Another Break

Next week sees the dawn of a new college term. Creative Fiction Writing (yay), Drawing (yay), and Statistics 1 again (boo). I'm also going to be taking art lessons on my own time as well as obtaining an income, so I'm afraid I won't be updating this for a while. Then again, I've said that before and then I updated it anyway, so...

Ah, to be an artist... to write like Tolkien, Lewis, and other famous people who I feel that I should say I've read so I can sound intellectual. Yeah, I've read Twain and Melville and.. other.. guys... let's go with that. I've read Poe, liked him. [This stems mainly from a youth spent reading primarily nonfiction --Ed.] And to create visuals that would put me in the same ranks of Bateman, Lyman, Poortvliet, Howe, and MacNelly... Y'see, here I have more of an idea of what I'm talking about.

So, to all of you who read this [all one of you that probably stopped reading five posts ago --Ed.], ta for now.

I'm off to get a TB test. So I can do yet another activity. Volunteer at the zoo. With owls.

Marvel At My Testostrone Levels

Let me explain something here. I have very good facial hair genes. I have never seen myself without a mustache before, not with this facial structure, at least. I started growing it at the onset of puberty and never bothered to shave it off, enjoying the thrill of oneupsmanship I had over the rest of my peers, so eager to "grow up." My chin quickly followed suit and, by high school, I was enjoying my "think pad."

The cheeks, however, got a little scraggly and uneven, so I eventually took Remington in hand and buzzed away my worries. Such has been the state of affairs since. I like my beard. So far I can only justify a goatee, what with my cheeks still growing a bit unevenly. Sometimes, though, I just don't care and I let it go. Such was the case for the last few weeks. It's not so bad once the throat hairs grow long enough to not be all prickly and bristly. But they don't really look good without a full beard on the face to distract one's attention. And my beard was growing a bit high on my face.

So there I was at the mall, with my parents, enjoying a great day of Chinese food [best orange chicken ever --Ed.] and window shopping. Now, I had not taken a shower for a couple days and, coupled with my Cro-magnon visage, I was feeling pretty self-conscious.

Then, on the way home, I spoke to my mom about how thick rimmed glasses seem to be back "in." I want to know what brought about this rapid paradigm shift in fashion. We go from thick rims, to thin rims, to wire rims, to rimless, to just plonking the lenses onto our eyeballs, to thick rims. I don't get it. Anyway, I had noticed that an employee in one of the shops had been wearing them and this prompted my mom to remember that, while I had been gone, she had told my mother that she thought I "possessed an Olympian physique the likes of which would make Michaelangelo's David curl up in the fetal position." Or, at least, she said I was cute; you have to know how to read between the lines.

So, now feeling very empowered, I said how good that made me feel, on this day in which I felt that I looked my worst, especially with my beard the way it was. Mom suggested I shave it. I hemmed and hawed ("Hem. Haw." --Jeff) at this but decided that it would be nice to start from a clean slate.

So, after a nice hot shower I took up my Mach 3 Turbo and shed my face of it's lycanthropic exterior [he shaved his face --Ed.]. But, for the first time in my entore life, I didn't just stop at the ol' soupcatcher. Nor did I start with it. Nope, the ol' cookieduster went first. And, I have to say, I don't look too bad with just a goatee. A little Amish, maybe, in my plaid shirt, but what a studmuffinly Mennonite I make. Truth be told, I just got annoyed with the mustache after a while, what with stray hairs getting too long and either gown down into my mouth or up my nose. But I like my beard. And I am currently growing it back. I don't like how I look with just a mustache. Tried that; didn't work.

And, on the topic of attractive people, I've had a discussion with a friend where we both agree that the women of Battlestar Galactica just aren't really that attractive. They're not unattracitve, but, to us... there's just nothing there that draws us in. Not even Number Six. Maybe it's how she reminds me of my eighth grade math teacher. I dunno. I mean, I think the cutest one is, maybe, Crewman Cally, but she's more "cute as a button."

But, I was watching an episode of Star Trek: Voyager tonight ("Alice") where Tom renovates some junked ship which has a "NeuroGenic Interface," which beams a woman into his head; sort of like a combination of Number Six and Andromeda. Now, what I noticed right away was, "Hey, she's pretty." Kind of reminded me of Julie Cox, another beautiful actress.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think my beard is growing back.

grrr...

mmph...

uugghhNNNHHH!!

