Thursday, December 06, 2018

A Bit Lost

I usually spend New Year's with my uncle's family. We get together for the evening, eat some food, and go outdoor skating (our little yearly shot unadulterated Canadiana). On our way to the frozen pond I ask everyone a series of  questions to sum up the last year; best moments, favourite movies and games, biggest accomplishments, etc etc. On the way back to the house I ask about what we're looking forward to and want to accomplish over the new year. It's a nice little way to recap and look forward as the last four digits of the date roll over.

Instead of a best-of recollection and cheery look to the future, this year I'm more inclined towards holding myself accountable for where I've been and how I've arrived where I am.

I've been on three trips this year: Mexico to visit with my girlfriend's parents, back to BC to see my family, to the East Coast to see my girlfriend's parents and drive the Cabot Trail. I worked on every single one of those trips, slaving at my laptop most days and mainly just pausing over the weekend. Make hay while the sun shines, right?

Well it's been a sunny year, and I've made a stable's-worth of hay. I've kept plugging away at my main gig and tackled a few side projects along the way. At some point in the summer things had slowed down a bit and I thought, "Man, it'd be kinda nice to have a side project to chew on right about now." Then not one, not two, but four different clients came to me with work. It hasn't really let up much since then. Some times you put a thought out into the universe and it answers back with all the grace of a rollerskating elephant. It's all shit and skidmarks. But my accountant should be pretty happy with me once tax season rolls around.

I can't say it's been a satisfying year, though. Because I've been working from home, I sold my car this fall. BMWs are comfy and fun and I liked owning one, but they're a ticking time bomb of maintenance. Letting go of it was the prudent thing to do, and now I drive my girlfriend's beige-on-beige four-door Honda Accord. It's not a bad car, but it's far from special. And no matter how long or hard you drive it, it's still beige. That can't be outrun.

My clients seem pleased with the work I'm doing, pay their bills on time, and throw me more work when the opportunity arises. While my clients are happy with the work, I'm not. I'm just churning out material that I'm borderline ashamed of. Not that it's bad, it's just beige. And they're happy, and they pay, and I feel like a hack. Mind you, I've always battled this problem where I can't see my own work for what it is; I'm blind towards anything that my own hands have touched. It's really frustrating and more than a little demoralizing.

I've been busy with the huge spectrum of work and demands on my attention. I've started managing a few properties and being a personal assistant to an old woman in poor health. This past year I've been adapting to the whole concept of living with another person and sharing an engaged day-to-day life. Then there's been pysiotherapy, cooking, going to the gym, chores... I'm a busy, occupied man.

These are all just excuses, though. Excuses that feel like lies. They're all true of course, but they're a slap in the face of work integrity and diligence. You want to call me uninspired? Go for it. But I don't think that's good enough. I'm worse than uninspired, I'm apathetic and complacent in my own mediocrity.

Beige meets deadlines, doesn't attract criticism, and gets the bill paid on time. Beige is good. Beige is god.

My sketchbook has been slowly defiled away from drawing into just keeping notes. I haven't touched my mandolin in a year and a half. I don't have any passion projects, maybe because I don't have any passion. Every once in a while I take out the camera and shoot targets of opportunity, hoping that I can obscure a lack of originality and skill behind a big lens. So what does that leave me with? In-between being professionally beige, I whittle away the remnants of my life one idle click at a time. You know the dance well: Reddit, Twitter, YouTube, Feedly. Step, two, three, four. Again.

Production does not equal inspiration.

I still read the blogs and marvel at all the latest projects and logos and campaigns and illustrations. I look at them and say, "Ah, yes, I see what they did there! How clever and refined! Truly, only an educated person such as myself could truly appreciate something such as this." Do I make anything that elicits such a reaction from someone else? I can guarantee you I don't.

dil·et·tante
a person who cultivates an area of interest, such as the arts, without real commitment or knowledge.

I recently 'rediscovered' that word, and I fear that it fits me like that old ratty shirt that I can't bring myself to throw out. It's just too comfortable, in both fit and mindset.

This post first started taking shape about two weeks ago. It's been the culmination of a year or more of self-discontent. On Friday I found out I'm being laid off in a month, so I took to the keyboard forge to shape this lump of raw mental metal into something with a point at the end.

