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July 11, 2015

We all know more than we realize. I found this in one of my journals and it floors me to see I’d scribbled it out more than a year ago.

Words themselves cannot describe – at least not with precision – the joy I feel in our simple moments. The ease of the quiet in our shared space, the content of feeling loved and secure. The small things we take for granted until such time as we must live life without them. Then we know their true value. Then we cherish them. All this happiness, born simply of a quiet moment where we are all focused on separate entertainments, that I feel I cannot properly express. So far be it from my ability to venture an attempt to accurately portray my emotion regarding the beauty in those moments of greater complexity; a wordy discussion about a shared interest, a fanciful verbal dream about the unknown. An assurance of love, a joint stream of tears.

I will miss this place. I will miss your voices. I will miss the way each embrace feels like home. I will miss the simple, I will miss the complex. The silly, the serious. The trials, the love.

Oh, how I will miss you when I am gone.

DC: Disappointing Comic (Adaptions)

For those of you who have not seen Dawn of Justice and do not wish to be spoiled in the slightest, please do not read any further. I won’t be spoiling the movie entirely, only referencing a few things here and there. But, if you’re a purist (like me), this post isn’t for you. Yet. 🙂

Please also be aware that this post will reference several published DC comics as well as a few references to all released Marvel movies, comics, and previous iterations of the Batman franchise in movie form.

Continue reading DC: Disappointing Comic (Adaptions)

“You didn’t have to come.”

You didn’t have to come. It might, even, have been better if you hadn’t. Yes, the miles went by faster when we strode in tandem. Yes, the nights were warmer with you beside me. Yes, you built fires faster than I did. Yes, the empty spaces from place to place were better filled with our conversations. But, no. I can’t say it was worth it. That, I think, is for you to decide.

You didn’t have to come. I didn’t want you to come. But I didn’t want to be apart from you, either. I suspect that fact was true for you, too, and that’s why you joined me on the road not one full day after I left. But that selfishness – yours pushing you to me and mine not begging you to return home – had a price neither of us wanted to pay. I know I wasn’t willing to. I can’t imagine that you were.

Now, time is slow. Now, even the day is cold; even when the sun is out. I won’t complain about the frigid nights and how I can’t sleep, for I know it isn’t the cold keeping me awake. Now, campfires are built at my pace. I always start a little sooner, just to be sure it’s up and crackling before dark. But, even now, I can fill this empty space with my voice, talking to you. You didn’t have to come and now you’re not here. Now it’s as if you didn’t come at all. I’ll imagine it was a dream. I’ll imagine you’re back at home, waiting anxiously for my return. Warm in your bed at night. Smiling in the sun during the day. I’ll imagine you filling your empty spaces with your own voice, talking to me.

Mile after mile waits ahead. And then mile after mile after mile after mile back, towards home. Maybe by then I can forget the truth. Or, perhaps, I can at least decide if it’s worth going back to a home where you no longer live.

Excuuuuuuuuuuse me, princes!

Ever since the first rumors of gender customization for the upcoming Zelda U game breached the internet, I’ve seen waves around me. I ignored them, post after post. But this particular tide isn’t ebbing. People are debating wether or not having something like a gender option is going to “ruin” the Legend of Zelda franchise. To those of you who are freaking out about this, please simmer the fuck down. Wanna play as a male character named Link as you always have? Great! Regardless of the rumors, this will surely still be an option. Maybe in Skyward Sword you wanted NPCs to call you Hero of Farts instead of Link and in Twilight Princess you named your horse Bullseye instead of Epona. No one fucking cares. It doesn’t fucking matter. Claiming the entire franchise – which has been morphing into an RPG slowly over time – is doomed because Nintendo might give the option to play as a female character is asinine. If you’re willing to abandon LoZ because of this change, okay. Goodbye! The fewer bigoted and entitled assholes in my fandom, the better.

I’ve been playing the games in this series essentially since I could hold a controller. I’m the Legendary Hero. I’m the Hero of Hyrule, Time, and Winds. I’m the Goddesses’ Chosen. For what it’s worth, I’m someone who has never played a single game in the franchise without Link’s name*. Someone whose Link amiibo is named Link and wears the traditional green tunic. How I will play Zelda U or how anyone else will play Zelda U is of no consequence. People who balk at the idea of options – especially those aiming to include other persons – need to take a step back and evaluate their outrage. Also, please stop using the argument, “BUT IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN THIS WAY AND THAT IS HOW IT SHOULD ALWAYS BE!” Unless, of course, you’d like to abandon technology, modern medicine, etc. Evolution and growth are inherent to existence.

