Jedi Exile Hideaway

"God Save Ireland."

2007-03-18T00:12:36Z

Happy St. Patrick's Day to one and all. Mom and Sara came up to celebrate my birthday early today, and in addition to birthday money, I got a set of four wine glasses, which replace the one I accidentally shattered last week (a tiny glass shard from that glass cut my right index finger earlier today when I was cleaning my room), so now I can actually entertain people if I want to.

Mom also brought up my North and South DVDs. After watching them all at once when I was home sick in November, I was pretty tired of them, but I'm finally ready to watch them again. Except for "Book Three"..."Book Three" makes the Holiday Special look like a cinematic masterwork.

"Come and Get Them!"

2007-03-13T23:51:15Z

Just like Kenny magically reappears as if he didn't die in a million grotesque ways, let's just pretend I haven't been away since the end of November. I don't know how long I'm going to feel like staying, but for now I'm back.

That's about all I can think of to say tonight. There's plenty of other subject matter, but I don't want to get into it at the moment. My days of writing horrendously long entries are over. I will say this, though. Go see 300. I doubt anyone will make a more awe-inspiring movie this year.

Revamp

2006-11-29T04:44:09Z

My second bit of paid time ends tomorrow, and I think I'm going to let it lapse, because I really want to rethink my web presence. Again. So, as I'm contemplating revamping, I leave you with an approximation of what I'm thinking of doing, a very rough approximation.

Jacen, We Hardly Know You (It Would Seem)

2006-11-28T00:32:27Z

Tempest comes out tomorrow, and my new class doesn't meet in the morning, so I'm off to Cedar Rapids first thing to pick up the next "Legacy of the Force" book at Barnes and Noble. I'm virtually unspoiled for this one, so it should be fun, but I'll just say that as Jacen falls further to the Dark Side that I really wish they'd bring his brother Anakin back. However, I will say that I feel Jacen's fall resembles Luke's more than anyone else's, so perhaps there's hope.

The downer to Tempest's release: it's not written by the phenomenal Karen Traviss, which means Boba Fett and his story arc won't be making an appearance. Bummer, though because it's my favorite arc of the series, it means LucasBooks will be getting yet more of my money this May, when Traviss's hardcover, Sacrifice, comes out. Oh, well. I'll chalk it up as a graduation present to myself.

The Road Goes On

2006-11-26T15:45:06Z

We talked a little over AIM yesterday, which is about the only way we've kept in touch in almost two years (except for a couple of phone calls along the line). I had to head out for lunch, but before I did I asked if we'd ever talk in person again. She was idle when I asked this, and when I got back to my computer I saw she had replied, but hadn't answered the question.

That's her way. I suppose that's not a surprise. Rather the surprise is that last weekend I was watching a movie with some friends and realized she's not the one, not any more in any case, and that that was okay. The road goes on, and for the first time that's fine with me.

Now if only I could hurry up and get the hell out of college. But that's a whole other story.

artorius_castus @ 2006-11-21T01:08:00

2006-11-21T07:08:54Z

Too much on my mind, and I can't lie still long enough to go to sleep. Plus, I really want to get sucked into a book and can't, no matter how hard I try. Of course, that's mainly because Tempest, the latest book in the Legacy of the Force doesn't come out until the 28th, and that's what I really want to read right now.

100% Pure Steven Seagal Juice?!?!?

2006-11-20T04:02:18Z

Okay, this was so odd I had to show one and all:

Weirded out enough? Just check out the product description.

That's enough for one night, methinks.

Ah, Butt Out!

2006-11-16T15:16:40Z

Woke up this morning to find out that it's apparently the Great American Smoke-Out today, and the ped mall here on Cornell's hilltop is dotted with smoking factoid signs, illuminating the dangers of smoking. I really don't want to smoke a cigarette in the slightest right now, but I really think it would be morbidly funny to pose in front a sign or two while holding a lit smoke.

I don't know about anyone else, but the phrase "Great American Smoke-Out" conjures an image of a big mosh-pit of people lighting up in unison in some public place.