I knew for a long time that working for a startup wasn't the most secure position to be in. I prepared financially for these exact circumstances, but I absolutely didn't prepare creatively. I built the fallout bunker and didn't bother to stock it with food.

If it sounds like I'm being to harsh on myself, it's because I am and I deserve it to some degree. There's no more time to coax myself into creative compliance; I need to do it, and I need to do it now. My portfolio hasn't been updated since I graduated, and I don't feel confident enough that any of the work I've done since then is even worthy. I have a short window to talk myself into using some projects and then rush to fill the gaps. I need a job.

I went to Vegas over the weekend, but I was in a weird head-space the entire time because of this news. I was kinda anxious to get back and start doing something to get on track. I have four hurdles: the resume, the portfolio, the website, and the re-convincing of myself I'm worth hiring. I'm hoping that with each of the first three I clear, the last one will become shorter.

There aren't any particularly clever words for me to end on. True, things definitely aren't as bad as they could be, but they should've been so much better. I'm disappointed with how complacent I've been, and just as I was starting to confront it I've received the rudest of awakenings. I'm facing a setback that's proportional to how far I've just sat back. Equilibrium. The pendulum is really moving now, and I need to hold on as it swaps directions.
-Cril

Lost at sea
Is where you'll find me
It's got everything I want
But nothing that I need

Does anybody feel
All this talk ain't real?
Does anybody see
That the truth is in the mystery?

Could it be sweet
Standing on my feet?

I don't know, but I'm gonna try
Thinkin' up ways not to wash up in a lie
(Could it be sweet?)
Everybody's tellin' me it's not too hard
If you keep swimmin' it don't seem far

Dawg Yawp - Lost at Sea

Thursday, November 22, 2018

Dark Tower & the Slinging of Many Stories

I've concluded reading the Dark Tower series by Stephen King over the last year and a half-ish. It's a long series. I have many spoiler-ific thoughts, but I'll try to boil them down for the sake of a palatable read.

To start, a retrospective recap of each of the books:

The Gunslinger
There was a period in the first book where the style seemed a bit obtuse, like I was dropped into the middle of something and didn't quite have my bearings. But I eventually sifted out a few bearings  from the Mid-World Sands. I didn't really have a great sense of direction on it, but I was very captivated by the ending: a vision of a limitless universe on the tip of a blade of grass. And having a villain seemingly fade away and die seemed like an intriguingly weird way to go, instead of some action-packed showdown.

The Dark Tower II: The Drawing of the Three
Felt a bit drawn out (see what I did there?). 2D doors and visits to other versions of history to abduct other people certainly added to the sense of the world's weirdness. I wasn't a fan of this book because I didn't particularly like any of the characters over its span.

The Little Sisters of Eluria
I read this one out of order. Seemed like a bit of a detour from the main plot that only served to remind how strange the world had become.

The Wastelands
The world building really started to come together for me here. I was absurdly sucked in by the whole idea of a primitive, chaotic society living on top of the remains of an expired, modern civilization. Lud creeped me out, even moreso Blaine. And the stories of Tik Tok man and old German warplanes... It was like taking an adventure story as a tour right down the middle of strangeness on top of strangeness. Oddly captivating.

Wizard and Glass
Seemed like a good ol' fashioned western tale, with a bit of a twist. I took quite a bit of enjoyment watching Teenage Roland & Co kick ass against stacked odds. I liked how when it boiled down to a climax, the big baddie just took a shot to the head in the middle of a chaotic battle. They didn't take turns throwing punches, and no diatribe on the edge of death. Kinda refreshing when compared to standard Hollywood fare.

The Wind Through the Keyhole
I mean, okay? Seemed like a detour, and it's whole point was "This explains the origins of Mid-World! Kinda, maybe, I dunno. Look, Roland did more Roland stuff as a teenager."

Wolves of the Calla
It was an okay adventure on its own, but it seemed like the majority of the plot didn't have much impact on the rest of the overall story. Had some exciting bits and twists and whatnot. It fleshed out the twisted nature of the world some more, and showed Adult Roland & Co working and bonding as a team. And yet, most of it just felt kinda side-tracked.

