Changes

You all may have noticed the blog went through some changes. I have new hosting on Amazon EC2 which essentially means I’m managing my own server(s). It’s taking some time to work some things out. For instance, sql was crashing on me randomly for awhile there. You live, you learn, sometimes about swap space, and things seem to be working okay now.

My theme was very outdated and I don’t really have as much time these days to write code and pretend to be a software developer, so I used a standard one that worked well with what I already had for a design. I already pretend to be so many things, I find more and more that I have to pick and choose. Why can’t I just be master of all things? Look at Charlie Sheen after all. He’s winning, why can’t I?

These days I’m spending a bunch of time in the ceramic art studio. I stopped doing Brazilian jiu-jitsu for now, though not before I got my blue belt. I decided I couldn’t figure out a way to effectively do everything I was doing, so I was instead ineffectively doing many things. Sometimes you have to step back and take stock of priorities. Yes, even things that you love and find important have to move down that list sometimes. If there are too many that take too much time, some may even have to drop off. It doesn’t mean they can’t ever go back on… It also doesn’t mean that you find everything on that list described as “things you love AND find important”. We all wish we could do what we love all the time, and I have great respect for the people who do this or even try to. Maybe I’ll get there some day, but right now, I’m not quite there.

But mostly, it’s going well. Life is a work in progress, and I can at least look back and see that it at least appears that I’m getting somewhere.

Hopefully I’ll start properly posting again. For those of you that realize this migration was a smaller time frame and excuse to not be posting, maybe I’ll even post on that subject. However, for now, I need to do that sleep thing. Yes, it’s one of those important things that is a priority. I even realize some people love it, but dream time has been even more intense for me lately.

So, please be gentle weird, subconscious things in my head. And goodnight, all.

Honey, I’m Going To Kill You

The number one question I’ve been asked lately is, “How are you liking your new place?” or some variant of it. Really, what I am being asked is, “Are you ready to kill your boyfriend yet?” since I just moved in with him at the beginning of last month.

That question is understandable, since if you’ve spent any length of time with us, we might have slipped up and said to one another, “I am going to kill you,” while in your presence. If that is the case, let me explain.

I don’t know who started it, but it’s really an endearing expression of affection between us. If we start to drive each other nuts we say, “I’m going to kill you. No really. I. Am. Going to kill you.” Sometimes we accompany that with graphic details about how, when, and with what. Other times this will be punctuated with noises like “AAHHHRRGG!!”.

I’m sure that’s this is inappropriate. A couples counselor, if we saw one, would shake their head and put little notes in their pad. They may tisk and ask us, “How do you feel when she says she’s going to kill you?”

“With a super sheep,” I add helpfully.

“With a super sheep-”

“-from the game Worms,” I add to make sure she has the proper context.

“From the game Worms-”

“You know, that will probably just end up killing both of us, and maybe even the cat,” I muse out loud.

“…”

“I feel… frustrated,” admits the boyfriend, “It’s so easy to blow up yourself in Worms. The more fun the weapons, the easier it is to destroy yourself. It’s confusing. I don’t know if the point of the game is to actually win or just blow everything up. You know, either way I also feel like it’s kind of fun. So to answer your question, it feels frustrating, and confusing, but also fun.”

I squeeze his hand because I know exactly what he means, “We can play a different game if that makes you feel better, sweetie. We don’t have to play Worms.”

Our couples counselor, who we don’t actually have, scribbles down some more notes. I imagine it would have in all capital letters, with a lot of punctuation, a circle, and a underline. It is probably the word worms. I’m going to assume that is because she hasn’t played the game and is going to download it when she gets home, but I might be wrong.

On the bright side, neither of us ever make good on our threat. I feel like it makes me feel better to say it, and it makes me feel better to laugh in his face when he says it.

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Hee hee hee.”

“No really.”

“Aw, you’re so cute when you’re homicidal. Let me pinch your cheek!”

But really though, if he doesn’t clean whatever crap he spilled all over our stove I’m going to kill him. I don’t even know what it is. It’s yellow. What could he possibly been cooking that is yellow. It’s kind of gelatinous in some spots and crispy in others. So I asked him what in the name of names he spilled all over our stove that was freaking me out so much,

“Yeah. I don’t know what that is.”