"Let's Lock Our Load, Ray!"

2006-11-11T16:20:19Z

Went shopping for various things this morning, and as Sara said as I talked to her on the phone in the store, there's something calming about doing your shopping early on a Saturday, when everything you need to pick up is housed under a single roof. I grabbed another pair of jeans and a new refill for my Airwick plugin: "Inspiration," a blend of lotus flower and blue orchid. That should keep The Bunker smelling clean and inspiring for a couple of months.

I stumbled across a t-shirt that I couldn't leave behind, too. It says "Made In Ireland." Go figure.

Drove back with the Due South soundtrack playing, and had fun singing along to "American Woman" by the Guess Who--such a fun song, especially in the car, it would seem.

I love mornings.

"I hope...."

2006-11-11T05:14:00Z

Tonight I hung out with some friends and drank a cold beer without a headache or fogginess in my head for the very first time, and felt, for the first time since 2003, like I was truly alive and part of this world. It wasn't that there was anything spectacularly earthshattering about the hanging-out time; in fact, it was perfectly normal, and that's what made the realization that I'm at long last looking at the world through my own unclouded eyes again so blessedly wonderful.

The morning has come, shining out the Blacks that hung upon me for so long with a dawn as brilliant as any that rises over the sea to cast light upon the land. It's not that the night is no more, nor that the cold wind of winter will never cut me to the soul again, but today is tomorrow after so many years, and that's enough.

"Luigi, we've gotta pimped out ride!"

2006-11-10T06:41:14Z

Thanks to Torey for showing me this clip of what's just another day in Vice City.

It's so good being back in Mt. Vernon.

Go Boil Your Head, Rumsfeld...

2006-11-08T22:49:36Z

Yes, Donald Rumsfeld has resigned and is gone. Don't think it would've happened if the GOP had staved off defeat yesterday, so thank God for miracles still occurring even in this cynical time.

I am fairly certain I know what I'm asking for Christmas for this year:

Hint to parents: It's $60 at Amazon, which is probably close to the cheapest you'll find it for, sadly, but it's worth it for a soundtrack junkie like me.

Atrophy

2006-11-08T17:37:52Z

Home has left me pretty much out of it. The shower that I just took helped me considerably, but there's still my stuffed-up head and my inconsistent appetite, and of course, thoughts of people I am impatient to see.

Nathan Fillion's on Lost tonight, the last episode of the season until February, and I would love to make a party out of it this evening, especially because, in addition to Mal's guest appearance, the previews make the episode look to be quite exciting (Kate and Sawyer will have a steamy moment to themselves tonight it appears). Alas, though, I'll be watching it alone, but might figure out a way to communicate during commercials--ah, technology.

I've realized there are a number of friends I still haven't told about my abrupt disappearance last Wednesday, but I've related the story so many times I'm sick of talking about it. It seems like I'll have to give the account a few more times when I get back, because I can't stomach to write anything more on the subject right now.

I know I'm going to go crazy in the two-and-a-half weeks I have before my next class starts, but getting back up to Mt. Vernon this weekend will help considerably, no doubt. So far, I've been occupying myself in as many low-energy ways as I can:

--Finished watching North and South: Book One and watched all of Book Two last weekend. I don't think I'll have the urging to spend more time with the Mains and Hazards for a few months.

--Watched some episodes of Due South, but not enough to overload me.

--Saw Firewall with Harrison Ford and The Constant Gardener with Ralph Fiennes with my parents.

--Perused the special features on my Firefly discs yesterday, and a couple of episodes with my mom last night. Have been tempted to sit down and listen to the commentary tracks on the episodes that have them, but can never bring myself to actually do it. I still watch my favorite shows and movies countless times for the sake of the stories and characters, and always feel I'm missing out on both when I listen to commentaries, unless I pop in the disc to catch just a snippet of commentary on a particular scene.