I’ll leave you with Aonuma’s own words from 2007. (Source)

“When a player is playing a Zelda game, my desire is for the player to truly become Link — that’s why we named him Link, so the player is linked to the game and to the experience.”

Did you get all that?


*When I was little and first playing the original Legend of Zelda, I thought I was playing as Zelda, given the title of the game. (8-bit is the true genderless form!) My file was saved with my initials, too, as my brother’s was “Link.”

Admitted Fluff

I know, I know. I’ve been slacking. I’ve had a lot going on in my personal life and I’ve needed moments to breathe rather than to write. But I have every intention of posting enough in the days to come in order to compensate for the posts I’ve missed, which will put me back on the track of having one post per (full) week of 2016.

So, I’m still doing what I said I would do. Technically. Mmm, loopholes!

This week I have a visual poem, of sorts, from (surprise) a class assignment. So, to compensate for the fact that I didn’t write much for the post, I’m also doing one of those silly get-to-know-me memes. That’s sort of like content. 😛

Favorite wing sauce? Rub?
One of my favorite places to get wings has an amazing Pineapple Curry sauce. Lemon Pepper is almost always a delicious rub no matter where I am for wings.

Favorite number?
16, which is the date of my birth – so, super original. I also have a penchant for the numbers 3 and 7 (not necessarily in a positive way), as well as a compulsion for even numbers and multiples of 5.

Favorite place to shop?
Online. From home. In my pajamas. With tea.

Croutons or Bacon Bits?
This is a devil question, as I will of course have both.

Can you juggle?
A ridiculous number of responsibilities likely due to my habitual but unintentional procrastination? Yes. Objects in the air? No.

Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of a bees?
My family has a history of being allergic to bee stings and I have never been stung, so I do not at present know if I’m allergic myself or not. But I’ve also seen The Revenant so this is a terrifying question. A swarm of bees, near a hospital.

What is your Song of the Week?
“Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” by Daft Punk.

Is it okay for guys to wear pink?
It is okay for everyone to wear whatever the hell they want!

What do you dip a chicken nugget in?
Ketchup, honey, or BBQ sauce. Or Thai Chili sauce. Oh, or plum sauce!

Were you ever a boy/girl scout?
Daisy and Brownie!

What is your Chinese astrological sign?
Fire Tiger, represent!

Which are better LEGOs or Lincoln Logs?
LEGOs, 5evur.

Hot tea or cold tea?

Do you have a talent you’re particularly proud of?
I’ve been told on several occasions by multiple people that I make others feel comfortable, accepted, and at ease; that makes me feel amazing.

Does your loyalty outweigh all odds when it comes to your friends?
Not anymore. I’ve learned (the very hard way) that my loyalty to others has to come second to my loyalty to myself. (In other words, not staying close to people who hurt me/abuse said loyalty.)

Are you sensitive to the events around you?

What’s the last book you read?
Gloria Steinem’s My Life On The Road.

What image do you have set for your cell phone wallpaper?
This adorableness:







Have you ever cheated on a significant other?


Do you think flowers or candy are a better way to apologize?
I think a sincere apology is the best way to apologize.

Jedi or Sith?

Talk about a little thing on your body that you like.
I have Preauricular Ear Holes on both ears and I absolutely adore them.

I think that’s plenty, at least for now. Without further ado, here’s “WYWH”:


February: A Highlight Reel

I thought I would take a break from posting work and write an actual blog. Life has been equally eventful and uneventful for me, so let’s catch up!

Join Or Die started last month and I’ve loved every moment of it so far. I have to admit my slight disappointment that the show only has a half-hour block, but, I know – television with thinky parts aren’t something the general population enjoys. I would love for the show to be a full hour with more in-depth discussions. I am certainly biased, though, as I could listen to Craig Ferguson talk for hour after hour after hour. I can’t express how thrilled I am to have Craig monologuing before the week’s debate actually begins. It’s my most-missed potion of the Late Late Show. It isn’t quite the same, to be sure, but it’s something. And the plethora of puns on social media being used to promote the show are filling the gap in my heart left empty by the absence of Deadpool’s glorious marketing.

Speaking of Deadpool! The movie was amazing. No worries, I’ll keep this spoiler-free. All I really have to say is that I loved it and you should go see it (again) immediately. Ryan Reynolds is to Deadpool what Robert Downey Jr. is to Iron Man, and this was the first non-MCU Marvel movie that I felt a ridiculous amount of love for. I have enjoyed others outside the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but I always feel like they’re one or two pieces shy of a full puzzle. Deadpool filled me completely and left me entirely satisfied, albeit wanting more. (“Diiiiirty,” as Brendan would say.) I think on some level it’s just incredibly satisfying to have an actual “grown-up” superhero movie.

