanfiction. Original fiction. Star Trek. Harry Potter. Babylon 5. And more. So much more. Only, instead of doing what everyone else has done, my friend wants to do more. She wants to create something greater than what has come before, something more lasting, something more enduring, something more powerful.

More than an archive.

More than just an internet library. More than just another fanfic site.

She wants to create a community. A community the likes of which I haven't really heard of before.

How can an internet community be great, you ask? I was part of Metal Machine Music for just a few short years, and it was a profound, exciting, energizing experience that still rides with me. The friends I made there are friends still.

Internet communities are about connection through common interest and are generally easier to create than 'real life' communities, because it's easier to find such things online.

And writing? Well, stories are such a integral part of our world, such a deep part of our society, our culture, our history...and there are writers everywhere.

It could work.

It really could.

The greatness would come when we actually succeeded, and we actually created a community people want to be a part of, that people seek out and join and jump into. It's possible. Hard, but possible.

Anything worth doing is worth doing well. It's worth it to try to fly if you fall of the cliff, because what do you have to lose? Even if we don't make it, even if we fizzle or we can't make it work, we'll have tried to do something awesome.

I think, at some point, every person is given an opportunity to be a part of something truly awesome. Something great. I don't think that necessarily means it has to be something world-shaking or of such huge import even a hermit like me would hear of it, but I do think anything great makes an impact, makes a difference and does something to make the world a little better than it was.

I think this idea, this vision she's had is something that could do just that.

Lots of people don't take fandom seriously, which, I think is a mistake. They don't take fanfiction, fanart, RPGs and the like seriously. Again, a mistake. How many lives do these things touch? How many people have to read and write and be interested to support the millions of fan communities that are out there?

What if someone dared to try to bridge communities, bridge original and fan?

Yep. I know. Been done.

How many of them had serious resources - maybe not serious money, but domains and server space and technical skill? A few, I'm sure. Places like Fanfiction.net.

But how many of those place are really built around the idea of community? I'm sure there are many, but I've never seen one that functions like what she had in mind, and I've been on fanfic boards, archives, RPGs and communities most of the time I've been on the net. So have a lot of you on my LJ flist.

But the opportunity to build someplace like that from the ground up, to be able to construct and design it and structure it to do what we want it to do, take an already existing 'seed' community and use to reach out to thousands of other like communities, and maybe, just maybe, bridge gaps that don't need to exist?

Yeah. Sounds crazy. Sounds hard. And maybe to some of you, it doesn't sound worth doing.

It does to me.

Worth doing? Totally.

Even if we fail? Utterly.

Are we going to try?

Damn straight.

So, once again -

Hold my beer and watch this. Succeed or fail, it'll be fun to watch.

Jayiin and the Crazy, Awesome, Very Insane Day

Okay, so I tried to parody the title of the book Alexander and the Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (I probably got the title wrong) and failed at parody. Does anyone else remember that book? I want to find a copy of it, but I never can.

I remember it being awesome when I was a kid.

So. I have less than an hour to write, edit and post what will prove to be one of my more complicated posts. Why will this post be more complicated? Because it's going to be my first real religious post, and that will open up a huge can of worms for me.

Really? My spiritual walk, my faith, my church - these are important, vital and central to my life. Blogging every day and not dealing with these topcis isn't something I can do - because of that, there will be posts centered on that. I've thus far managed to skirt it, even in posts where those factors played major roles. Mostly, I haven't touched on them much because I'm a coward. I haven't wanted to have religious debates on my blog or deal with some of the questions that might arise.

Until I now, I could get away with it beause I was a fairly casual blogger. However, at least until October 31, I'm a fairly serious blogger. Though most of my first few entries have been short on substance and long on failed wit, not all of them will be. I am not going to friendslock any of my blog challenge entries because that feels a little like cheating.

So. Read at your own risk.

I'll put most of it under cuts, so no one has to read. Those of you following on blogger or a blog reader that doesn't support cuts - you have been warned.

