This is the update I've been wanting to post, but kind of didn't. As I mentioned in my last update, this isn't going to be a tell-all about how bad my work was, or how things have gotten too corporate for me to stay, or anything except the opinion of a blatantly nice guy and an optimist.
A little over a month ago, I left EA BioWare, my office away from home for just over 11 years. I began work at BioWare Corp. on April 2, 2001, and I worked on games that some gamers consider some of the best in the world, possibly the best ever! I had the privilege of working with some truly amazing and talented game developers--writers, artists, programmers, producers, QA, loc--and I tried to be friendly and respectful and unobtrusive to those on the paperwork side of things (ie. admin, finance, payroll, exec, etc). I helped to manage the company's online community through thick and thin and very thin and ultra-thin and microscopically-thin, and holy cats, did I have more than my fair share of funsies during my tenure.
The last couple of years were difficult for me, though, as a creature of habit, I tried to hide it and cover it up, because hey, awesome job that pays okay and allows me to maintain a pretty good lifestyle. That should be enough for anyone, right? Well, not me. I've always said that if you're not happy where you work, you should probably find something you'd prefer doing. If there's a salary disparity, the change in money should be more than offset by your happiness and personal fulfilment. This, of course, works only if the salary disparity is minimal. I'm also notorious for never being able to take my own damn advice.
So I slogged through the same position and job that I'd done for 11 years, and management noticed I didn't seem motivated anymore and wasn't working to the best of my ability. After a whole bunch of discussion, I kind of had to agree with them. They worked up a solution that was best for all involved--me, the department, and the company--and I was able to leave on good terms. Everyone's happy.
Oh, I didn't feel that way when I got called into the first of several very important meetings. I was devastated. I thought I'd be there forever. I didn't know what I'd be doing as an old man at BioWare, but it probably wasn't going to be QA, and that was kinda part of the problem. If I wasn't happy, I should have talked to my department head, HR, whoever, to make a plan to move to a different department or do some different work. But I was in denial for at least two years, and it would have taken a lot more than "hey, how's it going?" to get stubborn ol' me to admit that things weren't going great.
I talked to some really close friends at the office about it, and they gave me some really good advice. Asking for advice is something I should really try more often, because wow, it gives one a whole new perspective on things. Thanks to this advice, from coworkers and other close friends, I was able to make what I believe to be the correct choice. Now, before some people start emulating me (because I know y'all want to), let me clarify that this was the right choice for me at that time, based on my circumstances. It's not a decision everyone should make. But it was one that, unfortunately, I had to be pressured into making. So I left, and hopefully someone more enthusiastic and less old and curmudgeonly and stuck in his QA ways now has my job and a bright company future ahead of him or her.
In the month that I've been gone from the job, it's been difficult for me to let it all go. When talking about BioWare, I still tend to use "we," "us," and "our" when discussing BioWare games. I tend to refer to the people I worked with as "coworkers" as opposed to "former coworkers." And goddamn it, but I miss working with those people. If there was one thing that would have affected my decision to stay or go, it would be those former coworkers I mentioned. I made some really good friends there. Some of them are people I've worked with for 11 whole years, and some I've only worked with for a few, but they are dedicated game developers all. They are enthusiastic professionals who do the job because they love what they do.
The second question people ask me is what I'm going to do now. Well, I still haven't made that decision yet. I spent a month doing nothing, work-wise, and it's only been the last week that I've started thinking about my future. I can say that I've begun spending money that I should have spent years ago on getting my shit together and having the tools I need to make it in most any career. I've started updating the ol' blog again and writing prose in general, getting the creative juices flowing at will because I'm considering something creative as the next job for this scrappy little ninja. And now that I'm no longer employed by EA, I can explore these creative ideas more freely!
The next step is to get a vehicle, start and complete some projects that have been swimming around in my brain, and put to paper a lot of ideas that need to be fleshed out. Oh yeah, and get my finances in order, write a couple of resumes, do a whole mess of research, and get head shots in case I need to audition for something. I'll likely be returning to the BioWare online community as a Moderator some time soon. The Community team has kept my position as a volunteer Moderator open, and it was something I did enjoy doing, so that'll give me my daily recommended dose of Vitamin RI (righteous indignation). Then it's new shoes so I can pound the pavement better.
I may have a long road ahead of me, but I'm glad to be walking it in the summer. Can you imagine if I'd left the job in the winter, or just as winter was starting? I would have just hibernated and not come out until spring, and by then I would have wasted over 6 months of time. This way, I'm only wasting 3, maybe 4, depending on how things go in the next 60-90 days.
This isn't the last awesome thing that the Worst Ninja Ever will do.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Another season down
As long-time readers know, about 7 years ago my work treated a bunch of us interested folk to a free Edmonton Rush lacrosse home game. It was the Rush's inaugural season and for some reason, the sport really resonated with me. I ended up going a few more times to a home game that season, and since the team's second season in the National Lacrosse League, I have been a season ticket holder.
For seven years, I and my fellow Rush fans have been in the stands at most every home game, cheering on our boys in silver and black, hoping against hope that we would one day have a championship team. This is the first sport where I could truly consider myself a fan: I buy their merchandise, I follow them on Twitter and Facebook, I know player numbers, and I try to get other people out to the games. I've got two converts so far, but I won't be satisfied until I fill my immediate area with friends.
A couple of years ago, the Edmonton Rush made the playoffs. Hooray, we weren't the worst team in the League, for once! It was great, because the first game was against Calgary, in Calgary. We'd made friends with some awesome Calgary Roughnecks fans, and they hosted us and showed us a great time while my compatriot, Gibble, and I were there. We sat near our friends, which happened to be smack-dab in the midst of a sea of red-clad Roughnecks fans, but everyone was cool and we weren't douches about it, and we got to see our Rush defeat the Roughnecks to make it to the second round of playoffs!
That second round was against the Washington Stealth, in Washington, so we had to watch the game televised. Gibble and I went to a bar and watched as the Rush did what plucky underdog teams do in movies all the time--come back from almost certain defeat and tie the game at the end of regulation time. Holy cats, we thought, the Rush could make it to the finals if they could just score in sudden death overtime! Sadly, it was not to be, as Washington scored a mere 8 seconds in the overtime period to win the game. But we never forgot that playoff run and hoped we could do it again.
This year, the Edmonton Rush have been amazing at home. We've held our own against powerhouse teams like the Toronto Rock, and sunk to humiliating defeats against our eternal rivals, the Calgary Roughnecks. But through it all, our team, bolstered by an indefatigable defensive line and a phenomenal goaltender, Aaron Bold (#77), showed us the potential of this team we've supported through thick and (more often than not) thin.
We made the playoffs again this year, and once again, we played Calgary in the first round of the single-game-elimination tournament. We were pleasantly surprised when, in our second time in the playoffs and second post-season game against Calgary, in Calgary, we defeat them to move on to the second round! Holy crap!
