As of tomorrow, my job will radically change. No longer will I be quality checking other people's work. I will be back in the thick of it, making and breaking records. To be honest I prefer it this way. The quality assurance position was one entrusted with a bit more responsibility (plus I got called Creed a few times), but it was personally draining. I wasn't terribly happy with it.
My schedule is also being modified, though I am not entirely certain how just yet. Fear not, my wife, it shall not impede our evening.
Speaking of my wife, she feels my departure from the tedium of quality assurance demands celebration. So we're either eating steak out or she's cooking some in. :) I don't know, my body demands red meat tonight. Red meat, and warm bread, and a serving wench keeping my goblet topped off...
Hmm. My mind wandered into my viking fantasy there for a second.
24 February 2009
23 February 2009
Sample
If you didn't see it on my Facebook tagline, a few days ago I completed a small piece of fan fiction.
Click here to read it.
This is what you might call a try piece; if you aren't familiar with the characters, the backstory, the events that led up to this point, then these two pages of narrative are not going to mean a whole lot to you. That's not really the point of the material, though. It's just a small sample and not anything I'd actually want to publish. It was, to put it bluntly, done for kicks. I was bored. I posted it because what I want to find out is how my writing stacks up to others, to professionals in the field.
So, if you have a few minutes today to read through and write a critique coming from *that* viewpoint, please do so. It would be of great benefit to me as I begin to churn a few ideas.
Thanks in advance.
Click here to read it.
This is what you might call a try piece; if you aren't familiar with the characters, the backstory, the events that led up to this point, then these two pages of narrative are not going to mean a whole lot to you. That's not really the point of the material, though. It's just a small sample and not anything I'd actually want to publish. It was, to put it bluntly, done for kicks. I was bored. I posted it because what I want to find out is how my writing stacks up to others, to professionals in the field.
So, if you have a few minutes today to read through and write a critique coming from *that* viewpoint, please do so. It would be of great benefit to me as I begin to churn a few ideas.
Thanks in advance.
19 February 2009
Some Random Thoughts. No, Randi, not ripping you off. :)
I am out of my frikkin' mind with boredom.
I've been working on the same task for weeks. It never ends, it never lets up, and any time I begin to make any headway more gets added to the pile. To put it in the immortal words of Pee Wee Herman, "It's like you're trying to unravel a giant cable-knit sweater, that someone just keeps on knitting, and knitting, and knitting, and knitting, and knitting, and knitting, and knitting..."
Possible schedule conflict this Thursday evening: Jess has a night off from school tonight for the first time since her last semester. Josh may have a game working that we've been trying for three days to make operate. How do you juggle *this* one, I ask you? On the one hand, my wife, who gets a very scant amount of time off from school these days. on the other, my friend Josh, who I have bugged, obsessed, and annoyed endlessly about this game.
As Deep Thought would say, "Tricky."
I somehow manage to place myself into these situations with a degree of regularity. Maybe I'm some kind of a conflict magnet, a pole around which various forces of difficulty and strife swirl.
The youngest cat, Alfredo, has come up with a new game to play with himself: That of taking his toys (or anything else he can get his mouth around) and dumping it into the toilet, then fishing it out a few seconds later. This is both very cute and extremely annoying at the same time, because he doesn't always succeed. It was necessary yesterday morning to reach in and retrieve one of Jess's scrunchies from the bottom. She thinks she might have accidentally flushed a Nerf Gun dart thinking it was something else.
Money is tight and it's about to get tighter; we don't always keep our belts cinched quite as snugly as we should, so I suppose Jessica's employer has taken it upon themselves to cinch them for us by slashing salaries. We'll make it through fine, but some things will need to be given up or put on hold. Still discussing what those things might be.
Very pleased with the improvement in my wife's sketch-work. Can't wait to see where she's at when this class is over. Maybe one day she'll be up to drawing me some character art. ;)
Can't stop yawning. Not enough sleep. Miss my friends already. Miss the four of us hanging out and playing Mario Party and stuff. Was fun times.