Today's service at church was one of those services where the Holy Spirit was working overtime. Usually, when a month has five Sundays in it, the Well has a contemplative prayer service. Usually, this combines mystical, liturgical, prayer and praise and is focused around directed personal time with God. Dreamsaint will lead off with an explanation of what we're doing and why, open us in prayer. We'll sing a bit and then get started. At the end of the service, we'll have Communion and break for lunch before having a Baptismal service.

This week, we already knew two of the kids were being Baptized. I've have had the privilege of watching several of my students accept Christ, which as been an awesome, humbling experience.

Today, the service was an Ignatius Examen, except instead of focusing on a single day, we focused on the first six months of 2009.

I wrote a lot in my journal and had some profound revelations about where my head is at. A lot of it, I liked - I needed to realize that I am doing better at focusing on Christ and acting as Christ than I thought I was, but I also needed to see the places where I have failed utterly or need to work on more. There's a lot more of the latter than the former, but that comes with the territory - none of us perfect. We're all broken in some ways. Damaged goods. No matter how hard we try, no matter how hard we work, how much we do and how far we go in our walk with Christ, we will never reach the pinnacle of what we are capable of, let alone reaching the goal of living and acting as Christ.

That's where Grace comes in. We don't have to. If we truly believe in Christ, then we're going to try. We're going to fall short, we're going to fail...but we're going to keep trying, because we believe it's the right thing to do. Because we believe, because we love Christ and because God keeps His promises, we're already forgiven. It's not about the end result - that will work itself out, one way or the other.

Except...once you've given yourself to Christ, once you've truly decided to believe and truly decided to follow Him, you know what the end will be.

But that just means the journey is that much harder, because once you set your feet on the path of Christ, then God will direct you, and sometimes it's harder to follow Him than it is not to. We follow, not because we're earning some Heavenly reward, but because we know it is the right thing to do.

Sounds corny. Sounds too good to be true. Just believe, and be given eternal life with God? To be promised Union (if you want to get Evelyn Underhill mystical about it) all because you believe?

Yeah. That's all there is to it. Except, it's hard to admit you're broken and you can't make things work on your own. It's hard to admit you're wrong about things in your life, that you can't succeed, you can't become all you need to and should become without God. It's the most brutal, visceral kind of humility and it comes on you like a metric fuckton of acme anvils hurtling from the sky as if they were meteors on a crash course for an extinction-level event in your brain, heart and soul.

It doesn't matter if it's a slow, gradual thing like it was for me or a blinding instant of realizing - for a moment, you're standing naked in front of the Creator of the Cosmos and you realize how small, frail and hurt you really are. You're buried under the weight of everything horrible you've ever done. Drowned in all the things you can't do. Crushed by the undeniable and utterly horrific fact that you are empty, alone and there is something awe full and awesome missing.

For that moment, it's just you and God.

There's no words to describe God. There's no words to describe that moment - and conversion is the greatest Mystery in faith, I think, because it's so different for every person. So personal and individual that no writer or artist or poet or philosopher is ever going to codify it any more than we can truly codify people. There's no way to explain all the factors or moments or decisions or thoughts that push and shove and nudge a person toward that moment where they accept Christ. It's a cosmic Butterfly Effect so personal and powerful and unique that you almost never see it coming until you don't know what to do about it.

Accept Christ. Now there's some hard words to write about. You accept Christ is real. You accept God is real. You accept you are broken. You accept you are flawed, imperfect and unable to ever escape that. You accept Christ loves you. God loves you. God not only loves you...God likes you. He wants a relationship with you because you are His creation, you are His child. He wants you in his existence. He wants to know you, to talk to you, to listen to you, to help you. You accept that love as something bigger, greater and more consuming, more powerful and overwhelming and incomprehensible than you can ever grasp.

You accept God knows more than you ever can understand. You accept God's leadership, guidance and authority over you. You accept the only way to make being broken truly livable, the only way to be free of it, to face it and to make it better is to accept God's love. God's sacrifice.

You accept God is right and you are probably wrong about how your life works, where it should go and what you should do with it.

Talk about hard. No one likes to be told what to do, least of all me. I hate havig people in charge of me, telling me who and what I should or shouldn't be. I hate rules that say what I can or can't do, what I can or cannot be.