The second round was against the Minnesota Swarm, whom we played well against at home. Okay, we played half the game well. The second half was full of frustration, seeing the Swarm come back from a 4-goal deficit to tie the game in regulation time without us scoring at all in two whole quarters! Grah! Thankfully, we scored in overtime to win the game and--for the first time in franchise history--head to the Champions Cup finals against the Rochester Nighthawks!
A bunch of us gathered at Krush Ultralounge to watch the game. Rush fans filled the place with cheering and support. There were prize draws, conversations with other Rush fans who sat near us in the stands (we were recognized, yay!), and some complaining about some less courteous and far more annoying season ticket holders in our section at Rexall. But the food was good, our server was seeing to us as best she could, and the kitchen was dealing with this huge increase in the number of food orders it was getting.
The first half was great. We watched as the Rush dominated the opposition, and we hit half-time with a 4-goal lead. The Rush were able to get a few shots past Rochester's goalie, and it seemed like were headed for another easy victory after the last two titanic playoff games.
The third quarter showed us just how wrong we were. The Rush chose this game to resurrect their second-half slump, and we were unable to hold off the reinvigorated Nighthawks with any effectiveness. Goal after goal sped past Bold, and we were done. We got in one goal in the second half, late in the 4th quarter after 7 unanswered goals against, but it was too late. One empty net goal by Rochester in the final minutes sealed our fate. The Rochester Nighthawks, with a score of 9-6, won their third Champions Cup.
I'm really looking forward to next season, though. The Rush get the first pick in the draft, and there's a young superstar we want on our team, so it'll be neat to see what he'll bring to this new Edmonton Rush that seems to be winning more games at home as well as away. We just need to play the full four quarters, like we did in much of the post-season and some great home games, to win those games.
Season tickets will be renewed next week. Some of my local readers should consider getting a flex-pack or at least come to a game or two to see why I keep crowing about it. This team and this sport made me a sports fan. Those of you who are already into sports will love it.
I really have been wanting to talk about my job and why I am no longer employed, but there's always something else more immediate to talk about. I promise I will talk about it, but it won't be the scathing blamefest some people might think of when they read someone talking about why they're no longer employed. There's a lot to say, and much more to consider for the future.
For seven years, I and my fellow Rush fans have been in the stands at most every home game, cheering on our boys in silver and black, hoping against hope that we would one day have a championship team. This is the first sport where I could truly consider myself a fan: I buy their merchandise, I follow them on Twitter and Facebook, I know player numbers, and I try to get other people out to the games. I've got two converts so far, but I won't be satisfied until I fill my immediate area with friends.
A couple of years ago, the Edmonton Rush made the playoffs. Hooray, we weren't the worst team in the League, for once! It was great, because the first game was against Calgary, in Calgary. We'd made friends with some awesome Calgary Roughnecks fans, and they hosted us and showed us a great time while my compatriot, Gibble, and I were there. We sat near our friends, which happened to be smack-dab in the midst of a sea of red-clad Roughnecks fans, but everyone was cool and we weren't douches about it, and we got to see our Rush defeat the Roughnecks to make it to the second round of playoffs!
That second round was against the Washington Stealth, in Washington, so we had to watch the game televised. Gibble and I went to a bar and watched as the Rush did what plucky underdog teams do in movies all the time--come back from almost certain defeat and tie the game at the end of regulation time. Holy cats, we thought, the Rush could make it to the finals if they could just score in sudden death overtime! Sadly, it was not to be, as Washington scored a mere 8 seconds in the overtime period to win the game. But we never forgot that playoff run and hoped we could do it again.
This year, the Edmonton Rush have been amazing at home. We've held our own against powerhouse teams like the Toronto Rock, and sunk to humiliating defeats against our eternal rivals, the Calgary Roughnecks. But through it all, our team, bolstered by an indefatigable defensive line and a phenomenal goaltender, Aaron Bold (#77), showed us the potential of this team we've supported through thick and (more often than not) thin.
We made the playoffs again this year, and once again, we played Calgary in the first round of the single-game-elimination tournament. We were pleasantly surprised when, in our second time in the playoffs and second post-season game against Calgary, in Calgary, we defeat them to move on to the second round! Holy crap!
The second round was against the Minnesota Swarm, whom we played well against at home. Okay, we played half the game well. The second half was full of frustration, seeing the Swarm come back from a 4-goal deficit to tie the game in regulation time without us scoring at all in two whole quarters! Grah! Thankfully, we scored in overtime to win the game and--for the first time in franchise history--head to the Champions Cup finals against the Rochester Nighthawks!
A bunch of us gathered at Krush Ultralounge to watch the game. Rush fans filled the place with cheering and support. There were prize draws, conversations with other Rush fans who sat near us in the stands (we were recognized, yay!), and some complaining about some less courteous and far more annoying season ticket holders in our section at Rexall. But the food was good, our server was seeing to us as best she could, and the kitchen was dealing with this huge increase in the number of food orders it was getting.
The first half was great. We watched as the Rush dominated the opposition, and we hit half-time with a 4-goal lead. The Rush were able to get a few shots past Rochester's goalie, and it seemed like were headed for another easy victory after the last two titanic playoff games.
The third quarter showed us just how wrong we were. The Rush chose this game to resurrect their second-half slump, and we were unable to hold off the reinvigorated Nighthawks with any effectiveness. Goal after goal sped past Bold, and we were done. We got in one goal in the second half, late in the 4th quarter after 7 unanswered goals against, but it was too late. One empty net goal by Rochester in the final minutes sealed our fate. The Rochester Nighthawks, with a score of 9-6, won their third Champions Cup.
I'm really looking forward to next season, though. The Rush get the first pick in the draft, and there's a young superstar we want on our team, so it'll be neat to see what he'll bring to this new Edmonton Rush that seems to be winning more games at home as well as away. We just need to play the full four quarters, like we did in much of the post-season and some great home games, to win those games.
Season tickets will be renewed next week. Some of my local readers should consider getting a flex-pack or at least come to a game or two to see why I keep crowing about it. This team and this sport made me a sports fan. Those of you who are already into sports will love it.
I really have been wanting to talk about my job and why I am no longer employed, but there's always something else more immediate to talk about. I promise I will talk about it, but it won't be the scathing blamefest some people might think of when they read someone talking about why they're no longer employed. There's a lot to say, and much more to consider for the future.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
A Weird Dream
As far as I can remember, the dream starts at a stereotypical revival. The place is enormous, and filled to capacity with people in their Sunday best, clapping and singing along to the music blasting from a rock band on a dais at the side of the auditorium. Apocalypse Kow appears to be the only non-black people there, and all the other guys but me are dancing along with the crowd. Dr. Teeth and Jago seem particularly into it. And me, I'm just watching everything, fascinated.