CAN'T... STOP... THE CHANGE!

*Facial hairs sprout out and wreak havoc on local townsfolk, causing one lone reporter to doggedly pursue the culprit. Sad piano music follows."

What Jeff Wrote Before Cleaning The Aquarium

Know what? I'm old.

I went to the library yesterday and visited the children's section, to the aisle where I used to make a beeline for when I was a young'un: the dinosaur section. And what I found interesting was that, among the horde of shiny, new offerings still sat the same books that I had flipped through when I would frequent the aisle. Such makes for an unstoppable nostalgia attack.

In this, I found myself remarking (to myself), "It's too bad that kids today can't experience the eighties." And then I stopped and blinked, realizing what I had just thought. So what does that make me, now that I've had a "back in my day" moment?

And the shocking thing is that it was real, not a joke. I almost felt sorry for kids today having the internet and deeveedees and stuffed animals that could pass a Turing Test. I remember playing Duck Hunt on the original NES. Remember that? I still have no idea how that gun worked. I'm positive that that's a product of research at some Groom Lake-type facility. Failed super-weapon, successful child's plaything. But I have digressed.

But as much as I could sit here and reminisce about "the good ol' days" (days when things were good and ol') I think that is the essence of the whole thing. I, personally, am disappointed with how the world and my life is turning out. The world has just about always been this way, it seems; every day I have one more illusion about the state of things dashed into the dust. I always assume that people, at large, are nicer and, generally, more decent than they actually are (including myself). In my disenfranchised state [Look intelligent through use of big, esoteric words --Ed.] I look back to my childhood for some kind of utopia; like Adam looking back at the Garden of Eden, seeing a life of labor in thorns ahead. I guess that would make puberty my cherubim and flaming sword. Which is probably a much better example than my first thought, of me being like the Battlestar Galactica, looking to the past for protection.

That was way deeper than I was anticipating. I guess that's what I get for reading an essay on the nature of "Freedom And The Illusion of Freedom" in that Finding Serenity book. I guess there's not much I can do now except email my cousin, admittedly belatedly, to rub in his thirtieth birthday. The first of my generation in my family has officially left childhood behind him. Thirty. Years. Old. Old. I am currently trying to enjoy my early twenties, with the looming spectre of life laughing at me. I talked with a high-school friend about how, in the next ten years, we may very well acquire real jobs, wives, and children. My mom consoled me by saying that she'll be old, deaf, and blind by the time I procreate (or, to quote, "so old deaf, and blind"). Love ya, Mom :).

Both of my cousins have kids. My girl cousin (the mother of the cutest one that just turned one; see below) just found out that she's pregnant with her second child. And where does that leave me? I'm too young to be old and too old to be young. And, of course, that's a lie and will probably serve to compound the problem further, leading to me reliving my childhood in the form of periodic psychotic breaks, but at least it allows me to summarize this and neatly store it in my subconscious so that I don't to go through the discomfort of undergoing something similar to a spiritual journey of self-discovery. Because that might lead to some kind of personal metamorphosis, which my fear of change will not allow. And while the previous few statements have been self-depreciating, sardonic comments meant for humorous purposes, I think I may have hit on something. Perhaps people aren't afraid of change, they're afraid of changing. They're not afraid of the weapon, they're afraid of the death.

And I just wanted to a read a dinosaur book.

Yes, Ms. O'Neal, There Is An Arizona

I got back from Arizona today; land of the Grand Canyons and no fireworks (more on that later). I went down there on Friday to celebrate my cutest cousin's first ever birthday (I have two new cousins, and the girl must trump the boy, cute-agraphically). Now, this was the first flight that I've taken since, I think, the fourth grade, so I was a little nervous. Thoughts of Auric Goldfinger's demise flashed through my mind during the all too strung out take off (followed, of course, by the part where you lurch forward like a podracer). But the in-flight service ruled. I got orange juice; I love ojay like Sheridan in Season 2 of Babylon 5 (wow, I'm full of references today).

