Do you know in the entire time I've been going to UNLV, I think this is the ONLY semester where I've actually had mid-term exams? Yeah, if I recall correctly, I've not had a mid-term two weeks like this ever. This sucks!
Mid-terms started with the wonders of Virtual Worlds. Ok, you guys can just shut up with the "That's not fair..." business. Yes, I took my mid-term in 447, "Survey of Virtual Worlds and Social Media." Hey, I'm learning Unity! Okay, yeah...I've had to play Second Life *barf*, those who know me know how I disdain that relic, but then I got to play WoW, and Minecraft...and oh, let's see...URU!!!!! Oh yeah baby! Two weeks talking about my homeworld and my people! Cavern Blood Runs Deep with Uru Pride! (Doesn't hurt I'm in the textbook...)
Next was my mid-term in Mass Media and American Politics...that was, okay....
After that was my Philosophy 102 exam...critical thinking....hmmm, wonder when I do that....hmmm....
But, the killer is on Monday. Com 216 - Survey of Communications. Plato, Aristotle, Burke, and a whole bunch of guys who make up the Humanities Tradition in communications. I actually really enjoyed the lectures in this part of the semester, so with some reading and a whole ton of studying, only to take breaks to focus on World Concept, I should be good and busy until at least Monday afternoon at 4pm.
Speaking of...I have got to go out to vote...get it done early so that the campaign people stop calling my house. At this point, I don't care if the candidate is blue, red, indigo, purple or damn aquamarine...if those doodah's don't stop knocking at the door and ringing my phone, something nasty is going to happen to all those mud slingers, and I won't be responsible for my actions. Last week a republican vote solicitor wore my front door up his nose because he pulled the ultimate faux-pas...he woke me up. Each and every one of you just cringed...I saw it! I know you know what happened to that poor fella, he got eaten, first because he did the one thing you KNOW not to do, which is wake me up with startling or loud noises (moron just had to pound on the door), the second was just on general principle because he was a republican and touting a known town charlatan. He actually had the audacity to shout through my door, "Won't you even consider a republican for a local race?" Sweeties, the guy could have been made out of money and hopping up and down like a jackrabbit with two golden rabbit's feet, but if I am rudely woken up, all bets are off and you're lucky if you get away with skin still attached. When I first wake up, you better pray to whatever diety you worship that I'm in a good mood, otherwise, run for the hills because I have all of the tone, manner and demeanor of a large, lumbering, ticked off 1000lb Eurasian Brown Bear! Ever seen the size of the paws on those guys? Ask someone who has rudely woken me up, they can tell you from first hand experience. LOL!
But I had a laugh yesterday as 216 was wrapping up...Do you know that one of my professors purposefully watches the Weather Channel all during September-November? He does it because it's the only channel that DOESN'T show political ads.
I'm curious about winter storms, aren't you??? Maybe they'll put on some nature show so I might spot a bear while I'm studying and working.
Have a great rest of your week!
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Saturday, September 29, 2012
The Comeback, Part II
I am starting to believe that comeback stories are, for the most part, a collection of moments that detail great momentum forward, followed by small setbacks. Okay, sometimes tall, handsome, blue-eyed setbacks. Nonetheless, it's an ever constant need to put one foot in front of the other. At times like this I fall back huge to my Myst teachings, Rand Miller as Atrus always makes me feel better at times like this, especially when I can watch the ending of Myst IV: Revelation:
I can't watch that without bawling my fool head off. On sooooo many levels... but the part that is the most important to me is the part where he says, "Endings are just another form of beginning, I guess. And the harder an end is to face, the more hope we bring with us to the next beginning."
Welcome to week one of the six-week long epic suck.
I remember when my ex hit the door, so do you. Oh gods, I did not want to do this again, but it comes with the what-should-be reassurance that my heart, however broken it is, still works. It's capable of giving and it's still capable of going once again through what is sure to be a six-week epic suckfest. It's going to be six weeks of bone-jarring fun from discovering all of the little little things left behind by Ace and the moments of burying my face in my pillow to keep my neighbors from hearing me cry night after night.
It sucks, but it has to be done. Like Rand says, endings are just another form of beginning, and I get to begin again, tightening down on everything in my life that has been neglected after a year of taking my eye off the ball. And, just because he's down the road doesn't mean I get the luxury of caving. I was just standing in the bathroom, looking myself in the mirror telling myself, "We know the first six weeks are going to be hard." It was then that I opened a drawer and found Ace's shaving cream. What happened next wasn't pretty because I just collapsed next to my bathroom vanity in long sobs. I'm not pretty all puffy faced, but that's why I've got y'all and my daffy blog, trying to remind myself that hopefully, like Mary says, 'this too shall pass."
It's been three and a half days. I can do this. I can get up off my rump and tackle things that need tackling.
It's like what Marcus Aurelius said, "it's up to you." Yeah it is up to me. So, I'm going to dry it up, get myself together and go to bed, try to sleep, which we already know isn't going to go well, but hey, eventually I'll fall asleep. At least I've got a new Kenyon novel. The story of another beaten and battered soul made whole when it's given enough love...oh hell, I can't even read that. I might just snuggle up with my philosophy book, maybe that will help. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow a bit more stoic and able to handle the next six weeks not-so-horribly.
To relax, I'm going to stick to an old standby, it helps me sleep. Hopefully it will do the same for you too.
Friday, September 28, 2012
The beauty of being the boss...
If you'd ask anyone in my huge, extended, real life family who "The Boss" was while we were growing up, 9 out of 10, you'll get back the name of one very special woman. My Aunt Sissy, or to my father she was "Babysis", or if you just preferred first names, she was Helen.
Now, I'll be the first one to tell you that being "the boss" is one of the world's hardest things. How she did it after my grandmother died, I have no earthly clue. She was literally keeping up with family in at least four different states, knew everyone's name and knew the details that even the CIA couldn't dig up. She knew who was who, who was married to who or who was even dating who. J. Edgar could have used a woman like her because I'm convinced she knew everything.
Well, when you're wrangling 50+ people, you've got to have a special talent for it. The only other person I know with the genetic code able to pull off what Aunt Sissy did all the time is Nan. You want to mobilize an army? Talk to Nan, she's got a whole army up her sleeve because she knows so many people and keeps track of that many more. (Personally, I wouldn't be surprised if my nephew had a tracking chip in is boot...nooo, I'm just kidding...Ryan, stop looking in your shoes, I was playing!)
No, but seriously, it takes a lot to be the boss. You have to make sure that every day you remember that "leadership is about support". You have to remember that when you speak, you have to make sure it's kind, gentle and tasteful. Most of all though, your diplomatic skills are in high demand if someone's just stepped on their whatevers because it's left to you to remember that it's your job to hear them howl, then remember not to decapitate them for being so incredibly silly as to masochistically pulverize their own private parts out of sheer stupidity.
I know you feel me on this. I can not be the only person in the universe that watches people day in and day out and wonder what hell goes on in their heads! Well, the one upside when you're the boss is that when things like that happen, all you need to do is give them "the look". I know you know which look I'm talking about...it's the one that you've received from your mother or your wife or your boss, wondering what the hell are you thinking???
Which of course makes you want to curl up under the nearest piece of furniture in the fetal position.
No, see, those things are going to happen. It's just part and parcel of being the boss. Everyone but everyone at one time or another just "dummies it up", you know what I'm talking about. Dummies are everywhere, hell they even write a series of books for people who admit to being one. Like it or not though, no matter where you work, dummies are a fact of life. I've learned how to accept it and move on. Hell, I even got to retire one recently, but that's really not the beauty of being a boss, but it sure does give you a Cheshire Cat-sized grin when you get to do it.
