Rediscovering awesome

I love rediscovering things that were awesome and trying to figure out why I ever put them down. For instance, I picked up "Kill Shakespeare" again last night and started reading where I left off. This comic book is so good! I just don't have the words to express how much I enjoy this story. Granted, if I were a little more well versed in the works of Shakespeare it would probably do a whole lot more for my reading experience. But I am still having a blast reading it, despite that the only things I know about Shakespeare's plays is what I learned in high school.


I am so loving how the story is unfolding. How the characters are interacting with each other, who is loyal to who, who is stabbing someone else in the back, it is just the greatest adventure. I am so glad that I picked it up. And seeing how my life is so busy that I don't get a chance to do a lot of reading, Kill Shakespeare fits right into my schedule.


Something else that I rediscovered...the old episodes of Webcomics Weekly. I went back to episode 45 (the first episode on Libsyn) and died laughing. Literally had the tears in my eyes and couldn't breathe because I was laughing so hard. Sure I had it before, but it was still hilarious and I enjoyed just as much as I did when I first heard it. Plus, it is kinda weird in a nostalgic type of way to hear those guys talk about technology from three years ago. Sort of boggles the mind to see how far certain things have progressed in such a short time.


Now to complete the trifecta, I have to find an old cd or something that I could not live without that I have set aside. Hehe.

Where's that light everyone talks about?

So I had a pretty sobering conversation a few days ago. Let me set up the framework for this conversation and then I will get into the meat of the issue.


So for the past four months, I have been part of what I can only explain as a Step 1 boot camp. I know what you are saying. Didn't I blog about taking that test back in October? Yes, I did. Didn't I sound so relieved in that blog about that part of my life finally being over? Yes, you are right again. So what gives? What gives is that I failed it in fantastic fashion and have preparing for a retake for going on 4 months now.


It has not been easy by any definition of the word. In fact, it has pushed me beyond anything that I have ever encountered before in my life. I have cried, I have screamed, I have thrown things. I have prayed, I have cried more, I have become obstinately stubborn in the fact this will not be the end for me. But I will admit, there are days when I feel exhausted. Physically and mentally taxed to the point where I really don't feel like moving forward any more. I am done. I gave it my best shot.


I had a meeting with the Dean of my school. Nothing major, just had to pick up something from her office and head back to the study cave. But she started up a conversation. How were things going and things of that nature. I mistook the question for idle chit chat and commented on how I would happy when all of this was over. She looked me straight in the eye and told in that this would never be over. That I might as well get used  to it.


"You chose this life. You chose to be a physician. This does not end here. In fact, it only gets worse. In future, you will look back on these days and wish for them."


I was dumbstruck. What horrible terrors were in my future that would make me wish for these days again? What I do now from day to day, I feel like I am spinning my wheels. I have no energy for anything outside of the four walls that I am locked away in. I have sacrificed more in these four months than I ever have before. How can things get worse? And knowing that they are, why would I continue on?


I probably had that terrified scared animal look on my face as the reality of those words started to sink in. And I'm sure that the Dean could see that I was prepared to make a panicked dash for the door and try to break the laws of physics by vanishing into thin air.


"But you have messed up now. Your mistake was letting me see that you are capable of doing the work. That you have the ability to finish. Now I am not letting you go. I have been keeping my eye on you, watching you from this chair and I will continue to do so."


I was not sure to feel terrified or encouraged. Part of me felt a little bit of both. Things were only going to get harder for me from this point on. The dean wanted me to fully prepared for it. however, she believed that I was capable of handling it and therefore was unwilling to let me quit. I didn't have much to say. I had no type of response to that. I don't honestly think she was looking for one. I left her office feeling like someone had filled my shoes with cement. I was tired, I was waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel, I was waiting for things to get easier, and now I found out that they weren't. How was I supposed to handle this?


I haven't found the answer to this yet. I figure I will learn how to handle it when I am forced to handle it. Right now, I just sit in the study cave with the rest of my friends who are plodding down the same road as me. I will tackle one struggle at a time and just keep walking down this tunnel. It has to end somewhere.

Daily Write- The Hundred Years Celebration - Part One

(This was actually part of a story that I was going to do several years ago. But things did not pan out. So, I figured, I might as well write it now. No reason for a good story to go to waste. The setting is the world of Tellus, that was put together over at www.qfgc.com)


It was warm. The sun was bright as it burned in the blue sky. It was perfect. Of course everyone had expected it to be perfect. Springtime in Cynosure exceeded every man's expectation of the season where things were beginning to come back to life after the winter chill. And better weather could not have been picked for the 100 Years Celebration.


