New Morning

It's a new school year for me. No big surprise, I've been here before. But I did really badly last semester (really, really badly) and I'm having more than a little trouble finding any enthusiasm for this new load of work I'm dumping on myself. My Best Beloved and I spoke at length on the matter last night, and I went to bed early.

I woke up early and found a mixed CD of 3 Days Grace and Lordi placed carefully on my keyboard.

I loves me my girl.

Thanks, babe.

Monthly Update

Yes, yes, yes . . . I am well aware of how much I suck.

No update for a sincerely long time, then this hypertrophied mess of information overload. Well, what can I say, I'm a lousy correspondent. I carefully place that bit of information on the new year's resolutions every year, just underneath "Quit kicking kittens" and above "Quit hating worthless souless politican attention-whores," but it never seems to work out that I manage to actually write to the people in my life and keep them updated.

So, yeah.

I wrecked my truck, and am missing substantial amounts of money from my financial aid due to computer error. I failed EVERY class I took fall semester, which throws off my carefully planned exodus from Kennesaw. I now reside in the grey, greasy limbo of academic probation. Despite the shitstorm in other sections of my life, I haven't been to practice in a month, and I doubt my students even remember me. The depression worsens.

I tell ya, folks. If my shitheel life doesn't get better than this real soon, I'll be investing in a single shotgun shell . . .

The Rogue's Handbook

The only rules I will ever follow:

I will not masquerade as a hero. My Twinkling Eyes and Rakish Grin would give me away all too soon.

I will not masquerade as a villain. My Heart of Gold would surely betray me at an inopportune moment.

Swashbuckling with swords is good exercise and good for publicity. Even so, if I have the opportunity to dispatch a foe with a throwing knife or a crossbow bolt from the shadows, I will take it.

I will not make a move on the hero's One True Love. Either the hero would come to her rescue and give me a sound thumping, or, worse, she would beat me down herself.

I will not make a move on the hero. As much fun as it would be to watch him sputter and blush in front of his companions, the scene could only hurt my chances with the ladies.

I will bring an extinguisher and a crowbar to every heist, so as to claim even those things which are nailed down and on fire.

I will hire a man to equip, activate, taste, and randomly fiddle with any extremely unusual items I acquire. If he's still alive after a couple of hours, I will take the items and pay him for his services. If not, I'll bury the items and console myself with his wallet.

I will occasionally donate some of my loot to charitable causes, so that the hero (if I am ever at his mercy) will have qualms about killing me.

I will avoid the hero on weekends and social occasions. No matter how well I've earned my reputation as a ladies' man, when the good guys are nearby, even the naïvest of tavern wenches will inexplicably be immune to my charms.

Accordingly, I will remember that any woman who shows an interest in me when the hero is around almost certainly has an ulterior motive. I'll still take her out on a date, of course, but I will refuse any seemingly innocuous tasks, requests for information, or beverages she offers me.

I will not steal from tombs, crypts, altars, or any person who manages to look menacing while dead.

Furthermore, no matter how shiny the treasure is, if a booming disembodied voice tells me to put it back where I found it, I will do so promptly.

Before attempting to pick someone's pocket, I will first tie his bootlaces together, thus reducing the danger to myself if my legerdemain is detected.

I will not keep a journal of my exploits. A journal's sole purpose is to be found on its owner's corpse in a dungeon somewhere, and I'd rather not have adventurers tsk-tsking over my unorthodox lifestyle as they loot my hard-stolen belongings.

I will take credit for all of the hero's exploits in song.

When haste is my top priority (for example, when hundreds of tons of stone are crashing down around my ears as I scramble for the temple exit), I will remember that haste is, in fact, my top priority, and I won't try to drag a big bag of loot along with me. If the treasure is that great, I'll hire an excavation team to dig it out for me later.

I will realize that a cute animal sidekick is just as likely to get me into trouble as it is to help me out of it. Thus, before accepting one as a companion, I will at least make sure that it's smart enough to make itself scarce when I'm talking to the ladies. Nothing kills romance faster than a rat up the skirt or a monkey on the head.

