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UV-fluorescent body paint is awesome.
Drinking tea in nightclubs is awesome.
Actual space to dance in is awesome.
Smuggling bottles of port into nightclubs is awesome.
Soul Calibur on giant TVs is awesome.
London is awesome.
Going to bed at 6am is awesome.
My friends are awesome.
And so, with the beginnings of Autumn, another year begins to draw to a close. Today is the first of October - exactly a year since, worried by the future and by my rapidly-dwindling time at university, I made a wish.
This is what I wished:
If there is only one thing I do this year; only one thing I achieve, it will be this - I will indelibly etch every thought, every feeling, and every emotion that we experience together so strongly and so brightly in our minds that nothing, not even time itself, will dare to take them away from us.
Of course, a wish is no good unless it comes true, and so it did. (After all, what’s the point in being able to do something and yet not doing it?)
It was, above anything else, a year of emotions. Not just happy ones or sad ones; my wish was not for good nor evil. It was simply for being, living and experiencing to the fullness of our capabilities. I’m not sure anyone’s year has been without its good and its bad parts.
Myself - I fell in love, but it is the very same feelings that abounded at that time to which I attribute my poor exam results. I lost friends and found friends and, in so doing, became a little less afraid of the future. Others, I know, have had just as turbulent a time over the year past.
I started this post wondering if, perhaps, I should end it with an apology. There are friends of mine, and more than a few names come to mind, for whom this last year may have been more of a negative experience than a positive one. And, if my wish contributed to the intensity of that negativity, then I suppose I do feel a little guilty. I’m not going to apologise, though. Doing so would imply that I regretted this year’s heightened emotions, and I don’t. Whether for better or for worse, for good or evil, there’s little I aspire to more than living life to the full - and that includes emotionally.
Still, that year is behind us. We stand now atop a cliff, looking down beyond the low clouds to another year spread out before us. Autumn is, as always, a time of stories and of dreams and of wishes.
Now we are far apart from each other, we may never share the intensity of those emotions with each other again. So, this year, I will wish something more appropriate.
Though we drift, may we never be lost. Though we are apart, may we all see the ways in which we are still together. Let time bring us closer together, not push us apart. Let our bonds of friendship never be broken, even until the lilac trees no longer bloom and the stars themselves burn out in the sky.
Righty, with poor old Suzaku now on its last legs and my parents declaring it a fire hazard, I’m putting together a new machine to pass the time until the Great DirectX 10 Splurge.
It’s going to be one of those Shuttle jobs, small enough that I can move it to the living room as a media centre PC once the Splurge occurs.
The only problem is, what with Byakko, Genbu, Seiryuu and shortly Suzaku all having been packed off to the great Heaven of Obsolete and Dysfunctional Hardware… I’ve finished my current cycle of names for my machines. That means my new computer is still awaiting a name - so you can help me out!
To: The director, scriptwriter and associated staff of the recently-released movie “Right at Your Door”
Should you wish to follow up the no-doubt superbly mediocre reception of your film with another, I highly reccommend the conversion from story to film of some bunch of crap by a talentless hack known as “Katrina’s Legacy”. You will find it very much in genre. Around four years time should be an appropriately meaningful release date. I also heartily reccommend giving the author of said story large wodges of cash.
Also, apart from the first half-hour or so, Right At Your Door is reasonably good.
As always, post-LARP fever is getting to me. For three days I’ve dealt with matters of life and death in a place a thousand miles and a world away, and tomorrow… Tomorrow I have to get up at 6am, go to work and pretend none of it really happened.
I’m going to be in a very strange mood for a while. As usual. =S
The weather’s sunny, nights are well moon-lit, my bag is mostly packed, and the whole place smells of liquid latex. It must be Maelstrom time again!
Racheet, is it still okay for me to stay over at yours?
Mark, if you’re heading up on Thursday do you want to co-ordinate trains?
As requested by Racheet, I am required to inform the lady Anna that the aforementioned is beyond madly in love with you for getting a perfect victory against tenoshiangel (sic) on Dead or Alive 3 on the Xbox.
Ah, geeks in love =p
On the subject of geeks, the chief programmer on our project keeps advising the use of global variables =S Programming 101 FAIL. One of these days I’m going to send some of his code to the Daily WTF ^_^
I have tiffin. (edit: and Eric) My life is now complete.
Also, just to make sure >50% of all blog posts today mention it, “oh noes Steve Irwin etc.”
September. Autumn. Another summer lost to history.
It crept up on me; I barely noticed until today. To think, a mere five years ago I’d have been spending this weekend getting ready for a new school year. These days, it’s just the coming of autumn. In a way, I think that might be worse.
For all that it is the death of the year, autumn brings out some good things, the quiet things in people. Autumn is time to think, time to dream, and time to write. It’s no coincidence I suppose that September is the busiest month of the year for publishers.
Today was also the first time I woke up before the dawn twilight - the world outside my windows was black. For six months, the colour of things to come. Time for insular things, calm things, personal things. Time for wind and rain.
So, without further ado, as today’s calm skies darken overhead: This week in Monochrome.
I remember not so long ago hearing an interview with an author on the radio, and hearing her describe how unglamorous the world of the average writer was - wandering around in pyjamas, staring at computer screens, and endless supplies of coffee. Well, that was Monday. “Bug #23691”, my first foray into Cyberpunk, is coming along - although it still needs a better name.
Tuesday, back at work after the long weekend. And how strange it felt. By the end of the day, I was feeling very much detached. Detached… I’ve learnt already what that implies about the future.
Wednesday was Eric’s and my 9-month anniversary. After I made it through a painful eight hours of meeting, I was treated to a delicious meal in a fancy restaurant playing romantic music, in the company of… the Norwegian Navy. Eric remained 90 miles away.
And then, there was the migraine. Having been unwell throughout the meal (which no-one around the table seemed to notice - only the waitress would have known “empathy” if it had gotten up and gave them all a haircut) I wasn’t able to get out of bed until 3.30pm the following day. There goes Thursday.
And today was a reasonable day, although a strange one. After the oddness of the week, it was somewhat hard to work as normal and pretend nothing strange had happened.
And now to the weekend. My parents are away, but no empty-house fun shall be had here - duty calls me elsewhere. Onwards, for the cause of preserving sanity!
Thanks for everyone’s votes, it turns out that the results are overwhelmingly in favour of my starting writing now, with no votes to the contrary and only one for fish.
So I’m going for it! My first, very scary foray into cyberpunk.
It’s background material for Forgotten Children, I suppose, but hopefully it holds together on its own.
Last week’s effort, the prologue, and today’s, Chapter 1, are linked below. It’s still work-in-progress, so mostly unedited. As always, suggestions / criticisms / outright flames welcome. Even noting spelling mistakes as you go along would be handy, I haven’t gotten around to that yet.
Bug #23691 (P,Ch1) Unedited 70kB PDF
(Creative Commons Attrib-NonComm-ShareAlike 2.5 blah blah blah etc)
Oh, commonly-held belief that bank holidays are a good time for DIY, how I hate thee!
Sure, bank holidays are a great time for DIY. Inside. Or at low volume. Or late in the day. Or just in any way not angle-grinding housebricks directly opposite my open window at 9am. Grr =S