The cobblestone streets of the city were packed with people from all over, filling the air with their excited shouts and jovial rhapsody. Not just the denizens of the city or only the country of Varro, but spanning all over the continent. All were here to partake in the festivities, the games, the parades, the food and wind, and everything else Cynosure had to offer on this day of days. A day that was said would mark a new era. A day that would represent a turning of a page and start of a new chapter for the entire world.


But even on an auspicious day as this, the weight of the historical significance  was totally missed by some. One in particular, who was drowning in her own nervous anxiety as she waited in the eaves of the grand stage that had been erected in the center of the city. Of course, Cynosure could never do anything with simplicity. But today was even more over the top than any festival had ever been in the city's history. And she, Ariya, was about to become the main attraction amidst the brightly colored flags, the dancers that capered down the street, the glittering pomp that soaked city from the gates to the castle and back again.


The other orchestra students milled about her with the same nervousness, putting their instruments together and getting ready for the performance. They had been practicing for months for this day. And in recent weeks, the preparation had been toiling. Grueling probably a better descriptor. But now all that work was going to come together in what was the largest performance most of them would ever have. Ariya had been given the "honor" of having the solo. She didn't ask for it. She didn't even want it. But when Professor Ickman told you to do something, there was never a way to refuse him. She knew, because she had tried, several times.


Ariya peeked out and saw the hundreds, perhaps thousands that were filling up the city square. And she knew that even more were hanging from balconies and out of windows, all wanting to catch a glimpse of the Collegium Arcanum orchestra, one of the Varro staples when it came to magic and music. Ariya could feel the color draining from her face. In fact, she was pretty sure that she was going to be sick.


The dull roar of whispering, moving about, and clanking of instruments soon faded away into silence. Ariya turned to see Professor Ickman walking into the eaves with his wife, both dressed in conducting robes, the seal of the Arcanum emblazoned on their backs. Time for the performance was getting ever closer.

WoW Update!

Woohoo! This weekend, I finally got my hunter level enough to get to Northrend. This actually happened a lot quicker than I expected. First because you can get to Northrend by level 68, so no reason to tough it out to level 70. Second, I belong to a guild that has the guild perk where you get extra xp while killing. (Maybe questing too, but I'm not 100% sure about that).


There was a lot (and I do mean a lot) that I skipped over in Outland. Spent most of my time in Zangarmash and Nagrand. Didn't set foot in Netherstorm, Blade's Edge, or Shadowmoon. I would have skipped Terrokar Forest as well, but I figured that I had to something out there since I was running around Shattrath.


I remember the first couple of 70s that I made, how important it was to be Scryer or Aldor and all those dailies that had to be done. Now...meh. Don't really care. This hunter isn't going to be exalted with much of anyone down there. It feels so weird not to even be friendly with the Lower City. But when I dinged 68, I dropped all the quests and hopped the first zeppelin out to Howling Fjord.


What will I be going back to do? Well, I will be doing the daily fishing quests, just because it would be cool to get the pets. Plus, I found the fishing hooks to be quite handy. (Remember when hoarding fishing hooks was the thing to do?) And I might do that daily in order to get the drake mount. Why? Just because none of my mains ever got to have one and dang it, I want it.


Only did one run through Underbog and Slave Pens, and that just because one of my guild members were being super nice. I don't miss the fact that I didn't do any dungeons, I just remember having to run these all the  time. Probably because I was a raider back then. Now I don't touch a dungeon with a 10 foot pole. Of course that makes a bit sad, because that means I will never see any of the dungeons in Northrend, and I kind want to see everything at least once.


After level capping, I might go ahead and do some of the things that I have skipped over. Right now, it is just about getting to level 85.

Daily Write - I Wish I Had

You used to pester me so many of these worn out sayings. These axioms of life that you felt the need to hand down, like some wise sage sitting on a mountain top. Loss made a person realize what was special and what wasn't. Death makes a person appreciate life. Rejection steeled the resolve. All that was bad was somehow supposed to magically turn you into something that was a vast improvement on what you were before. We were to embrace struggle and adversity as the pressure that would strengthen us in the end.