--Tracked the election results last night. The only displeasing result from last night that I can really comment on is Lieberman's reelection. The schmuck was a poor loser in the Democratic primaries and still the people of Connecticut kept him as their senator. But that looks to be the Republican/Independent base's doing, from what the numbers look like. I just wish they'd hurry up and call Montana and Virginia already; the Democratic Senate candidates both have narrow leads, but a lead is still a lead.

--I've also read, bummed around on the computer, and stared into space. I started playing an online simulation set in the Star Wars 'verse, but I still have no idea how the bloody hell someone's supposed to have much fun with it. I'm sure there's a way, but I'm no quite in the mood for it at the moment, so I'm off to make a party pizza for lunch and try to finish Bloodlines today.

I'm Alive!

2006-11-05T22:10:48Z

Please excuse last Saturday's desperate tone. I was just beginning to go through a bit of withdrawal from the Effexor I had been taking for a year-and-a-half, and I was having a hell of a hard time dealing with it. Since then, the knowledge of just how difficult even a slight amount of withdrawal from Effexor XR is has led me to dropping it completely.

Tomorrow will be a week without taking the infernal drug, and the intensity of dealing has kept me from updating to let everyone know that I'm still alive. I've told the complete story so many times in the past week that I'm not really wanting to talk about it anymore at the moment, but rest assured that I'm alive and doing better daily. I had to take the month off of classes, and the abrupt withdrawal's the exact opposite of what all the damned doctors told me I should do, but it looks as if I'll be back to (more or less) my old self well before Thanksgiving. And I promise I'll be on again before then.

My advice for all of you for today is this: stay away from Effexor XR at all hazards. You'll be glad you did.

"I'm going where the cold wind blows"

2006-10-28T18:02:14Z

Went to lunch today and felt invisible. Again.

Inevitably someone was sitting in my seat, which I had claimed with my school ID. I grabbed it from him, and he said he was sorry.

Still, I responded, "It's okay; happens all the time." I said it in a reasonable voice, but behind it was the need to scream murderously at nothing and everything.

That sensation of being nothing more than a passing shadow puts me in the sort of mood where I have to ask myself if anyone would notice if I just quietly passed out of this world. Bloody no one, is the answer I get.

You know what, though? I couldn't really give a shit about that in my present state. I've been in the midst of a deep depression for three weeks now that I can't shake because it's been induced by the two warring medications coursing through me.

I do believe I will go mad before all this is over.

"It's Not Over"

2006-10-26T15:03:36Z

Last night, as I was falling asleep, reassurance not quite from my own head hit me like the wild waves of the sea:

"It's not over yet."

Hope still survives, it seems.

J.J., Don't Do This To Me!

2006-10-26T02:20:41Z

Lost is freaking nuts! Every week, J.J. Abrams and company give you a crumb, then place a whole new dessert just out of reach. I really wished I had kept watching this show when it started (I had my reasons for not), but I more or less feel like I am caught up, though I still need to get ahold of the first two seasons on DVD (might ask for one for Christmas; mom, if you're reading this, and I know you are, here's a gift idea...).

I'm feeling the need to scream in front of an audience, but the weekly Lost viewing was cancelled tonight, so Jessica and Rachel still need to see it, and since you're both on my LJ friends list, I'm putting the spoilers beneath a cut. You both missed a corker tonight; you really did.

A WHOLE OTHER ISLAND!?!? WHAT THE CRAP?!?!?

And Jack, you shouldn't have even tried saving what's-her-face's life...seriously, where's your incentive for helping them? They can threaten to kill you, but how's that any worse than your present situation, since you're locked up in a cell UNDER THE OCEAN!!!

Oh, and Kate and Sawyer...you've got to figure out how to turn the tables, because, after tonight's little revelations, they can play you like Palpatine played Anakin...only without the lightsabers and the force lightning and the youngling slaughtering.

I don't think my rambling's make any sense, but I mainly wrote them for myself anyway, so it doesn't really matter.

Epiphany

2006-10-25T02:01:51Z

I don't think I've been out of my chair and away from my computer since 6:30 or so. But the final is done, and all that remains is to turn it in. Please excuse me while I collapse.

