Favorite MMO dies.
What next?
My car breaks down while out looking for a job, cost $80 to have it towed home, have no idea what it will take to fix. I hate my life.
It is with a collection of heavy hearts that we report that Earth: 2025 will soon be coming to an end. For some time now it has been a constant struggle to keep this game running on what is extremely old architecture, and the problems have just been getting exponentially worse. Sadly, it has finally reached the stage where the game has simply become impossible to maintain any further.
Blah blah blah....
First a rejection letter and now my favorite online game is being shut down. This fucking sucks.
Dear Mr. George, Thank you for submitting Lunar Scars to Ace books. I apologize for the delayed response, as you may imagine we have many queries to go through and not much time to go through them. I appreciate the opportunity to read your submission, but I'm sorry to say that in the current crowded market, this does not sound to me like a book that we can make into a success. I do wish you the best of luck with other publishers, and thank you again for thinking of us. Regrets and best wishes, The Editorial Staff Ace / Roc Science Fiction & Fantasy
These things are so depressing to get. This one isn't the first, and probably not the last I'll ever get, just the most recent. =[
I'm just going to go curl up into a little ball with a bottle of cheap alcohol now.
- Mood:
crappy
Suspended Driver's Liscense
Expired Inspection sticker (expired 3 years ago)
No proof of insurance
Two warrants for my arrest
and whatever the cop pulled me over for.... he never said.
I didn't even get a ticket.
I'm not a cute girl with big boobs, in fact, I'm a dude that looks in no way innocent or otherwise physical that would get me out of the trouble. How did I do this? I was bitten by a spider that contained fragments of the allspark imbued with the mutagen that created the ninja turtles.
Slightly more to the point:
When a schitzoprenic that hasn't been taking his medication walks into a crowded room with an automatic weapon and starts blasting, we still lock his ass up. We don't say "Oh, he's just ill," and go about our business.
Now the the point:
Watch these two clips.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hRbgRffXv
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IeEGPe2q
As you can see, the girl has some issues, whether they are from her biploar or not or even if she has the condition is not what I'm taking issue with. My problem is that in the second video the girl's mom attributes the girl's outburst to her bipolar disorder. She also states that the girl was diagnosed years ago and has not been taking her medication.
We're suddenly supposed to excuse her idiocy because she's ill? No! We don't let people spray shopping malls with AK-47's and my boss doesn't excuse me showing up for work late. Those are the two extreme ends of the spectrum, that aren't accepted. Her verbal attack on that poor old lady shouldn't be swept under the rug either. She chose to not take her medication, she probably scarred that poor woman, now she's in jail. Sounds pretty straight forward to me.
It's unfortunate for the girl that she's now the laughing stock of youtube, but she is under no circumstance the victim in this situation. Her entire ordeal can be traced back to her concious decision to not take her meds.
- Mood:
annoyed
I got her when I was living by myself in Alabama. I wanted somebody to come home to that would be happy to see me no matter how late it was. I saw a sign at a flea market on the way home one day that said free puppies and stopped. I never named my dog because I thought she wouldn't have a name for me, other than arf arf.
She chewed through the wiring for my surround sound once. I was mad at the time, but now that I think about it, I don't really care about the speakers. She could always tell when I had a bad day at work, I guess it had something to do with if I smelled like I'd had a cigarette or not. (I don't usually smoke btw). She kept me safe from the guys that came out to read the electric and water meters and anyone else that showed up at my place.
No matter how poor I might have been, I always made sure my dog had food to eat, even if that meant I had to eat ramen noodles. I got into a shouting match with some PETA activist once about keeping my dog outside instead of in the house. He thought it wasn't fair to keep her out in the heat while I sit in the airconditioning. I told him that it was mean to keep her cooped up in the house away from other dogs and to get mad when she makes a mess on the floor. I have no regrets about keeping her outside, despite that it was this that killed her. She died a free animal and she came back to my house because she loved me, not because I had her caged.
Good by my dog, I hope that if dogs reincarnate, you come back again to make somebody else happy.
I'm in houston and we are attacked by the stay puft marshmallow man from ghost busters. it pretty much rips the town a new one... I wasn't terrified like in a nightmare, it was more like an adventure. some girl I don't recognize was with me and two other dudes. we scatter when we notice it's after us and I run into my dad and my uncles (who don't speak to each other btw) and they have this plan to go out into the bay of houston with a big yellow inflatable raft.
I'm 11 years old again and am put on a girl's soccer team as the goalie. I was a terrible goalie in RL (center midfielder 4 life!), but managed to shut out the other team completely, and we won despite that my team was terrible and none of the girls pulled their hair back before the game which caused them to screw up just about every pass I made.