I've been working on the same task for weeks. It never ends, it never lets up, and any time I begin to make any headway more gets added to the pile. To put it in the immortal words of Pee Wee Herman, "It's like you're trying to unravel a giant cable-knit sweater, that someone just keeps on knitting, and knitting, and knitting, and knitting, and knitting, and knitting, and knitting..."
Possible schedule conflict this Thursday evening: Jess has a night off from school tonight for the first time since her last semester. Josh may have a game working that we've been trying for three days to make operate. How do you juggle *this* one, I ask you? On the one hand, my wife, who gets a very scant amount of time off from school these days. on the other, my friend Josh, who I have bugged, obsessed, and annoyed endlessly about this game.
As Deep Thought would say, "Tricky."
I somehow manage to place myself into these situations with a degree of regularity. Maybe I'm some kind of a conflict magnet, a pole around which various forces of difficulty and strife swirl.
The youngest cat, Alfredo, has come up with a new game to play with himself: That of taking his toys (or anything else he can get his mouth around) and dumping it into the toilet, then fishing it out a few seconds later. This is both very cute and extremely annoying at the same time, because he doesn't always succeed. It was necessary yesterday morning to reach in and retrieve one of Jess's scrunchies from the bottom. She thinks she might have accidentally flushed a Nerf Gun dart thinking it was something else.
Money is tight and it's about to get tighter; we don't always keep our belts cinched quite as snugly as we should, so I suppose Jessica's employer has taken it upon themselves to cinch them for us by slashing salaries. We'll make it through fine, but some things will need to be given up or put on hold. Still discussing what those things might be.
Very pleased with the improvement in my wife's sketch-work. Can't wait to see where she's at when this class is over. Maybe one day she'll be up to drawing me some character art. ;)
Can't stop yawning. Not enough sleep. Miss my friends already. Miss the four of us hanging out and playing Mario Party and stuff. Was fun times.
18 February 2009
I don't have a movie review column, but I like to pretend that I do.
Ben Stiller: Tell them what happened here!
Robert Downey Jr: What did happen here?
Ben Stiller: ... I don't know.
That about sums up Tropic Thunder.
It is my custom to write reviews on any major motion picture, video game, or piece of literature that I am exposed to. I won't break with custom now. Monday evening, I spent some time with J & R, the key activities centering around hanging out and taking in this film.
The movie opens strong. Three pseudo-movie trailers play, each to provide context for our cast of all-star actors, who in this movie play a cast of all-star actors making a movie.
Robert Downey Jr. plays the role of a serious actor, the type who always turns up in these intensely controversial films. The fake movie ad, for a film called Satan's Alley, stars Robert playing a monk, who is sexually attracted to another monk, played by (cameo!) Toby Maguire. Sort of Religious Tension meets Brokeback Mountain.
Ben Stiller is essentially Sylvester Stallone playing John Rambo. His MO is apparently the action film genre, the kind that get rehashed over and over until they are completely run into the ground. The movie he showcases in his trailer is apparently the sixth installment in his line of shoot-em-ups. Run into the ground indeed.
Jack Black's comedy movie reminds us of Eddie Murphy in The Nutty Professor. Just like in those films, Jack plays about eight roles, male and female, all in the family, all horrifyingly overweight and loaded with gas. Essentially the type of movie that you wish in your bones would flop but somehow becomes a huge phenomenon based solely on ticket-sales to the low-brow-humor slice of the population.
This introduction to the cast is easily the strongest piece in the whole film, refreshingly entertaining and well done. It successfully preys upon our distaste for stereotypes and typical the typical movie trailer assembly. We joked that, had we seen it in the theatre, we wouldn't have been sure whether the promos had actually stopped or not.
Once this part is complete, though, everything goes wrong.
The plot of the movie is simple enough. They are trying to make a movie based on a book written about Vietnam, but a combination of inexperienced direction, incompatible casting, and the interference of a megalomanical movie producer played by Tom Cruise is making the matter difficult. So, the man who wrote the book--who has been on hand the entire time and is clearly so far around the bend he couldn't poke sanity with a long stick--suggests that they take the entire affair up into the Vietnamese upland and shoot a "real" film of what really went on. The director agrees, and up they go. The director steps on an old landmine within five minutes of landing and is disintegrated, leaving the cast to wonder whether that was just a special effect and he's hiding behind smoke and mirrors, or if he's really dead. In either case they're left to their own devices to figure things out, try to shoot the movie, and get through the plot. They are, to put it bluntly, lost.