Valentine’s Day has come and gone, and this was my first year ever celebrating (with any amount of significance) alongside a companion. This year I also dressed even more to the occasion than I normally do:


It didn’t turn out quite as I’d hoped it would, and capturing a photo of it proved difficult, but Brendan was gracious enough to dye my hearts pink and that’s good enough. 😉

At the beginning of February, he and I made the grave but wonderful decision to start collecting and playing with Pokémon cards. A revisit for him and a first for me, but I’m already completely obsessed. We’ve both gotten our Mew sets and the Toys R Us exclusive foil card for this month.


I also (finally) got my hands on Alpha Sapphire, spurned on by his acquiring Omega Ruby and his first 3DS. Originally, he wasn’t terribly keen to own a 3DS but I think my constant playing of mine – plus the lure of Pokémon – was simply too much to say no to. 😛
And when your boyfriend sends you Pokémon, wonderful and adorable surprises happen:


We’ve both finally submitted to the allure of amiibo figures and started training them in Super Smash Bros. Between us, we have Greninja, Mewtwo, Pikachu, and Princess Peach (SSB edition). I, of course, had to give my amiibo silly names.


After last week’s Nintendo Direct, I’m soooo stoked to be able to get Isabelle later this year without having to get the bundle she’s currently a part of. My collection won’t take very long to grow, that’s for sure!

Speaking of figures and the like, Rey’s Speeder is now complete, ready to adorn my home. I haven’t quite figured out where she’ll go, but I absolutely adore this LEGO set!


One of the new Star Wars sets with BB-8 is next on my purchase list, but that will be off in the future a bit, given the cost of both. (Poe’s X-Wing Fighter and the new Millennium Falcon sets are the only two with BB-8, at present).

On a final note about figures, the green blind egg packages of various Links and Zeldas (Of which I collected all but Skyward Sword Link, dammit.) did a terrifying job of packaging Skyward Sword Zelda, and soon after assembling her, Brendan accidentally dropped her, furthering this traumatic experience into therapy-level stress.


Moving away from all my geekery, I also began cultivating my very own (very first) sourdough starter last month, and it went ever better than I expected it to!


Bubble, bubble, bubble. I made a pie crust but the recipe wasn’t what I expected, so I think I might dig around for another one to test out. I got it into my head that a Shepherd’s Pie with a sourdough crust would be amazing, so I’m determined to perfect a recipe of my own. Until then, I’m looking forward to making my first loaf of sourdough bread this coming week.

This has quickly become a photo dump, so I’ll leave you with one more; big, beautiful, and blue from my walk downtown last week to meet my friend Angelina for lunch.


I’ve been working temporarily as an office manager for a few weeks, too, bridging the gap between my last thing and my next thing. I’ve been patiently waiting (mostly) for that next thing, and soon I’ll know more about it. I’m so excited and hope that there will be good news I can share soon.

The Water Way

My past is a lake
Your questions excavate
A shallow memory, a deep wound
You dredge, I dread
Sediment and sentiment
I reflect

My past has a mirror
It ripples and foams
My image cracks
Waves crest
But you are steady

No bower, no breach
No qualm, no quarantine
Just a tranquil harbor
Where the docks are open arms

Sunsets and Ghosts

The week before last I had such a wee bit of writing (of what I felt comfortable posting, anyway) that I felt like holding it over and posting it with last week’s piece, as I was quite certain it, too, would be rather small. It was, but I managed to forget to post the them. Hah! So now they’re getting posted together a bit late, as this week I have a different sort of entry.

“Sunset at Spindle” is a brief setting description from a science fiction novel I’ve been rolling around in my head for years and “The Girl’s Ghost” is observational fiction.

Sunset at Spindle

The dusty used-to-be-bright-white panels of the base’s shell were still a stark comparison to the terrain of Pytor’s Burg. But this rocky, muted area of the planet held its own beauty, if you knew where to look for it and how to see it. Whenever dust rolled in the wind, it was sure to glitter as it passed you. Like fresh snow, it swirled with more magic than logic. The rocks, too, were full of an ethereal shimmer. Spindle Base hung above a large canyon, nestled into the top and side of a small mountain. The pathways created by human and RACH-E droids alike looked as though they had always been a part of the land, weaving down into the research field below. Perhaps the only thing with an out of place feeling was the rudimentary pulley system in use to ease the comings and goings of samples and supplies from the base to the field. It’s noon, but the sun has almost set completely. Cooler air weaves its way though the canyon and encourages the workers to stop for a bite to eat and begin running the large spotlights. Some grumble and brush the planet’s dust off their clothing. Others, not yet jaded by the work set before them, pay the settled dust no mind. Either way, this was home now.