Keeping track of people, shaking your head at the dummies, being supportive, those are all really the nuts and bolts of being the boss but...
Today I've found out the world's best perk about being a boss. You get to delegate. Well holy shit...this one is a new one for me because I've never done it before. I actually delegated today. I took one of my six jobs and whittled it down to five. I finally found someone to take over one portion of my workload. Ever since I have, I just may melt into a big pile of goo because of the tremendous weight that it has lifted off my shoulders.
Tell Babe Ruth to move over, shove ol' Giambi and Jeter aside, I'm coming through - calling my shot and swinging for the fence because I actually found someone who is basically telepathic and understands where things need to go and how it needs to be done. I tell you, sometimes it's the hardest damn thing to find someone who is a perfect fit for a job, but once you find them, the overwhelming joy is well worth the trouble you had to go through to find them.
It's like being able to be at home and work whenever I want without being pulled this way, that way or the other way. The head rush of oxygen I'm getting because I'm getting to the point I can almost breathe is almost overwhelming. Feels damn good for a change.
You know what, since it's Friday night going into Saturd'y...I'm going to take myself out for a treat!
*hehehehehehehe*
Now, I'll be the first one to tell you that being "the boss" is one of the world's hardest things. How she did it after my grandmother died, I have no earthly clue. She was literally keeping up with family in at least four different states, knew everyone's name and knew the details that even the CIA couldn't dig up. She knew who was who, who was married to who or who was even dating who. J. Edgar could have used a woman like her because I'm convinced she knew everything.
Well, when you're wrangling 50+ people, you've got to have a special talent for it. The only other person I know with the genetic code able to pull off what Aunt Sissy did all the time is Nan. You want to mobilize an army? Talk to Nan, she's got a whole army up her sleeve because she knows so many people and keeps track of that many more. (Personally, I wouldn't be surprised if my nephew had a tracking chip in is boot...nooo, I'm just kidding...Ryan, stop looking in your shoes, I was playing!)
No, but seriously, it takes a lot to be the boss. You have to make sure that every day you remember that "leadership is about support". You have to remember that when you speak, you have to make sure it's kind, gentle and tasteful. Most of all though, your diplomatic skills are in high demand if someone's just stepped on their whatevers because it's left to you to remember that it's your job to hear them howl, then remember not to decapitate them for being so incredibly silly as to masochistically pulverize their own private parts out of sheer stupidity.
I know you feel me on this. I can not be the only person in the universe that watches people day in and day out and wonder what hell goes on in their heads! Well, the one upside when you're the boss is that when things like that happen, all you need to do is give them "the look". I know you know which look I'm talking about...it's the one that you've received from your mother or your wife or your boss, wondering what the hell are you thinking???
Which of course makes you want to curl up under the nearest piece of furniture in the fetal position.
No, see, those things are going to happen. It's just part and parcel of being the boss. Everyone but everyone at one time or another just "dummies it up", you know what I'm talking about. Dummies are everywhere, hell they even write a series of books for people who admit to being one. Like it or not though, no matter where you work, dummies are a fact of life. I've learned how to accept it and move on. Hell, I even got to retire one recently, but that's really not the beauty of being a boss, but it sure does give you a Cheshire Cat-sized grin when you get to do it.
Keeping track of people, shaking your head at the dummies, being supportive, those are all really the nuts and bolts of being the boss but...
Today I've found out the world's best perk about being a boss. You get to delegate. Well holy shit...this one is a new one for me because I've never done it before. I actually delegated today. I took one of my six jobs and whittled it down to five. I finally found someone to take over one portion of my workload. Ever since I have, I just may melt into a big pile of goo because of the tremendous weight that it has lifted off my shoulders.
Tell Babe Ruth to move over, shove ol' Giambi and Jeter aside, I'm coming through - calling my shot and swinging for the fence because I actually found someone who is basically telepathic and understands where things need to go and how it needs to be done. I tell you, sometimes it's the hardest damn thing to find someone who is a perfect fit for a job, but once you find them, the overwhelming joy is well worth the trouble you had to go through to find them.
It's like being able to be at home and work whenever I want without being pulled this way, that way or the other way. The head rush of oxygen I'm getting because I'm getting to the point I can almost breathe is almost overwhelming. Feels damn good for a change.
You know what, since it's Friday night going into Saturd'y...I'm going to take myself out for a treat!
*hehehehehehehe*
The evening afterward...
Okay, so we've made it through the world's worst birthday. Which means it's time for me to kick it into gear and start writing again. And I mean daily writing not this "hit and miss" bull I've been putting us all through just to save the feelings of a guy who treated me badly.
This is the point where I'm sure my editor would tell me that it's time to brush off my sense of humor and start using it again, which I think he just might be right. PTSD or not, this is one moment I'm not going to use my avoidant behaviors to get the better of me, I'm facing what's happened to me head on - and I'll be damned if I don't laugh about it in some way, shape or form.
Don't even get twisted, Ace (as usual) is reading along and he's going to be commenting behind the scenes...my quandary is whether or not to post his horrible grammar, lack of spelling skills and overall inability to coherently communicate for all of you to see. Seriously, every time he writes he embarrasses himself, so I don't know whether it's more fitting to just delete his incomprehensible English composition skills which denote 'his hurt feelings' (yeah, right, like he's got any, well, none he'll express unless no one is looking) or let you guys see what I've had to put up with for the last year and three months. It's so tempting to just show the world how bad it really is, but rather than be his sole judge and jury, I'll let you post to the Facebook comments his fate...I'll leave it to y'all on whether or not we pull his shorts down around his ankles and let you guys have at him full out. It's like my boss told me, "You've got a pack of big brothers that are just dying to get a hold of him for treating you badly." Not to mention a whole lot of other people who are just drooling to use him as a pinata in effigy.
Now that my phone hasn't been ringing off the hook telling me how awful I am (when the truth is, I haven't had the heart to pull my phone from my purse to read the text messages from Ace berating me for actually telling the truth about him on my blog) I've spent the day doing my laundry.
I've also spent today grateful for HBOGo. Hey, when you're a single girl and you're breaking down every five minutes into heart-wrenching sobs over the fact that you allowed yourself to get treated like dirt and constantly disappointed for the last year, a Sex and the City marathon is just what the doctor ordered.
While watching the show, peculiar moment after peculiar moment has been popping up, ones that sit there and scream "since when did Ace get a role on Sex and the City?" as I'm zooming around my house cleaning, doing laundry and so forth.
The first peculiar moment came while I was watching the end of Season 2, you know, where Carrie finally tells Big to get lost and she revels in the fact that once you're single again, you get time to do your laundry, clean your apartment and wail to all of your friends how awful your ex-boyfriend was? Being that I don't have any real friends in town, I get to skip all that, except to write it here, and just like Carrie wails on about Big, I just don't have the heart to emasculate Ace one more time except to say that to outline all of Ace's shortcomings wouldn't be my style. He's really a great guy, he's just got too much on his plate to actually be emotionally available. Well, that and the fact that his ex-wife has broken him beyond repair doesn't help his case much. That he's got an ungrateful, feral kid to boot just wraps it up in one big package that says, "Don't go there."
Anyway, as I kept watching, I was reminded what it was like to be in my early 30's again, married to the ex, completely miserable, and then it dawned on me...was I so much like Carrie that I just kept picking the wrong guys?