One thing that I noticed about a flight from Phoenix to Portland is the terrain below. Watching it goes as follows: desert, desert, desert, ooh Grand Canyon!, desert... *snrk* mmf -- fell asleep, desert, desert, confusedifyou'reoverNevadaorUtahnotthatitreallymatters, desert, Dense Forest as you go over the Cascades and into Portland.

Also, I finally found what is missing over here in the cities just outside of Portland: The Rainforest Cafe. Apparently it's a chain of restaurants and I went with the family to the one in Phoenix. Now, when I first heard talk about this place, I envisioned a place with potted palms, dribbling waterfall walls, and some fake parrots every now and then. Then I arrived outside... amidst the giant mushrooms. Oh My Goodness. This place was so incredibly, wonderfully over-the-top! The entire restaurant was almost as dim as an Outback Steak House, with the ceiling coated in fake foliage and hanging vines (which impressed me, because ceilings are hard to decorate; I know that and I'm not even a home decorater). The walls featured animatronic elephants and apes that would act up occasionally. Mothra's brood placidly flapped their wings. And every now and then a tropical thunderstorm would flash lightning and thunder through the whole place. Aquariums cast their luminous blue glow on thick tree trunks between tables. In the center of the place, the ceiling displayed a nighttime starry sky, with shooting stars flashing by the moon as a leopard growled nearby. A big, golden man in a fountaining pond held up a globe with illuminated continents and "Rescue The Rainforest" written on it.

Now I think you can fully appreciate it when I say that the man making the balloon animals for the kids was kind of disappointing to watch. It was just some guy in a top hat. Now, in keeping with the theme, I would have expected him to be dressed in more of a stereotypical witch-doctor style. I mean, at least replace the top hat with some feathery headdress!

We really need a place like this around here, just outside of Portland. Because we just have normal restaurants. If you want to go somewhere fun, you generally end up heading to downtown Portland. But if you want to go to a place to hang out and have fun, you generally have to come up with your own ideas in Beaverton/Hillsboro/Aloha. Rainforest Cafe has a downright magical ambience that beats any old memorabilia they might have in an Applebee's. I mean, do they realize what a mega-hit this place would be? Oh, well.

Dessert consisted of a Volcano. Three big brownies, big scoops of vanilla ice cream, whipped topping. Real good. Aside from convincing me that ice cream and brownies were made for each other (see below), I also learned that there are no fireworks in Arizona. The picture of the Volcano on the menu showed a sizzling sparkler on top (hence "Volcano"), but what we got was a glittery, tassley thing.

What I learned is that fireworks, among the other incarnations of fire, seem to be illegal down in Ayzee. Which must make for incredibly boring Julys. Not just Screaming Bees and Sparklers, but they won't even allows Cobras, for goodness sake! Remember those? The little black pellets that grew in snakey shapes when you held a match to them? [Not even Pop-Its! --Ed.] I'm wondering if you need to register your Zippo, down there... Oh, well, facetiousness aside, I'm sure there's some reasoning behind it... but still...

Okay, what I also figured out was that ice cream is for brownies, not cake. Despite all of the birthday parties that we've all been to, I'm pretty sure of this now. Cake is too fluffy for a food as thick is ice cream. That's what I've always thought and it's just now been made clear. That's why you put frosting or whipped topping on cake, something that's also light and fluffy [marshmallow frosting, if you're awesome --Ed.]. Or... heh... I think it's time to let you in on A Little Secret...

How To Make Awesome Cake. Bake a cake mix. Instead of filling it with that gross creamy frosting or jelly-stuff, make the middle layer --are you listening?-- whipped yogurt. Then, for frosting, give the top a base coat of normal frosting [marshmallow frosting, if you're awesome --Ed.] and, on top of that, a layer of gel frosting. Decorate to taste. Now, back to your previously scheduled brownie.

Brownies have a texture that complements ice cream. The only problem is that brownies seem to be pretty limited, flavor-wise, when compared with cake, leading into my finishing aside.

Have you ever noticed how fudge is different from chocolate? Because I'm still trying to learn that. Whenever I go to eat something fudgey I look at it and, subconsciously, think "chocolate." And then my tongue weirds me out with another flavor. It's kind of gross at first. Then, "Ooohh... not chocolate. Fudge." Then it's really, really good.