Let me underline this: None of what I just described is in any way entertaining. The actors weren't just pretending to be lost. You can use that word to describe about every problem the movie has. The gags are lost in the hamfisted overabundance of vulgarity. No, I don't have delicate ears or anything. I haven no objection to profanity; I've used so much in my life that I have no moral high ground to snipe from. I mean what I say. In any given line about 40% of the words are a curse of some kind. Cramming that much into each sentence screwed up the syntax to the point that whatever joke was being told became scrambled and unfunny.
The plot points and twists are mixed up and in all the wrong places. The character development is confused and uninteresting. The timing is all wrong. The overall effect is that someone had read the sheet music but had never heard it played, metaphorically speaking.
On the other hand...
It's fairly clear early on that these actors weren't making this thing for any other reason than they wanted to. Watching Robert Downey Jr. nearly crack up trying to deliver some of his lines, or Tom Cruse goofy-dancing his way through the credits, is proof enough of that. It's plain that they had an absolute blast making it. It's almost as if they just wanted an excuse to go out, dress up, swear a lot, shoot blanks out of firearms, and blow stuff up. In this, they definitely succeeded. And I'll admit, I got a cheap laugh or two out of the whole thing.
Looking at it through that filter, I guess the movie was a success. The boys had fun making it and we got a few laughs out of it. Even if it flopped at the box office, which I have no idea whether it did or not, everybody involved was too rich to care.
So, glad you had fun, guys! We did, enough to justify spending the four bucks for the DVD rental anyway.
Robert Downey Jr: What did happen here?
Ben Stiller: ... I don't know.
That about sums up Tropic Thunder.
It is my custom to write reviews on any major motion picture, video game, or piece of literature that I am exposed to. I won't break with custom now. Monday evening, I spent some time with J & R, the key activities centering around hanging out and taking in this film.
The movie opens strong. Three pseudo-movie trailers play, each to provide context for our cast of all-star actors, who in this movie play a cast of all-star actors making a movie.
Robert Downey Jr. plays the role of a serious actor, the type who always turns up in these intensely controversial films. The fake movie ad, for a film called Satan's Alley, stars Robert playing a monk, who is sexually attracted to another monk, played by (cameo!) Toby Maguire. Sort of Religious Tension meets Brokeback Mountain.
Ben Stiller is essentially Sylvester Stallone playing John Rambo. His MO is apparently the action film genre, the kind that get rehashed over and over until they are completely run into the ground. The movie he showcases in his trailer is apparently the sixth installment in his line of shoot-em-ups. Run into the ground indeed.
Jack Black's comedy movie reminds us of Eddie Murphy in The Nutty Professor. Just like in those films, Jack plays about eight roles, male and female, all in the family, all horrifyingly overweight and loaded with gas. Essentially the type of movie that you wish in your bones would flop but somehow becomes a huge phenomenon based solely on ticket-sales to the low-brow-humor slice of the population.
This introduction to the cast is easily the strongest piece in the whole film, refreshingly entertaining and well done. It successfully preys upon our distaste for stereotypes and typical the typical movie trailer assembly. We joked that, had we seen it in the theatre, we wouldn't have been sure whether the promos had actually stopped or not.
Once this part is complete, though, everything goes wrong.
The plot of the movie is simple enough. They are trying to make a movie based on a book written about Vietnam, but a combination of inexperienced direction, incompatible casting, and the interference of a megalomanical movie producer played by Tom Cruise is making the matter difficult. So, the man who wrote the book--who has been on hand the entire time and is clearly so far around the bend he couldn't poke sanity with a long stick--suggests that they take the entire affair up into the Vietnamese upland and shoot a "real" film of what really went on. The director agrees, and up they go. The director steps on an old landmine within five minutes of landing and is disintegrated, leaving the cast to wonder whether that was just a special effect and he's hiding behind smoke and mirrors, or if he's really dead. In either case they're left to their own devices to figure things out, try to shoot the movie, and get through the plot. They are, to put it bluntly, lost.