I'm 41, which if I listened to another film from my early 30's Sleepless in Seattle, I have all of the likelihood of finding a real relationship as I do being killed by a mugger on the street. Which I have to say, that thought isn't remotely reassuring, so I'm just going to refrain from dating altogether. I walk away from Ace with only one thought in my mind: Dated, done it, have the t-shirt, don't need to go there again.
But, between episodes, and between one Sex and the City epiphany after the next, I sat here drying my eyes as sometimes I'd have to hit pause just so I could have just one more heart-wrenching sob, use up another half-box of tissues before I could get up, move my laundry from the dryer to the top of the dryer to be folded, and the clothes in the washer either moved to the dryer or be hung up to air dry.
After about the 20th thing I put on a hangar to air dry, I suddenly looked around my laundry room and thought, "When did I get so many clothes?" when the truth really was, "When the hell was the last time I did full on laundry, ironing and all?"
The answer: "Before I started dating Ace."
What was worse was trying to make myself a pot of coffee, looking down and realizing that the plug next to my sink wasn't working. Ace, during all the months that I dated him, wailed on and on that he couldn't do anything for me; he couldn't fix my car, he couldn't do any home repairs and so forth, so the one moment I needed him? I found the GFI switch in my kitchen, pressed the 'test' button and reset it. The plug my coffee pot goes into is just fine, I just needed to reset the breaker. Yep, he was right, I don't need him to fix anything in my life, I can take care of it just fine, it just would have been nice for him to look like Superman for a moment. I guess I'm Supergirl, because I can fix things just fine on my own.
Which reminds me of something I told my pal Haley not too long ago, "The first six weeks are going to suck, but results may vary, please check with your doctor." And even though I'm not quite up to going through the next six weeks of epic suck, at least all of Ace's laundry that has been left here or brought home with me is adding up in one neat little pile by the front door, just waiting to be picked up. I'll be damned if I drive another inch for his benefit, but at least the clothes he'll pick up from here will be clean, folded and ready to wear.
Yes, I know, I'm so pathetic. I should have dumped them all in the toilet and cleaned with them. I just couldn't bring myself to do it, so they're neatly folded, smelling like Downy by my front door. I'm praying I don't have to look into Ace's eyes when I give them back, it would be a moment of weakness where I would either cave and take him back or what I fear most, it will illicit a complete reflex response that would see me literally kick him square in the balls.
So, as I look over at the clock with it reading almost midnight, I'm going to put on my cordless headset back on, press play and enjoy watching Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda act out more parts of the last year of my life.
Viagra and all.
Oh well, at least I'm getting things done, right? It's my time well spent.
For the song of the day, I'm going to invoke the right to be selfish, so this one is for me. I've come to the point where I realize that my oldest personal adage is true: "There is nothing in the world a man can give me that I can't give myself."
This is the point where I'm sure my editor would tell me that it's time to brush off my sense of humor and start using it again, which I think he just might be right. PTSD or not, this is one moment I'm not going to use my avoidant behaviors to get the better of me, I'm facing what's happened to me head on - and I'll be damned if I don't laugh about it in some way, shape or form.
Don't even get twisted, Ace (as usual) is reading along and he's going to be commenting behind the scenes...my quandary is whether or not to post his horrible grammar, lack of spelling skills and overall inability to coherently communicate for all of you to see. Seriously, every time he writes he embarrasses himself, so I don't know whether it's more fitting to just delete his incomprehensible English composition skills which denote 'his hurt feelings' (yeah, right, like he's got any, well, none he'll express unless no one is looking) or let you guys see what I've had to put up with for the last year and three months. It's so tempting to just show the world how bad it really is, but rather than be his sole judge and jury, I'll let you post to the Facebook comments his fate...I'll leave it to y'all on whether or not we pull his shorts down around his ankles and let you guys have at him full out. It's like my boss told me, "You've got a pack of big brothers that are just dying to get a hold of him for treating you badly." Not to mention a whole lot of other people who are just drooling to use him as a pinata in effigy.
Now that my phone hasn't been ringing off the hook telling me how awful I am (when the truth is, I haven't had the heart to pull my phone from my purse to read the text messages from Ace berating me for actually telling the truth about him on my blog) I've spent the day doing my laundry.
I've also spent today grateful for HBOGo. Hey, when you're a single girl and you're breaking down every five minutes into heart-wrenching sobs over the fact that you allowed yourself to get treated like dirt and constantly disappointed for the last year, a Sex and the City marathon is just what the doctor ordered.
While watching the show, peculiar moment after peculiar moment has been popping up, ones that sit there and scream "since when did Ace get a role on Sex and the City?" as I'm zooming around my house cleaning, doing laundry and so forth.
The first peculiar moment came while I was watching the end of Season 2, you know, where Carrie finally tells Big to get lost and she revels in the fact that once you're single again, you get time to do your laundry, clean your apartment and wail to all of your friends how awful your ex-boyfriend was? Being that I don't have any real friends in town, I get to skip all that, except to write it here, and just like Carrie wails on about Big, I just don't have the heart to emasculate Ace one more time except to say that to outline all of Ace's shortcomings wouldn't be my style. He's really a great guy, he's just got too much on his plate to actually be emotionally available. Well, that and the fact that his ex-wife has broken him beyond repair doesn't help his case much. That he's got an ungrateful, feral kid to boot just wraps it up in one big package that says, "Don't go there."
Anyway, as I kept watching, I was reminded what it was like to be in my early 30's again, married to the ex, completely miserable, and then it dawned on me...was I so much like Carrie that I just kept picking the wrong guys?
I'm 41, which if I listened to another film from my early 30's Sleepless in Seattle, I have all of the likelihood of finding a real relationship as I do being killed by a mugger on the street. Which I have to say, that thought isn't remotely reassuring, so I'm just going to refrain from dating altogether. I walk away from Ace with only one thought in my mind: Dated, done it, have the t-shirt, don't need to go there again.
But, between episodes, and between one Sex and the City epiphany after the next, I sat here drying my eyes as sometimes I'd have to hit pause just so I could have just one more heart-wrenching sob, use up another half-box of tissues before I could get up, move my laundry from the dryer to the top of the dryer to be folded, and the clothes in the washer either moved to the dryer or be hung up to air dry.
After about the 20th thing I put on a hangar to air dry, I suddenly looked around my laundry room and thought, "When did I get so many clothes?" when the truth really was, "When the hell was the last time I did full on laundry, ironing and all?"
The answer: "Before I started dating Ace."
What was worse was trying to make myself a pot of coffee, looking down and realizing that the plug next to my sink wasn't working. Ace, during all the months that I dated him, wailed on and on that he couldn't do anything for me; he couldn't fix my car, he couldn't do any home repairs and so forth, so the one moment I needed him? I found the GFI switch in my kitchen, pressed the 'test' button and reset it. The plug my coffee pot goes into is just fine, I just needed to reset the breaker. Yep, he was right, I don't need him to fix anything in my life, I can take care of it just fine, it just would have been nice for him to look like Superman for a moment. I guess I'm Supergirl, because I can fix things just fine on my own.
Which reminds me of something I told my pal Haley not too long ago, "The first six weeks are going to suck, but results may vary, please check with your doctor." And even though I'm not quite up to going through the next six weeks of epic suck, at least all of Ace's laundry that has been left here or brought home with me is adding up in one neat little pile by the front door, just waiting to be picked up. I'll be damned if I drive another inch for his benefit, but at least the clothes he'll pick up from here will be clean, folded and ready to wear.