Like reading out of a brochure full of clichéd life lessons, you spouted out these sentences time and time again. And for the life of me, I could never figure out why. What was your obsession? But now I have figured out, though I have figured it out too late.


You weren't talking to me as much as you were talking to yourself. You wanted it all to mean something. That all pain, loss, and anguish were meant for some ultimate goal in the end. That there was supposed to be some meaning in it that you were supposed to take away. That life wasn't simply a roll of the dice or a hand of cards played a the game of Fate and coincidences. Because, if it was all for nothing, if there was no purpose, how was anyone supposed to handle it?


I stopped listening after a while, growing tired of the fortune cookie advice. It got to the point where I could quote your answer before you parted your lips to say it. You became little more than an annoyance at that point. I just wish I had figured out why you held so steadfastly to those words.


Trying to make sense out of things that simply just happened. You couldn't accept the fact that it just happened, however. That some times there are no explanations, only acceptance. There had to be a reason, something deeper, something more. Everything was supposed to weave together into a bigger picture. It was just that you were incapable of seeing it. So you tried harder to put it all together.


But sometimes there is nothing. Nothing to learn. Nothing to improve upon. Nothing to make you a better person. Bad things happen. Period. There is no moral to the story. Life just continues. I wish I had put together what you were doing much sooner, then I would have seen what was happening. Perhaps then I would not have had to figure out how I am supposed to handle you not being around.

Another Year Passes

My birthday is coming up pretty soon. The first thing I thought was, "My God, I am getting old. How many things was I supposed to do have accomplished by now? How many things were supposed to be finished by now? And yet I am still here, in this spot. So many others have past me? Another year has come and gone and what do I have to show for it?"


But for the first in a long time, that thought did not stick around long enough to have any impact. I sat and thought about all things that have finally gone right for me since my last birthday. I have slowly started putting back the pieces of my actual life and am beginning to learn how live again. How to be me again. How to be extroverted again. How to finally stop hiding behind these walls that keeps me away from everyone else.


I feel like I actually have some sort of intangible purpose, as cliche' as that sounds. I feel like for once the big picture that I fit into is starting to focus. No, I don't know what it is. I really wish I did. But I know that it something that I am supposed to do. Something that I am meant to do. So that means that even with the setbacks, things aren't over for me. Not by a long shot. And this is a different feeling than I had from last year. Last year, when I cried on my couch, thinking that things would never get better. If I had been any more down, I would sank through the floor.


No, I am not the shining beacon of success. Not yet. Sure, I am still climbing that mountain of ambition and dreams. But the point is that I'm still climbing. The point is I haven't given up. The point is, despite a year passing, I'm still here. Better than before, stronger that before, daring to push harder, dream bigger and aim higher. I no where near close to everything that I want to be. But I closer to it than I was a year ago.

Daily Write - Never the same

"Do you know what it felt like?" he growled loudly, trying his best to keep his composure, "To be totally and utterly alone, all the time? To have everyone expecting so much from you, but never there to support you?"


He turned his back to her, gripping his hands at his sides. He had not meant to raise his voice. But he couldn't help it. She had no idea how it felt. He pinched his eyes closed, as if in some strange way if he tensed every muscle in his body, the building anger would have no way of coming out.


"This great progeny, everyone expects me to do the impossible. I am not allowed to struggle, I'm not allowed to fail. While everyone simply coasts along, it is up to me shoulder everything. Alone. You have no idea what I have been through. People think I'm lucky, but I would trade this curse away if given the change."


"You don't think I don't understand that?" she replied. Her voice was low and held the tone of injury. Her words were slow, like the weight of them cause them to roll of her tongue slower.


"You think you were alone because I chose for it to be that way. But I didn't. I wanted to be there for you, but I couldn't."


"What do you mean you couldn't?" he said, whirling around, "How hard was it for you..."


"...because I wasn't good enough," she replied, interrupting him before he got started back up on his tirade again, "I always knew you better, faster, sharper. I just never knew by how much. One moment we were the same and the next you were out of my reach. And the moment after that, you were gone."


She sat down on the edge of his bed, shoulders slumped forward. Her hands limply fell onto her knees. Even her head was bowed downwards.


"I tried everything in my power to become your equal, but nothing I did was good enough. The gap between us just kept getting wider and wider."


She clenched at the cloth underneath her hands, words still tumbling like leaden weights from her mouth, "I never wanted you to be alone, but I was only going to hold you back from doing what is beyond the wildest dream for most of us. Do you think it was easy, watching you drift away, knowing that you were heading a place that I would never be able to follow you?"