Let me underline this: None of what I just described is in any way entertaining. The actors weren't just pretending to be lost. You can use that word to describe about every problem the movie has. The gags are lost in the hamfisted overabundance of vulgarity. No, I don't have delicate ears or anything. I haven no objection to profanity; I've used so much in my life that I have no moral high ground to snipe from. I mean what I say. In any given line about 40% of the words are a curse of some kind. Cramming that much into each sentence screwed up the syntax to the point that whatever joke was being told became scrambled and unfunny.
The plot points and twists are mixed up and in all the wrong places. The character development is confused and uninteresting. The timing is all wrong. The overall effect is that someone had read the sheet music but had never heard it played, metaphorically speaking.
On the other hand...
It's fairly clear early on that these actors weren't making this thing for any other reason than they wanted to. Watching Robert Downey Jr. nearly crack up trying to deliver some of his lines, or Tom Cruse goofy-dancing his way through the credits, is proof enough of that. It's plain that they had an absolute blast making it. It's almost as if they just wanted an excuse to go out, dress up, swear a lot, shoot blanks out of firearms, and blow stuff up. In this, they definitely succeeded. And I'll admit, I got a cheap laugh or two out of the whole thing.
Looking at it through that filter, I guess the movie was a success. The boys had fun making it and we got a few laughs out of it. Even if it flopped at the box office, which I have no idea whether it did or not, everybody involved was too rich to care.
So, glad you had fun, guys! We did, enough to justify spending the four bucks for the DVD rental anyway.
13 February 2009
Pressure Valve Activate
"Well, this is how the world works. All energy flows according to the whims of the great magnet." - Dr. Hunter S. Thompson
Just a bit of personal venting today.
I have three people in my life who I love dearly above all others and would do anything for, including light myself on fire or leap into traffic. I have my wife, and I have two friends. The two friends are married, so they come as one side of the item. My wife is, obviously, married to *me*, so she comes in as the other side.
The two sides, for reasons passing understanding, war constantly with one another. Neither side has been able to adequately explain what they find so repulsive about the other, they just do. Personally I think, more than anything else, it's just the aforementioned magnet at play. Polar opposites that can't be kept apart no matter what I try, but want nothing better than to claw the eyes from each other's heads when they get near one another. A problem perhaps more deeply rooted than simple personality conflicts. It might be etched into the bedrock of nature itself. Balance in all things. Each person walking the earth has an opposite, I think; some people walk about the planet like matter, and others like antimatter. When the two meet there is a kind of explosion, one with wholly unpredictable results.
So ok, my friends are matter, my wife is antimatter. Or maybe it's the other way around. Who cares? What matters is, I'm jammed *between* these two particles like a dilithium crystal. (Skip that if you're not a Trekkie.) It's been some kind of special hell for going on five years now. Trying to keep the matter and antimatter in balance, attempting to prevent a dangerous explosion, all without fracturing myself. Not only that, but it's been even more difficult trying to hold on to both sides. I don't want to attempt to live without my wife or my friends. They are both equally important to me, although in different ways.
So there it is. The whole picture. Me in the center, trying to mediate or separate, case depending, without personally angering either side, making an ass of myself, or breaking down. I'm not a perfect person. I don't always handle it exactly as I should. In an effort to keep the peace and my own sanity, I sometimes say or do something that greatly injures feelings. Sometimes it's my wife who takes the hit, other times my friends. Many times the sides feel under appreciated, that I don't spend enough time with them or that I don't make them feel important enough. Many times they deserve apology or recompense. I don't always have the time, energy, or patience to render it properly.
So what is the answer? I can't lose my wife, she's too important to me. I can't lose my friends, they are also too important to me. I can't force them to get along, I might as well ask the continental plates to stop floating around on magma and bumping into each other. I can't stay in the middle like this, because it's only a matter of time before I run out of juice or make a fatal mistake and the whole thing flies apart. There have been near-misses to that tune already.
Somethings gotta give.
Just a bit of personal venting today.
I have three people in my life who I love dearly above all others and would do anything for, including light myself on fire or leap into traffic. I have my wife, and I have two friends. The two friends are married, so they come as one side of the item. My wife is, obviously, married to *me*, so she comes in as the other side.