I will not seduce the Evil Empress in an effort to obtain classified information from her. Whether she sees through my plan or not, she'll most likely use her mind-control powers to turn me into an unquestioning slave. Though my duties would surely be pleasant, a rogue is nothing without his freedom.

I will not act as a double agent for either side, since such activities are invariably discovered. If the Evil Overlord caught me double-crossing him, pain and death would be imminent; whereas if the hero learned of my betrayal, I would have to apologize and make some sappy, extravagant gesture of loyalty to redeem myself. Both scenarios are unacceptable.

I will familiarize myself with the local laws and ordinances of a town before I steal anything from its citizens. If it turns out that nicking an apple from the market gives the shopkeeper legal clearance to cut off my hands, I'll pass.

If I ever start dating a good and beautiful princess, I will take the first available opportunity to let her know that I'm not really a prince. Once she has fallen in love with me, she won't mind that I'm a common rogue, as long as I'm the one who breaks the news to her. Whatever happens, I won't let some rival suitor find out before she does and then blackmail me about it.

I will not alternately mock and flirt with the strong yet attractive bounty hunter who is chasing me. It never helps. (And if I'm caught, I'd rather be taken alive, thank you very much.)

I will not let my tongue get sharper than my sword. Nothing hurts worse than losing to a guy right after smack-talking him up one side and down the other.

No matter how dashing I look in the traditional garb, I won't wear pants so tight that they impede mobility or shirts so poofy and unbuttoned that they get caught on things.

(stolen without permission from True Magic the online comic)

The time has come, the Walrus said

/begin trans

My dojo has proclaimed the date of my Aikido black belt test. I will be testing for Shodan (first degree black belt) on Sunday, October 29, at 1:30 pm.

I am exhausted.
I am exhilarated.
I am fucking scared senseless.

I hope to see you all there. Or at least those of you who are interested in the martial arts. And those who want to see me get my ass kicked. And those who have never seen a black belt test before. And especially those who have no idea of how deep human suffering can be.

Bring a book, because you will be bored at some points. But I do hope to see some of you there.

Itto Martial Arts and Fitness
175A Old Epps Bridge Rd.
Athens, GA 30606

/end trans

Because I can't sleep anymore


Paleo-Liberal

You scored 63% Personal Liberty and 46% Economic Liberty!

A paleo-liberal believes in low to moderate government intervention on personal matters and moderate government intervention on economic matters. They tend to be opposed to war, police powers and victimless crimes. They believe in a social safety net, but to a lesser extent then most leftists. They generally believe in protecting personal liberty. They support self-ownership and privacy. Some Paleo-liberals may lean towards embracing capitalism as an economic system. Paleo-liberals are reminiscent of the attitude of the "new left" of the 60's and 70's. Strong Paleo-Liberals border on Libertarianism.












My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 99% on Personal
free online datingfree online dating
You scored higher than 99% on Economic




Link: The Politics Test written by brainpolice on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

This week in History!

/begin transmission

This week has been a big pile of suck.  My truck got broken into (although they wrecked my CD player, nothing was stolen), I found my insurance doesn't cover broken glass when not in a car wreck, and I managed to catch some unholy form of hell from Larken's kids.  I've missed two days of school this week as a result.  I was planning on helping Chris and Trin move to their new place but will probably be unable to do so due to sick. 

So yeah, a big pile of suck.

/end trans

Mindless Meme ENGAGE!

The Soundtrack of Your Life

Opening Credits: "Devil is a Loser" - Lordi.  (Heavy metal always makes a good starting point.)

Waking Up: "Break Stuff" - Limp Bizkit.  (I am not a morning person.  Never have been, never will be and SHUT THE HELL UP!)

Average Day: "Clint Eastwood" - Gorillaz.  (I ain't happy, but I'm feelin' glad . . perfect for defining my days at school.  And at home, too.)

First Date: "Kryptonite" by Three Doors Down.  (This was the song that played in my truck on our first date, and ever since then, it's been a fond-memory instigator.)

Falling in love: "Would You Love a Monsterman" - Lordi (Best Beloved noted that it really does fit our relationship.  And I found it FIRST!)

Love Scene: Either "You Shook Me All Night Long" or "Givin' the Dog a Bone" -AC/DC.  (So true.  Yeah, that's all the info you get.)