You've all heard me say it at one time or another.

But.

I am broken. I am flawed. There is more wrong with me, more ways I am a horrible, no good, terrible, very bad person than I can ever write or speak or tell in any way.

God still loves me. God still likes me. God still wants me around.

God.

The Creator of Heaven and Earth. The beginning and end of all things - alpha and omega. The being, force, power, Prime Force - the center of the universe, the all-encompassing ineffable, indescribable, incomprehensible, omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent Lord and Master of All Things loves and likes me. The fat, stupid little geek who spends too much time writing and reading fanfic who can't get out of debt and can't help but fuck up everything he does.

Today, I got to see that moment on the face of my brother and on my friend.

At the end of the service, right before Communion, Dreamsaint did something he almost never does: he offered an invitation for people to stand up and say: "I need Christ."

I know the invitation is pretty much tradition in most churches, but the Well doesn't usually do it, because we don't work that way. We try not to push people, pressure people or put people on the spot. We don't want to make them feel uncomfortable or like there's something wrong with them if they aren't ready to stand up in front of the church and deal with that moment with dozens of strangers they might not want to have to talk to about it.

But Dreamsaint said he was 'under orders' to give the invitation today, so he did. He said his piece, almost in tears because of the sheer presence of the Holy Spirit being there, working on us all...but my brother stood up.

So did my friend.

My brother has been coming to the Well for a couple of years now, off and on, and has been moving towards this for awhile, I think. My buddy has been dancing on the edges of this for a few weeks, too.

We already had the robes. We already had the service planned. It was the easiest thing in the world to add them in the line-up.

Off to Barton Springs spillway we went. Now, I know some people don't hold with the idea of Baptism, because once the decision has been made to accept and follow Christ, the act of Baptism is just a formality, a ritual - a public confession of faith (which is necessary for accepting and following Christ, but that's a topic for later). There are lots of ways to publically confess, lots of rituals and symbols and formalities.

It's true. Once the decision is made, that's it. You're a Christian. You're a follower of Christ.

But there is something truly transformational about Baptism, and it has to be important, because otherwise, why would it have such a prominent place in the Bible? Baptism is part of the mystery of conversion (and conversion happens whether or not you're raised in the church. Every Christian is born again and a convert.) Baptism is part of that process. What part is plays...I'm still working on that. It's different for every person I've talked to. For some, it was just a formality, like signing your name to a contract or shaking hands when you meet someone. It didn't do much for them...but other things did.

For others, Baptism was a profound and life-altering experience with profound consequences for their Christian walk.

I'm glad I was there when my brother was Baptized. I'm glad I was there when my buddy was Baptized. I don't know what role it will play, but I'm glad was there. I'm glad to have been there when my students were Baptized.

It was humbling and inspiring and full of awe. Did I mention humbling?

(Just for the record: I claim no part in their coming to Christ. It was all God working his miracles. If I did play a role, it was incidental at best.)

I will say, however, that Baptizing in public like we did was something of an experience. We do things this way for several reasons. For one, we aren't going to hide who and what we are, and people seeing folk being Baptized and seeing how we treat it, seeing us - as normal people, with kids in swimsuits playing in the water. Seeing us drinking sodas, smoking, laughing and enjoying hanging out, just like they are...but also seeing us as Christians.

It's a way for us to be incarnational and to try to be a part of the community.

It's also practical. It's free and convenient. We don't have much money and we don't have space of our own, so we have to find a way. The Barton Springs spillway works as well as anything we've tried, and better than some.

None the less, it's not easy for me. I am not an outdoorsy person. I know, a lot of people scoff when I say that, and think I'm not appreciating nature or think it's because I'm fat or lazy or just don't care to try to enjoy it.

Maybe they're right.

Then again, maybe not. I'm allergic to nature, for one. I have fibromyalgia for another. It's painful to walk down the trails to the spillway, and it's no picnic navigating the rocks and wet out there. I'm hot, sweaty, itchy, hurting and generally miserable. The water is cold enough to make me hurt when I get in, and the amount of energy walking down there and walking back up take is simply staggering.