Song of Susannah
I felt like this book raised a lot more questions than it answered. It started to feel like there weren't many concrete rules to how anything worked anymore (Susannah is non-pregnant with a demon sharing her body, who got inseminated from Roland?). And I don't really get the nature of the various levels of bad-guys and vampires and critter things. I feel like King was going, "See guys?! Look at how weird everything is! Weeeeiiiird!" Alas, at this point I was quite invested in the characters and overarching story.

The Dark Tower
It covered a ton of ground. Lots of worlds and whens, with different battles of different shapes and sizes. I got pretty bummed out when Eddie and Jake and Oy died. I understand the need to increase the difficulty of the hero's journey at the end, but it started feeling a bit repetitive in how every one/thing was a trap. Yeah, we get it, it's really treacherous on the final path to the tower, but does everything needed to be some strange, lurking menace that can only be defeated with an even stranger solution? Whatever, at this point I'm fully invested by the count of about a bajillion pages and definitely need to see how it all ends.

---

Okay, that covers that. Now I want to touch on three points in a bit more depth.

The World
Mid World was quite possibly my favourite character of the series. The whole concept of a world that had 'moved' on, and in such a malevolent way, was hard to resist. It wasn't just ye standard "man vs environment" scenario, because it certainly seemed like the environment was actively pushing back against the protagonists.

Post apocalyptic movies and stores are pretty commonplace, but I liked this vision of a primitive society of farmers and ranchers built on the dusty, precariously placed bones of a more modern age. Shadows of technology cast over day to day life. And what still works isn't trustworthy and could betray you at a moment's notice. Really good stuff. I think it's been one of my favourite sci-fi settings in a long time. Wasn't too crazy about some of the more elaborate magical and supernatural stuff, though.

I also liked how King wove in a Western interpretation of the knights of the round table. It's like the cliche noble cowboy, but jacked up on steroids. Almost superhuman skill and resolve to fix the world through his sacred crusade. It's a great mix of genres: The series follows a Wild West-flavoured knight through a primitive civilization on top of the ashes of a modern world. Crazy stuff. And somehow it all works.

The Ending
You know what? No complaints about this one, surprisingly. I mean, some of Roland's ka-tet (ugh, that word never stopped being cheesy to me) had to die. They've killed so many that a few of them had to follow victim as well. And the final goal can only be proportionally desirable to the sacrifices have laid at its feet. I won't lie, I got choked up when Eddy and Jake died. It was heart-braking how Oy got depressed, stayed with Roland, and got killed. I'm glad Susannah survived - that kept things from being too cliche. I like how she reunited with an other-worldly Jake and Eddy. It was just enough of a quasi-happy ending to make me glad that the three found some peace on the other side of the journey.

Despite the author's advice, I read the series to its very last drop. Roland's ending was much different than his friends. He's doomed to repeat it all over again. Which felt... quite fitting to me. In a way, he had become a very two-dimensional character in how he was purely motivated and defined by his quest. He never had enough depth to support a post-Tower existence. Repeating it all over again seemed appropriate, and dangling the possibility that he could maybe, perhaps, someday break the loop seemed like a pitch-perfect bittersweet note to end on. It left the door open just a crack and maintained enough mystery to allow the universe to keep spinning by just out of the confines of the series' periphery.

The Author
I get it, I really do. But at the same time I really didn't like it. I think I understand where King was coming from, and I can appreciate how he's trying to convey how heavy the burden of creation can be. I mean, hey, he's the author of our time/society. The dude's prolific and ubiquitous. He's earned his stripes. And yet with every reference to his own character, his other stories/characters/books, and other literary naked inspirations just felt so out of place. As I walked through the pages of the Dark Tower series, it seemed like those self-referential parts was a small pine needle in my shoe. Sometimes it was there, sometimes it wasn't.

It felt too self-indulgent. Making his own character be one of the key elements keeping the world from destruction seemed so... well, self-indulgent. And how he criticized his personal habits. And Roland's disdain for King's character. And mentioning the other books he'd written. Hey, he wrote those stories and built those worlds, and without King this fictional world would certainly cease to be. And I can only imaging what a weight that would be to carry around, especially when you have some many readers anxious to peer over your shoulder. Grating. I just found it all to be a bit contrived and ostentatious.

Was it really necessary to integrate large, unmodified passages of "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came" into the body of the story? Hey, I'm all for being inspired and borrowing imagery from a work you admire. But do you need to beat your audience over the head with it?