Yes, I know, I'm so pathetic. I should have dumped them all in the toilet and cleaned with them. I just couldn't bring myself to do it, so they're neatly folded, smelling like Downy by my front door. I'm praying I don't have to look into Ace's eyes when I give them back, it would be a moment of weakness where I would either cave and take him back or what I fear most, it will illicit a complete reflex response that would see me literally kick him square in the balls.
So, as I look over at the clock with it reading almost midnight, I'm going to put on my cordless headset back on, press play and enjoy watching Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda act out more parts of the last year of my life.
Viagra and all.
For the song of the day, I'm going to invoke the right to be selfish, so this one is for me. I've come to the point where I realize that my oldest personal adage is true: "There is nothing in the world a man can give me that I can't give myself."
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Forty, plus one more...
As usual, it's time once again for my annual birthday post.
Oh, who am I kidding? I'm so far behind in posting anything, I'll be surprised if one person reads this.
41. They say after 40, life just keeps getting better and better. At this point I really feel like grabbing whomever "they" are and knocking them on their butts because from my viewpoint, they really don't know jack-bupkus about what happens after 40.
But let's start our little tale on Monday night, the 24th, the night before my birthday. I've not been keeping everyone up on what's been happening with me, so let's do a quick catch-up before we start in on the disaster that started at 7:40 on Monday night.
The semester at school has started (and at writing that I do a facepalm knowing that I didn't do the semester preview like I usually do). I'm taking Philosophy 102, COM 216, and Journalism 447 and 484. But, the semester started out as a disaster as well because on top of the six jobs I'm doing at work (Ad/PR, Asset Management, Shop Management, Quality Assurance, Head of Asset Creation and World Concept Design), I've had to take care of Ace and his son full time. I'm not sure but I'm pretty positive that creating whole worlds out of my imagination is a tough job, add the other five and breathing gets pretty tough, add on 12 credit hours and two men who have absolutely no concept how much harder they're making your life as they ungratefully suck your soul out and give nothing back in return? It just equals one giant disaster that I'm not even sure that Mother Theresa or Gandhi could see their way clear to forgive.
So, just out of sheer exhaustion I've been missing classes, falling asleep during them, I've got my teams at work looking at me for answers I don't have time to give and one concept artist who I can't trust to do a single drawing without describing it to him word for word even though I've described it all in great detail in I don't know how many e-mails.
But then, I 'm expected, without even a consideration to how rough my world has become, to neglect my home, my life, my work and my studies for a man and his son who have no idea how to give anything back other than more stress, more heartache and just more and more trouble. I guess it was all summed up in my birthday card I received from the both of them that LITERALLY read:
At that point, I just threw him out. I couldn't take anymore. If I was expected to take humiliation after humiliation, neglect after neglect then pay for his dinner too? No. Enough was enough. He needed to go.
After all that, I got on the phone with KP, told him what happened and when midnight hit, KP and I were headlong into the latest WoW expansion Mists of Pandaria together. Just like four years ago when I thought the world had ended, there was KP, as always backing me up. We created two new pandas, mine by the name of Choppiestick and his by the name of Slapyouface. At that point I was so grateful to hear the voices of KP, TJ, Drewbie and Kai, I didn't realize how much I had missed by wasting the last year on Ace.
While we were leveling our new pandas, KP and I discussed the last year and how Ace was just my way of bouncing back after my ex bailed out with the Bassett Hound Faced Bitch, and how it was important for me to know that being alone wasn't the end of the world, after all I did wait two years before even trying a relationship on for size.
At about 2 a.m. I passed back out again, happy that I could spend the beginning of my day with the one guy who's been with me and EXTREMELY supportive come hell or high water for the last five years.
The next morning, I woke up on my couch and opened my laptop to find out that one of my best pals, a woman named Darla Lamb had been killed in a car wreck, the exact same moment Ace walked in my door the night before. While I was being insulted by a card pulled out of his ass, Darla, in a moment of despair drove her Toyota RAV4 head-on into a Semi and died on the way to the hospital.
So let's count it up shall we? I've got a boyfriend who treats me like shit and then one of my close friends drives her car into a semi, oh and on top of that, it's my birthday. I've got no support nearby, I call my mother and she tells me I need to be strong, but then, oh, let's just light the candle on top of this whole thing when my boss tells me I can't buckle under all of it, that I have to remain strong for everyone else.
Meanwhile, everyone's knocking down my door for answers, e-mail addresses, and everything else that I'm just supposed to keep churning out without an ounce of support, no help and the one guy that could give me an ounce of relief 2500 miles away.
It's hard not to sit here and cry inconsolably, it's almost impossible to breathe but at least I found joy in one thing:
I took myself to Spago. This year, they made sure to have a coconut Cremé Bruleé waiting for me, along with my glass of champagne. Peter was even nice enough to make me a chocolate orange shot.
So, if anyone is reading, which I doubt, if you feel like trying to repair my birthday in some way shape or form, keep that jerk Ace away from me and someone put together a little package that sends me to Hawaii for a week, just so I can say hi to KP.
And that was 41. By far the worst birthday I've ever had.
Oh, who am I kidding? I'm so far behind in posting anything, I'll be surprised if one person reads this.
41. They say after 40, life just keeps getting better and better. At this point I really feel like grabbing whomever "they" are and knocking them on their butts because from my viewpoint, they really don't know jack-bupkus about what happens after 40.
But let's start our little tale on Monday night, the 24th, the night before my birthday. I've not been keeping everyone up on what's been happening with me, so let's do a quick catch-up before we start in on the disaster that started at 7:40 on Monday night.
The semester at school has started (and at writing that I do a facepalm knowing that I didn't do the semester preview like I usually do). I'm taking Philosophy 102, COM 216, and Journalism 447 and 484. But, the semester started out as a disaster as well because on top of the six jobs I'm doing at work (Ad/PR, Asset Management, Shop Management, Quality Assurance, Head of Asset Creation and World Concept Design), I've had to take care of Ace and his son full time. I'm not sure but I'm pretty positive that creating whole worlds out of my imagination is a tough job, add the other five and breathing gets pretty tough, add on 12 credit hours and two men who have absolutely no concept how much harder they're making your life as they ungratefully suck your soul out and give nothing back in return? It just equals one giant disaster that I'm not even sure that Mother Theresa or Gandhi could see their way clear to forgive.
So, just out of sheer exhaustion I've been missing classes, falling asleep during them, I've got my teams at work looking at me for answers I don't have time to give and one concept artist who I can't trust to do a single drawing without describing it to him word for word even though I've described it all in great detail in I don't know how many e-mails.
But then, I 'm expected, without even a consideration to how rough my world has become, to neglect my home, my life, my work and my studies for a man and his son who have no idea how to give anything back other than more stress, more heartache and just more and more trouble. I guess it was all summed up in my birthday card I received from the both of them that LITERALLY read:
"Hope you like the card, I pulled it out of my ass."Yep, that's how my day started, with me passing out on my couch out of sheer exhaustion Monday night only to open my door at 7:40 p.m. and have Ace tell me he had nothing planned on top of the fact that if I wanted to do anything, I'd have to pay for it myself and a card that read that he had no other consideration for me than that. Of course the other card that came with it was written by Hallmark with an intelligible scrawl for a a signature that left me wondering who it was from. No personalization, no nothing, just some scrawl attached to "oh how I'm so lucky to have you," oh yes, sure, he's lucky enough to have me around to shit on. Gee thanks. He actually had the audacity and nerve to sit there and tell me that the "card pulled out of his ass" was something he thought I would think was funny. I can't even sit and think about it without wanting to throw something.