Needless to say, I've ended up with hives, a limp, and a bit of a sunburn.

Not too high a price, really, for getting to be there.

I have, however, finished re-writing CH6 of HPU.

I still need a haircut.

And I still want my new computer to come!

Standing Witness

Today, I played a small role in a big event.

Long story short: last summer, my friend JK adopted four kids - as a single mother. Four siblings, actually. J, S, A and R. Over the course of the last year, I've gotten to watch as they became more and more of a family. I've spent time with the kids both in and out of church and have gotten pretty attached to them. There's an earlier post, , where I talked about going to R's school for the 'bring your dad/uncle/brother/male family friend' to snacktime.

It's a powerful thing she's done. A powerful statement about who she is and what she wants to do with her life. She's a social worker for CPS, which means she deals with hurting kids all the time. I've watched her play Aunt to about half the kids at the Well. JK is a woman with an endless capacity for love and an iron will.

Today was the connsumation hearing for the adoption. JK had asked that as many people who could be there. Dad and I went; it took some wrangling, but we both managed to get the time off and get Mom situated enough she didn't need us for the afternoon.

When I first set out to write this blog, I figured I'd say something like 'today I say a family being created', but that's not true. They've spent the last year creating their family, and JK spent years before that preparing to have a family.

Even saying that today made it 'official' isn't right, because what law or proclomation or signature can make real what already exists? It can merely acknowledge, through ritual, what is already there. During the proceedings, JK accepted parental rights and responsibilities for the four kids, but - she'd already done that, long ago. She's been their mother for a year now. They call her 'Mom' and they've been using her name.

All the judge could do today was acknowledge what all fifty or so of us who came to support her already knew.

Yes, I did say 50 or so. Dad and I weren't the first or last to arrive, and as we sat in the chairs set aside for fat people (comfortable armless chairs set against the wall), people kept arriving. A few here, a few there - more and more people trickling in to be a part of the legal ritual.

People do love their rituals, don't they? We have rituals for almost everything. Physical expressions for abstract concepts, rote routines created to symbolize and commemorate moments and events and milestones. Rituals permeate our culture; we're fascinated by them, both the ones we understand and the ones we don't. We're flattered and honored when we're invited to take place in them, and we get offended when other people don't take our rituals seriously.

"What we hold sacred gives our lives meaning," - yeah, it's a quote from Babylon 5, but it's been a few posts since I used sci-fi to make a profound point.

Today was a moment, I think, that will define the meaning of 'family' for those kids for the rest of their lives. Even if some or most of the people who came to the courtroom drift away, or they outgrow the memories of today, I think knowing that many people came to support them as they were officially adopted will leave it's mark.

It was an amazing thing.

Small towns in Texas are places out of time, combining hints of modern with the past. The courthouse was no exception; it was beautiful and old and steeped in history. The seats weren't made for people my size, but there were some modern chairs off to the side, behind the jury box, that worked well for it.

The judge walked in and we all stood. When it came time to swear in the witnesses...the judge was flabbergasted that he would be swearing in the entire courtroom. More than fifty people stood, raised their right hands, and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

The attorney questioned the placement agency representative, presented an affadavit from CPS, questioned JK - and then questioned the other witnesses. The rest of us. All fifty of us. We answered yes - JK was the right person to raise those four kids.

Question after question, a ringing, echoing chorus of 'yes' reverberated through the high-ceilinged room, leaving the judge smiling and the attorney grinning. (The attorney had been forewarned about the possible turnout - the judge had not.) The attorney questioned the kids, and then the judge brought them all up to bang the gavel. Each of them got to bang the gavel.

Of course, the youngest banged it the loudest. *grins* RK is still my boy.

It was over faster than I thought it would be, but I think the statement was made - no matter what happens, JK and her kids won't be going it alone. They have a whole community behind them, willing to be there for them and with them as they go forward, officially a family.

One saying I've heard all my life is "you can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends," and the older I get, the more I think that's a lie. JK chose her family - and the rest of us chose to be her family, too. Families stand together and stick together.