The two sides, for reasons passing understanding, war constantly with one another. Neither side has been able to adequately explain what they find so repulsive about the other, they just do. Personally I think, more than anything else, it's just the aforementioned magnet at play. Polar opposites that can't be kept apart no matter what I try, but want nothing better than to claw the eyes from each other's heads when they get near one another. A problem perhaps more deeply rooted than simple personality conflicts. It might be etched into the bedrock of nature itself. Balance in all things. Each person walking the earth has an opposite, I think; some people walk about the planet like matter, and others like antimatter. When the two meet there is a kind of explosion, one with wholly unpredictable results.
So ok, my friends are matter, my wife is antimatter. Or maybe it's the other way around. Who cares? What matters is, I'm jammed *between* these two particles like a dilithium crystal. (Skip that if you're not a Trekkie.) It's been some kind of special hell for going on five years now. Trying to keep the matter and antimatter in balance, attempting to prevent a dangerous explosion, all without fracturing myself. Not only that, but it's been even more difficult trying to hold on to both sides. I don't want to attempt to live without my wife or my friends. They are both equally important to me, although in different ways.
So there it is. The whole picture. Me in the center, trying to mediate or separate, case depending, without personally angering either side, making an ass of myself, or breaking down. I'm not a perfect person. I don't always handle it exactly as I should. In an effort to keep the peace and my own sanity, I sometimes say or do something that greatly injures feelings. Sometimes it's my wife who takes the hit, other times my friends. Many times the sides feel under appreciated, that I don't spend enough time with them or that I don't make them feel important enough. Many times they deserve apology or recompense. I don't always have the time, energy, or patience to render it properly.
So what is the answer? I can't lose my wife, she's too important to me. I can't lose my friends, they are also too important to me. I can't force them to get along, I might as well ask the continental plates to stop floating around on magma and bumping into each other. I can't stay in the middle like this, because it's only a matter of time before I run out of juice or make a fatal mistake and the whole thing flies apart. There have been near-misses to that tune already.
Somethings gotta give.
09 February 2009
Oh, Thank You Cryptic Studios!
This perked me up quite a bit today.
I'd start a meme about this game, questions like, "What race would you play, or would you invent one?" and "What kind of ship would you like to be captain of?" but I can't imagine anyone would fill it out. Not even my wife, who would fill out about anything I put up if I chose to do so.
Everyone I know is an online gamer and a Star Trek fan, or at least has a grudging interest in Trek, but I think I--and *maybe* Josh--are the only people in my group of peers truly stoked about this thing. It could just be because talking to me about MMOs is a bad idea. Once I get going I don't stop, plus my voice does that pinched high-tone that nobody can stand. :P
Overwork
This week should be interesting.
Due to an incredible overabundance of work coming into our department, I have been conscripted into overtime. I have a friend, who shall remain nameless (*cough*Josh*cough*), who simply does not understand my views on overtime. Let me break it down for you.
I have been hired to do a job. Not my career, just a job. I take away very little satisfaction from what I do on a daily basis while here, since this is not what I wish to do for the rest of my life. (I'm not sure there's a person alive who *would* want to do this for the rest of their life, but I digress.) I look at the job as being nothing more than a source of money. I don't spend even one second longer in this office than is absolutely necessary. If I could run out to my car without looking like a complete idiot, I would just to shave off a few minutes. My time away from here is worth far more to me than the time I spend at the desk.
My view on money plays into this too. I'm one of those people for whom money is an object, and nothing more than an object. I have a little, enough so that I can have what I need, when I need it. As long as I have that, I'm fine, perfectly happy. To paraphrase certain lines made famous by a recent version of The Joker: I'm a man of simple taste. I enjoy Internet access, online games, and an available typewriter with paper in it. Do you know the one thing they have in common? They're cheap.
Therefore, given my view of my work, and my view of money, it naturally follows that extra time spent at my desk is a unique form of torture for me. Let me underline it one more time: I don't want to be here. The fact that they're willing to pay me extra to stay is irrelevant, since I don't want or need the money. What I want and need is to be home with my wife, or my friends if she has a class that night, healing from the day.