Then I'm in a large living room watching a terrible teen comedy on television, where an older teen girl is babysitting her younger teen siblings. The precocious teenaged boy is peeping on his older sister and her friends in the bathroom, through the wall, which is made of frosted glass. Of course, the babysitter sees him and gets angry. This is funny? I'm only half-watching this program and discussing my high school with an older woman. She tells me she taught Television Arts at my school back in the day, so I ask if she knew the teacher who taught TV Arts to my friends. She did not.
There are several children running about, playing with each other, and having lots of fun. Their parents are half watching them, and half watching the terrible TV movie. I befriend one of them, a girl of 4, and we strike up a conversation. This was likely inspired by a lunch encounter at a restaurant last Friday, where a young boy kept walking away from his mother's table to explore the rest of the restaurant. While his mother kept telling him no, she didn't really do much more than that to keep him at the table of to fetch him. So I started talking to him, as I often do with children who seem to want to be social. I asked him how his day was and whether he enjoyed having lunch. I asked him what he was having and smiled and laughed with him. Cute kid. His mother wasn't hard to look at either.
So I'm having a conversation with this young girl and we're all headed to a community hall or something for some event. Then we're on a hill outside, so I guess we're starting from there. My phone tells me how to get to this building and the girl and I set off. I know this to be a dream because I can walk, even down a hill, without difficulty. I can climb fences and everything! And this girl is keeping up and talking in complete sentences, being all wise beyond her years, which isn't at all creepy in this dream.
But wait a second. Once we get inside, we're in a department store. This isn't the place where we need to go. I check my phone again, and realize the problem. When we passed the school (where a bunch of kids were playing even though it was the middle of the night) we turned right when we should have turned left. We're on our way out of the store when we run into my cousin, who is also going to this community hall place. We leave the store ahead of her and wait outside for her to catch up, as she has some shopping to do.
Outside, the girl and I run into a group of young people who want to start some trouble. They throw pebbles at me and start getting more obnoxious, but I shrug them off. No sense letting them get the better of me, but they persist. Then the girl--this 4-year-old girl--starts cussing them out. I'm impressed, and glad she's on my side. Things are about to get physical when there's a commotion out in the street. The cavalry has arrived, in the form of a line of bikers and a bus full of people. The troublemakers leave and I'm glad to see some familiar faces. How could I have forgotten that the girl's father is a biker?
We continue to wait for my cousin to finish her shopping. And that's where the dream ends. I don't know if we ever got to that community hall.
It was a neat dream, and the only one I've really remembered in a long time. I remember that feeling of belonging at the revival, and the sense of "oh yeah, this feeling of connectedness is why many people are religious." I remember feeling like part of a large family in that living room, even though I wasn't related to any of the people there. Nevertheless, we were all of a kind, and parents weren't really worried about the kids. That's what it's like with my theatre friends. Everyone looks after everyone else, and the kids are always cared for by all of us.
And that's what I miss about my old job. It was a giant company where I knew most everyone. And now I spend my days by myself or with some old friends. This will take more getting used to.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
F OFFF! Taco Bell
No, I haven't died yet, but I have been going through some rather interesting life changes. And no, Ninjamom, I'm still not gay. Much of what's new will have to wait for the next few updates, because coming back to this blog after 6 months will take some getting used to. So I will leave you with this new segment, which I like to call "Furious Old Fogey's Food Fustian!"
Today's fustian is about Taco Bell. The ever-trusty Jago and I went to KFC Taco Bell for dinner, and I am growing steadily dissatisfied with Taco Bell and its institutionalized inability to supply me with food. When I was young--long, long ago, in the 1980's--there was a chain of Mexican restaurants called Chi Chi's. It was arguably one of my first experiences with Mexican food that wasn't homemade tacos. I don't remember much about them except that they had a dish that I really enjoyed caled "seafood nachos." This was like a regular nacho platter, except instead of salsa and meat, the seafood nachos was covered with seafood and a creamy sauce of some kind. And you know how much this little ninja loves his seafood.
My family didn't go out to eat at restaurants very often, even though we enjoyed fast food, and I wasn't able to have as many seafood nachos as I would have liked. The last time I went to a Chi Chi's, the seafood nachos wasn't even on the menu, and eventually Chi Chi's went out of business. According to the Wikipedia article I linked, the chain operates primarily in Europe these days.
Most of my Mexican fast food came from Taco Time, which I had enjoyed for years before Taco Bell insinuated itself into Canada's fast food lexicon. Taco Time's signature hot sauce and iconic mexi-fries were everything a growing teenaged boy with ready access to a mall food court and a bottomless stomach could want. These days, I can get mexi-fries with a ridiculous crown of toppings, like sour cream and pico de gallo, and every time I have some, I am taken back to my days working retail in a shopping mall and visiting the food court's Taco Time most every day for lunch or dinner.
Taco Bell didn't come to Edmonton until I was a bit older, and from the get-go, it felt (and tasted) like Mexican fast food, compared to Taco Time, which seemed to take more time and care in their food and process. But I couldn't deny that their food was good. Fast-food-good, sure, with all the fat and sodium and D-grade "beef" that that entailed, but it was flavour-licious.
Even now that I have watched far too much Food Network and developed a taste for real, fresh ingredients and ridiculously pompous presentation and "fusion," there's a part of me that still enjoys eating complete junk. McDonald's makes some really good junk, after all.
But tonight, Jago chose KFC Taco Bell and once we arrived, I realized that I hadn't had Taco Bell in a while. The big signs above the counter showed off large, food-stylist versions of the food they served, and I decided to try something new. I got their Mexican pizza Big Box Meal and the current feature, the Bacon BBQ Wrapstar. The box was super cheap, which probably should have been my first warning to stay away from it.
A Big Box Meal is a modular meal, offering the diner choices for each component of the meal. One can choose the type of taco or burrito, fries or nachos, a dessert of cinnamon twists or empanada, and a choice of beverage. I got the Mexican pizza as the main, but was not offered a choice for anything else. That should have been warning number two.
Warning number three didn't come until I opened the box, which seemed obscenely large considering the food I'd ordered. And the pizza came on top of the box, anyway. And that's when the disappointment started. The Mexican pizza wasn't bad, but it was far less impressive than the picture. It was also a homogenous tasting piece of junk, not much more than glorified nachos. And that's okay, I guess, but then the nachos that came in my Big Box Meal and its unadorned, far-too-yellow cheese sauce became that much less impressive by comparison.
The dessert wasn't any better. I already knew I didn't like the weirdly sweet, not-quite-apple flavour of Taco Bell's apple empanada, so it's a good thing I got cinnamon twists in my box instead. But the cinnamon twists were these deep-fried twists of no substance and questionable taste. They were more like pork rinds, only made so light that there's no substance to them and so thin that they couldn't retain any kind of flavour. About all they had was crunch and a dusting of generic cinnamon sugar, and by that point in the meal, I no longer wanted any more crap.