Friends, you can walk away from. Family, you can't.

Brain Dump 2008

Once again, I should be getting into bed and falling asleep, because I have work tomorrow morning at 9 AM. Once again, I'm sitting at my computer, writing.

Every year, I do a bit of reflection about New Year's in my journal, but this year, my hands are hurting too much to write it by hand, so I'm sharing it with the rest of you.

Have you ever thought about how arbitrary New Year's is? Or what it really means? Everyone talks about New Year's the same way they do about birthdays and anniversaries, only - there's less reason for it.

Birthdays and anniversaries mark events that are celebrated. We've lived/been together/done something for another entire arbitrary 12-month cycle. Still, considering it's human nature to impose artificial order on anything and everything, it makes sense. Though, why twelve months?

I know there's a historical reason for it. I might even have known it at one time. Still, here we are. One number up on the
millennia.

Maybe because my birthday and the New Year are so close together, I've never really seen the New Year as a big deal - or that I don't want to go out and get drunk in a huge crowd of people. Because me and crowds? Never a good idea.

Getting drunk in a small group of people? Probably also not the best idea, all things considered. Most of the folk I hang out with these days aren't too keen on getting quietly drunk, and those that are probably wouldn't like a melancholy drunk.

I'm just not much of a partier. No big revelation there.

Getting drunk on my own? That's just lame.

So, New Year's for me usually consists of writing in my journal, avoiding driving, hiding in my room with my pipe, and pondering why everyone else is making such a big fuss over something that's never made much sense to me.

Which is to say, it's much like any other day for me, except more people are drunk.

Somehow, though, I've found myself rather superstitious lately, seeing signs and omens, patterns and tides and tendencies.

I'm sure it says something I took my last dose of antibiotic, got my tax form, and had my mother visit the store for the first time all on the last day of the year.

But I suppose it does me no harm to sit down and reflect on the big picture a bit, no matter how depressed it gets me.

(Huh. Now I think I see why so many people get drunk on New Year's. Thinking too much does that to you.)

2008 was the first year since 2001 I haven't been in college in one form or another, and though I missed it, I think it was good for me to try to break away from academia, at least a little bit. Even though Austin Community College is no St. Edward's, it's not as bad as some folk make it out to be.

I've discovered a great love of comics and the stories therein; which, if you know my love of stories, you know is a huge deal for me.

2008 is also the first year in awhile that I've had full time employment for the entire duration of the year. At the same place, even. I know a lot of folk fuss at me for working too much, but I actually like my job. Dragon's Lair, despite paying stale peanuts, is a fun place to work with decent co-workers, great management, and awesome customers (99% of the time).

And damn it feels good. I got my year review recently. Aside from my perfectionist annoyance at not being perfect, I'm pretty pleased with what was said.

And amused. Apparently, I'm a very methodical, detail oriented person. Who knew? /sarcasm

2008 also saw me get Baptized (in a hot tub, no less) - I know some of you want pictures, or even the illicit video someone took, but I'm probably never gonna post that stuff online. Now, I'm on Church Council at the Well, teach a kid's Bible class (really young kids, too), have discovered a talent and affection for dealing with babies, and I have yet to burst into flame or be struck dead by lightning from Heaven.

Which goes a long way to proving God's infinite forgiveness in my book. I woulda' smote me a long time ago.

I've lost weight, learned that I still have the strength and endurance to hold down a job even with the fibro and arthritis. Managed to even start getting up on time without needing a cattle prod.

While these are all laudable things, and things I'm proud of, truth to tell - 2008 has been a total and complete failure of a year for me.

Talking about the big picture here?

I'm 28 - closer to 30 than not - and I'm working a job that doesn't pay a living wage, living with my parents, still being partially supported by them (and yes, there are many extenuating circumstances, not the least of which is my health and my mother's health), still without a degree for all my troubles and money on college.

It bothers me more than a little.

Looking back at my life, I also realize that I have no idea where I wanted to be when I was this age. Marriage was always a vague idea, but considering my luck with women and having seen the hell my parents' marriage is, I never really considered it a serious option.