Truth be told, a couple years ago I found some partial, off-hand reference about how the Dark Tower series referenced the author within itself. That little idea is ultimately what drove me to seek out the first book and give it a go - I'm always up for the clever poking of holes in the fourth wall. What I found, though, was that King went at the wall like the freakin' Kool-Aid man on a bad acid trip.

Look at all this griping. Let's be constructive for a moment and ask how'd I'd fix it.

I think it'd be a lot better if Stephen King's character appeared not as Stephen King, but as The Auther. And then make him appear and be referenced a solid 50% less. Make him an uncertain character that appears around the edge of the story once or twice, just enough to tease interest without being overbearing. And instead of deliberately spelling out connections between other works (I'm looking at you, Father Callahan of Salem's Lot), merely allude to it. Give readers the space to search for these hidden meanings and easter eggs, looping those little lines of yarn around thumbacks. Back off, just a bit. It moves things from being too self-focused to allowing the user to feel smart and clever by uncovering those references for themselves.

Here I am, a total nobody with no experience on nothin', giving constructive criticism to Stephen Freakin' King. Yeesh.

---

I enjoyed the series. As I get older I'm getting quicker to bail on half-consumed media if I'm not feeling it. And I definitely read every word of this insanely huge story. There were so many places and times and people and things and species and names. Too many, in fact - at times I just had to plow through without knowing if I was supposed to be familiar with a particular proper noun in front of me. But I definitely got to where I was going, and I'd be lying if I said I was never totally sucked-in and eager to find out what happened next. It made for a good read. I'm glad I followed Roland and his crew around for a while, they definitely captured my attention and took me to strange places.
-Cril

I see you standing on the other side
I don't know how the river got so wide
I loved you baby, way back when
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed
But I feel so close to everything that we lost
We'll never, we'll never have to lose it again

Now I bid you farewell, I don't know when I'll be back
They're moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track
But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone
I'll be speaking to you sweetly from a window in the Tower of Song

Yeah, my friends are gone and my hair is gray
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I'm crazy for love but I'm not coming on
I'm just paying my rent every day in the Tower of Song

Leonard Cohen - Tower of Song

Wednesday, October 03, 2018

Everybody had a good time

I saw Paul McCartney in concert over the weekend. It was actually quite a production to make it happen; the show was in Edmonton, a three-hour drive north. The adventure started on Saturday afternoon: an uneventful drive up, nice little hipster-pizza dinner, a short walk to see the nearby provincial legislature, and then back to the next day.

Sunday: Continental breakfast (with make-your own waffles?!), and then we sauntered around the largest mall in North America for several hours. I even bought a sweater or two, between watching the seal show and getting a snack from a food court. Then off to St Albert where, because we did a terrible job of planning our day, we spent a couple hours in a coffee shop doing crossword puzzles. Then dinner at a Ukranian restaurant. Pretty good stuff. Then, off to The Show.

And it was good! I mean, hey, don't get me wrong, the dude is gettin' up there in years. But given his age, his vocals were wonderful. Even more impressive was that he was able to cruise through a 3 hour show without any breaks. Some personal highlights:

  • Nineteen Hundred Eighty Five. No woodwind solo though, which was a disappointment.
  • Ukulele version of Something. The Concert for George version was much better, but it was still cool to see it done love.
  • I've Got a Feeling. Good jam.
  • Band on the Run
  • Let it Be, played back-to-back with Live and Let Die (which included an unexpected pyrotechnics show). I found the combination of the two really moment.
  • Four Five Seconds. Kinda weird to see it with a more classic-rock inspired vibe rather than contemporary pop/hip-hop.
  • Ending out the show with the Abbey Road medley. That was, just, absolutely sublime.
The acoustics were terrible. Maybe I've always been an old grumpy man at heart, but I don't think that volume = quality. Everything needed to take a few steps back away from the Wall of Sound. It was just too much.

And Paul, dear Paul... He's a professional performer, that's for sure. I don't think I felt any special connection between him and the audience. Waving a Canadian flag around just felt like pandering. He also told a bunch of stories and anecdotes which I've already heard and read almost word-for-word from articles and videos of other concerts. We could've been in any other audience anywhere else in the world and I suspect the show would've been pretty much the same. He's a good entertainer, for sure. But I didn't quite feel like it was as much of an intimate experience as other shows I've attended. He was about a half step up from when I saw Rod Stewart.

