Lessons Learned

     I told you in an early post that my motto is "Learn. Prepare. Be." Well, in honor of both that and my second move in less than six months, it might be a good time to review what I've learned while writing this blog, and how I’m preparing for the future.

     First, it's not easy to come up with a good idea for a short story every week. I haven't been entirely pleased with every story I've written. I am in the process of going through and reviewing what I've liked about them, what I would recommend changing if I were the editor instead of the writer, and how I might refine my writing style. I am also going to figure out approximate figure end dates for the Dragon Valley and Metro Hill storylines I have running.

     Second, sit up straight. Seriously, maintain good posture. Take periodic breaks. Blink. All those safety issues you hear about with computers. Actually, safety is a good thing to keep in mind even when you’re not dealing with computers.

     I've also learned the importance of maintaining relationships. Whether online or off, relationships are the key to life. My friends and family have been amazing supports offline, and the people who follow me/have me in their circles (and the people whom I follow) have helped me to focus on what I'm writing and get posts up.

     I need people around me. I need to be helpful, if not needed. I need to be wanted. I need conversation and time with others. This is not news to most people, even given that I’m pretty strongly introverted, but it has been interesting to learn about myself.

     I’ve also learned the importance of schedules. Sometimes, I’ve learned this from falling behind. But guess what? Without a schedule, I might not have any idea I was falling behind, and I start drowning before I know to point myself to shore and start swimming. And there have been times that having a schedule has helped me to be immensely more productive.

     I should mention I’ve also been taking some online courses. Which brings me to another lesson: don’t overload yourself. Make sure to give yourself enough time. Be sure the cost of the time you invest is worth the benefit you reap.

     Given these lessons, I am preparing for the future by tightening my schedule. I have been trying to do this organically, by figuring out what works best in my new living situation. But when you look at the results over the last two weeks, that approach doesn’t seem to be working very effectively. So tight schedule it is. 

     *Sigh.* That will not be terribly easy for me; unfortunately, I missed out on that useful bit when I got my flavor of OCD. But, isn’t there a saying that nothing worthwhile ever comes easy? In any case, schedules are an important part of being prepared. I won’t bore you with further details of my preparations; suffice it to say, nailing down the details and reviewing my preparations are part of my schedule. 

     Finally, there is the matter of “be”. In this case, I am being grateful. I sometimes have a hard time telling my friends and family how much I appreciate them and what they do and have done for me, and I don’t want to make it some soap opera drama moment. But I try to thank them, by helping where I can. I also remember the things that people have done for me in the past.

     You know what? Being grateful feels a lot like being happy. I’m liking it.

Holiday (Fiction, Surrealism)

     I stood alone in the elevator. It vibrated gently as it rose to my floor. I would be the only one working. To other people, it was a holiday. Time to go home, to be with family and friends. To me, it was the opportunity to catch up enough on work to go home a little early for a couple of weeks.

     When it got to my floor, the door opened only partway. I had to push my way through. My briefcase caught for a moment as they tried to close on it. I decided to take the stairs when I left.

     I flipped the switch. The lights came on with a flicker and that buzz that only seems to happen when I'm here alone. The alarm beeped. I entered the code and turned it off. I looked around and shivered. Heat was next.

     I set the briefcase on my desk and started my computer up. While it started up, I took my lunch to the breakroom and put it in the fridge. I started the coffee. I didn't like the coffee here; it was too strong and bitter. But free beats tasty. The machine started up, a with a pop, a whir, and a footsep. Footstep?

     "Is somebody there?" I asked. Nobody. My ears and mind playing tricks on me.

     I let the coffee finish and took it back to my desk. I took a light blanket out of my briefcase. I'd never use it while people were around, but it would also be warmer then. I took the warm cup in my hand and breathed in the scent of coffee. A small sip to get the day started. And...

     In position.

     Files opened.

     People's work reviewed and summarized.

     Data compiled.

     All caught up - late lunch.

     I still had half a cup of coffee left; I finished it off. If I had any after lunch, I'd be up all night. I rinsed my cup out and got my lunch. Turkey sandwich. I thought it would be appropriate.

     As I lifted the sandwich to take a bite, the lights went out.