Oh, and I think I ended up injecting a lot of my sarcasm into the final. That's a fun thought, I think. Miller wants 1000 to 1500 words for the thing, and said he'd penalize for having more or less.

I have 978. Bugger it, I'm not going to spout out some more bullshit for twenty-two extra words.

Ah, Hell.

2006-10-24T11:32:39Z

I woke up this morning sick of exile. So I'm giving the all-clear. Still doesn't mean the chemicals aren't totally whacked up in my brain, but I guess I should get used to that.

Also, am making plans to only stay in Washington overnight on Thursday. I'd rather be in Mt. Vernon amongst friends than be in an empty house through Saturday evening.

I have an entire morning with no obligations. I really like the feeling of that. So I guess I'll take a shower and take a leisurely breakfast. And then? No idea. I'll think of something.

Three Unrelated Items (But a couple are actually related, I guess)

2006-10-24T01:23:27Z

1) I've come to the conclusion that I can't speak or write a word to the girl who I won't name without feeling like a total idiot, and therefore feeling ashamed of myself.

2) The shame has apparently caused me to go into hiding, which somehow got upgraded to exile tonight. There's even a nifty note on the magnetic white board on my door informing everyone of the exile and to "Please leave all messages with my hermit, Usama." (look back through October's entries if you don't know what I'm referencing to)

3) I interlibrary loaned Frank Miller's graphic novel 300, and today it came in. Since the movie's not out until 9 March, I figure this will help pass the time (about an hour's worth). My paper's (finally) finished, so I'm setting my futon down to sleeping position, cracking open a beer, and sprawling out on my bed with the book. There's nothing more relaxing than 300 Spartans kicking the total crap out of a million Persians and then being butchered, after all.

Quiet

2006-10-23T15:57:49Z

Something in Rood House has been humming and buzzing all weekend. About five minutes ago it stopped very abruptly. It seems so quiet now. I hope it stays that way.

When I Played the Gentleman

2006-10-22T03:35:07Z

We were driving back from Cedar Rapids tonight, and something in the discussion was mentioned about school buses, and suddenly I was pulled back and I saw myself at fourteen, on the bus back from my eighth grade field trip to St. Louis. The sun was going down, and the two girls in the seats near me decided to catch some sleep. I even now remember their names--Beth and Rebecca. Rebecca had been my first-ever crush, all the way back in first grade, and Beth...well, on that evening at the end of May I had not yet made the blunder that would force my exile only a few months later.

They dozed off in the twilight, and I sat there, awake and watching over them. I don't even know what I was on guard for, but I did know that that was what I had to do, regardless of how weird and awkward they considered me to be. I just turned on my CD player, let the night fall over the land, and turned to see they were all right every few minutes. They never even knew I did it, but surely it would've weirded them out.

I see know that I've followed a long road since then. I was naive enough to play the gentleman without caring what people thought. I think I know when that started to change, too, though I refuse to talk about it.

Now, I try to play the gentleman and the girls I know flinch away, or at least I feel certain they would if I tried to do so, due to reactions I received at various times. They've had their wings damaged by the careless, and they've come to expect the same carelessness. I want to behave in the vein of Orry Main, but time's moved on, and apparently left me in the dust.

I'm no gentleman; I'm just a rogue who has himself convinced that he's a gentleman. A wannabe, in short.

"Someday I Think You And I Are Going To Have A Serious Disagreement."

2006-10-21T18:39:40Z

Today is miserable here in Iowa.

It's Homecoming weekend at Cornell, it's cold, rainy, and dreary, and I didn't have the motivation to take a shower until 12:30. My ten-page paper on Edward of Woodstock (The Black Prince) is due on Tuesday and I've only written half a sentence today. That brings me up to a page and a half completed out of the four I'd like to have by day's end.