The Girl’s Ghost

Everywhere she went, the ghost followed. It set her eyes over her shoulder in the coffee house and chilled her spine whenever it was exposed to open space. She could feel it lurking behind every corner and creeping to her heels. She had to keep her guard up at all times. A pocket knife and pepper spray bumped against each other in her handbag. Her gaze darted from place to place, ever aware of possibility. Opportunity. Chance. She took the corner booth in the back of the pub. Two walls, a table, and one open side. That felt best. And it was dim. There was din. She was hiding in plain sight, visible to everyone and no one. She sipped ginger ale in an effort to keep her wits where she wanted them, but took it with a slice of lime. Maybe to make it look like the typical alcoholic fare. Maybe she just liked it that way.
But then the door opens and snow sweeps into the bar, heralding the arrival of the ghost. He is solid, tall, and lean. His features are as dark as his hair; black and sharp, this man is no specter. But, our girl? She’s as white as the snow.



To any pair of eyes, it would seem the road ahead stretches into emptiness forever. Barren lands reach out to the horizon all around me, except for the road ahead and the road behind. There, hot and unforgiving asphalt shines under the summer sun. When I was young, having a summertime birthday was more than I could hope for. Pools, beaches, Disney World; it didn’t really matter where I celebrated my birthday, but it always ended up being somewhere fun.

Had I kept my young eyes, the brown land around me would be an adventure. I’d be a passenger in this car, staring out the window, imaging myself astride a horse and galloping towards the setting sun. But my eyes were old before I, as a whole, could be named in kind. Death followed me too soon and too close, but always skipped me. I buried my parents while in my 20s, just after returning from Vietnam. It’s a child’s duty, I suppose, to bury their parents. I just hadn’t expected it to come so soon. When I was blessed with the company of a smart, beautiful woman who became my wife, I had to part with her earlier than I wished, too. The only child we ever conceived together died in my arms shortly after being born. Some kind of heart condition, the doctor told us. That gave us a heart condition of our own. My wife, especially. I tried to find and hold any light I could grasp in that dark place, but Catherine was never the same after that. A logical person might think it dramatic to say she died of heartbreak, but that’s what I believe. She passed away at 32 years of age on what would have been – should have been – our son’s fifth birthday.

Her green eyes haunt my peripheral vision. We used to drive this way together every summer, even after the baby, to see the coastline the one time a year we were able to. It had become tradition somewhere along the way. There were years we could barely afford it, but my wife always made sure, somehow, that we saw the ocean for my birthday. After she died, I kept the tradition on my own. I sorta figure she’d like that. My first year alone, I took her ashes with me. I buckled her into the front seat, where she belonged, and even talked to her on the way. The ocean took her remains and my tears.

So my old eyes stare out at the empty road ahead. It’s a long and lonely path without her, but I’ve done it so many years that driving there is automatic. Like a bird flying south for the winter, I steer east for the summer. I find myself wondering who will bring me here when I’ve died. I want my ashes in the sea. I want my ashes with her. But I have no one now who’ll add their salt to the sea over my passing.

I see stars beginning to twinkle in the sky as the sun disappears. As if on cue, an exit sign pops up on the side of the road where a moment ago there was only horizon. I bet it’s for the Days Inn we always stopped at. Moments later, I see that it is. This is my stop for the night.

The blue eyes of the man at the desk greet me without emotion, but I smile at him anyway. There’s someone new here every single year, but they all seem to possess the same exact disdain for their job. Can’t say as I blame ‘em. So, I smile, even though I can’t really think of a reason to.

My eyes meet their reflection in the mirror of the bathroom I will, for twelve hours, call my own. I think about how we should have stayed in the same room every year. I’m not sure why it’s important. I think again about selling everything I have left back home and moving out to the beach, or at least closer to it. But then I’d lose the journey. I sit my old bones down on the bed and reconsider how much journey I have left in me as my joints protest my every move. Gingerly, I recline. Softly, I sigh.

Tears form in my eyes. I’m a day behind schedule. I left too late. Today is my birthday and I’m still miles from the ocean. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel wet sand between my toes as I age another year. Sitting back up, I look towards the ceiling. In my mind, I can see the stars I know are there. In my mind, I imagine my lost loved ones looking down at me. “Will it be all right?” I want to ask. I know the answer. I clean up for bed and set an early alarm for tomorrow morning. Then I creak and crack my way into the most comfortable position I can manage.

I close my eyes. And, although I have just turned seventy, I feel I have been this old for a very long time.