     "Who's there?" I asked. Nobody answered.

     I went and flipped the switch back on, glad it wasn't a fuse. I went back to the breakroom, with an eye over my shoulder. I sat so my back was to the wall. I still had that creeping feeling, but I could be sure there was nothing behind me.

     There was nothing behind me.

     I finished my lunch. Juicy tomatoes and green spinach on the sandwich. Crunchy carrots on the side, and a cranberry cobbler for dessert. I could probably do with fewer desserts.

     I rinsed out my containers, dried them off and put them away. I looked over at the coffee machine. I'm so much more productive when nobody's interrupting me. There should be more holidays. I went to the bathroom.

     The heat of the water rushed over my hands. I scrubbed my hands and, as I was finishing, I found myself staring at the water. I looked up and saw someone else in the mirror. I spun around, but they weren't there.My heart pounded in my chest. I turned back to the mirror. Nobody there, either. Deep breath.

     Definitely too tired. I decided to have that second cup of coffee. I'll just work later tonight and sleep in tomorrow.

     I set another cup up to brew. I went back to my desk and started some music; it's been far too quiet today. I opened the reports and checked my work. A couple minor mistakes; I must not have been paying close enough attention.

     As I made the corrections and triple checked the most crucial parts, the words and numbers began to float off the screen. They took the form of people and began to dance in circles around me. Something sat on my shoulder. I turned my head. There was a text man that looked like this:

   :)C-<

     Something like that, depending on your font. His grin spread into a D, like this.

   :DC-<

     "What are you doing?" I asked.

     "My job. And I do it well," he answered.

   :oC-<

     He blew a blast of air into my eyes. I flinched.

     When I opened my eyes, the words and numbers were back on the screen. There was no textman on my shoulders. I grabbed a tissue and wiped drool from my mouth. The lights were out again; light was coming through the window from a streetlamp. How long had I slept?

     I stared at the screen. None of it made sense any more. Time to go home. I stood, put the blanket back in my briefcase, and set the alarm. Then I was out the door and down the stairs. Halfway down, I remembered the coffee machine was still on. I headed back up, unlocked door, flipped the light switch, turned the alarm off and went to the breakroom.

     There was a six foot tall text man there, drinking my coffee. He smiled and waved. I slapped myself. Hard.

     I was awake.

     "I need sleep and a psychiatrist," I said.

     Test man shrugged. "I do what I can," he answered.

     I backed away slowly. I turned on the alarm before I left; if he was real, let security deal with him. If he wasn't, I didn't want to report him and have people think I was crazy. I ran down the stairs, tumbling on the bottom step and slamming against the wall. Definitely awake.

     "I'm staying home tomorrow," I told the door as I left.

Thor: The Dark World (Movie Review)

I've had connection issues this last week. This is last Tuesday's post, the promised Thor: the Dark World review. Tomorrow, I will post the story that was meant for last Saturday. Wednesday will be the regular Tuesday post. This way, I'm getting you all the posts without inundating you with three posts at once.
     The Marvel Avengers movies are definitely action movies - stuff blows up, the lead looks bad-a, and there are things to laugh about. Primarily one-liners. They also have a strong element of drama. Plus, muscles. So many muscles.

     I’ve also noticed a rhythm to them:

          Action – Iron Man
          Action – Hulk
          Action/Character – Iron Man II
          Prequel to The Avengers – Thor
          Character/Action – Captain America
          BAM – The Avengers
          Heavy Fallout – Iron Man 3
          Character/Humor/Action – Thor: The Dark World


     I predict that Captain America: The Winter Soldier will be Character/ Action/ Drama.

     Thor: The Dark World definitely has epic fights and character growth, but it also releases some of the tension built by the Marvel movies so far. It embraces the utter ridiculousness of being normal, average people in a normal, average world while gods run amok. If you like the Avengers movies so far, go see this one.

     Thus concludes the entirely spoiler free part of this review. The rest will contain whatever spoilers I deem appropriate, probably very few, cunningly crafted to have you guessing what it means right up until the moment it appears onscreen.

     In other words: spoiler alerts.