Kids? I don't know if I'd be a good father until I get at least one book published. Seriously - I think I would resent the amount of time a kid would take and how much effort and pain taking care of a kid would cause me, to say nothing of passing my genetics (fibromyalgia, arthritis, and everything else) on to another human being...

Yeah.

A bigtime job making lots of money, with a fancy car and a ritzy place to live? Never wanted it. I never saw money or status as worth all that much. Money buys me food, books and a place to live. Other than that, it's just a lot of math and a lot of misery to earn it. I'd rather have my job that pays nothing and the contentment that comes from it than a job I hate that pays well.

Been there. Done that. Got the baggage.

Worse yet?

I haven't really succeeding in much of the writing I wanted to do this year.

Why not, you ask?

Discipline.

Back before college, I had lots of it. I could discipline myself, make myself write even when what I wrote was crap. I was able to sit down and just pound out a few hundred words every day.

Not so much anymore.

I used to be able to stay organized, stay focused, and make myself do what I needed to do, when I needed to do it, without whining, bitching, moaning or ignoring it. I could do chores, keep my commitments, and still have time for a read and a wank before bed.

Not so much anymore.

This year, I've missed opportunities to do great things, dropped the ball on commitments I've made, and left some folk hanging in a lurch; friendships have faded, with little to take their place. I've missed opportunities for what could be great friendships (or, at least people I could help out a bit), and been unable to step up all the times I needed to.

And that bothers me, more than a little bit.

The shift hasn't happened overnight, or even over the course of a single year.

I partially blame it on college. Going to Stedwards was a good thing for me, because I learned a lot, discovered I had fibro, got engaged, got dumped, got voted off the island, and discovered I really just might have the skill to be a successful writer.

But going to Stewards required a different kind of discipline than I had used before. When I was living at home, my parents didn't ask me to do chores - they asked me to do homework. My grades were fantastic and reflected my academic discipline. It was okay to be a bit frazzled and a bit disorganized.

Not so much anymore.

I really sat down and noticed it a few weeks back, right around Thanksgiving when I had some time off work, and I didn't manage to get a single freakin' thing done.

So I tried to figure out why. At first, it was easy to say I was resting and recovering from work, and I was tired and hurting. But even though I was, I still had energy to go play and read fanfic and watch B5 DVDs and read books and generally slack.

Which really? Isn't me.

So I took a look around, and what I saw disgusted me.

My room was a mess, disorganized and cluttered. My desk was messy, and my books are all over the place. My writing notes are scattered, and I haven't been journaling the way I need to. I've got plans-a-billion, but no action or execution or even plans to get my plans moving.

I didn't even have a 'to-do' list or an active calendar. My whiteboard was blank. My laundry was piled up, my room covered in dust, and I was drinking more soda than tea again.

Some of it is complacency on my part. Sitting on my fat ass and getting falling into a routine of feeling sorry for myself because I don't make much money and I'm always tired and always hurting.

Wah. Woe is me.

I'm better than that.

So I pulled out a fresh notebook and set about doing what I should have never stopped doing. I wrote down everything I needed to get done. But instead of doing what I've always done before and color-coded it or
categorized it or anything else fancy, I just wrote it down in pencil.

It's a fairly extensive list, and every day, I notice something else I need to add to it. But then I realized, a lot of things on there were things that I've let slip by or things that I should have been doing all along.

I also realized it's been over a year and a half since I re-organized myself; every six months or so, I used to spend a couple of days just putting myself back together. Clearing out
detritus, clutter and shit I didn't need, doing a deep-clean of my room. I would sort out my papers and files and books and would re-prioritize.

This sounds so corny, I bet. And I know my brother is sitting there shaking his head and laughing at me. My 'resets' always annoyed the fuck out of him - and for good reason.

In truth, most people do this to a certain extent; I was just more deliberate about it. They way I taught myself to deal with my learning disabilities was to control my
environment. If my brain wouldn't accept the outside systems already in place, then I would just create and impose my own systems.