“There’s a lot of it.”

“Yeah, hun. I don’t know.”

“You must have done it last night. But what is it?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t look like anything I cooked. I don’t remember spilling anything.”

When I lived by myself I was annoyed enough about cleaning up after a cat. Now I have a big hamster with opposable thumbs to look after too. No, he doesn’t chew the sides of his house or anything like that. I don’t know why I’m calling him a hamster exactly. I just wanted to call him a pet of some kind. Otherwise I’d have to call him a child, and I don’t need a child that’s almost thirty. Then again, I don’t need a really tall hamster either.

He’d say something like, well at least this hamster can cook (if he’d ever play along and call himself a hamster).

And well, I like his cooking. However, cooking is fun. Scraping a yellow entity off of our stove isn’t. If I cooked, this inter dimensional being now attached to our stove would never have been called into existence. I am very good at both cooking and not summoning disgusting other-worldly beings that adhere to kitchen appliances. I’m convinced that when the boyfriend cooks, he opens a series of portals, and instead of being useful portals that allow him to reach across the kitchen while still standing at the stove, they are portals to other planes of existence which allow things like whirlwinds from the Elemental Planes of Air to come swirling into the kitchen and take everything out of all the cabinets and scatter them all over the counters. Air Elementals are notoriously messy eaters and will also taste everything and leave tiny bits of it all over the floor, counters, and stove.

I don’t think the yellow thing on our stove was from the Elemental Planes. I think we need to look in H. P. Lovecraft books for this one folks. This worries me because I have enough to deal with without Cthulhu running around our apartment fighting with the already present Air Elementals.

Did I just hear the yellow thing on the stove mutter Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn? I swear I did.

I mean, if someone said, “Hey, I’ll do all the cleaning if you do the cooking,” I’d say yes too. That sounds amazing. I’d be the next Master Chef. I’d cook even when I didn’t want anything.

On a serious note, I’m not saying that the boyfriend is a slob who sits around who does nothing. He does a lot. I know not everything is going to be a 50/50 split. It’s impossible, and we shouldn’t be keeping score anyways. But if I clean everything else, I do want to be able to say, “Hey, I did everything else in the apartment- can you clean the kitchen floor please?” and have him say, “Of course! After you slayed that ochre jelly monster (turns out it was a Dungeons and Dragons monster, not Lovecraft) and saved me, I am eternally in your debt. It is the least I can do. Let me also make you a mojito.”

He does make me mojitos, but so far the asking for help has been met with mixed results. I understand that Skyrim has been enslaving a lot of the geek race recently. However, what about my video game needs? If I’m spending all this time slaying real life ochre jellies who want to be the next Master Chef, when do I get time to decompress and play the new officially released Minecraft?

I’m also not asking for the privilege of redoing tasks later. “You want your floor clean? Here. I dumped some water on it. The cat even helped me. You know how he loves to knock over his water bowl. Problem solved!”

Maybe my cat isn’t being a jerk. Maybe he is trying to help me clean the floor. He has no thumbs. That’s so sad. I just realized this whole time I’ve been yelling at my poor cat who has a no thumb disability but still insists on trying to help me with chores. I’m a terrible person. My cat is the Tiny Tim of cats.

I also don’t want to hear, “I got the worst of it” meaning that all the dirt was swept under the rugs. We don’t have rugs, but I’m just thinking of those cartoons where people sweep all the dirt under the rug. Don’t they realize that they’re putting as much effort into carefully sweeping under a rug as they would to sweep it into a dustpan and empty it into the trash? This is doubly bad since we don’t own rugs. Imaginary rugs don’t conceal dirt at all.

I’m not asking for perfection. Depending on who you ask, I am either a neat freak or a slob, so taking an average, I think I’m moderately reasonable about how I want the living space. The boyfriend, however, has a sight disorder when it comes to whether something is clean or not. He doesn’t notice. He cares and knows how to clean. He just doesn’t know how to tell when it’s time to clean. I can help here. Honey, it’s dirty. YOUR WELCOME. And if you don’t help me, I’m going to kill you.

Bridge

I’m trying to find a way to be happy that is compartmentalized, common, and oh. so. safe.

I begin to miss the days when what I did seemed challenging. I tried to run towards the next place at a break-neck pace and found myself what I thought was a transitional place.