     Okay, the bad guy (Malekith) wants to make the universe a place his people can live in. That’s a motive that I can understand, and is a good one villains or heroes. But then, why does he sacrifice his people right at the beginning? Like, all but one to destroy the universe. (And make it Dark, the way it used to be when his people ruled. Hence, “The Dark World”.)

     The reason for Thor to team up with Loki seems similarly thin, but is somewhat forgivable because it is motivated by family tension, which they well establish. That tension actually has me looking forward to the possibility that maybe Loki has changed. (Forgetting about the part where he killed people, and tried to commit genocide on the Frost Giants, and attempted to takeover earth, of course.)

     Speaking of the royal Asgard family, Frigga actually has some lines and a role to play in this movie. A somewhat minor onscreen role, but critical to the story. Her lines with Jane even help the movie sort of barely pass the Bechdel test.

     There’s also plenty of time spent on Earth. Erik Selvig is dealing with the fallout from having a god in his head. Jane and Darcy are travelling the world with a new Intern in tow, searching for unusual phenomena. (It’s funny when he drops the keys.) Darcy is pretty delightful throughout the movie, and Ian adds to the movie, rather than taking away as extra characters sometimes do.

     On interesting thing is the characterization of Mjolnir. Definitely the best acting by an inanimate object. Watch for it.

     One last thing – Marvel: Agents of Shield is affected by the movie, but it’s not a parallel story. The movie’s impact is minor, with the team cleaning up after some of the fallout. It is an Asgardian themed episode, which is a nice touch.

Darren's Gremlins

     I am Darren. It’s a stupid name for a dog, I think. But people are people, and what’s a dog to do? The humans same who gave me that name are the ones that moved all of us into the building with things that run in and out of the walls. I was able to catch most of them months ago, with a few bumps on the head when they’d reach the walls first.

     Stupid people laugh at that. But most of the time they also cuddle me and give me snacks, so I chase them out or eat them. There’s only one more to go. I call him Gremlin. I know, terrible name. But I think such a terrible thing deserves a terrible name. This thing likes to sit in the middle of the room, halfway off the floor, mocking me while the humans ignore him. They must be blind: don’t they know the chaos he causes?

     He tore up pillows yesterday. All over the floor. Guess who got blamed for it? He creaks and goes bump in the night. He moves things when they aren’t looking. He sits on their head, and they begin to leak through the nose and stay in bed, instead of taking me for walks. Then who gets blamed for walking on the floor?

     The other day, we went to the park. Gremlin followed us. I didn’t realize it until we were in the car and I was just resting, there in the back seat. Suddenly, the window was opening. I looked over, and there was Gremlin, pressing the no window button. He flew out and I thought, “Great! Good riddance!”

     No such luck. Gremlin doesn't just sit there when he flies. He’s good in the wind. Really good. So I reached my snout out the window, wind in my face, and started snapping at him. Wind in your face feels good. Have you ever tried it? So freeing!

     Sorry, it's hard to concentrate when thinking of that fun. Anyway, the annoying thing thing dances in the wind as easily as it flies. No matter how far I leaned, how quick I was, all I got were bugs in my teeth.

     A tasty treat, but no Gremlin. When we slowed down and pulled over, the thing flew higher. By the time I got out of the car, it was out of sight. Maybe it would stay away. Probably not. Most likely it –

     Frisbee! Oh, we played frisbee for ages. Chased it down one place, brought it back, chased it down again. I love frisbee. It’s like fetch with color. Yes, I see colors. Four of them, in fact.

     Frisbee, yes, frisbee. We were playing when I looked up and saw more Gremlin things falling from the sky. Falling, not flying, falling! I crouched low, tail tucked under, and barked at them. I’m not the only one; the other dogs at the park saw them. All of them were doing more or less the same thing. Except that annoying dog from down the street, who seemed to be trying to jump up and catch them.

     They began to hit the ground, one by one. Their bodies...disappeared, like heat coming off the road. The whole thing took...three, maybe four rounds of fetch. Maybe more. I’m not good at counting.