The Bacon BBQ Wrapstar, on the other hand, was a heavy puck of food whose various ingredients tasted and felt distinct from each other. It also featured what amounted to two little chicken strips, which tasted and pulled apart like actual chicken. Oh, and also there was a hard taco that was adequate, but it would be sacrilegious of Taco Bell to ruin a basic, no-frills hard taco.
In summation, if you're going to eat at Taco Bell and wish to save yourself some money by ordering a Big Box Meal, you might be better off just getting the tacos, fries, and drink separately. I didn't find the savings of the Big Box Meal to be worth the poor excuse for food that they give you.
And that does it for this Furious Old Fogey's Food Fustian.
Wednesday, November 09, 2011
November Wednesday, early
It's early November, a Wednesday, and I'm up and around before 9am. This is novel to me, but it shouldn't be, as any day now the snow will fly and fall upon my route to and from work like a Chinese army of hexagonal killjoys tittering in the frosty Edmonton air.
Surprisingly, I'm still able to take Midnight to work with me, which makes getting home and off to rehearsal an easy proposition, but it's not going to last. Today may be the last riding day of the season, which I've come to terms with despite the ickiness of this year's spring and the shortness of the summer.
Every year, at around this time, I wonder why I haven't yet gotten myself a decent spring/autumn coat, warm gloves and a hat or toque. I'm all set for winter, but not for the lead-up to it. I suppose that will all be moot soon, too.
The sun is still low on the horizon, and I'm betting Midnight is going to complain mightily about being started this early. My space in this house is altogether too hot and dry. Winter is coming, and in the cold, dark days of December and January, I'm goingt o be mighty thankful of the efficiency of this new furnace my landlord's installed.
Wyrd Sisters is coming up at the Walterdale.
Pure Speculation Festival is coming up at MacEwan University.
I'm making a hair appointment for this weekend.
See how the start of winter goes? My days are just packed.
Surprisingly, I'm still able to take Midnight to work with me, which makes getting home and off to rehearsal an easy proposition, but it's not going to last. Today may be the last riding day of the season, which I've come to terms with despite the ickiness of this year's spring and the shortness of the summer.
Every year, at around this time, I wonder why I haven't yet gotten myself a decent spring/autumn coat, warm gloves and a hat or toque. I'm all set for winter, but not for the lead-up to it. I suppose that will all be moot soon, too.
The sun is still low on the horizon, and I'm betting Midnight is going to complain mightily about being started this early. My space in this house is altogether too hot and dry. Winter is coming, and in the cold, dark days of December and January, I'm goingt o be mighty thankful of the efficiency of this new furnace my landlord's installed.
Wyrd Sisters is coming up at the Walterdale.
Pure Speculation Festival is coming up at MacEwan University.
I'm making a hair appointment for this weekend.
See how the start of winter goes? My days are just packed.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Brony
Ladies and gentlemen of the Society for Judging the Tastes of Others, I submit to you this admission, given freely and earnestly: I an a brony.
What, you don't know what a brony is? *sigh* Okay, I'll explain. Way back in the 1980's, the heyday of cartoons-as-toy-marketing, we had Saturday morning cartoons. Not just a couple of hours on a couple of channels, but six or more hours on most of the channels on TV. Remember, these were the days before ubiquitous broadband, always-on internet, before mobile phones were everywhere, before instant, worldwide communication at your fingertips. Entire Saturday mornings could be, and were, wasted in front of the boob tube, being exposed to half-hour long commercials for toys that we would ask for at Christmastime and for birthdays.
And some of these "ads" were targeted to specific genders. Generally, the C.O.P.S., the Blackstars and Dino Riders were targeted at boys, and the Shirt Tales, the Rainbow Brites and Strawberry Shortcakes were targeted at girls. There were certainly unisex cartoons like A Pup Named Scooby-Doo or maybe Pound Puppies. And then there were cartoons geared more towards the family rather than kids, like The Laverne and Shirley, The Little Rascals, or Gilligan's Planet, since it was unlikely that little kids would have watched the shows those cartoons were based on.
But I digress. One of the girl-oriented cartoons back then was My Little Pony, a show about, well, colourful talking ponies. The toys were super popular with girls, and I remember the cartoon playing for years. I never watched it, since it was obviously for girls and I was, just as obviously, a boy.
Fast forward to 2010. The little boy who loved cartoons is now a little man who loves cartoons. He loves all the old Warner Brothers classics and The Simpsons as well as some of the more adult-oriented stuff like Family Guy, Clone High, Frisky Dingo, and Metalocalypse. He loves a bunch of the "cartoons" coming out of Japan too, and has an extensive anime collection. One day, he sees the following clip on YouTube, linked from someone or something or other:
The clean, simplified animation style, the vibrant colours and, of course, the voice acting made me double over in laughter. I had to watch that clip again and again, and even now I can bring up that clip and get a chuckle out of it. But why? Why would a grown man (and, apparently, a bajillion grown men all over the place) be drawn to this latest incarnation of what was ostensibly a girl's cartoon, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic?
Well, I can't speak for other bronies (a portmanteau of bro and pony) or pegasisters (a portmanteau of pegasus and sisters, obviously), but I like it because it's clean, simple, and above all, harmless fun and it's educational without being preachy. When it comes to teaching lessons, it shows rather than tells, leading by example with "good, better, best" rather than slamming kids over the head with "musts" and "because I said so's." A very positive show.
Let's take a look at how they accomplish this. Right from the get-go, in the two-part premier, our plucky young protagonist, a studious purple unicorn named Twilight Sparkle, discovers that an ancient prophecy may be coming to fruition and rushes to tell her mentor, the ruler of the land, Princess Celestia. Celestia tasks her bookish student with overseeing the preparations for the land's biggest celebration, the Summer Sun Celebration, and encourages her to make some friends as well.
While doing her rounds, Twilight Sparkle meets Ponyville's most interesting characters, each of whom happens to represent a different facet of friendship, and each of whom happens to correspond with one of the fabled Elements of Harmony which, when used together, can take care of this terrible prophecy that just happens to come true during the episode.
Already, we have a story about meeting new friends, about working together, and about how awesome we can be if we all work together. Forget about this being a show aimed at girls, this is a good lesson for any kid (or anyone who's a kid at heart). By the end of the episode, Twilight and her newfound friends do take care of the prophecy and save the day.
Because each pony represents a facet of friendship, it's easy for them to be used as a lesson for Twilight Sparkle, because the events of the series are seen through her perspective and she can vocalize/confirm each episode's lesson in her regular letters to Princess Celestia. It's like a Doogie Howser, M.D. journal or an Astro Boy lesson that way, only with much more pastels and bouncing.
Another thing I like about the series is that it doesn't talk down to its audience. The lessons are all very simple and straightfoward, sure, but because they are shown and not merely told, they seem to come up very organically. The characters are extremely colourful and are brought to life through the writing as well as the superb voice acting. All of the characters' voices are distinct and really seem to fit. The fact that it's also soooooooooo cute should go without saying.