I’m standing on a bridge that suddenly ended. I’m not at the end, but I can see it. I’m not running anymore. I feel like I should run to the end, but then what do I do there? I don’t want to stop. I guess I’m supposed to slow down, stop, and keep building it. I’m inching along, but I want to run.

I could jump at the end.

I thought someone would understand rather than telling me, “Of course it ended, it wasn’t going to go on forever.” They wave the five-year plan at me as if this wasn’t my plan when I started building. They say it as if five years starts right now instead of at the beginning of the bridge years ago. Then, were they saying five? Now they’re saying ten as if it’s nothing.

If I jump off the bridge, it’ll be cold and scary, but I can learn to swim or I’ll die trying.

I’m trying to find a way to be happy that fits in a world that I don’t understand. I’m good at the motions and I can rehearse the dance, but I’m still not a successful drone. I can’t seem to accept what others have accepted. I can’t sit still. My path forward ends.

Jump, I’ll learn to swim. I don’t need footholds, warmth, and land, or do I?

Standing and swaying on the bridge I built, all of my hard work. If it doesn’t go anywhere, does it mean anything? Many will tell you it’s the journey that matters, but a dead-end bridge is useless, pointless, and dangerous.

I could start over. I could build a new bridge: gather the materials, plan it out, and start anew. Maybe then I could map my destination in a more meaningful way. Maybe I won’t get lost this time. How many bridges have I started, and where am I even trying to go? Trying not to fall in isn’t answer enough. My head is more than above water, and I want something more.

I read somewhere recently, “Sitting in offices, doing work that has no meaning is the quickest way to become profoundly unhappy.” Is that what I’m doing? My job does have meaning, surely. Just like most jobs I’ve had, at their core I am helping people. What do you do? I help people. I help people using my skills and talents. That has meaning.

The motions repeat, and still I feel like there should be more. This section of the bridge feels so much like the last.

I lay down some more planks and inch forward. The bridge is solid. I become a better builder every bit I finish. I just wish I knew where I was going.

Minecraft: Diary of a Miner

The Minecraft deity known as Notch released update 1.6 recently which allows Nether Portals to work on Multiplayer Servers like the one I play on.

Since Minecraft itself doesn’t support multiple worlds, we all knew that something weird was going to happen when we built and went through a Nether Portal in another world. Maybe nothing would happen. Maybe each world would have it’s own Nether.

What really happens is a lot less exciting. Every portal in every world goes to the main world’s Nether. Then, if you go back through that gate, it spits you somewhere in the main world (Bunnies).

The first time I tried this, I went through a Nether Portal near the Floaty Stargate. Floaty is a world I spend a lot of time in. I found myself suspended high above some lava with little room to move somewhere in The Nether. Then I went back through before I fell or was killed by ghasts and ended up in the middle of the ground somewhere in Bunnies right by a monster spawner. I died a few times and repeated going back through. I cleaned out the area and Kiashien helped me make a Stargate called Bridge so that I could get out of wherever it was I’d ended up.

I’m pretty good at exploring The Nether. I practiced in our “psudo-nether” world (Stargates Nether1 and Glowstone). These were created using multi-world before the 1.6 update. In those days glowstone dropped less glowstone dust when harvested. I was pretty obsessed with finding a ‘prettier’ light source than torches, torches, and more torches to use in my bases and other creations. So, I did a lot of exploring and digging and building in The Nether. Ghasts were a huge problem because at that point, I couldn’t actually see the ghasts correctly. They would flicker across the screen as if they were in multiple spots at once and I couldn’t see their projectiles flying at me. So, dodging them and hitting them back at the ghasts was impossible. Killing ghasts was all guesswork.

So, when I was given a Nether Gate high above open lava with barely a platform to stand on and a lot of ghasts spawning, I said, “Challenge Accepted”.

I don’t die a lot in Minecraft, but here I died about a half dozen times trying to make a place to stand and walls around the portal.

Each time I died I’d end up in at the Bunnies spawn point by our main base Chuck. It didn’t matter that I’d slept in other beds in Bunnies, which is supposed to reset your spawn point to the bed. I spawned there every time. Each time I’d go into Chuck and hop the stargate to Floaty. Since the 1.6 update, Minecraft disconnects every time you transport to another world using a Stargate, accusing you of hacking. I’d reconnect, then go through the Nether Portal there and end up back in The Nether.

