Some how it figures that once I get moving on a roll, it’s time to pass out and catch some z’s :-/.
Wouldn’t it be cool if one could work without crashing sooner or later due to the lack of sleep…
An orange in an apple orchard
Some how it figures that once I get moving on a roll, it’s time to pass out and catch some z’s :-/.
Wouldn’t it be cool if one could work without crashing sooner or later due to the lack of sleep…
Doing better today, much more stable, but on the downside, have also felt utterly mindless half the day… like the engines running but no ones behind the wheel. Ok, so I’ve got a few cracks in the crockpot, ain’t the first time :-P.
In a rather interesting twist, normally I would play games to take a ‘break’ for programming tasks that require long periods of concentration: good choices being most things Id Tech or Unreal Engine based. Tonight, I instead found myself playing Chess to build up towards concentration, lol.
Well, as stupid as that sounds, it works :-S.
After searching through the ports tree for suitable software, I cam across a program called eboard, that can be easily mated both with chess engines and servers. Not as spectacular as some of the chess apps I’ve encountered, in fact, I think there’s a graphics heavy one on my cd rack somewhere… but who wants to see if it works under WINE! eboard is both simple and to the point, and despite the lack of photo-realistic graphics, it does present a very familiar interface. I also installed gnuchess to serve as a sparing partner, since I haven’t really played a game of chess since the early 2000s, when Cyborg, Lioness, and I used to drop into an occasional parlor game in between drops. Perhaps I’ll hit FICS someday, but an automaton will do just fine for the time being.
Having something to analyze intently, helps a bit….
The last bomb finally dropped as I new it must, and my friends turned in their resignation. This is the worst day of my life so far, because the only thing I can think of that could be worse, is becoming an orphan. For me this has just been an utterly breaking and strength erasing event, and I’m sure it’s no triviality for my friend either (but this is still my journal lol). Getting through work felt like doing it with a corkscrew twisting though my stomach.
I drifted off to work with more tics, shakes, and rattles then you can point a stick at, I’ve nearly thrown up about four times, and I’ve had to remind myself, “You don’t fucking cry!”, just to hold it together. As is my custom in times like these, what ever pieces were left, I cast myself back into the forge and let them reshape.
There the Spidey01 we all know, nearly died of his pain and grief in this matter. Very close he came to being replaced by a very different creature, one cold and remorseless like a machine: I looked for the first time in my life, at taking a path, where I don’t know whether it threads along the side of light or darkness… willing to become an archangel or a knight of hell itself, a pure devil even, if it should need be, ready to destroy anyone in the future who would dare rise to damage SAS, to become a monster if it should need be, something that would make Wiz at his best or worse, look like a limp noodle, for the sake of ensuring that never another war grace these shores. Whatever the cost might be in doing it, whether it would mean welding Souledge or Soulcalibur, that it would be done just the same. In short, take any and every action necessary to ensure that things like the past two weeks, would never be needed again. I pondered over this course that lay ahead, describing it in my mind, in a sort of disturbing and epic form of poetry that can only exist in ones mind, just what I would be committing myself to. In thinking through that new beings description, what its name would become in place of Spidey01, and what my personal emblem would be in such… I found myself staring back at me through that emblem.
The death of Spidey01 and the rise of an avenging monster would have been the legacy, that Rouge, Valroe, Noer, Medic, Scout, and Ambu left behind, the price of their resolvability; it would also have been committing the first petty act of my life. Looking and questioning my reasons for such a choice of path, deeper at it’s heart, I found the thought that, “I never want to feel like this again”, more then SASs interests was to be found. That creature is so different then myself, that it would’ve warranted changing my name to reflect becoming a different person – an incident like something out of the old testament. Part of my soul cried out, “I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive”, and that nothing will ever kill that tiny silver of goodness in me.
So who emerged from those soul searching fires?
A sharper more refined image then before, but still Spidey01… not the demon that beckoned. Today’s the closest I’ve ever come, to losing who I am. My name on the net, is incredibly personal, and is an identity that reflects me to the core…. it nearly died, really. Yet as surely as I have rejected darkness and evil all my life, I reject that idea…. of being a devil, even for my own reasons. Spidey01 still lives for what ever I’m worth, and I’m here to stay. Light or dark, right or wrong, I’ll not abide by either, I’ll just raise a flaming Spatha in one hand and a great axe in the other, and leave the suit of armour behind. Perhaps such a beast is really what SAS needs to ensure that the next golden age remains one for us as a group, but I am nether machine nor monster, only a man, and I will not yield my humanity. Whether that’s for anything, anyone, or even myself, I’m a man not fucking machine.
As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don’t know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.
For better or worse, I have one.
Tonight while waiting for Funny Girl to start on TCM, I overheard a very moving song during the previous movies exit. After all my years, I can’t help but contrast it against the paths that I have crossed, relationships made both in my real life and in the virtual world. It’s rather like listening to a tender memory.
Mmm. Mmm.
Memories, light the corners of my mind
Misty watercolor memories of the way we were.
Scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind
smiles we give to one another
for the way we were.
Can it be that it was all so simple then
or has time rewritten every line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
tell me would we? Could we?
Memories, may be beautiful and yet
what’s too painful to remember
we simply choose to forget
So it’s the laughter we will remember
whenever we remember
the way we were.
In salute of old friends and comrades alike… cica 1996 – 2010.
Somewhat of a strange cluster of dreams :-/. Ranging from hanging out with a female neighbor, to developing a new mobile device (a good one hehe) over lunch, being a Jack Ryan’ish CIA agent sent to an island full of racists, for a meeting with a quack dictator about to be knocked off; who’s as nutty as the guy in The In-Laws, to leading a last stand of Colonial Marines and civilians in a shopping mall, against a brood of Aliens, including a show down against a non-canonical but really pissed off King Alien, lol.
All in all through, a much better grade of dreams then I’ve been having lately. It’s usually a good sign when my dreams are mostly non nonsensical, although there seems to be a greater amount of combat involved. *Shrugs* prior to the last swing change in dreams, half my night was spent dreaming about the code I wanted to get written lol. I don’t place the same level of analysis on dreams that some people I know do, and I don’t think I would want to; I merely remember the interesting ones. Sometimes I draw similarities, such as reoccurring terrain/environments that find their way into several dreams.
There’s only ever been 4 or 5 dreams to ever scare me in my 21 years of life, even though most dreams I’ve ever had in the past 8’ish, could likely be called a nightmare by most peoples definition of such. On the other hand there is significantly few things that can phase me, that dreams rarely have any impact on me. Should we just say, I’m not easily frightened, either in the real world or dream world. There’s enough outlandlish things in my dreams, that I’m usually aware that it’s not reality, somewhere in the back of my mind; perhaps that helps?