Oh, but there's more. I sent an encouragement card yesterday to the girl I've mentioned I have feelings for, and I had to force myself to push the envelope through the mail slot. I expect all the negative outcomes I can think of (she utterly ignores me from now on, slaps me in the face, etc., etc.), because I feel that's a creepy thing to do. As I told Shana the other night, from junior high on I've had this idea in my head that being attracted to someone and all the crap that comes with it is abnormal and creepy and just plain wrong. Rationally, I know that's not true, but I can't get myself to think differently. I still remember how in eighth grade the entire school was talking about my nerve-wracking phone call to Kelsey, the oh-so-pretty girl of my class. TV shows depict this sort of scenario ad nauseum, failing to show the mental scarring I realize it causes. When everyone's gossiping about you in a way to make you out to be some sort of freak, that's what you picture yourself as in time.

Bright spots: Boondock Saints and Killian's Irish Red with Shana and Kim last night, and Marie Antoinette in Cedar Rapids tonight with same company. Plus, despite perceiving myself as some abnormal creep, the sensation of being in love (infatuatory love, not full-fledged love) is much as I remember it, and that's delightful, once you remove the negative self-image out of it.

Benito, Strike Up an Encore of the Mexican Hat Dance!

2006-10-17T15:48:48Z

So, America now officially has 300 million people. This in the middle of the whole immigrant debate. I'm getting some amusment imagining that at 6:46 this morning (Central Standard Time), on the Tex-Mex border, a man named Pedro Martinez jumped the fence that marked the northern edge of Chihuahua while being simultaneously shot at by Federales, INS personnel, and trigger-happy redneck Minutemen. All this set to the music of my imaginary Mariachi Band (the one I keep in a storage garage, if any of you remember my references to it) as he became the 300 millionth resident (legal, illegal, or otherwise) of El Estados Unidos.

It's funnier to imagine than some white middle class yuppie baby being born in some hospital somewhere.

It's also funny as hell to realise just how right Bill Murray was in Stripes when he said that the thing that's so special about Americans is just that we all bear the distinction of being kicked out of every decent country on earth.

So, Pedro Martinez, as you hide in the Texan chaparral planning how you're going to get to Iowa, let me be the first to welcome you to America: Land of the Rejects and the Misfits.

When I Stare Into Space 1

2006-10-13T00:50:09Z

There are so many things that I feel and think about that I want to write down, but there's never a story to put them into. I try to frame a story around them, but the truth is I don't think I'm cut out for writing something set in the here and now. So, if I am reflecting, I'll try to write it down and I'll put it down here, leaving the pieces without context, and letting my thoughts be formed into some sort of prosey poetry.

Oh, and by the way, contrary to this piece, I really am in a decent mood tonight. Mellow, but decent, so I'm not singing "Woe is me," and crying in my beer about some old relationship. Oh, and as always, I have NO hard feelings whatsoever. And I'm really not just saying that.

She's gone, and with her she took the naive notions of my childhood. The knights and ladies and gallant deeds have been swept away, and the mention of chivalry brings a bitter taste that wells in my throat.

The whole world toppled down around me and I felt it all, saw it all, somehow survived it all. Afterwards the hard winter wind bore the ashes away and chilled me to the depths of my soul. Fumbling through the rubble, I felt all my emotions intertwine and mix together: the anger, the despair, the longing--all of it hitting me at once, intending to bring me to my knees and strike that final blow that would end me.

I tripped and stumbled, my heart cold as hell, for surely hell is a winter wasteland, and I pushed on. Where was I pushing to? Why did I even keep going when the sun was so far away? Is it because that's the only thing I know how to do? I was cut, gashed, bleeding. I was despicable. But that blood of all those generations leading back to that first night out of Eden, that blood flowing through me refused to let me lay down and die, as if all those from whence that blood came told me I was going on and that was all there was to it.

So I passed through that storm, and the ones that have come after, only I'm harder now, darker now. I am not who I once was. Love? I wonder if it's a mirage, a dream in the night, but even with the scars that mark me, I still hold onto that chance it really is out there beyond the desert.

And if it's out there, I'm going to find it, and until I do I'll keep pressing on. Because if I'm anything I'm a stubborn sonofabitch.