At that point, I just threw him out. I couldn't take anymore. If I was expected to take humiliation after humiliation, neglect after neglect then pay for his dinner too? No. Enough was enough. He needed to go.
After all that, I got on the phone with KP, told him what happened and when midnight hit, KP and I were headlong into the latest WoW expansion Mists of Pandaria together. Just like four years ago when I thought the world had ended, there was KP, as always backing me up. We created two new pandas, mine by the name of Choppiestick and his by the name of Slapyouface. At that point I was so grateful to hear the voices of KP, TJ, Drewbie and Kai, I didn't realize how much I had missed by wasting the last year on Ace.
While we were leveling our new pandas, KP and I discussed the last year and how Ace was just my way of bouncing back after my ex bailed out with the Bassett Hound Faced Bitch, and how it was important for me to know that being alone wasn't the end of the world, after all I did wait two years before even trying a relationship on for size.
At about 2 a.m. I passed back out again, happy that I could spend the beginning of my day with the one guy who's been with me and EXTREMELY supportive come hell or high water for the last five years.
The next morning, I woke up on my couch and opened my laptop to find out that one of my best pals, a woman named Darla Lamb had been killed in a car wreck, the exact same moment Ace walked in my door the night before. While I was being insulted by a card pulled out of his ass, Darla, in a moment of despair drove her Toyota RAV4 head-on into a Semi and died on the way to the hospital.
So let's count it up shall we? I've got a boyfriend who treats me like shit and then one of my close friends drives her car into a semi, oh and on top of that, it's my birthday. I've got no support nearby, I call my mother and she tells me I need to be strong, but then, oh, let's just light the candle on top of this whole thing when my boss tells me I can't buckle under all of it, that I have to remain strong for everyone else.
Meanwhile, everyone's knocking down my door for answers, e-mail addresses, and everything else that I'm just supposed to keep churning out without an ounce of support, no help and the one guy that could give me an ounce of relief 2500 miles away.
It's hard not to sit here and cry inconsolably, it's almost impossible to breathe but at least I found joy in one thing:
I took myself to Spago. This year, they made sure to have a coconut Cremé Bruleé waiting for me, along with my glass of champagne. Peter was even nice enough to make me a chocolate orange shot.
So, if anyone is reading, which I doubt, if you feel like trying to repair my birthday in some way shape or form, keep that jerk Ace away from me and someone put together a little package that sends me to Hawaii for a week, just so I can say hi to KP.
And that was 41. By far the worst birthday I've ever had.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Me...and my new laptop
Everyone knows that I'm pretty thrifty when it comes to buying things. Actually, it's a freaking miracle if I get anything for myself at all. But, with work heating up, and me needing to be sitting in front of the machine all the time with school and so forth, I just stood up and hollered, "Damn it, it's high time I got myself a laptop."
And with Ace in tow, on Friday I did.
Just to put all of my iLemmings nerves to rest, nope, still no iAnything. You keep trying to infringe, but I resist! I refuse to put myself in debt just to keep up with your trendy butts. Oh yeah...what's that, your iPhone 4S who lets you talk to yourself without looking nuts? Awww, poor Siri, her time is up...she's being replaced with a quad-core, which is...what was that? YES, exactly what I've got in my little laptop.
Go! To the cliff with you, hand over your first born to pay homage to Steve of the Hereafter! Um, entry-level iPads are actually just a hair less expensive than the actual LAPTOP I can do everything I do on my home computer, with the convenience of having it with me at school and it weighs the same as a Mac Mini but has three times the RAM. Homogeneous iCulture. While you sell out to own a piece of fruit with a bite already taken out of it, I'll skip down the road, laptop paid for in cash money. No bill left over. But I can't believe people actually take out FINANCING to pay for an iAnything. Just goes to show how far people are still going to keep up with their neighbors. Still shoving themselves in a financial hole while I run on winged shoes hollering,
"YOU'LL NEVER GET ME!!!! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"
But, now I must leaving the iLemmings to their plug-and-play bliss, saving up every last dime as they salivate and step on each other, to get rid of their perfectly fine, babbling brook of a phone who has all of the sense of humor a piece of styrofoam for a new iPhone 5. If they want to be broke, that's their business and they can morgage themselves to their eyeballs for their iWorld, it's none of my business. What I did get though is reminds to my favorite black-clad ciphers from The Book of D'ni. The true example of what it is to live without pride...my beautiful relyimah. The Unseen.
At only around 3 pounds, my new baby is light as a feather, perfect for lugging around campus for the beginning of...
MY SENIOR YEAR! Woohooo!
So, now on top of work, I've officially taken on a crafting project. My new laptop.
Yes Barry, she's an HP. An M6 series to be exact. Hey, shush! I got a good deal and I shan't have any iLemmings besmirching my new little darling. She integrates perfectly with my huge desktop machine, except guess what, I've got an easier time working with my Wacom tablet because I'm not bound and shackled to my desk!
I will admit though, I was a bit disappointed at first when I found out it only came in black. But, hey...after praying for one for a while now, I'll take what fits within my price range and desired specifications.
Not to sound ungrateful, but it wasn't until I got her home, unwrapped her and really took a look at her appearance that a grand idea hit me like a ton of bricks. As the Book of D'ni said, "Clad only in black, they appeared to be more like ciphers than men," so since she's skinny as a rail, and clad all in black, shiny in some places and so forth, I started searching all over the Internet for a Myst-themed laptop...a skin of some type. You know what I found?
Nothing.
Oh yeah...Dance with me...going to make my groovy laptop into something my Myst family will love!
What is incredibly ironic about all of this is that, well, the Myst franchise was born on the MacOS. Yep, a PC girl who digs on a game that was born as an iLemming. Who knew. LOL!
But, it doesn't matter to me. Myst is Myst and just like good people, it wouldn't matter if it was blue, green, aquamarine, an apple or an orange, it's good stuff, so I love it just the same.
What is incredibly ironic about all of this is that, well, the Myst franchise was born on the MacOS. Yep, a PC girl who digs on a game that was born as an iLemming. Who knew. LOL!
But, it doesn't matter to me. Myst is Myst and just like good people, it wouldn't matter if it was blue, green, aquamarine, an apple or an orange, it's good stuff, so I love it just the same.
Now how on earth do you start a process like this? Well, easy really. First things first, is you have to get what you're working on to look right, so you start by customizing your desktop.
- Start over at
mystjourney.com. Over there you'll find Myst desktop wallpaper aplenty, if you're like me, you grab them all and save them all into one folder.
- Then you right-click the desktop and hit personalize.
We're concerned with the four little options at the bottom. - Then just click on the desktop background and click on "Slideshow". Navigate your way to your folder with all of those great images created by the wonderful fella over at MystJourney.com and select the folder. Don't forget to choose how you want it to fit on the screen and how often you want the picture to change. In my case I can't ever get enough Myst so I set mine to five minutes.
- Then go to the next button "Window Color." For me, I picked a very nice, reminiscent of Channelwood rusty brown. Everywhere in Myst you'll find a rusty hue, so that's what I went with.
- For the sounds, I'm not done yet. I've got my game soundtracks that are just waiting for me and Audacity to sit down and make a few cool sounds. I definitely want to see if I can make a bahro shriek my error noise. LOL! OR how about the logon sound being Yeesha's voice saying "Shorah" in Uru! Omg! That's hot, I GOTTA do it.