     My humans began to pet me. They whispered at me, saying my name over and over again. How were they not afraid? Even humans must be able to see this...and then the real reason to fear began. Another thing humans couldn’t see began falling. They were...they were like the little green balls humans throw for us to fetch, at least that size. They were the same color as Gremlin. I heard the thud and squish as they hit the ground. I cuddled up to my humans.

     They carried me to the car and, as they drove, Gremlins came from the new ball things. Little, tiny versions - several from each ball. The air was filled with them. Every living thing around began to be followed by these things - people, dogs, and squirrels in the trees.

     We drove away: some of them began to follow us, but we’d started the car, and drove away too quickly to follow. But they are coming.

     Now I watch through the windows, always there by the window. There’s more coming. More of these little menacing things. Horrible, horrible little gremlin creatures. My humans try to get me outside, but they never will. I have a house to protect. I can’t let those things inside.

     I can’t let them inside.

Where and Webcomics

     I am no longer where I was. I have arrived where I was going, and am now where I am. That's right, I have moved. It will now be easier for me to make timely updates.

     This week, I'm sharing some of my favorite webcomics. Next week, a review of Thor: the Dark World.


REAL LIFE
By Greg Dean

     Real Life is the first webcomic I read on any kind of regular basis. It is the story of a group of computer gaming friends based, at least initially, on the author's friends. Eventually, there are plots of world domination, robots, and A.I. consoles. Plenty of gaming references, as well.


SCHLOCK MERCENARY
By Howard Tayler

     Shlock Mercenary is the story of a violent amorphous blob and the mercenary group he works with. It has spaceships, time travel, intelligent elephants, and evil lawyers.

     Speaking of regular updates...this comic has been updated daily since it began. (Except, maybe, for the odd computer issue.) It's also consistently funny, often touching, and usually full of action.


XKCD
By Randall Munroe

     You may have seen this stick figure comic in memes all over the net.

     The comic that disproves the theory that, if you have to explain it, it isn't a joke. (I had to research a thing or two occasionally.) XKCD is an intelligent comic with a cast of interesting characters and no regular plot. The author uses math, science, and occasional technological jerkery for humor and cheesy romantic lines. He's a big fan of puns, and I love it.


ORDER OF THE STICK
By Rich Burlew

     A D&D game from the point of view of the characters, with talks of skill points, leveling, and player characters. Also a consistently funny comic, though the updates are highly irregular.


DARTHS AND DROIDS
By The Comic Irregulars

     Darths and Droids begins with a 'what-if'.' What if the Star Wars universe were an RPG in a world where Star Wars had never existed? The result is a webcomic built on screenshots of the movies, beginning with Episode 1. Episodes 1-3 mke more sense as a game than as movies.

     Darths and Droids references DM of the Rings often in its comments section. DM of the Rings did the same thing with The Lord of the Rings, though with a GM with a much different approach to running the game.


SOMETHING POSITIVE
By RK Milholland

     Okay, all the other comics on this page are fun for the whole family, give or take a bit of comic violence. Something Positive, however, comes with a strong warning. There is violence that goes beyond comic, adult content including comic "nudity", sometimes harsh language, and jokes about topics polite people consider off-limits. It makes something of a point of being inappropriate. There's a reason for that, and I think it's just the ridiculousness of some of our taboos and strictures. 

     And it has heart. It has true friendships, twisted maybe slightly. It has characters that really care about each other. You (or at least I) grow to really care about some of these characters, and truly despise others. Overall, it's both real and surreal.

Dragon Valley: Sword: Life of a Weapon (Fiction, Fantasy)

Another Installment of Dragon Valley, with a new point of view.
See the first Dragon Valley story here, the most recent previous installment here, and the next one here.


     I remember fire.

     I remember endless pounding: the assault on my body. And I, unable to scream or cry for the pain. I remember the water, the hissing of it. I meant to scream but could not, because I lacked a mouth.

     More fire. More pounding.

     I do not know how often the process was repeated - I do not know if it was repeated, or if it has just been remembered too often.

     Then came darkness.

     When the fire and pain were over, I realized I had no hearing, and no sight. I had no concept even of who or what I was. All I could do was think of the emptiness that surrounded me. Until the soothing touch.