The last time I was there I actually made a lot of progress, but still messed up and fell to my doom. I was back at Chuck and made my way back to Floaty. This time, though, I didn’t end up at that same gate in The Nether. Instead I ended up coming out of a gate in the Nether that was fairly secure. I explored the tunnels for awhile and made the place a bit more homey. I mined some glowstone. I didn’t have a lot of supplies since I expected to end up back at the deathtrap and die again. Once I decided I needed to get some wood and other things, I went through the gate. I expected to come out at Bridge.

Instead I ended up under water at night somewhere. I swam up and looked around. It was a river. The banks had forested mountains. Our Other Places mod told me that I was closest to Bridge, but closest is a relative term since nothing familiar was anywhere in sight.

I didn’t have any supplies on me except netherrack, a shovel, and a flint and steel. Since I had no torches, I placed some blocks of nertherrack and lit them on fire to try to keep the bad mobs from spawning on top of me, then I waited in the water for morning. Things didn’t look any better in the morning. I was very, very lost. Kiashien decided it was okay to teleport me back to civilization since it seemed like the game had glitched.

Some people might decide to do something else at this point, but this just made me want to try again, and yes, possibly get stranded. However, this time I brought obsidian to make a stargate. That way if I was stranded, I could get myself out.

The Nether Gate went to the same place as before. After working for a short period of time, I stepped back into the Portal.



For the love of cheese, where am I now?



Oh, hey. It’s the netherrack beacons I made before! So I did come out at the same spot. It seems like last time the game fast forwarded to me falling and ending up below in the water. I had almost nowhere to stand, so it makes sense that I fell and, no, I didn’t think to look up.

So, now I’m here and I can build a Stargate, right? Actually, I need to build a place to stand first.



Watching night fall was pretty awesome. Since I was so high up I could see it fall on the lower elevations first and progress to other areas.



I worked through the night to build a platform around the Nether Portal. So, now I can build yet another Stargate.

The question still remains, what happened to the Nether Portal suspended over lava?

The better question is what happened to the Nether Portal at Bridge? Is it still there? What happens if I go through it?

I don’t know what happened to the Nether Portal suspended above lava and I kind of doubt I’ll ever find it again.

The Nether Portal at Bridge goes to this new, same spot in The Nether. When you go back through, it goes to this new little platform high in the sky.

This new Stargate, once it’s done, I think I’ll call it Pigeon because it’s kind of annoying and high up in the sky. That and this whole thing has been a pile of bird poop.

To be a useful place at all, there needs to be a way to get down, so I made a leap of faith into the river and started building a staircase…


As you can see, the rain is pooping on my head like a pigeon as I build away.

A Dark Blue One

“I only own one gi, and it’s getting pretty old, dirty, starting to fall apart. I want to get one of the dark blue ones, but I don’t see many. Do you think you have any in my size?”

“Why blue?”

“White looks dirty very easily. My pants are pretty much permanently gray. I have a black cat to boot.”

“I like them. Forces people to wash them.”

“They look dirty even when do wash them, though.”

“Ever seen the pink gis?”

“YES! Yuck. I don’t think I’ve never seen anyone in one though except for the internet. Do women actually wear those?”

“Yeah, when I was in California there was a all women’s class of like 30, all happily rolling in their pink gis.”

“Well, no pink and co-ed classes here, and I prefer it that way.”

“We can order you a gi and you won’t have to pay shipping. Just look on the Gracie website. Did you want to get that in a women’s size?”

“Women’s size? Do they have a different sizing system? I think this one is like an A2 or A3. I’m having a hard time finding a tag where it isn’t completely worn off.”

“Yes, they do have women’s sizes and the gis fit different.”

“Cool. What colors do they have? Do they have the dark blue.”

“No. They only have them in pink.”

“…so that class of women? How do you know they were happy to wear pink if they only had the option was pink or a gi that doesn’t fit right? Maybe they’re actually all angry and feel ridiculous in their pink gis?”

“So… you don’t want a pink gi?”

“…nah, I want a dark blue one. A pink one probably still won’t fit right anyways. It’s not like most womens’ pants do.”