The producers seem to have acknowledged the popularity of the show among older audiences, and have inserted tiny pop culture references into the series, whether it be a background pony vaguely resembling Dr. Who or using the term "brony" in promotional ads.
So yes, I am a brony, and I am fully prepared to be judged for it. It's just a damn funny, fun show, and this won't be the last time I blog about it.
What, you don't know what a brony is? *sigh* Okay, I'll explain. Way back in the 1980's, the heyday of cartoons-as-toy-marketing, we had Saturday morning cartoons. Not just a couple of hours on a couple of channels, but six or more hours on most of the channels on TV. Remember, these were the days before ubiquitous broadband, always-on internet, before mobile phones were everywhere, before instant, worldwide communication at your fingertips. Entire Saturday mornings could be, and were, wasted in front of the boob tube, being exposed to half-hour long commercials for toys that we would ask for at Christmastime and for birthdays.
And some of these "ads" were targeted to specific genders. Generally, the C.O.P.S., the Blackstars and Dino Riders were targeted at boys, and the Shirt Tales, the Rainbow Brites and Strawberry Shortcakes were targeted at girls. There were certainly unisex cartoons like A Pup Named Scooby-Doo or maybe Pound Puppies. And then there were cartoons geared more towards the family rather than kids, like The Laverne and Shirley, The Little Rascals, or Gilligan's Planet, since it was unlikely that little kids would have watched the shows those cartoons were based on.
But I digress. One of the girl-oriented cartoons back then was My Little Pony, a show about, well, colourful talking ponies. The toys were super popular with girls, and I remember the cartoon playing for years. I never watched it, since it was obviously for girls and I was, just as obviously, a boy.
Fast forward to 2010. The little boy who loved cartoons is now a little man who loves cartoons. He loves all the old Warner Brothers classics and The Simpsons as well as some of the more adult-oriented stuff like Family Guy, Clone High, Frisky Dingo, and Metalocalypse. He loves a bunch of the "cartoons" coming out of Japan too, and has an extensive anime collection. One day, he sees the following clip on YouTube, linked from someone or something or other:
The clean, simplified animation style, the vibrant colours and, of course, the voice acting made me double over in laughter. I had to watch that clip again and again, and even now I can bring up that clip and get a chuckle out of it. But why? Why would a grown man (and, apparently, a bajillion grown men all over the place) be drawn to this latest incarnation of what was ostensibly a girl's cartoon, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic?
Well, I can't speak for other bronies (a portmanteau of bro and pony) or pegasisters (a portmanteau of pegasus and sisters, obviously), but I like it because it's clean, simple, and above all, harmless fun and it's educational without being preachy. When it comes to teaching lessons, it shows rather than tells, leading by example with "good, better, best" rather than slamming kids over the head with "musts" and "because I said so's." A very positive show.
Let's take a look at how they accomplish this. Right from the get-go, in the two-part premier, our plucky young protagonist, a studious purple unicorn named Twilight Sparkle, discovers that an ancient prophecy may be coming to fruition and rushes to tell her mentor, the ruler of the land, Princess Celestia. Celestia tasks her bookish student with overseeing the preparations for the land's biggest celebration, the Summer Sun Celebration, and encourages her to make some friends as well.
While doing her rounds, Twilight Sparkle meets Ponyville's most interesting characters, each of whom happens to represent a different facet of friendship, and each of whom happens to correspond with one of the fabled Elements of Harmony which, when used together, can take care of this terrible prophecy that just happens to come true during the episode.
Already, we have a story about meeting new friends, about working together, and about how awesome we can be if we all work together. Forget about this being a show aimed at girls, this is a good lesson for any kid (or anyone who's a kid at heart). By the end of the episode, Twilight and her newfound friends do take care of the prophecy and save the day.
Because each pony represents a facet of friendship, it's easy for them to be used as a lesson for Twilight Sparkle, because the events of the series are seen through her perspective and she can vocalize/confirm each episode's lesson in her regular letters to Princess Celestia. It's like a Doogie Howser, M.D. journal or an Astro Boy lesson that way, only with much more pastels and bouncing.
Another thing I like about the series is that it doesn't talk down to its audience. The lessons are all very simple and straightfoward, sure, but because they are shown and not merely told, they seem to come up very organically. The characters are extremely colourful and are brought to life through the writing as well as the superb voice acting. All of the characters' voices are distinct and really seem to fit. The fact that it's also soooooooooo cute should go without saying.
The producers seem to have acknowledged the popularity of the show among older audiences, and have inserted tiny pop culture references into the series, whether it be a background pony vaguely resembling Dr. Who or using the term "brony" in promotional ads.
So yes, I am a brony, and I am fully prepared to be judged for it. It's just a damn funny, fun show, and this won't be the last time I blog about it.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
The Wyrd Sisters
It's been a while, hasn't it? Summer went by in a relative flash, and fall has been pretty decent so far. There hasn't been too much to report, but I think I should start writing again, even if what I'm updating is inane or unimportant to anyone, including me.
So, what to talk about today? Well, let's start slow and relatively unimportant.
I got a couple of small parts in a play that the Walterdale Playhouse is doing. As you may remember, Walterdale is where I do most of my stage acting nowadays, since it's a great community theatre and it's the oldest of its kind in Canada. Most everyone is a volunteer, and budgets aren't great, but that doesn't prevent them from doing some amazing shows, including Shakespeare, some classic dramas, even musicals! I've been hankering to get involved in a musical again at Walterdale, but it seems that whenever auditions come up, I'm otherwise occupied or ill or gimpy or just plain blah.
This time, however, my gimpyness won't be much of a hindrance. I've got two small roles, one at the beginning of the show and one near the end of the show. In the middle, I suppose I'll be hanging out upstairs and snacking. Or reading. Or whatever. It'll be cool.
You know what's cooler? The play is a stage adaptation of Terry Pratchett's The Wyrd Sisters. If you're familiar with Pratchett's Discworld series of light-hearted fantasy novels, then you'll know the story. If you're familiar with classic tales of tyrant kings and long-lost princes usurping the throne, then you'll be familiar with the story. The directors have assembled a great cast, and they've even let me have some funny bits and a death scene.
Because I've been pretty gimpy lately, it's been no picnic to walk around without a cane, not even for short periods of time. Even with a new bottle of pills, for some reason I just can't get pain or swelling free. If it's not my knees, it's my feet, if it's not the feet, it's the heels, if it's not the heels it's the arch, if it's not the arch, it's the knees again. The ciiiiiiiiircle of liiiiiiiiiiiiiiife!
Anyhoo, we were blocking my death scene and the fight director was having a dickens of a time trying to find a way to get me to the ground without hurting myself. I couldn't kneel, couldn't bend my knees all the way, and even when I bent my knees as far as I could, I couldn't balance my weight effectively because my feet were hurting too. I'm better than that now, but at the time, it was a problem. After trying a few things, we settled on using the character who stabs me from behind. She would help to lower me to the ground, thereby removing the need for me to fall any distance or rely on my knees.