Fight Scene: Good God, how do I choose?  Metallica's "Battery", AC/DC - "Hells Bells", "Click Click Boom" by Saliva . . the list goes on and on.  Anything with a strong beat and lyrics you can howl to is good for a no-holds-barred, knock-down, drag-out-and-curb-stomp street brawl.

Breaking Up: Easy.  Ace of Base - "Don't Turn Around".  (Because nothing's worse than showing them you hurt.)

Secret love: Falling in Love (is Hard on the Knees) -Aerosmith.  (Except a secret love that you can't do a damned thing about.  It's like a pair of bad dress shoes.  They hurt your feet terribly and you have to live with them because you can't afford anything better.)

Life's okay: "Cheap Sunglasses" -ZZ Top.  ( A  sunny autumn day,  young women walking by in tight pants, and sunglasses.  Of these things is a wonderful Saturday made.)

Mental breakdown: Linkin Park "Easier to Run".  (Because facing your own personal inner demons is the most difficult thing in all of creation to do).

Driving: Any fight song can heroically do double duty for driving.  Really.  The art of driving, done correctly, can be just as visceral an experience as the first time you knock someone unconscious in a fight. 

Learning a lesson: "The Impression That I Get" -The Mighty Mighty Bosstones.  The impression that I get is that the only thing that people learn from is experience.  Usually bad experience, repeated ad nauseaum

Deep thought: "Under the Bridge" -Red Hot Chilli Peppers.  (No reason, no logic, just good backbeat music to force my brain into introspection mode.)

Flashback: "What's the Frequency, Kenneth" -REM.  (Chris and I had this song in the stereo ALL THE TIME in our first year at GT.)

Partying: "Weapon of Choice" -Fatboy Slim.  If it can make Christopher Fucking Walken get down, it can't be all bad. 

Happy Dance: Only once choice here: Bob Seger and "Old Time Rock and Roll".  Because SHUT UP, that's why.

Regretting: "Somewhere I Belong" -Linkin Park.  Regret is the single most poisonous emotion I have ever encountered. 

Long Night Alone: George Thorogood and the Destroyers - "I Drink Alone".  Nowadays, that's how I drink.  Besides, no one likes dealing with drunk melancholy Irish-Americans. 

Death Scene: "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" - Green Day.  (Best.  Death. Song. Ever.)

Closing Credits: "Switchback" -Celldweller.  If your end-song doesn't rock, what was the point?

Leeeeroy Jenkins!

/begin trans

I have recently found something damned funny. For those of you who don't play World of Warcraft, this won't make a damned bit of sense, so you can go back to googling misspelled words. For you crazy WoW-playing folks, you need to see this. S, you especially will get a kick out of this particular bit of information.

http://www.penny-arcade.com/2006/08/16

You need to scroll down.

I almost fell out of my chair the first time I saw this.

/end trans

The goggles they do nothing!

/begin trans

God DAMN I hurt.

Okay, wait. Some back story first.

I am a martial artist. I am an aikidoka. I am used to pain and degrees of trauma that most people regard as disabling or traumatizing. My knees don't work well at all, my right shoulder will have about 70% of it's full movement for the rest of my existence, and I live with aches in my shins, feet, back, hands and wrists that would send most folks to the pill-pushing, white coat-wearing, fixit-and-forgetit physician wannabes.

I am good with pain. I have to be. Pain lets me know that I'm still alive.

But tonight I have tried Tiger Balm for the first time, and with no assistance on the label, I have apparently overdosed. I tried the stuff for my right shoulder, the bad one. I spread it on, I rub it in. And I burn.

I burn with the fiery heat of a thousand suns, as though just-used motor oil has been spilled, nay FLOODED upon my shoulder. Those who have worked on their own vehicles can attest that having hot motor oil spill on you hurts like few burns in all the world. I can now attest that having Tiger Balm on you feels like someone got busy with a portable sunlamp, burned my shoulder to the bone, then spread some premium habanero oil on the burned flesh.

I burn, and I am filled with regret, fear and anticipation.

Because I'll be back here again, burning and cursing and smelling of camphor, because it makes my shoulder not hurt.

/end trans