Resetting those systems was a good way to keep them from falling apart around me, streamline them, and keep me from going crazy. Spring cleaning for my brain. See, part of my problem is that my brain doesn't process information the way a 'normal' brain does. It's the whole dyslexia/dysgraphia/dysplaxia thing. Most people have a mental filing cabinet, with folders and labels that are mostly organized (to a greater or lesser extent, depending on the person).

I don't.

Things don't get filed unless I force my brain to do it; and even then, small things build up in piles around my mental office, things I miss or forget or just don't need to worry about. In order to clean all that out, empty the mental trash cans, I have to consciously do it.

It also helps control the depression. Changes things up a bit, keeps me from falling into the complacency and bad habits that I've developed. Helps me take stock of things, notice tendencies I've developed and take steps to correct them.

The problem?

I can't do the physical part of it by myself anymore. I need help to get in a move things to clean and I need help to figure out where I've gone wrong, because I don't always see it.

Getting that help is the problem. I could probably recruit one or two people from the church, but honestly? They'd end up spending as much time talking to my mother as helping me. She's something of a figure of mystery and interest there, because most of them have never met her, but they have heard about her.

And the Well is about people - and my mother isa person in great need of help.

So I can't really blame them for that or ask them not to do what God may ask them to do.

Still, I have a list. I have plan. Get back on top of the day-to-day crap first. Then figure out what I'm going to do about the rest of it.

So there's 2008. A waste of an arbitrary 12-month cycle.

The good news?

If I'm going to put any stock in omens, portents and symbols, the last day of 2008 has given me a few to think on.

When I woke up this morning, I felt like shit. I hurt, I was exhausted beyond belief, the depression was kicking my ass in a bad way, and I had no idea how I was going to get through the day without breaking down.

It was so bad I even posted on LJ. If you only read my nonsense on Blogger or Inksome or who aren't on my LJ flist, you missed it.

(Thanks to everyone on LJ who commented on my post this morning. I needed the support.)

Yet, today went well. Good weather, so my pain got a bit better once I started moving. My co-workers pitched in and we kicked ass on getting things done. The store looked good when I left.

I got to go home early, even. Not for a great reason, mind, but I still got to go home early.

One of our customers, a lady I'll call B, asked to read the Katheryn story and actually overcame the Curse. She brought in a printed copy with notes on it this afternoon. She and her boyfriend ZD are awesome, and I think might end up being friends outside work.

Hell, she even wants to check out HPU and read some of the Katheryn story history.

My muse was awake today, and gave me plenty of thoughts for both of those stories, especially once BL and I chatted a bit about the Katheryn story.

She came in specifically to see me and talk to me about the story. She lives very far south and didn't have to drive all the way - but she and ZD did.

After I got Mom settled tonight, I went out to my favorite place to eat - Whataburger. I'm friends with some of the people who work there, and one of them hooked me up with her discount.

I got gas at the Valero next door to Whataburger and filled up the tank of the Mazda for $15. I accidentally gave the cashier too much money and didn't notice it - he could have easily taken the extra $20 I gave him and pocketed it and I would have thought I'd lost it somewhere.

Instead, he gave it back to me. Seems silly and incidental, but good service and good deeds seem to be in rare supply these days.

Tiny things, but - good omens, I would think.

And right after the New Year starts, I'll get to see a couple of very good friends I don't get to see often at all. I'll spend a whole day chilling with a guy who can always help me get my head on straight.

People talk about resolutions around New Year's, but I think I would prefer to talk about plans. Resolutions are what I've been making all year, and it's gotten me nowhere. I'd much rather have a plan and know how I'm going to get back on track.

Time for me to figure one out, I think.

In all truth, I don't know where I want to be this time next year. I think making those kinds of plans for me never work out; instead, I always end up someplace I never expect to end up. The long term goals are still the same - write, get published.

Instead, I think I'll focus on smaller plans, plans that will help me take things step-by-step to get to the larger goal.

I can still point to 2004 as being one of the worst years of my life; 2008 is nothing more than a blip compared to that.

So 2009? Just another arbitrary 12-month cycle that will see me writing another boring brain dump as it, too cycles out.

Hopefully, my brain will be in better working order, though.