The result of this is that I get to prolong my death by a few seconds and give a pretty funny death scene. My face goes through a couple of expressions before death, ranging from "what the hell did you just do?" to "oh, you bastard, you did not just stab me" to "if I die because of this, I will KEEEEEEEEL you!" When we showed it to the group in rehearsal, we got a good laugh out of it, so it all worked out.
The only down side to being in only two short scenes is that I don't get to see what kind of awesomeness everyone else is coming up with, or how these other characters are developing. I miss that, but I don't miss having to go to rehearsal every other night. I've got Kow rehearsals, a wedding to attend and perform at, and a sci-fi festival to plan, not to mention things heating up at work! So this is for the best.
So, what to talk about today? Well, let's start slow and relatively unimportant.
I got a couple of small parts in a play that the Walterdale Playhouse is doing. As you may remember, Walterdale is where I do most of my stage acting nowadays, since it's a great community theatre and it's the oldest of its kind in Canada. Most everyone is a volunteer, and budgets aren't great, but that doesn't prevent them from doing some amazing shows, including Shakespeare, some classic dramas, even musicals! I've been hankering to get involved in a musical again at Walterdale, but it seems that whenever auditions come up, I'm otherwise occupied or ill or gimpy or just plain blah.
This time, however, my gimpyness won't be much of a hindrance. I've got two small roles, one at the beginning of the show and one near the end of the show. In the middle, I suppose I'll be hanging out upstairs and snacking. Or reading. Or whatever. It'll be cool.
You know what's cooler? The play is a stage adaptation of Terry Pratchett's The Wyrd Sisters. If you're familiar with Pratchett's Discworld series of light-hearted fantasy novels, then you'll know the story. If you're familiar with classic tales of tyrant kings and long-lost princes usurping the throne, then you'll be familiar with the story. The directors have assembled a great cast, and they've even let me have some funny bits and a death scene.
Because I've been pretty gimpy lately, it's been no picnic to walk around without a cane, not even for short periods of time. Even with a new bottle of pills, for some reason I just can't get pain or swelling free. If it's not my knees, it's my feet, if it's not the feet, it's the heels, if it's not the heels it's the arch, if it's not the arch, it's the knees again. The ciiiiiiiiircle of liiiiiiiiiiiiiiife!
Anyhoo, we were blocking my death scene and the fight director was having a dickens of a time trying to find a way to get me to the ground without hurting myself. I couldn't kneel, couldn't bend my knees all the way, and even when I bent my knees as far as I could, I couldn't balance my weight effectively because my feet were hurting too. I'm better than that now, but at the time, it was a problem. After trying a few things, we settled on using the character who stabs me from behind. She would help to lower me to the ground, thereby removing the need for me to fall any distance or rely on my knees.
The result of this is that I get to prolong my death by a few seconds and give a pretty funny death scene. My face goes through a couple of expressions before death, ranging from "what the hell did you just do?" to "oh, you bastard, you did not just stab me" to "if I die because of this, I will KEEEEEEEEL you!" When we showed it to the group in rehearsal, we got a good laugh out of it, so it all worked out.
The only down side to being in only two short scenes is that I don't get to see what kind of awesomeness everyone else is coming up with, or how these other characters are developing. I miss that, but I don't miss having to go to rehearsal every other night. I've got Kow rehearsals, a wedding to attend and perform at, and a sci-fi festival to plan, not to mention things heating up at work! So this is for the best.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
A Rose by Any Other Name...
So what else happened in April, the Month Without Blog? (Dun dun dunnnn.) Well, in the comments section of my last update, an Anonymous commenter asked about the Rose.
Well, folks, I'm sorry to say that the Rose and I are no longer a couple. We broke up about a month ago, and no, it wasn't acrimonious in any way. We're still friends, we still chat often, and we've hung out since our break-up. So don't worry about talking about it or asking questions, we're good.
Since we met last August, Rose has talked about leaving Edmonton, citing her hate for this city and its lack of support for artists. While I disagree that Edmonton is an anti-arts city, I will not stop her from pursuing whatever dream or desire she has. My inability to leave Edmonton due to my having grown roots here--she refers to it as me "not loving her enough to go with her," which is technically true--was one contributor to our relationship's dissolution. And on my side, I've had a lot of trouble with women taking advantage of my good nature, so it takes a while and some work to break down some of the emotional barriers I have, and Rose and I simply weren't together long enough (due to my crunch time and then her living back in Sherwood Park) for that to happen.
That's it, really. We didn't fight about it--our fighting happened earlier, when I was in crunch time--and neither of us cheated on the other (tough to do in an open relationship where we talked about this sort of thing), she just felt it would be better to do this now than when she moved away, possibly for good, later in the year.
And that's fine with me, honest! I've been preparing for this since we started going out, which probably contributed to those emotional barriers staying up longer. So ladies, if any of you are looking for a short, polyamorous, geeky ninja who can be pedantic, gimpy, nerdy, childish, or all of the above, just call.
Have a great night, internets!
Well, folks, I'm sorry to say that the Rose and I are no longer a couple. We broke up about a month ago, and no, it wasn't acrimonious in any way. We're still friends, we still chat often, and we've hung out since our break-up. So don't worry about talking about it or asking questions, we're good.
Since we met last August, Rose has talked about leaving Edmonton, citing her hate for this city and its lack of support for artists. While I disagree that Edmonton is an anti-arts city, I will not stop her from pursuing whatever dream or desire she has. My inability to leave Edmonton due to my having grown roots here--she refers to it as me "not loving her enough to go with her," which is technically true--was one contributor to our relationship's dissolution. And on my side, I've had a lot of trouble with women taking advantage of my good nature, so it takes a while and some work to break down some of the emotional barriers I have, and Rose and I simply weren't together long enough (due to my crunch time and then her living back in Sherwood Park) for that to happen.
That's it, really. We didn't fight about it--our fighting happened earlier, when I was in crunch time--and neither of us cheated on the other (tough to do in an open relationship where we talked about this sort of thing), she just felt it would be better to do this now than when she moved away, possibly for good, later in the year.
And that's fine with me, honest! I've been preparing for this since we started going out, which probably contributed to those emotional barriers staying up longer. So ladies, if any of you are looking for a short, polyamorous, geeky ninja who can be pedantic, gimpy, nerdy, childish, or all of the above, just call.
Have a great night, internets!
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
Break
I've been wanting to update for a couple of weeks now, but for one reason or another, I kept putting it off. It's not that I didn't have anything to talk about; indeed, I have a lot to talk about. Something happened over the last two days that made this update possible, something that I really want to talk about. Perhaps I need to talk about it, if only to calm my stomach of these heebies and these jeebies.