Okay, so it sounds like I didn't have a good time, but that's not true. It was a good show, magical even. But I think a large portion of that fancy sparkle dust came from the sheer virtue of being on of the last remaining Beatles. And I'm damn glad that I was able to see one of the Beatles perform live (Paul McCartney, no less!). 

Take that, bucket list. You're officially one item shorter.
-Cril

Oh please believe me, I'd hate to miss the train
Oh yeah, oh yeah.
And if you leave me I won't be late again
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
Yeah, I've got a feeling, yeah.

All these years I've been wandering around,
Wondering how come nobody told me
All that I was looking for was somebody
Who looked like you.

I've got a feeling, that keeps me on my toes
Oh yeah, oh yeah.

I've got a feeling, I think that everybody knows
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.
Yeah, yeah, I've got a feeling, yeah.
Yeah

Beatles - I've Got a Feeling

Tuesday, September 25, 2018

Women in Games

Seems like there's been a bit of fuss online lately about the inclusion of female characters into games that are set in a historical period where women wouldn't have been involved. Of note, Battlefield 5 has been including women in its armed forces and Rome Total War II recently announced female generals. Now, it should be stated that I haven't played either of these games so I'm coming at this from the general position as a gamer/spectator. Yet I've found myself mulling this whole thing over in my mind quite a bit, trying to figure out what the 'correct' position is. So here goes:

On one hand, I totally get why women should be included. A community moderator for Total War mentioned that she didn't want to have to explain to her daughter why there weren't any people like her in the game. Reasonable. And just because it needs to be explicitly stated, duh, of course ladies are just as capable of doing most of the same stuff as dudes do. Women are allowed in the military, so why wouldn't we show them as capable soldiers? There are plenty of brilliant female leaders, so why not portray some wielding that power? Video games are an artifact of the current time and culture, and if we want more gender equality and inclusion, women should absolutely be included in games. We have to create the future we want to see with what we're creating in the present.

On the other hand, especially in these historical contexts, it just ain't accurate. In most of the western forces of WWII, there were several females in support roles, but not many involved in front-line combat. So why are they being posthumously and digitally injected into armies that they never fought in? I mean, hey, don't get me wrong - if I'm playing on a Russian, or Polish, or French Resistance team, you're damn straight I want to see some women characters. Maybe they weren't statistically-speaking the most common gender, but it's still a great way to highlight contributions of a minority. But why force something into a context where it wouldn't have actually belonged?

On the other other hand, all sorts of enjoyable games, no matter how well-intentioned or insanely faithful they try to be to their source material, tend to make concessions. One of my favourite things to spot is the Supermarine Spitfire variation that's used when you're playing one of the many, many games featuring the Battle of Britain. It should technically be the MkI or II, but often it's the V or IX - they were the most common version and the devs needed an asset that could be reused elsewhere in the game. I notice the incongruity, but once I get into the action itself, it just doesn't really matter. It's essentially a cosmetic change that doesn't impact the gameplay or the experience. You notice it, forget it, and move on. So if a US soldier has a female player model, what difference does it make? It's a cosmetic change, get over it.

On the other (x3) hand, where do we draw the line at substitutions? People are attracted to the game because of the context it represents. Would people still be playing Rome Total War if all the mounted cavalry were riding zebras instead of horses? Maybe they all behave the same in terms of gameplay, but at some point you're breaking the immersion, wrecking the historical context that drew in fans. For the next game about the American Civil War, should we demand to see some of the Confederate generals as black characters? We can't tell the black population what they aren't capable of, especially when we now know better. Or maybe in the next Vietnam War title we need to include more soldiers with cerebral palsy? In 50 years when we have the technology for the physically disabled to move about freely, we can't tell them what they are and aren't capable of. Maybe the next Red Dead Redemption title should replace the horses with 10-speed bicycles, because they're more environmentally friendly and don't promote animal cruelty.

Looking at the online debate surrounding this issue, I get the sense that both sides are painting themselves, their opposition, and the issue itself in very broad, black and white strokes. Those in favour of the female characters think the other side are misogynistic assholes who can't stand women. Those in favour of historical accuracy think the other side are meddling Social Justice Warriors (ugh) that need to inject their values as non-debatable fact into anything and everything. The lack of nuance to the discussion drives me nuts - everything is either passionately RIGHT or WRONG and there's precious little ground in the middle.