- Then for the screen saver, hey, you have to be inventive and a problem solver if you're a Myst fan. I went over to Cnet.com and picked up Sim Aquarium 3. No, there's no Whark in the aquarium. Sorry to say, but there is a setting to create what looks like rain hitting the water, making these groovy ripples that go over the screen when you move your mouse, kind of like in Eder Kemo near the book room to go back to Gira.
Like this:
- The only things left? The desktop icons and the external skin. Those are works in progress. I'm trying to figure out what I want to use as the D'ni equivalent of the recycle bin, my computer, and other icons I want to change or make uniquely Myst.
But, on top of all of that good stuff, I'm going to give it the final shove to make it feel like falling into the Star Fissure. Here, let me give you a clue...
Custom D'ni numbers on the top line and the 10-key keypad. That's right! Envy me. Combined with D'ni glyphs spelling "relyimah" on the cover skin with a few extra flourishes? Oh yeah, now that's MY laptop.
Wanna see how the desktop looks right now?
And yep, those are earthquake occurrences from the US Geological Service. I'm such an earthworm! Atrus would be proud.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Point of Genesis
Have you ever sat back and wondered where things come from?
Have you ever sat down in a movie, behind a video game or heck, just looked at the clothes in your closet and wondered, "Hey, who came up with the idea for that?"
Think about the guy who came up with the line, "The Cake is a Lie" and how many people when they hear it now scream, "PORTAL!"
Think about the guy somewhere out in the world who came up with the battle cry,"For the Horde" that now engenders thousands upon thousands of screaming fans to get up out of their seats in applause.
Those are just two examples of individuals sitting at the point of genesis creating something entirely new.
Here, let's put it into your lap and have you think about it for a while.
Well, it's where you sit and watch an entirely new concept take shape, but it takes shape according to YOUR ideas, YOUR judgement calls and otherwise everything YOU throw into it and it starts to brew and bubble on its own. Imagine putting all of your imagination in a pot, then stirring and out comes a finished concept to present to the world.
I guess you could exchange "point of genesis" with the phrase "hanging your ass out on the line" because it's not only risky, but highly taxing on the mind, body and spirit.
Do you have any idea how much pressure is on someone who sits at a point of genesis? Let's grab Hottie #9 from my list, Chris Metzen, as an example.
Chris Metzen sits at a constant point of genesis. He's a guy who comes up with characters, story arcs, whole places, continents and worlds that all spring straight from his brain. From there, programmers, artists, modelers and a whole cast of working folks take his ideas and present them in digital format, i.e. the latest expansion pack that's coming out for World of Warcraft, The Mists of Pandaria that just so happens to be launching on my birthday, September 25th.
Here, take a peek:
Now, after all that, I want you to sit in his chair for a minute:
Before they even began to make the announcement for what the players have now dubbed as Mists, Chris, Alex Afrasiabi and a whole crew sat down and pondered what they were going to do. As he said, they had been through plenty of supervillains throughout the history of World of Warcraft, namely Ragneros in Molten Core, Illidan in Black Temple, Arthas the Lich King in Northrend, Deathwing over the skies of Cataclysm, I mean they have gone through the baddest cats on the block...who were they going to go after next? Who was left?
Well, that left them sitting at the point of genesis where they had to come up with something entirely new.
Before the pandas showed up or the entirely new "continent" that those pandas call their home had been created, the guys up at Blizzard might have toiled for hours, days, weeks and months trying to figure out who the latest bad guy was going to be; or Chris Metzen might have a brilliant moment of inspiration as he stood in his neighborhood grocery store checkout line at the same time thousands of gamers were running to their nearest video game shop to tear Wrath of the Lich King from store shelves. We'll never know. But, having to think an expansion ahead, or even down to a content release ahead requires him and his team to sit at a point of genesis on almost a daily basis. And folks, that is a very hard place to sit because the demands, and stakes, are extremely high.
I have always been one to sit back and have appreciation for what comes out of creative people's heads. But, let's face it, not everyone is that way. Not everyone sits back and looks at the creative process with a set of eyes that realizes that someone sat at their desk late into the evening, trying desperately to find that one brilliant creative spark that gave birth to what they now can use to fly, swim, ride or glide. In an online worlds sense, people don't think that the design for their flying mount, hoverboat or other aerial conveyance had to come from someone's brain before it hit the desk of the modeler, texture artist, QA tester, alpha tester, beta tester then finally to them. To be honest, I really don't think a lot of people think about the creative process that went into the keyboard they type on or the smartphone they carry around in their pockets. People have a tendency to forget where things come from, and to be honest, I think it's pretty sad and for the most part, ungrateful.
For more YEARS than I can count, I have heard individuals tear into ideas. Heck, I've even laid into some of the more Darwinian mistakes with unbridled venom. I'll be the first to say that I freaked out when they took out my beloved perma-tree form and replaced it with a Tree-Fro. Come on, who ever thinks that the newest incarnation of a druid's tree form is the least bit feminine, put your hand up so someone else can slap you for me. It wasn't the brightest move, but still, the idea for that new tree form had to come from somewhere. Yes, I put up my hand and asked to look like a walking Wisteria, but come on, I thought for sure they'd at least make us gals look half way feminine.
Ok, here's the before shot:
Now here's the after, along with the Wisteria I was talking about:
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Ya think maybe I'm feeling a little bit responsible for that? I actually posted, "I'd definitely go for a walking wisteria look" in public. To my shame, I'm the ONLY one who ever said anything about a wisteria...yet, there's the tree form to prove it. I honestly feel like I'm responsible for both the tree form disaster and the "Chevy Runs Deep" campaign catastrophe because my winning entry over on the now-defunct Myst Movie site had in very large type at the bottom "Cavern Blood Runs Deep" six months before those commercials began to air, on top of the fact I had been using that phrase since 2004. Coincidences? Maybe, but from where I'm sitting, it's very plausible that I could be very responsible.
My problem with sitting actively at a point of genesis is that I'm used to failure. Hey, I'm used to people thinking they know more than I do and shoving me out of the way, that's why becoming Phi Kappa Phi was such a damn shocker! Over the years I've become quite accustomed to just taking rejection with a grain of salt, hoping for success on the next one. Come on, even the guy who I've been seeing doesn't even think I'm worthy of emotional reciprocation because he thinks my emotional needs are okay to be shoved out of the way too, so I'm not seeing where I can draw a lot of confidence at the moment.
But let's go back to hottie #9, he gives me some comfort because Chris Metzen didn't make the hotties list just because of his face and his voice...it's because he sits squarely at the point of creation, gushing out idea after idea, concept after concept, for millions of players to look at, enjoy, tear into, ridicule and put through the collective wringer all of the parts of the world he creates solely from his imagination and his knowledge of the Warcraft universe. Do you actually want to sit there and think it's easy?
But, forget whole continents filled with content from structures to "NPC's" (non-player characters) running around. Terraforming alone will bake your noodle, from forests filled with trees to snowy cliffs and breathtaking waterfalls. But let's go further, to the avatar. An avatar from the ground up is one of the hardest things to create. From something as basic as height or body shape to skeletal rigging, animations (which include emotes, dance moves, idle animations, poses, how you sit, stand, jump, swim, how you swing your sword or cast your spells, anything that requires movement), to how external assets sit on the skeleton, even down to the most miniscule of nose wrinkles as the avatar goes "Eww", there's a ton of stuff going on. All those things are great, don't get me wrong, but one detail that most people don't put any thought into is how the actual skin of their avatars came to be. You know, the fleshy part? The part that gets goosebumps if the action gets thick? Yeah, just the actual skin, no more, no less. How much thought do you think goes into it?