Speaking of ice cream, I've always wondered this.
Speaking of fudge, go and order Bumble Buzz from that cute girl at the local Baskin-Robbins. And have fun saying it.

Get Your Romance-Period Choiral Piece Groove On

After rewatching the Battlestar Galactica miniseries I've been sort of warming back up to it and, after finding these Farscape [a series he has yet to seriously watch --Ed.] music videos, I went looking to see if there were any BSG ones. Lo and behold. This is some of the awesomest music ever. I am, of course, referring to the domainating track, "Ebla" by E.S. Posthumus. It really reminded me of "Furious Angels" by Rob Dougan from the The Matrix: Reloaded soundtrack (the song that almost made me want to learn how to ballroom dance). And Best Of All, a lot of their music can be listened to, in full, at their website. So go and enjoy.

You know, I'm my father's son when it comes to spending (see: frugal), but I just may break down and buy this. Yeah, right. But, hey, the fact that it made me think about it for a minute says something.

I was interested to find that one of E.S.P's tracks, "Harappa," was used as the music for a trailer for a film that students at my old high school did.

Quick Notes

In our current state of LotsOfMoney-less-ness, we've begun hanging our clothes up to dry on a line outside, in order to save on electrical bills. It was working fine (although the clothes don't get quite as soft) until two of the three lines fell down. Probably gonna have to rethink our arrangement.

I had Taco Bell today. Really makes me think of how disappointing it is when compared wtih Gilberto's, down in Roseburg. I love that stuff. Even the sides are... magical. It's all salty salty, though, so I invariably end up chugging down a lot of root beer with it. Maybe we'll stop there on the way down to Gold Beach in September. Yeah...

Why Is Liar Liar Going To Be Shown On Scifi Channel?

I went to frisbee again today. I got hit by the disc four times, in the head, shoulder, leg, and car. Saw a guy that I hadn't seen for years among the alumni present. I'm just wondering how long this activity will go on before others take priority.

These activites aren't just college related, but also things that I want to work on, hobbywise. Among these are stories. I have multiple ideas for stories that I want to write, among them are scifi and fantasy. My despair comes whenever I stop by a Borders or Barnes & Noble and stroll through the scifi/fantasy section. The sheer volume of works currently in the market can be intimidating to behold. I don't know how many of them are actually good (I know what Sturgeon would say).

I saw that a new Dune book is coming out. In that series, I've only read Dune, the first part of The Butlerian Jihad, and the first part of House Atreides. I stopped on those latter two simply because I got sidetracked. I wouldn't mind taking them back up again, though. I'm great at starting books, but terrible at finishing them. Coincidentally, I'm watching David Lynch's Dune on TV right now; dang that little girl is creepy (I don't think she was that much better in the Hallmark Miniseries, either)! The feeling always fades, but when I watch her, I shudder out loud.

As this post ends, I keep thinking of how unfulfilling these braindumps are to me, as a writer. Oh, well.

- Appreciation: Mur Lafferty has a new podcast for people like me.
- Resentment: I learned that we payed $800 dollars for a television that can't degauss.

Science: Run by Mike Everhart, Oceans Of Kansas is an interesting website and resource of information on the fossils of Kansas and that general region. The stars here tend to be plesiosaurs, mosasaurs, and pterosaurs.
Art: The Halls Of Creation is the page of the Brothers Koiter. Sadly, the one who penned the art passed away last year, but his artwork is still up here for us to admire. I recommend Goblin Zeppelin, Apocalyptic Vision, and King Of Clubs. This project also sounds fun.
Otherwise: Want to see what's going on at that infamous Northwestern volcano?

"It's Time For Some Swearing And It's Time For Some Fun"

"Man, Chinese pirates were bad!"
"Well, I think most pirates were."
"No! I mean... like, as in, 80's 'bad!' As in, good. Well, if I swore I'd say bad***. But I don't, so I won't."
"Oh... wait..."