     I was taken in hand; I knew what I was. I was a sword. The thought filled me with dignity and honor. The hand that held me was brave and strong. He was a noble warrior, a hero; I could see that he would be king someday though, only moments before, I did not know what a king was.

     But there was more. I could now see through his eyes. I could hear through his ears. It was as though his body were an extension of my mind, and his hunger were mine.

     “That should serve you, my lord. It is the best I have ever made.”

     “You have made well, and I expect it shall serve me quite well.”

     And I did serve him, as well as I could. I most loved when he used me in battle, the sun shining above. When he sheathed me, I could still see faded colors and hear muted sounds. But when he swung me in battle, I felt alive. The heat of the blood, the give of flesh as I sliced through his enemies.

     But I hated when he laid me down, or cast me aside. The time between battles began to stretch longer. I became lonely. I began to resent being left aside. And, one day, he left me alone too long. I felt no sun, could not tell where he had me. A basement? An attic? A display case, a trophy for battles he’d won? He had not won those battles. I had. I was the one that got him that throne. Some gratitude he showed, leaving me to rot and rust, blind and deaf to the world. Unable to tell him where to strike, to whisper how to move to stay alive.

     I grew enraged. To take up peace and abandon me, who had served so faithfully, time after time. I saved your life, sword-bearer. I used you to give me life and give me senses. I used you to give me heat and purpose. I saved you and gave you power. I should be ruling this kingdom, and you should be my mouthpiece.

     Finally, he picked me up. He carried me into battle again. I could not understand the mutterings of the creatures around me. I know they meant something, and meant something to him. I could not tell what, until they said:

     “Lose this battle, and you lose your kingdom.”

     A king without a kingdom is a sword on a shelf. If I had a mouth I would grin. It was his turn to be abandoned. Years he’s abandoned me. Decades I lay unused, and now he will feel the loneliness I did. But only at the right moment. Fail at the wrong moment, and he will recover, or be saved. Until that moment, I brought all my anger at him down on his foes.

     Until.

     Until that moment. He brought me up against an attack, and I moved away. The pain seared through him also seared through me. For a moment, I couldn’t remember if this was my vengeance against him or his hatred of me. But he would not survive. He thrust me at his enemy, a mighty creature, half man, half something big and scary. But I turned his hand aside. I scratched the creature’s side, felt just the taste of its blood. The thing brought its own weapon down, and the king fell.

     It was delicious, this vengeance. I had betrayed him, finally and fully. But as I lay there, watching him slip away, I felt myself begin to slip away. My anger and hatred remained, seething under the surface. Through years and centuries following, people held me. But I could so rarely understand any of them. My anger grew and faded and grew and faded so many times. If I had been one of these creatures that so often wielded me, I still could not have counted the passing of ages.

     And then came a man who cared for me. He cleaned me; he practiced with me. I did not get the war I sought. I could see and hear, though not as well as with the king. He showed me true battle skill, but never against someone else. It was a calm feeling, a touch of peace. And he passed me on to another, who passed me to a third. And the third forgot me, and I wept. I wept alone, until…

     “A fine selection for someone with no customers.”

     The other man, the one that kept me, said something I could not hear.

     “You keep them well polished."

     Another response, another muttering.

     “The dragon's eaten my flock, down to the last sheep. I'm going to stop it.”

     A dragon! I began dreaming of what a glorious fight that would be. Then he picked me up, and I knew I’d found myself another bearer. I did not know where he would go after the dragon fight, but this man shone brighter than that king. And I could almost see that dragon, nearly taste it on my blade.

     He took me, and visited his sister. The three of us went where spirits spoke. A place where the whispers were like memories forgotten or yet to learn. Some of the spirits burned like a soft version of that first fire. Some were cold like winter. And I could see and hear them so brightly, even sheathed. And there was someone there, someone who...

     "Let me see it, please."

     My bearer gave me up! The first touch of this stranger hurt. I knew what pain was, in that moment, and locked my thoughts away. I could feel him, looking at me. Like we were equal. He asked me, without words, what I was. I showed him the battles that had given me the greatest joy, the ones before I killed the king. That death filled me with shame; I hid it and the emotions from him, and skipped through the ages to this new man. The sight through his eyes, the sound in his ears, the...smells. I could smell.