My worldview is shaped by all the people around me and the way I need the world to work. Despite the wars, the tragedy, the sorrow, and all the other bad things going on in the world and in people's heads all around me, I like to think that people are good, that the default state for society is positive, that we're not going to hell in a handbasket, and that each successive generation would be better than the one that came before.
I've surrounded myself with good people, people you would be proud to have as friends and family, neighbours, fellow condo board members. I've led a generally charmed life in terms of my work, my family, my health, my home life, everything. No one I know has abandoned a child, no one I know has burned a cross, no one I know has had a terminal disease, no one I know has been maimed, no one I know has had a major drug problem, no one I know has spent any significant time in prison. For the most part, I would trust any and all of my friends to look out for me and to support me if anything bad were to happen.
So it's within this idyllic, naive, idealistic optimist's world that I live, supported by an extremely active fantasy life that helps me to ignore the realities of child poverty, hobos, violent youth, uncaring authority figures and self-serving ideologues in the world. Very few things can pierce this bubble. Money is one, since I require it for everything: living, eating, comfort, the sensual pleasures, intellectual fulfillment, and social interaction. When money is low, reality intrudes until I am secure once again. Another thing that can pierce the rose-coloured bubble is women.
Women are this little ninja's kryptonite. For the right woman, I would do something really stupid, something I wouldn't even consider doing were there not a woman in the picture. What have I considered, either in part or completely because I believed I would gain approval points with a woman? When I was in high school, I used to buy cigarettes (I didn't smoke, not even a little bit) in case one of the lovely young ladies asked for a cigarette. I've given out personal information, I've spent money I didn't really have, but mostly I've invested myself emotionally and trusted people before I was ready to do so.
Several years ago, I dated a young lady, let's call her Renee. At that time, I had chosen to take more risks in meeting women, wanting to find someone who might want to date this plucky little ninja and, oh, I dunno, like him. Romantically. Sexually. Whatever. I met Renee online and we talked for a loooooooooooong time before we met in person. We hit it off, and she seemed to like me. On the outside, she wasn't the best candidate for a partner. She didn't have a fixed address, she'd been in drug rehab, she'd given up a child for adoption at some point, and she didn't have a job. I didn't mind taking her out and spending time together until we stopped regular contact.
She went through several failed relationships over the next couple of years, many of them abusive, went into and out of rehab some more, and had no stability. I had perhaps one relationship in that time. We kept in sporadic contact, during which she still seemed to like me, so I held out hope that if she ever made it back into town on a more permanent basis, maybe we could get back together.
That never really panned out. One night she knocked on the door, asking for money. In spite of my better judgement, and a general rule to never have money owed between dates or partners, I loaned her some money. This is, I think, where the wheels of this relationship or interaction with Renee fell off, ultimately irreparably. The next night, she showed up with a friend who showed signs of a recent beating. Renee wanted to help her friend. Once again, in spite of the now deafening klaxons and warning lights, I once again loaned her some money. Two strikes against me, right?
Well, you're right. Strike three occurred when I was at work. Renee showed up at the house looking for me. Since I wasn't home, my roommate let her use the phone to call me. He also accepted her request for privacy and left her alone in my room with the door closed. Can you guess what happened? That's right, she stole from me. The only contact I had with her after that was an instant message conversation where she insisted her friend had stolen it that second time. Well, I wasn't keeping a close eye on that money. It definitely could have happened. But I cut my ties with her for, at the very least, bringing a thief into my house.
Fast forward.
A couple days ago, I saw that Renee's instant messaging account was online for the first time in months. I said hello, as, stupid me, I'd seen it in my heart to somewhat kinda sorta maybe forgive her. I know, the rose-coloured bubble intervenes. That is likely where Renee got it into her head that the best place to get money for drugs was a certain ninja she knew.
She showed up when I was out to dinner. She went upstairs and was told that I had moved to the downstairs apartment. When I got home, I immediately noticed the front door was unlocked. Weird, but I'd left it unlocked once or twice before. I chided myself to be more careful with locking the front door and went to the bedroom. You know that sense you get when something is out of place? Yeah, big time. My large change jar was missing. A couple of drawers in the bedroom were slightly opened.
A cool breeze came in, which was odd, since my place is generally too warm. Also, I have never opened a window since I moved into that place. Sure enough, the window was wide open. I called Jago down while I checked the rest of the place, and told Jago what happened. After confirming that nothing else was taken but the change jar, I bitched out my landlord for leaving that particular vulnerability exploitable for so long. He was something less than cooperative but was leaving town for three weeks. Stoopid timing.
He reassured me that I was perfectly safe now and that he would deal with it when he returned to town. Strangely, after a couple of weeks of neck pain and waking up several times a night, I slept amazingly well. So it was that I got through today eagerly awaiting my opportunity to vote in the federal election. While at the bus terminal waiting for my bus, I get a text that would both make my day and freak me out more than a little.
Guess who the police caught?
I called Jago back and he transferred me to one of the police officers on scene, who encouraged me to get home as fast as possible. The rest of the story is less arduous than the build-up, but maybe that's just my sense of relief and another attack on my sense of security and goodness. For you see, Renee has tried to break into my place again! Thankfully, Jago and the Dorklord were home at the time. Police were called, and my friends confronted Renee when she emerged from my place, some of my stuff in her hands.
When I arrived, Renee was in the back of the cruiser, coming down off a high, and I was bombarded with emotion. I talked a bit with the officers, identified my property, made a statement, and tried to deal with this blow to my bubble. I like to think that I carried myself well and that I didn't freak out or raise my voice or shame my ancestors. The police took her away and I spoke with my friends, who had saved me from even more severe freakouts later on had Renee succeeded in her quest.
I had rehearsal this evening and had delayed going to vote in order to come home, so Jago offered to take me to the polling station so I could do my patriotic duty before rehearsal. While waiting to leave for rehearsal, I spent about 45 minutes putting everything in my house in order--closing drawers, righting things upsot, ensuring doors are locked, securing the windows again. After the first break-in, I glued that side of the window shut. The second time, she used the other side of the window, which I blocked.
I just kinda sat in the dark and concentrated on breathing so the heebie-jeebies wouldn't get the better of me. I Tweeted about the break-in, texted some folks, and told a friend she could come over and hang out later tonight.
There's no punch line to this update. There's no moral or lesson to be learned. I hung out with my friend and we just talked about all kinds of stuff, but not the break-in. I felt more secure in knowing that a) my friends have my back, for which I am grateful, and b) there are good women out there, and some of them are my friends. So I'm mostly okay right now. I took a hit to the optimism for a bit, my trust in women has probably ensured that my next girlfriend will complain about my being emotionally distant or not romantic enough, and I'm down a few hundred dollars. My bubble was breached. I know it might not mean anything to anyone else, but to me, it means that one of the pillars of my outlook on life has been chipped.
I hope this is as bad as it gets for a while..