He did not know what else to say. He was angry that she had not followed him. She was sad that he had left her behind. He sat on the bed next to her and let her head fall on his shoulders. It should have felt like it used to, back when they had swore they would always be at each other's side. But it didn't. The distance between them was firmly fixed now, and neither of them knew how to find the other.


"It is always going to be like this, isn't it?" she replied, inching closer to him, seeking some semblance of what it used to be.


"Most likely," he replied, gently snaking his arm around her waist and letting his cheek rest on the top of her head, "It is the one thing I have no idea how to fix."

A surprising conversation :)

I had quite the interesting conversation today. I actually sat down with a classmate and talked about books, classical literature and rhetoric. Now, I know that this is a complete stereotype, but I did not expect to hold a conversation like that with anyone from my school. I have no idea why I believed that I was the only person who had their nose buried in books when they were growing up. I mean, to get this far in your academic career, you had to be a bit of a nerd. And most nerds had their noses in reading material of some type. But this entire conversation was quite the pleasant surprise.


The conversation started out just as small talk. She asked me about my writing and such. And then she mentioned George Orwell's 1984. I was floored. Now I wanted to pick her brain. What other literature did she know about? What else had she read? We talked about Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Doyle and others. We talked about Shakespeare and Hawthorne. We even brought it around to modern day writers, Learner, Baldacci, and who ever it was that penned Memoirs of A Geisha. We talked about the books we read when we were kids, for fun and for school. 


Honestly, I have never talked books with anyone for years. It has never come up in conversation. Not leisure reading anyway. All I have ever heard people talk about are textbooks, review books, and peer reviewed medical journals. But this classmate, we were able to bond in a place that was entirely outside of all of that. Swapping book titles and authors like we had suddenly become our own exclusive book club.


We talked about English classes, rhetoric and forming arguments and how we both that it was utter bullshit. She told that me that I should watch "Chasing Amy" because Kevin Smith captured what conversation would be like if all us just stopped pretending and were totally honest with one another. I told her she should read A Study in Scarlet. I would be surprised if she wasn't hooked before she was halfway through it. She asked me if I liked reading from the Kindle.Did I miss the feeling of having a book in my hands where I could flip the pages.


It felt good. It felt so good. To be able to connect with someone else like in a place where I believed that I was the only one.

Daily Write - I Win

"I told you to stay away from him,” Valara screeched, an accusatory finger outstretched towards the woman standing in front of her, “I told you that he was mine and that he would always be mine."

The loud clattering of the busy town road did nothing to dampen the fierceness that gathered in Valara’s voice. Each moment it only built more as she saw those two in front of her, together.

"I am no one's thing that can be claimed!” Damion shouted, “Do not place blame on someone else for what you were not able to do. I am not yours, nor will I ever be again!"

She ignored him. She kept her eyes on the smaller figure standing in front of him. She gritted her teeth, feeling her frustration mounting even more. She had called that woman, friend. She had taken care of her, let this woman stay in her home. Now this betrayal. Valarra would not stand for it.

“I warned you, Gemina. I warned the moment we met. You stab me in the back like this. Look at me when I am talking to you.”

However, the dark haired Gemina would not look up. She stood against Damion with her eyes firmly planted on the dirt road beneath her feet. Angered, Valarra automatically reached for her sword and unsheathed it with a single movement.

“Are you insane?!” Damion yelled, “Put your weapon away!”

His words were cut short by Gemina moving forward. Her hair hung down over face, which continued angled towards the ground, even as she moved. Her hands were clenched into fists at her side.

“As your friend, I stood by and watched you with him,”

Her voice was barely audible over the ambient noise of their surroundings, shaking as it reached the ears of those who were listening. Gemina continued.

“I watched you yell. I watched you fight. I watched you accuse.”

She took another step closer.

“I watched as he chased after you. And all you did was keep running away. You always expected him to be right behind you. And now you are angry that he got tired and has given up on the thought of ever trying to please you.”

Again, she took another shuffling step forward. Her hair swayed slightly with each step. Her grip tightened, knuckles beginning to bleach in color at her side. Her voice continued to tremble as she spoke.

“You were wretched. You were impossible. You were selfish, loathsome, and downright parasitic. And as your friend, I said nothing. Then he left you and came to me.”