I hope that helps my readers to understand me a little more. I do have honest, solid reasons for overtime distaste, I'm not just whining about it to hear my own voice work.
My work days all this week begin at 6:00am. (That means I'm up at 5:00am and out the door by 5:30am.)
Monday and Wednesday I should be home by 5:00pm.
Tuesday, Thursday and Friday I should be home by 6:00pm.
That's 13 additional hours spent in the office this week, about $300 additional on the paycheck. Should I survive it, I have no idea what I'll spend the money on.
Due to an incredible overabundance of work coming into our department, I have been conscripted into overtime. I have a friend, who shall remain nameless (*cough*Josh*cough*), who simply does not understand my views on overtime. Let me break it down for you.
I have been hired to do a job. Not my career, just a job. I take away very little satisfaction from what I do on a daily basis while here, since this is not what I wish to do for the rest of my life. (I'm not sure there's a person alive who *would* want to do this for the rest of their life, but I digress.) I look at the job as being nothing more than a source of money. I don't spend even one second longer in this office than is absolutely necessary. If I could run out to my car without looking like a complete idiot, I would just to shave off a few minutes. My time away from here is worth far more to me than the time I spend at the desk.
My view on money plays into this too. I'm one of those people for whom money is an object, and nothing more than an object. I have a little, enough so that I can have what I need, when I need it. As long as I have that, I'm fine, perfectly happy. To paraphrase certain lines made famous by a recent version of The Joker: I'm a man of simple taste. I enjoy Internet access, online games, and an available typewriter with paper in it. Do you know the one thing they have in common? They're cheap.
Therefore, given my view of my work, and my view of money, it naturally follows that extra time spent at my desk is a unique form of torture for me. Let me underline it one more time: I don't want to be here. The fact that they're willing to pay me extra to stay is irrelevant, since I don't want or need the money. What I want and need is to be home with my wife, or my friends if she has a class that night, healing from the day.
I hope that helps my readers to understand me a little more. I do have honest, solid reasons for overtime distaste, I'm not just whining about it to hear my own voice work.
My work days all this week begin at 6:00am. (That means I'm up at 5:00am and out the door by 5:30am.)
Monday and Wednesday I should be home by 5:00pm.
Tuesday, Thursday and Friday I should be home by 6:00pm.
That's 13 additional hours spent in the office this week, about $300 additional on the paycheck. Should I survive it, I have no idea what I'll spend the money on.
05 February 2009
I Invent
I have invented a species for Star Trek. Let me know what you think.
Profile of the species: Volar
Much like the Romulans are related to the Vulcans, the Volar are related most strongly to the Human race. Hundreds of years ago, when mankind was on the brink of disaster from nuclear war, a colony ship full of frozen humans was launched from Earth, just minutes before the missiles started flying. This was a desperate maneuver by what was then known as Spain, one of the few countries who had opted to remain neutral and had prepared to save at least a small portion of humanity from themselves. Warp drive had not yet been discovered, but they managed to make the sleeper ship--a shuttle containing some 300 human beings in cryogenic stasis--roar away from Earth on a high speed conventional rocket propellant.
No one noticed. Even if anyone had, there were so many ballistic missiles flying into and out of Earth's atmosphere on that day, they would have likely mistook it for an errant warhead, flying off into space on a wrong course. Astronomers had identified what they suspected was an M-class planet, a place where humanity could start anew. They could only pray that they were right, and that the planet wasn't populated when their people got to it. The flight would take close to a millennium.
Two centuries later, the ship was picked up, adrift in deep space and nowhere near its destination, by a Ferengi salvage team. They claimed the ship and everyone in it as salvage property, and sold the lot to a dilithium mining station as slave labor. There were several attempts for freedom, especially early after the thawing, but since the mining colony was completely isolated from the ship in orbit that oversaw it none ever succeeded.
Over time, the population of the sleeper ship did what Humans do best--grew fruitful and multiplied, some with one another, others with a variety of alien species also enslaved on the asteroid. This genetic blender eventually developed a smooth paste of population, a new species, who called themselves the Volar in homage to the mine's designation, Vol-17782. As this was happening, the dilithium in the asteroid was being exhausted, and finally the company that owned the station wrote it off as a loss, leaving it and everyone crewing it to fend for themselves.