If anyone out there is like one of those dream diagnosis people, I'd love to know what my subconcious is trying to tell me.
Scene 1:
Censor devastates a Evil Empire Garrison for not obvious reason.
No dialog other than unintelligable screaming.
Flash intro for both Sarge and Censor
Scene 2:
Sarge and some grunts sitting in a bar talkng about the attack.
Grunt 1: It was awful. I've heard stories, but...
Bartender: Another hero, eh? Was it the flashy blue one or the little one with claws?
Grunt 1: The little one with claws.
Bartender: I retired because of him.
Sarge: Quit crying. You lived. Ed, turn on the TV!
*Natalie clip starts on TV*
*Scattered clammoring for a spot near TV*
Sarge: What the hell is this?
Grunt 2: Shut up, Natalie is on!
Sarge: She's not real, she's a cartoon, you'll never get in her pants.
Grunt 1: We can dream.
Sarge: Screw it, I'm gonna be late.
Grunt 1 and Grunt 2 (chanting): Sarge's got a date! Sarge's got a date! Sarge's got a date!
Scene 3:
The Blur crouches near a rundown warehouse watching Evil Empire agents enter.
Flash Blur's intro (think a blue and clumsy version of the flash from DC)
Flash Dr. Virgil's intro (under funded genetic engineer for Evil Empire)
Blur storms in with his blazing speed, runs into the wall near a guard
Guard: You alright there? Let me help you up.
Blur: Uh, thanks.
Guard: First night here?
Blur: Yeah. *making a fist*
Guard: Be glad you got here when you did; it's about to start. Come on.
*Blur and Guard walk into the warehouse*
*guard walks to the front of the group*
1st RULE: You do not talk about SPELLING CLUB.
2nd RULE: You DO NOT talk about SPELLING CLUB.
3rd RULE: If someone spells "stop" or goes limp, taps out the spelling bee is over.
4th RULE: Only two guys to a spelling bee.
5th RULE: One bee at a time.
6th RULE: No shirts, no shoes.
7th RULE: Spelling Bees will go on as long as they have to.
8th RULE: If this is your first night at SPELLING CLUB, you HAVE to spell.
*scattered shouting*
Out of focus guy and guy with the glasses, you're up first!
Blur: What?
Guard: Alright, Four-eyes, spell choreography.
Dr. Virgil: choreography, uh, C H O... R E O... G R A P H Y choreography.
*Scattered applause*
Sarge: YEAH! Nailed that silent H!
Guard: Alright, quiet. Out of focus guy, spell paraphernalia.
Blur: Uh... Can you put it in a sentence?
Guard: Alright. Some vigilante in a goofy costume seized all of my drug paraphernalia.
Blur: Um, can I poll the audience?
Guard: No.
Blur: Can I be given a 50/50 between a right spelling and a wrong spelling?
Guard: No.
Blur: Can I phone a friend?
Guard: No. This is not the millionaire game.
Blur: Uh...
Guard: I need a spelling.
Blur: Paraphernalia, P... A R... A... Seven...nalia. Paraphernalia.
Guard: I'm sorry, that is incorrect.
Scene 4:
Blur is crying at a bar with Censor trying to comfort him. Grunts seen in background watching TV with Natalie on
Blur: It was awful, the guy totally kicked my ass.
Censor: *unintelliable speaking sounds*
Blur: You didn't see it though. It was a whole group of them, and I got beaten by the little nerdy one.
Censor: *unintelliable speaking sounds, turns away from Blur.*
Blur: No, I didn't mean it like that. Come on.
Censor: *unintelliable speaking sounds, faces Blur again*
Blur: I followed one to a secret hideout, but I can't tell you about it.
Censor: *single syllable*
Blur: Yeah. The first two rules of spelling club are that I can't tell you about it. eh, shit, I just told you about it.
Censor: *single syllable*
Blur: Yeah, spelling club.
Censor: *falls over laughing*
Blur: Shut up!
Censor: *laughing hysertically*
*Blur throws Censor through the ceiling*
Scene 5:
Alien couple are sitting in their UFO with the wife holding a map and looking angry.
Subtitles:
Wife: We should stop for directions
Husband: You'd like that wouldn't you, but we're not lost.
*Censor collides with the alien craft, blinky red lights flash on the controls*
*the ship crashes killing both aliens and damaging some kid's sportscar that looks like movie bumblebee*
Kid: What the hell? Who's going to pay for that? I can probably pound that out, and then buff out the scratches.