With her final step, the tip of the blade pressed up against Gemina’s abdomen. Valarra blinked as Gemina stood in front of her, eyes still downcast toward the ground.

“You want to blame everyone for what you have done to yourself. The rest of the world was to bend to your will, for no other reason than your selfish wants. And now this, you threatening me with your weapon. I was scared of this moment. Of what you would do when you found out. But now…”

Gemina’s head snapped up in a swift jerk. It wasn’t fear that was burning in her eyes, but anger. A white hot anger.

“What are you waiting for?!” Gemina shouted, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Run me through! Take your sword and end this! Take what you believe to be yours!”

Valarra stared dumbfounded. She hadn’t expected this outcome at all. She had expected Gemina to back down, to slink away. Valarra had always been stronger, louder, and more belligerent. She felt pressure on her blade increase as Gemina leaned against it.

“Well?! Get on with it then! You pulled out your sword! Use it! Or are you nothing but words?”

Gemina’s eyes locked onto Valarra’s. For that second, the rest of the world melted away and it was just two of them. No ambient noise, no dirt roads, no Damion. And once, just this once, Gemina had the upper hand. There was nothing that could be done. She smacked the blade aside and this time it was Valarra that dropped her gaze to the ground.

“As your friend, I will now tell you this. We will continue on, Damion and I. Either live with that or turn that blade on yourself.”

The Bland Blues (WoW stuffs)

So now I'm a bit stuck when it comes to the roleplaying that I'm doing with my guild. Here is the tug of war that I am having right now. My character is quite simplistic and very much a blank slate. I made her that way in order for her to be able to fit into any story line. My guild mates on the other hand have quite the story going on. Drama, drama and more drama. I feel a bit left out, having a character that really has little to contribute to these epic story lines. So the obvious solution would be for me to create some type of drama for my character as well. Why not, right? House Silvacce is full of folks whose brains are only being held together by threads anyway. I would fit right in.


But here is my problem with that. I don't want to be that person who runs up and steals the spotlight just to be an attention whore. I want there to be a legitimate reason for all eyes to be on my character. Also I always fall into the pot hole of things being too over dramatic, like my character all of the sudden has become the star of her own crazy soap opera. And it will have nothing to do with anyone else, I just feel like it would be a great story in my own head. And anyone who has roleplayed in WoW and has had to sit through someone else's diatribe that you could not care less about knows exactly how painful that can be.  I have been in that situation more times than I care to remember, where you feel like a trapped animal who is contemplating chewing their leg off in order to escape. I never want to be the person who is the cause of that.


So I reign myself in and sit and listen to everyone else carry, secretly wishing that had something just as entertaining to spout off as well. But I want to be something that is different (well at least different from everyone else around my character so far). I am just not sure what that thing is, at all. I'm sure that if I had more time to devout to thinking about my character, I could come with something decent. But like I stated before, any time my academic side gets out of hand, my creative side suffers for it.


I am playing around with a few ideas, so I am hoping that something pans out in the near future and I can start building a story around it. An interesting one that my other guildmates can participate in (when we aren't being attacked by kraken and swindled by goblins. Khyrza, if you are reading this, I love you. But I hate your bore worms). Anyway, back to the study cave.

Daily Write - And Then You

I prided myself on having all the answers. On being able to figure out any situation and fix it right there on the spot. And then you.


There was no room for self doubt. I was confident in just about every move I made in life. And then you.


There was no second guessing, everything was a straight path in front of me. I had a handle on this thing called life. No tripping up, no stumbling about, I had everything calculated to the precise moment in time. And then you.


You make me unsure, you make me afraid. You make me forget about everything that I did yesterday. Nothing I ever was matters now that you are here. I feel like I'm starting over, but in what, I have absolutely no idea.


I look at those eyes staring back at me and I wonder to myself if I can do anything right any more. You have taken this tower of confidence and reduced it to nothing but frustrated and unsure rubble. 


Ever since you came into my world, all I can do is worry. Will I get it right? How bad will I mess up? I have no answers, no pragmatic step by step guide. For the first time in a long time, I feel lost. And I don't like this feeling.


And then my wife looks at me and smiles while I hold you in my arms. 


"You are going to make a great daddy."




For those of you who don't know, Karl Kerschl became a new father yesterday. That event is what spurred this little pseudo poem. I can only imagine what it must be like to have a small child now dependent on you. Exciting and scary at the same time.