I need to be more like that.

I’d like to change my life to live more “artistically.” To think of things from an artistic viewpoint, to delve behind surfaces and search for esoteric enigmas that aren’t readily apparent. Those currents are where I wish to be much of the time. Time to dive.

Chorus
I’m so tired
So tired of this
Stressful bullshit grind I call a life
All I want to do is shove it
Away
Out of sight
Out of mind
Out of existence

 Verse 2

But I’m not sure why I’m not OK with it. I guess I feel like my life has a certain lack of excitement to it. I work, I play video games, I am married and I have a child. I think back in college I used to think I would be doing more with my life at this point, and I feel kind of disappointed with myself. I thought I would have done something with music for one. I know it’s not too late to start, and I’m trying. But buying gear takes money. And money is tight right now. It also takes people. I’m working on trying to get some people together. It also takes discipline. Which I lack. So I’m trying to blog daily so that I can get my writing back up to par. Then hopefully I’ll have a few sets of lyrics I can use as a basis for whatever musical form they decide to take.

I think this feeling of shame that I haven’t become some big rock star or something more exciting keeps me from getting back in contact with old friends. I think there is a piece of me that is afraid that they’ll find out what I’m doing (or not doing) 10 years after college and determine that I’ve really become someone they don’t like; one of “them.” The normal people of which we always made fun of.

I don’t care about the way I look. I know I don’t need long hair or a trench coat to be different, but I don’t do anything different, either. I’ll have to visit this definition of self at a later date.

Music: I’ve been listening to Paradise Lost: Symbol of Life a lot lately. I like to sing Pray Nightfall at the top of my lungs in the car. It has a good variety of vocal styles within it, and I love the way the simple melody and lyrics are mixed together.

No More Excuses
There’s a time and place for everything
And that time and place is now

No more excuses
No more “tomorrow I’ll…”
No more flawed reasoning
No more self-denial

I miss the role-play aspect of the game, really. Blizzard has put in place a rich setting, and they have filled it out with unique characters and stories. Unfortunately, there is no system incentive for role-playing, it is simply a diversion from the main point of the game. Therefore not many people do it.

Well, I found a group that does. On the Kirin Tor server there is a group of undead that are bent on the pursuit of knowledge in their immortal state. They are a tight group of individuals with strict role-play rules, and that’s what I’ve been looking for. A break from the constant grinding (there is nothing new anymore for me) to do some in-depth role-play.

So here is my story. It’s recieved a lot of attention on the boards, and I’m proud of it. It’s nice to kick something creative out for a change since I’ve been so drained lately. Enjoy.

The third son of a minor lord in the beautiful land of the Tirisfal Glades, I enjoyed every minute of my life. Rolling green hills, lush fields full of bountiful maize and beans, the healthy stink of manure fertilizing while providing evidence of the meat we called prosperity.  

I couldn’t inherit, so I went into the ministry as many third sons do. The Light was kind to me my entire life, and to everyone I grew up knowing and loving. Until the return of Arthas.  

Arthas did not only murder the king, his father, but he raped my homeland. He brought death and destruction in his wake like the storm surrounding a blast of lightning. He devoured the soul of my home.  

I did what I was bound to do. I fought Arthas and his wake of evil alongside my brothers in the Light. As our forces were all but completely destroyed, I fled to my family farm. There I saw unliving skeletons smashing and burning everything my family had built over the centuries, and I saw ghouls devouring the still living, still breathing, still screaming bodies of my mother, my father, my sisters, and my brothers.  

Through tears of rage, and with a final prayer, I conjured a shield and charged into the fray. I knew my family would die, but I chose to die with them. As the ghouls tore my body apart, bloody chunk by bloody chunk, I lost all feeling. The world darkened about me as the Light forsook me, and I managed a smile at my last thought; “Here I die. Without the Light, but in my home. Where I belong.”  

Some indeterminable time later, the hunger awoke me.  