Yeah, actual conversation, that. And it's something that's been bugging me for quite a while.
I try to swear as little as possible and I think that I do a pretty good job, as it is. This is not to say that I am always completely succesful; I may slip up when frightened, in pain, or otherwise under great duress. But even when that happens, it's only a single word, never a tirade or anything.

My point is, hang around me and you're in for a lot of "dangs," "goodness'," and the occasional "whoops."

Now this can be frustrating for me, because I find that the exclamations that have the best sound to them seem to be swear words. "Darn" and "dang" just don't quite carry the punch of a well placed... see, I even feel guilty writing it. Maybe we can compromise. "Hydroelectric plant!" How's that?

"But, Jeff," you say, "you recently wrote a post in your blog where you say "Big Damn Heroes'." True, I chose to do that because... well, there's really no other way to put that. Kind of like the "foo bird" joke.

But, I feel that this could all be good, in the end. With the loss of swear words, one might have to be more creative in attempting to convey intense emotion. Don't ask me how. Maybe learn Mandarin. Nah, that's probably just me wishing that I had seen Firefly tonight. I had to give it up in order to attend a party. The only reason that I actually debated this is that I'm trying get my mom into Firefly. But, in the end, I traded one shindig for another. But it was cool. Free food. Fun people. I lost croquet. Quite graciously, I might add. My opponent will regain the use of his arm tomorrow.

Also, one thing that I'm wondering, are there any computer games out there that will let me create and maintain an Area 51 type facility? Area 51 Tycoon? Like that Evil Genius game... but with more replay value. I'd play that demo. Because that's all I do. I can't remember the last full game that I bought [Fifty bucks for a video game... ugh... --Ed.].

Also been thinking of setting up a DeviantArt account, or something. I started thinking this when I drew myself as an Irken Invader, last night. Didn't come out half bad (medium: pencil on back of Winco receipt).

Buh-dum-chh!

What did they say about the two conspiratorial owls from an ancient South American empire?
Highlight text.


They were inca hoots.

It's really late.

You know what I have to do tomorrow? First, I have to go try and figure out some more odd things about financial aid at the college campus. Then on the way home I have to buy kitty litter for our geriatric cats that have become more and more... productive. And ice. I have to buy ice. For our drinks.

I also have taken to going to frisbee again with people from my high school. The only problem that arises with this is when an actual game of ultimate frisbee gets going I realize that I've never really been a "sports person." I am, as they say, a "Knight of the Dinner Table." I like board games, puzzles, and other games that don't necessarily require me stumbling across a field, gasping in ragged breaths. All of which done to give the impression that I have some kind of athletic skill and, thus, more worth as a person. I like throwing a disc around as much as the next guy, but there's something about organized sports... Remember Calvinball? That's right up my alley, generally. I was the arts'n'crafts kid, not the running-around type.

- Appreciation: Peanut Butter, Jelly, and M&M sandwiches (toasted, of course, as all sandwiches should be).
- Resentment: That my house is still predominately messy, which means that my many planned projects will remain in limbo until it becomes cleaner and more orderly.

Science: I've always maintained that it would be great if they could somehow devise a healthy chocolate, especially now that I'm no longer a teenager and have to start worrying about health-related issues. Well, it turns out that dark chocolate already has some good stuff in it. Problem is, I'm more of a milk chocolate guy.
Art: The works of Kazu Kibuishi are found at his site, Bolt City. Really nicely done comic art. The various episodes of "Copper" may seem a bit random, but they're still well done. He seemed to capture my current, general feelings about romance in this one quite nicely (love is like a blackberry vine: sweet fruit, painful thorns, and invasive like nothing else). He also has me wanting to read more of Daisy Kutter than what's online.
Otherwise: I saw this, by the makers of Magical Trevor, on TV tonight and immediately fell in love with it. I wish my kitties did that dance.Also, I think I want a T-shirt with the quote in the third panel of this.

Great Moment In Profundity # 75

Have you ever wondered where nail clippings go? Sometimes I trim my nails outside, but more often it's inside. Whenever I try to aim for a trash basket the clippings tend to fly off and hide somewhere, so I usually just clip wherever I happen to be sitting. My question is... where are all of these clippings? I never encounter them again. If there's some fairy making off with them, then could she at least leave some change? I'm trying to get through college loan-free.