My worldview is shaped by all the people around me and the way I need the world to work. Despite the wars, the tragedy, the sorrow, and all the other bad things going on in the world and in people's heads all around me, I like to think that people are good, that the default state for society is positive, that we're not going to hell in a handbasket, and that each successive generation would be better than the one that came before.
I've surrounded myself with good people, people you would be proud to have as friends and family, neighbours, fellow condo board members. I've led a generally charmed life in terms of my work, my family, my health, my home life, everything. No one I know has abandoned a child, no one I know has burned a cross, no one I know has had a terminal disease, no one I know has been maimed, no one I know has had a major drug problem, no one I know has spent any significant time in prison. For the most part, I would trust any and all of my friends to look out for me and to support me if anything bad were to happen.
So it's within this idyllic, naive, idealistic optimist's world that I live, supported by an extremely active fantasy life that helps me to ignore the realities of child poverty, hobos, violent youth, uncaring authority figures and self-serving ideologues in the world. Very few things can pierce this bubble. Money is one, since I require it for everything: living, eating, comfort, the sensual pleasures, intellectual fulfillment, and social interaction. When money is low, reality intrudes until I am secure once again. Another thing that can pierce the rose-coloured bubble is women.
Women are this little ninja's kryptonite. For the right woman, I would do something really stupid, something I wouldn't even consider doing were there not a woman in the picture. What have I considered, either in part or completely because I believed I would gain approval points with a woman? When I was in high school, I used to buy cigarettes (I didn't smoke, not even a little bit) in case one of the lovely young ladies asked for a cigarette. I've given out personal information, I've spent money I didn't really have, but mostly I've invested myself emotionally and trusted people before I was ready to do so.
Several years ago, I dated a young lady, let's call her Renee. At that time, I had chosen to take more risks in meeting women, wanting to find someone who might want to date this plucky little ninja and, oh, I dunno, like him. Romantically. Sexually. Whatever. I met Renee online and we talked for a loooooooooooong time before we met in person. We hit it off, and she seemed to like me. On the outside, she wasn't the best candidate for a partner. She didn't have a fixed address, she'd been in drug rehab, she'd given up a child for adoption at some point, and she didn't have a job. I didn't mind taking her out and spending time together until we stopped regular contact.
She went through several failed relationships over the next couple of years, many of them abusive, went into and out of rehab some more, and had no stability. I had perhaps one relationship in that time. We kept in sporadic contact, during which she still seemed to like me, so I held out hope that if she ever made it back into town on a more permanent basis, maybe we could get back together.
That never really panned out. One night she knocked on the door, asking for money. In spite of my better judgement, and a general rule to never have money owed between dates or partners, I loaned her some money. This is, I think, where the wheels of this relationship or interaction with Renee fell off, ultimately irreparably. The next night, she showed up with a friend who showed signs of a recent beating. Renee wanted to help her friend. Once again, in spite of the now deafening klaxons and warning lights, I once again loaned her some money. Two strikes against me, right?
Well, you're right. Strike three occurred when I was at work. Renee showed up at the house looking for me. Since I wasn't home, my roommate let her use the phone to call me. He also accepted her request for privacy and left her alone in my room with the door closed. Can you guess what happened? That's right, she stole from me. The only contact I had with her after that was an instant message conversation where she insisted her friend had stolen it that second time. Well, I wasn't keeping a close eye on that money. It definitely could have happened. But I cut my ties with her for, at the very least, bringing a thief into my house.
Fast forward.
A couple days ago, I saw that Renee's instant messaging account was online for the first time in months. I said hello, as, stupid me, I'd seen it in my heart to somewhat kinda sorta maybe forgive her. I know, the rose-coloured bubble intervenes. That is likely where Renee got it into her head that the best place to get money for drugs was a certain ninja she knew.
She showed up when I was out to dinner. She went upstairs and was told that I had moved to the downstairs apartment. When I got home, I immediately noticed the front door was unlocked. Weird, but I'd left it unlocked once or twice before. I chided myself to be more careful with locking the front door and went to the bedroom. You know that sense you get when something is out of place? Yeah, big time. My large change jar was missing. A couple of drawers in the bedroom were slightly opened.
A cool breeze came in, which was odd, since my place is generally too warm. Also, I have never opened a window since I moved into that place. Sure enough, the window was wide open. I called Jago down while I checked the rest of the place, and told Jago what happened. After confirming that nothing else was taken but the change jar, I bitched out my landlord for leaving that particular vulnerability exploitable for so long. He was something less than cooperative but was leaving town for three weeks. Stoopid timing.
He reassured me that I was perfectly safe now and that he would deal with it when he returned to town. Strangely, after a couple of weeks of neck pain and waking up several times a night, I slept amazingly well. So it was that I got through today eagerly awaiting my opportunity to vote in the federal election. While at the bus terminal waiting for my bus, I get a text that would both make my day and freak me out more than a little.
Guess who the police caught?
I called Jago back and he transferred me to one of the police officers on scene, who encouraged me to get home as fast as possible. The rest of the story is less arduous than the build-up, but maybe that's just my sense of relief and another attack on my sense of security and goodness. For you see, Renee has tried to break into my place again! Thankfully, Jago and the Dorklord were home at the time. Police were called, and my friends confronted Renee when she emerged from my place, some of my stuff in her hands.
When I arrived, Renee was in the back of the cruiser, coming down off a high, and I was bombarded with emotion. I talked a bit with the officers, identified my property, made a statement, and tried to deal with this blow to my bubble. I like to think that I carried myself well and that I didn't freak out or raise my voice or shame my ancestors. The police took her away and I spoke with my friends, who had saved me from even more severe freakouts later on had Renee succeeded in her quest.
I had rehearsal this evening and had delayed going to vote in order to come home, so Jago offered to take me to the polling station so I could do my patriotic duty before rehearsal. While waiting to leave for rehearsal, I spent about 45 minutes putting everything in my house in order--closing drawers, righting things upsot, ensuring doors are locked, securing the windows again. After the first break-in, I glued that side of the window shut. The second time, she used the other side of the window, which I blocked.
I just kinda sat in the dark and concentrated on breathing so the heebie-jeebies wouldn't get the better of me. I Tweeted about the break-in, texted some folks, and told a friend she could come over and hang out later tonight.
There's no punch line to this update. There's no moral or lesson to be learned. I hung out with my friend and we just talked about all kinds of stuff, but not the break-in. I felt more secure in knowing that a) my friends have my back, for which I am grateful, and b) there are good women out there, and some of them are my friends. So I'm mostly okay right now. I took a hit to the optimism for a bit, my trust in women has probably ensured that my next girlfriend will complain about my being emotionally distant or not romantic enough, and I'm down a few hundred dollars. My bubble was breached. I know it might not mean anything to anyone else, but to me, it means that one of the pillars of my outlook on life has been chipped.
I hope this is as bad as it gets for a while..
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