It was nearly dusk, and the smoke had begun to settle on the hamlet. It felt like I was very far away inside, and the only thing immediate on my mind was the hunger. I could smell them. I could smell the sweat that dripped off of their bodies as they toiled to rebuild. I could smell the blood every time they caught a splinter from the wreckage. Then I heard a voice inside me that was not my own; a voice that was deep, resonating, and raspy give me a single command: Feed. I did. I ran from shadow to shadow, between the wrecked buildings, and with an animal cunning I pounced on each and every person. No matter how many I devoured, I was never sated. The hunger still throbbed within me. Though my mind, deep within my being, screamed out in horror and writhed against the cage for each murder my mangled form committed, it did no good. And each act was stitched into my memory.  

I traveled through my homeland, destroying and killing what was left of everything I had loved in life. Where there were those trying to rebuild, I devoured them and tore their works down. The Lich King commanded me, and I obeyed. I had no choice. I did heinous, despicable, and depraved things to the people and place I had always known as home. And I remember it all.  

One day I heard another voice, a soft, melodic, and consoling voice. One so different from the one I had for so long called master. I heard the pain in her voice and knew that she was just like me. She told me that I didn’t have to listen to the Lich King anymore. That I no longer would be forced to do anything. ANYTHING. That I now had my freedom. The word still echoes in my mind every time I close my eyes even to this day. My Dark Mistress commands the shadows, and the shadows saved me when the Light could not protect me and mine.  

I make this pledge: from this day forward, I dedicate myself to understanding the manipulation of Shadow, and with it I will serve my Queen with my will and my choice. I will make those who force their will upon others suffer like they never knew existed. I will champion the ideals that were stripped from me in my slavery. The Scarlet Crusade will suffer as I did. Those of the
Alliance who molest and repress my brothers and sisters in the Horde will know my fury. The Scourge will know no mercy once my rage is unleashed. I will do all of this in my own power.  

With the Shadow as my witness; this I swear. 

So my consulting group had this new project all lined up, and they botched it somehow. I don’t know how, but in the 11th hour of contract negotiations they somehow managed to fuck it up. So now I’m back doing the same old shit and it drives me batty! I’m so pissed about this I can’t even articulate beyond profanity. I was going to be jumping from the labs to the production area on a cool project team, and BAM. End of story. How does this shit happen? I’m so tired of contracting/consulting. This shit is for the birds. There is no continuity whatsoever! It sounds like the manager is gambling with people’s lives and livelihoods over a stupid fee. My opinion of this manager, which was positive up to this point, has just taken a dive into a pool with no water.

On an up note, my headaches seem to be gone for now. I wonder if they were related to consumption of chocolate or use of Flonase. Both could be possibilities. I did use both last night, though, as an experiment. My head hurts a little today, but it isn’t that bad yet. It could be the weather as well again since a storm is moving through.

I’m glad it’s Thursday even though I’ll be spending the weekend entertaining Kate’s parents and helping Rae and Gus move. It’ll be better and more rewarding than doing anything at this chicken-shit outfit.

Have a nice day.

 Traffic was terrible today. It’s very strange and hard to predict. I take back roads to work in order to avoid freeway traffic, but today I was backed up at a light for at least 4 cycles. I couldn’t even see the intersection from where I had to stop when I first arrived at the light. It makes me think sometimes that other people take back roads when the day is nice and the freeway when it isn’t. Who knows, though. There is so much construction going on in the summer that people may just be avoiding that.

I heard an article on NPR this morning that Vioxx causes heart risk even after you stop taking it. They haven’t determined why yet, but it may have to do with a general weaking of the arteries. It’s scary, though, considering how closely related to Bextra and Celebrex it is. Pfizer, of course, hasn’t released any news on Bextra or Celebrex studies. Bloody bastards. I hope they rot in hell.

My mood today is almost like night and day difference from yesterday. It’s nice.

I really have nothing important to say, however.

As promised, remember to read my disclaimer.