The Volar could not have been happier. The mine was self-sustaining enough to make it a permanent home with a bit of work, which they could now do now that they weren't being forced to mine, and for decades they lived a life of freedom. A life full of tribulation and strife, to be sure, but free.
They have since escaped and rejoined society, establishing ties with the United Federation of Planets and a few independent star systems, but still think of the asteroid as home. Once a year they celebrate The Day of Abandon, their freedom day, the day they were officially declared to be no one's property and the asteroid became their home world. No Volar would miss it; it is a day of immense celebration, and they must return to the home rock on that day to join in the festivities.
The Volar retain about 80% of their original human genetic material, so they strongly resemble human beings. They are tan skinned, with dark hair and eyes. Their ears form into minor points, and their upper lateral incisors have elongated into fangs. They are normally below average in height, with the tallest Volar coming to no higher than 6 feet.
Profile of the species: Volar
Much like the Romulans are related to the Vulcans, the Volar are related most strongly to the Human race. Hundreds of years ago, when mankind was on the brink of disaster from nuclear war, a colony ship full of frozen humans was launched from Earth, just minutes before the missiles started flying. This was a desperate maneuver by what was then known as Spain, one of the few countries who had opted to remain neutral and had prepared to save at least a small portion of humanity from themselves. Warp drive had not yet been discovered, but they managed to make the sleeper ship--a shuttle containing some 300 human beings in cryogenic stasis--roar away from Earth on a high speed conventional rocket propellant.
No one noticed. Even if anyone had, there were so many ballistic missiles flying into and out of Earth's atmosphere on that day, they would have likely mistook it for an errant warhead, flying off into space on a wrong course. Astronomers had identified what they suspected was an M-class planet, a place where humanity could start anew. They could only pray that they were right, and that the planet wasn't populated when their people got to it. The flight would take close to a millennium.
Two centuries later, the ship was picked up, adrift in deep space and nowhere near its destination, by a Ferengi salvage team. They claimed the ship and everyone in it as salvage property, and sold the lot to a dilithium mining station as slave labor. There were several attempts for freedom, especially early after the thawing, but since the mining colony was completely isolated from the ship in orbit that oversaw it none ever succeeded.
Over time, the population of the sleeper ship did what Humans do best--grew fruitful and multiplied, some with one another, others with a variety of alien species also enslaved on the asteroid. This genetic blender eventually developed a smooth paste of population, a new species, who called themselves the Volar in homage to the mine's designation, Vol-17782. As this was happening, the dilithium in the asteroid was being exhausted, and finally the company that owned the station wrote it off as a loss, leaving it and everyone crewing it to fend for themselves.
The Volar could not have been happier. The mine was self-sustaining enough to make it a permanent home with a bit of work, which they could now do now that they weren't being forced to mine, and for decades they lived a life of freedom. A life full of tribulation and strife, to be sure, but free.
They have since escaped and rejoined society, establishing ties with the United Federation of Planets and a few independent star systems, but still think of the asteroid as home. Once a year they celebrate The Day of Abandon, their freedom day, the day they were officially declared to be no one's property and the asteroid became their home world. No Volar would miss it; it is a day of immense celebration, and they must return to the home rock on that day to join in the festivities.
The Volar retain about 80% of their original human genetic material, so they strongly resemble human beings. They are tan skinned, with dark hair and eyes. Their ears form into minor points, and their upper lateral incisors have elongated into fangs. They are normally below average in height, with the tallest Volar coming to no higher than 6 feet.
04 February 2009
Such a Deal
It's amazing. I actually am in a situation where I have almost nothing to complain about. The big three still remain (i.e. Work is boring, money's tight, still struggling for something to make into a book), but they're nothing new and, as it turns out lately, quite manageable.
That's all well and good, but how do you make a blog about it? I mean, come on. How did Chandler put it in that one episode of Friends? "Oh yeah, life sucks, two women love me. They're both gorgeous and sexy. My wallet is too small for my $50s, and my diamond shoes are too tight!" Something like that, making fun of Ross. Well, I don't have two women, I don't carry $50s around, and diamond shoes sound uncomfortable, but life's pretty good anyway.