Let's have a little fun: Including the newest race, the Pandaren, how many races are there now in World of Warcraft? Any takers before I let the answer out of the bag?
No?
How about this, let's list them out.
For the Alliance you have:
For the Horde you have:
So, that's six a piece, plus the Pandaren equals a whopping 13 different races. Don't run away so fast, there's more. Now, multiply that by two because why? Two genders. Now we're up to 26. Oh no, you still don't get away because guess what? How many different shades of skin tone does each race have? Some have seven available, others have more than 10! Oy veh. Get out your calculators because guess what, take that 26 and let's multiply it by the race with the highest number of skintones I found, 12, which happens to go on the humans. Now hit the equals button.
I heard that swear! That's right! Holy Cow! That's approximately 312 individual skins, and that's not counting eyes, hair, facial markings, facial hair, earrings, lips, eyebrows, eyelashes or anything else that is a part of the physical essence of the avatar. You want the extras? Do the math! If there is one variable, say the eye color, it has at least five permutations for avatar customization by itself. And some dodo birds out there actually have the nerve to think that the buildings are the things that are hard to make.
Have you gotten nauseous yet? Have your knees started to buckle under all that yet? Oh, come on ya wimps! You can take more than that!
Who do you think came up with the idea that Orcs should be shades of green, yellow-green and all the way to brown, or said the skin of a Tauren needs to look exactly like a cow's? But one better yet, the universal truth throughout WoW: who in the hell decided to leave the joints exposed on a Forsaken (undead)? Because from Silithus to Silvermoon City, Booty Bay to Icecrown Citadel, everyone agrees, it doesn't matter what you put an undead in, all the armor looks pretty much like shit. Someone though, way at the point of genesis decided that those joints needed to be showing to create the unmistakable presence of an undead in the raid, the battleground or wherever that undead wants to be. You can't miss them from a mile off, and it is also why the folks that play undead love them to pieces. I'll be the very first to admit, when you're in Undercity and your joints are showing, you feel right at home. But that was the genius of the person sitting at the point of genesis who decided that Undercity from the grotesque stitched abominations down to the skull-laden cages and scenery would make those tendon-showing characters feel right at home, even though their queen, Sylvanas would probably look more at home in Teldrassil or Silvermoon City amongst the elves.
But, from skin tones to eyecolor, avatar assets such as clothing or armor to weapons, vehicles and transportation hubs, it all came from someone who had the guts to sit at the point of genesis.
You want to talk about a hard job? Try coming up with a whole new world, then sit and dream up the names of the places, the architectural style, the foliage, every last detail on the avatars, NPC's, critters and the list goes on of all the things that must, at one time or another spring from someone's head as an entirely new idea. Every day I sit very grateful for guys like Chris Metzen, Alex Afrasiabi, Will Wright, Will Harvey, Jeffrey Ventrella, and every single person who ever sat behind their desks late into the night with just a map of some freshly terraformed terrain, knowledge of a physics engine, and just their imagination. My hats are seriously off to them.
Think of it this way: If you sit at a point of genesis and do well, then everyone praises you. Do it wrong and there aren't enough nails, hammers and planks of wood on the planet for the 10 million ways you're going to be crucified. To put it in a very intimate way, imagine having to pick the skin tones, then present them to your friends then wonder how they are going to react to them, then the public's reaction, and then after having screenshots, movies and all sorts of other media capture what you've picked and okayed be chowed down on, insulted, and possibly praised, even down to it influencing the buying decisions of the public. Think about the Pandas. Now, WoW is not your typical "warm and fuzzy" world, now imagine it filled with Pandas. A Panda? With those bloodthirsty thugs? Well yeah, Chris Metzen seems to think so, and being that he's sitting at the point of genesis for them, he has to take responsibility if it succeeds or fails.
Imagine that going into launch day for him.
And people say online worlds are just games.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Good luck with that one.
For the song of the day, I'm going to dig up a tune I was lead to just out of sheer serendipity by a band called Kings of Leon, a tune that is very helpful playing in the background, no matter what song it is, so I just picked an uplifting tune I liked:
Have you ever sat down in a movie, behind a video game or heck, just looked at the clothes in your closet and wondered, "Hey, who came up with the idea for that?"
Think about the guy who came up with the line, "The Cake is a Lie" and how many people when they hear it now scream, "PORTAL!"
Think about the guy somewhere out in the world who came up with the battle cry,"For the Horde" that now engenders thousands upon thousands of screaming fans to get up out of their seats in applause.
Those are just two examples of individuals sitting at the point of genesis creating something entirely new.
Here, let's put it into your lap and have you think about it for a while.
What is a point of genesis?
Well, it's where you sit and watch an entirely new concept take shape, but it takes shape according to YOUR ideas, YOUR judgement calls and otherwise everything YOU throw into it and it starts to brew and bubble on its own. Imagine putting all of your imagination in a pot, then stirring and out comes a finished concept to present to the world.
I guess you could exchange "point of genesis" with the phrase "hanging your ass out on the line" because it's not only risky, but highly taxing on the mind, body and spirit.
Do you have any idea how much pressure is on someone who sits at a point of genesis? Let's grab Hottie #9 from my list, Chris Metzen, as an example.
Chris Metzen sits at a constant point of genesis. He's a guy who comes up with characters, story arcs, whole places, continents and worlds that all spring straight from his brain. From there, programmers, artists, modelers and a whole cast of working folks take his ideas and present them in digital format, i.e. the latest expansion pack that's coming out for World of Warcraft, The Mists of Pandaria that just so happens to be launching on my birthday, September 25th.
Here, take a peek:
Now, after all that, I want you to sit in his chair for a minute:
Before they even began to make the announcement for what the players have now dubbed as Mists, Chris, Alex Afrasiabi and a whole crew sat down and pondered what they were going to do. As he said, they had been through plenty of supervillains throughout the history of World of Warcraft, namely Ragneros in Molten Core, Illidan in Black Temple, Arthas the Lich King in Northrend, Deathwing over the skies of Cataclysm, I mean they have gone through the baddest cats on the block...who were they going to go after next? Who was left?
Well, that left them sitting at the point of genesis where they had to come up with something entirely new.
Before the pandas showed up or the entirely new "continent" that those pandas call their home had been created, the guys up at Blizzard might have toiled for hours, days, weeks and months trying to figure out who the latest bad guy was going to be; or Chris Metzen might have a brilliant moment of inspiration as he stood in his neighborhood grocery store checkout line at the same time thousands of gamers were running to their nearest video game shop to tear Wrath of the Lich King from store shelves. We'll never know. But, having to think an expansion ahead, or even down to a content release ahead requires him and his team to sit at a point of genesis on almost a daily basis. And folks, that is a very hard place to sit because the demands, and stakes, are extremely high.
I have always been one to sit back and have appreciation for what comes out of creative people's heads. But, let's face it, not everyone is that way. Not everyone sits back and looks at the creative process with a set of eyes that realizes that someone sat at their desk late into the evening, trying desperately to find that one brilliant creative spark that gave birth to what they now can use to fly, swim, ride or glide. In an online worlds sense, people don't think that the design for their flying mount, hoverboat or other aerial conveyance had to come from someone's brain before it hit the desk of the modeler, texture artist, QA tester, alpha tester, beta tester then finally to them. To be honest, I really don't think a lot of people think about the creative process that went into the keyboard they type on or the smartphone they carry around in their pockets. People have a tendency to forget where things come from, and to be honest, I think it's pretty sad and for the most part, ungrateful.