     I showed him what little I could see of the fight with the dragon, and this stranger stopped watching me. Turned his attention away, and I felt - lighter?

     "Excuse me, Domin, but - "

     "Oh! Sorry, I have sight, not swordsmanship."

     Shortly after, my new bearer took me to a man of strength, who shrank from battle. He took me then to another place. A place with...creatures. There were animals there that were rare. There were people, warrior I could see by their heart and people of a type I do not care to know. I heard the one I did not want to know question my bearer about his skill. He questioned whether he could fight the dragon. He questioned me.

     My bearer drew me from the scabbard. In his hands, I could feel the heat of the sun. I could see every spot of light, hear the smallest sound. I saw three challengers. Guards, he calls them in his head. In thoughts nearly as clear as that first king’s thoughts. Practice only, we must not harm them.

     Not harm them? Not harm an enemy in battle? They are not enemies. What kind of man is this, that fights his friends? If they face me, they are enemies. If they fight me, they will die.

     They surround him. One of them swings down, a broad and awkward stroke we counter easily. There is a man behind us. I draw the bearer back, and he can feel me slip; he kicks the man in front of us, throwing him down. The man behind us dances away from me.

     He should not have gotten away; I am too long rusty.

     Swing and parry, dodge and attack. I am getting back into battle now. Attack, block, thrust, parry, kick. Small motions for effect, large motions to distract. And then the opening. It is time to draw blood.

     I bring the bearer's arm and swing towards the man’s neck. This head will roll!

     But the bearer stopped me.

     What are you doing! We could take this man’s life, we could end this enemy. I want this blood to wash over me, to bring back the battles I miss from so long ago. I can feel the flesh on my metal. I try to push this arm further, I can feel my edge digging at the skin, one tiny move and I will taste again…

     “I’ve proven my skill. Give me the rule of your men!” My bearer cried out. I hear the response, but feel blood so close I do not understand the words of the response.

     “Give me the rule of your men, outfit us. You can have the scales and the talons and the eggs, and every bit of the dragon that isn’t meat,” my bearer spoke too much.

     Come on, come one. Slide along the skin, just a little. I can feel the top layer of skin starting to give. You can push through that layer.

     “Half the treasure! I will take my pick first, and you get half the treasure to split among your men,” He said. Fine, fine, give up your money. But let's finish this battle.

     I could feel the sweat on the bearer’s hands. He was resisting me, the horrible man. There was a noise from some other - person. A single sound, who cares of that, the bearer is keeping me from the nectar of war. And there it is! The motion that…

     I am sheathed. I have been denied.

     I will not forget this.

Create

     It's been a busy time for me, days are come and gone. But I have not forgotten here, no matter the delays. I present to you a few brief thoughts on creativity.

     When a person creates something and releases it into the world, they have hope. Hope that it will affect something, that people will enjoy their endeavor. Hope that their time has not been wasted. Or, for some, hope that it will make money. Creative acts are acts of hope.

     And yet...there's always fear that the work, or even the author, will be rejected. There are at least a few people who will judge it awful, or the creator as a fraud. For some, it is one and the same. Perhaps the fears are justified; no one can ever please everyone. Someone will hate the work; someone will hate you for creating it. Creative acts are acts of fear.

     There is always an aspect of a person's self involved in any creative endeavor. An expression of one's talents, of experience, and of understanding. An expression of circumstance and reactions. Creativity is the expression of self.

     And yet...a person can not be condensed into a single piece of writing or artistic expression. A piece of music will never convey everything of a person's subtle moods in all the right proportions. To create, a person must condense, generalize, ignore, translate, and exaggerate. Even if they do not realize they are doing these things. Creativity is an abstraction of self; a denial, even.

     Yet, people will try to get it just right. They suffer and argue with themselves. They will have difficulty making decisions about their work. They will wemble and dither. They will cry and shout. This is pain.

     But this work must be made. And, at some point in a things creation or after, there is a great sense of relief. There is joy that this thing has come into existence, that your words, your music, your art, or your thoughts are out there, in the world. Your dreams, your hopes, your goals and aspirations are expressed. This is joy.

     Go, create.