So often, you go onto a person's blog and expect to be bombarded by negativity. The black and bleak aspects of life are simple things to write about, and some would say doing so is therapeutic. Maybe, maybe not, but you rarely see an entry about a person who is *happy* with things.
I feel I've broken personal new ground here. What say you, readers? Was it a good change? Or should I go back to finding things to whine about? :)
That's all well and good, but how do you make a blog about it? I mean, come on. How did Chandler put it in that one episode of Friends? "Oh yeah, life sucks, two women love me. They're both gorgeous and sexy. My wallet is too small for my $50s, and my diamond shoes are too tight!" Something like that, making fun of Ross. Well, I don't have two women, I don't carry $50s around, and diamond shoes sound uncomfortable, but life's pretty good anyway.
So often, you go onto a person's blog and expect to be bombarded by negativity. The black and bleak aspects of life are simple things to write about, and some would say doing so is therapeutic. Maybe, maybe not, but you rarely see an entry about a person who is *happy* with things.
I feel I've broken personal new ground here. What say you, readers? Was it a good change? Or should I go back to finding things to whine about? :)
02 February 2009
Adding Beef to the Nerd
I have not yet blogged about it, but we are now proud owners of the Wii Fit. After a week doing some intense strength and mild aerobic training on it, taking in a lot of protein and watching what I eat, I can already see a marked difference.
To give you an idea: In our home, after going to the grocery store, it is customary for me to hold my arms out a bit like a forklift and have Jessica load them up with our purchases. I hate making more than one trip up and down the stairs so I like to get it all in one go if at all possible. Normally I distribute the weight equally between both arms, then lug them up the stairs. I'm usually winded and slightly arm sore by the time I get up there and almost always immediately flop onto the couch.
This past week went by with Wii Fit, and it ended with us going to the store. We bought a significant quantity of food this time, more so than usual. I was able to load everything onto one arm. My *left* arm, the weaker of the two. Carried everything up to the apartment effortlessly, without even so much as an extra beat added to my heart or breath rate. My arm didn't even feel tired. In other words, piece of cake.
Definite improvement.
I will of course continue with this. I want badly to continue improving. I'm also dieting, enforcing said dieting by leaving my debit card at home. I never carry cash. Without my debit card handy, I will not be able to snack while at work. What I eat will be carefully regulated by what I bring with me in my pockets daily.
In other news, my work has become a damaged proposition. All Internet usage has become banned, even on breaks. Use of the computers in the cafeteria is being strictly limited. I have written this post from my work machine. I will have precisely ten minutes to log in, post it, do a couple other things, and then log out. Normally this type of restriction doesn't fly for very long; the natives get restless, or so it is said. We'll see how long they stick to their guns this time.
To give you an idea: In our home, after going to the grocery store, it is customary for me to hold my arms out a bit like a forklift and have Jessica load them up with our purchases. I hate making more than one trip up and down the stairs so I like to get it all in one go if at all possible. Normally I distribute the weight equally between both arms, then lug them up the stairs. I'm usually winded and slightly arm sore by the time I get up there and almost always immediately flop onto the couch.
This past week went by with Wii Fit, and it ended with us going to the store. We bought a significant quantity of food this time, more so than usual. I was able to load everything onto one arm. My *left* arm, the weaker of the two. Carried everything up to the apartment effortlessly, without even so much as an extra beat added to my heart or breath rate. My arm didn't even feel tired. In other words, piece of cake.
Definite improvement.
I will of course continue with this. I want badly to continue improving. I'm also dieting, enforcing said dieting by leaving my debit card at home. I never carry cash. Without my debit card handy, I will not be able to snack while at work. What I eat will be carefully regulated by what I bring with me in my pockets daily.
In other news, my work has become a damaged proposition. All Internet usage has become banned, even on breaks. Use of the computers in the cafeteria is being strictly limited. I have written this post from my work machine. I will have precisely ten minutes to log in, post it, do a couple other things, and then log out. Normally this type of restriction doesn't fly for very long; the natives get restless, or so it is said. We'll see how long they stick to their guns this time.
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