For more YEARS than I can count, I have heard individuals tear into ideas. Heck, I've even laid into some of the more Darwinian mistakes with unbridled venom. I'll be the first to say that I freaked out when they took out my beloved perma-tree form and replaced it with a Tree-Fro. Come on, who ever thinks that the newest incarnation of a druid's tree form is the least bit feminine, put your hand up so someone else can slap you for me. It wasn't the brightest move, but still, the idea for that new tree form had to come from somewhere. Yes, I put up my hand and asked to look like a walking Wisteria, but come on, I thought for sure they'd at least make us gals look half way feminine.
Ok, here's the before shot:
Ya think maybe I'm feeling a little bit responsible for that? I actually posted, "I'd definitely go for a walking wisteria look" in public. To my shame, I'm the ONLY one who ever said anything about a wisteria...yet, there's the tree form to prove it. I honestly feel like I'm responsible for both the tree form disaster and the "Chevy Runs Deep" campaign catastrophe because my winning entry over on the now-defunct Myst Movie site had in very large type at the bottom "Cavern Blood Runs Deep" six months before those commercials began to air, on top of the fact I had been using that phrase since 2004. Coincidences? Maybe, but from where I'm sitting, it's very plausible that I could be very responsible.
My problem with sitting actively at a point of genesis is that I'm used to failure. Hey, I'm used to people thinking they know more than I do and shoving me out of the way, that's why becoming Phi Kappa Phi was such a damn shocker! Over the years I've become quite accustomed to just taking rejection with a grain of salt, hoping for success on the next one. Come on, even the guy who I've been seeing doesn't even think I'm worthy of emotional reciprocation because he thinks my emotional needs are okay to be shoved out of the way too, so I'm not seeing where I can draw a lot of confidence at the moment.
But let's go back to hottie #9, he gives me some comfort because Chris Metzen didn't make the hotties list just because of his face and his voice...it's because he sits squarely at the point of creation, gushing out idea after idea, concept after concept, for millions of players to look at, enjoy, tear into, ridicule and put through the collective wringer all of the parts of the world he creates solely from his imagination and his knowledge of the Warcraft universe. Do you actually want to sit there and think it's easy?
But, forget whole continents filled with content from structures to "NPC's" (non-player characters) running around. Terraforming alone will bake your noodle, from forests filled with trees to snowy cliffs and breathtaking waterfalls. But let's go further, to the avatar. An avatar from the ground up is one of the hardest things to create. From something as basic as height or body shape to skeletal rigging, animations (which include emotes, dance moves, idle animations, poses, how you sit, stand, jump, swim, how you swing your sword or cast your spells, anything that requires movement), to how external assets sit on the skeleton, even down to the most miniscule of nose wrinkles as the avatar goes "Eww", there's a ton of stuff going on. All those things are great, don't get me wrong, but one detail that most people don't put any thought into is how the actual skin of their avatars came to be. You know, the fleshy part? The part that gets goosebumps if the action gets thick? Yeah, just the actual skin, no more, no less. How much thought do you think goes into it?
Let's have a little fun: Including the newest race, the Pandaren, how many races are there now in World of Warcraft? Any takers before I let the answer out of the bag?
No?
How about this, let's list them out.
For the Alliance you have:
- Dwarf
- Draenei
- Gnome
- Human
- Night Elf
- Worgen
For the Horde you have:
- Blood Elf
- Forsaken
- Goblin
- Orc
- Tauren
- Troll
So, that's six a piece, plus the Pandaren equals a whopping 13 different races. Don't run away so fast, there's more. Now, multiply that by two because why? Two genders. Now we're up to 26. Oh no, you still don't get away because guess what? How many different shades of skin tone does each race have? Some have seven available, others have more than 10! Oy veh. Get out your calculators because guess what, take that 26 and let's multiply it by the race with the highest number of skintones I found, 12, which happens to go on the humans. Now hit the equals button.
I heard that swear! That's right! Holy Cow! That's approximately 312 individual skins, and that's not counting eyes, hair, facial markings, facial hair, earrings, lips, eyebrows, eyelashes or anything else that is a part of the physical essence of the avatar. You want the extras? Do the math! If there is one variable, say the eye color, it has at least five permutations for avatar customization by itself. And some dodo birds out there actually have the nerve to think that the buildings are the things that are hard to make.
Have you gotten nauseous yet? Have your knees started to buckle under all that yet? Oh, come on ya wimps! You can take more than that!
Who do you think came up with the idea that Orcs should be shades of green, yellow-green and all the way to brown, or said the skin of a Tauren needs to look exactly like a cow's? But one better yet, the universal truth throughout WoW: who in the hell decided to leave the joints exposed on a Forsaken (undead)? Because from Silithus to Silvermoon City, Booty Bay to Icecrown Citadel, everyone agrees, it doesn't matter what you put an undead in, all the armor looks pretty much like shit. Someone though, way at the point of genesis decided that those joints needed to be showing to create the unmistakable presence of an undead in the raid, the battleground or wherever that undead wants to be. You can't miss them from a mile off, and it is also why the folks that play undead love them to pieces. I'll be the very first to admit, when you're in Undercity and your joints are showing, you feel right at home. But that was the genius of the person sitting at the point of genesis who decided that Undercity from the grotesque stitched abominations down to the skull-laden cages and scenery would make those tendon-showing characters feel right at home, even though their queen, Sylvanas would probably look more at home in Teldrassil or Silvermoon City amongst the elves.
But, from skin tones to eyecolor, avatar assets such as clothing or armor to weapons, vehicles and transportation hubs, it all came from someone who had the guts to sit at the point of genesis.
You want to talk about a hard job? Try coming up with a whole new world, then sit and dream up the names of the places, the architectural style, the foliage, every last detail on the avatars, NPC's, critters and the list goes on of all the things that must, at one time or another spring from someone's head as an entirely new idea. Every day I sit very grateful for guys like Chris Metzen, Alex Afrasiabi, Will Wright, Will Harvey, Jeffrey Ventrella, and every single person who ever sat behind their desks late into the night with just a map of some freshly terraformed terrain, knowledge of a physics engine, and just their imagination. My hats are seriously off to them.
Think of it this way: If you sit at a point of genesis and do well, then everyone praises you. Do it wrong and there aren't enough nails, hammers and planks of wood on the planet for the 10 million ways you're going to be crucified. To put it in a very intimate way, imagine having to pick the skin tones, then present them to your friends then wonder how they are going to react to them, then the public's reaction, and then after having screenshots, movies and all sorts of other media capture what you've picked and okayed be chowed down on, insulted, and possibly praised, even down to it influencing the buying decisions of the public. Think about the Pandas. Now, WoW is not your typical "warm and fuzzy" world, now imagine it filled with Pandas. A Panda? With those bloodthirsty thugs? Well yeah, Chris Metzen seems to think so, and being that he's sitting at the point of genesis for them, he has to take responsibility if it succeeds or fails.
Imagine that going into launch day for him.
And people say online worlds are just games.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Good luck with that one.
For the song of the day, I'm going to dig up a tune I was lead to just out of sheer serendipity by a band called Kings of Leon, a tune that is very helpful playing in the background, no matter what song it is, so I just picked an uplifting tune I liked:
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