*hammer and wrench sounds*
*zoom out, kid standing next to iron man-ish armor*
Kid: Uh, oops.
*Black Car drives up, men in suits get out*
Man: I'm with the Emergency Advanced Technology and Super Human Interference Team. I'd like to have a word with you.
Kid: What? How do you remember all of that?
Man: You have had contact with alien technology. *agent simmons ish rant*
Duh level: 8.7
Involved: Me, my laptop.
Result: Losing a day of work on my book (including some snappy dialog between Martin and Coyote)
Learned: Change power settings back to normal before leaving Starbucks. "Always On" disables the low battery power down auto-save features of most applications. Press the little floppy disk icon at the top of the screen before leaving anyway.
http://www.cyberspacei.com/englishwiz/li
useful information about names, zodiac, wordplay
http://www.pantheon.org/areas/folklore/f
"encyclopedia mythica" very helpful when shopping for ideas, although not always informative and follow up research is usually needed. Note: If doing research on Native American lore here, the articles are usually named for the Native American words,
Unrelated, find information about Bardi (Jackal spirit from Turkish folklore).
Wikipedia entry- useless. had one sentence. Ditto for most other websites. it wouldn't have been so bad if they all had a different sentence and this was like putting together a puzzle, but they all had the same sentence.
So I figured I would out smart the beast and just get a smaller notebook to write in. As you can see, my plan worked perfectly.
Here's just another shot of the cat taking another nap.
The Starbucks here is not open 24/7. They close at 10:30pm and do not reopen until 6:00am. That is 7 and a half hours that I cannot get Starbucks. I will hunt down the bastards responsible for such an outrage and then wish I had the nerve to yell at them, but probably just beg them to be open longer.
Considering what I get at Starbucks is easy to make and cheap, I could just make it on my own during that seven and a half hours. You know what is missing if I do that? The cute blonde that makes the drink. I don't have one of those. I don't have cute *insert other hair color here* either. In fact, you can scratch the word cute from it also. I'm not saying I have an ugly girl living with me. I'd settle for that if she could make Starbucks, but I don't have an ugly girl either.
This is just another instance of The Man trying to keep me down. Starbucks is making fun of me for being lazy and single. It's one giant conspiracy.
(This rant is not meant to be taken seriously)
There is little for me to correct at this point, but I can see that you're still wrestling with the ending. Once that is done, you should be ready to submit to a publisher. Source: Last critique received from editor.
Directive from Core Processing Unit: Start anti-viral sweep and purge system of all links to malicious files.
System Command: Retrieve definitions for malicious files.
Any file containing 'maybe' and 'what if' that references tasks performed by Core Processing. Any file also containing the 'should have' variable will also be treated as suspect. Source: Post-Stress Reboot Operating Protocols
System Command: Begin anti-viral sweep.
Status: 74.8% complete.
Expected time until completion: 12 minutes 31 seconds.
Directive from Core Processing Unit: Anti-viral sweep has cleared system to an acceptable level. Move sweep to background process and release control of system to entity known as 'Travis'
1) For my agent, I realize you were just following your company protocol in getting me to send my work to the editor and I have nothing against you personally.
2) For my editor, I appreciate the time you spent to critique my work and your overall positive review of it is comforting and reassuring. I have nothing against you personally either.
Now to the meaty part:
I haven't gotten a thing done with my novel since I sent my work off 3 weeks ago. Why? I get so stressed over stuff like this. I have all the confidence in the world until after I've done something. Then it's second guessing time. I get eaten alive by "maybe" and "what if" monsters.
While this work was hands down the best and most well written thing I have ever submitted and I was certain of this prior to submitting it, the "maybe" and "what if" monsters still came after me... big ones this time. It feels like their power is directly proportional to my confidence prior to submitting something. Even though I knew the time frame it would take to get it back since I've done this part before, I still checked my inbox every day for the "this work sucks, fix it" message from the editor. I think I've given myself an ulcer or something. I hate waiting for critiques.
I realize they are helpful and the ones I've gotten up to this point have helped shape my writing from the "See spot. See Spot run." level I was at when I started to the "I am slain, Horatio." level I am at now (Okay, I'm not Shakespeare, but the difference between now and when I started is like that). You'd think I'd be happier over my first critique that includes these words from the editor "There is little for me to correct at this point."
I pulled out all my hair and let my forehead meet my desk a few too many times for there to be little to correct. The only negative things in the critique were from when I was in a hurry to get the email sent before I had to leave for work and didn't have time to put a proper header and fix all the margins. What about, you know, stuff... stuff that can be corrected with the context?! I think I am going to go throw up now.
- Mood: cranky
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