I get it. Inclusion is good. It's great! Let's tell stories with modern values that reflect the kind of world we want to live in. But at the same time, we need to own the past we were given; we can't just cover up the parts of history we're ashamed of.

I'm glad we're having the debate, and notice an historically-accurate absence of women. Hopefully years from now, it'll grow to become a conspicuous absence. One that drives future generations to ask questions and examine the world around them. I want an ugly history that'll continue to teach us lessons.
-Cril

Monday, August 27, 2018

How I Spent My Summer

I haven't written here in a while. It's not that I've been busy... I've just been otherwise-occupied with various manners of fluff. Maybe it's the fact that all the forest fire smoke has kept me inside for most of the last month, but I can't help but feel my life is a large lake that's about two feet deep the whole way across. Looks great from the surface, but just lacking a bit of substance. Here are some of the things I've been spending my time on in a manner which has left me feeling like I've been living a life of perpetually temporary distraction:

Star Wars Battlefront 2
The gameplay is the dietary equivalent of a single teaspoon of mashed potatoes. And not the good mashed potatoes either - you know, with butter and some milk and a hit of dill. Nope. The core gameplay is a single potato, prepared by applying mash-like forces. It's like they calculated the perfect, inoffensive average of every shooter on the market. There are classes, and guns, and vehicles. You load up a map, where you fight other players that also have classes, guns, and vehicles.

But that's alright, because they took that little ball of mashed potato and coated it in the most gorgeous artisan Swiss milk chocolate coating. And drizzled some mouth-watering, calligraphic lines of caramel on top. My GOD this game is beautiful and sounds amazing. Not expense was spared for the sensory elements. The maps are full of detail and age, a character's equipment sways back and forth on the belt, and blasters shriek and blossom explosions across the map. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the most Star Wars of all stimuli I've ever come across in a game. Absolutely flawless - the devs have truly authored a masterclass in capturing the look and feeling of this certain galaxy far, far away.

But they took this glistening, candy-coated orb of delicate perfection, still filled with mashed potato, and wrapped it up in scraps from the paper manual to a 2004 Lexmark 3-in-1 printer/scanner/fax combo. They've made absolutely boneheaded decisions about the user experience surrounding how you play your game. Want to play a specific map? Too bad, you can't. Want to change to a different server for the same game mode? Too bad, you can't. Unlocked a new skill point and want to equip it right away? Too bad, you can't. Here's my favourite use case: I was playing on a server when a clan joined up and started steamrolling everyone. I couldn't change sides. I tried to join a different server, but it just dumped me back into the exact same session I had just left, still on the losing side.

And don't get me started on their ad-hoc loot box progressions.

I feel bad for the artists in this game, because they hit a massive home run. Then they stuck it on top of bland gameplay and wrapped it up in some stupid user experience. Many times I'd been playing and found myself thinking, "Man, I love how everything looks and sounds and feels. I'd love to play a real Star Wars game."

Also, the single player campaign had some good set pieces, but was predictable as hell.

I give it a 2/5.

Forza Motorsport 7
It's purdy. Real purdy. The cars sound great, and handle great. There's a truly mind-blowing amount of detail that went into this game, multiplied many times over the sheer number of cars and tracks.

I hate how some of the cars are locked behind "unique dealers", which is obviously a front to benefit premium members. I hate how the AI can be so inconsistent - slightly more lax than challenging on one race, and damn near impossible to keep up with on the next. I hate how the rain drops on the windshield don't seem to be properly affected by the car's movement.

I wish the single player had a proper campaign, where you start off with an entry-level car and slowly upgrade it to be more competitive, and work your way up the ranks. Instead it's just a bunch of individual, disjointed events grouped as tiers. Meh. Damnit Grid, you spoiled me for what a single player racing campaign should be. It really felt like I was building my own team up from scratch, sweating over choosing team mates, sponsors, and cars.

But back to Forza. It's good stuff, really. It's bloody impressive and is by far and away the most comprehensive racing sim I've ever had the pleasure of playing. I'll give it a solid 4/5.

No Man's Sky
Ninety hours later, I'm just now getting over my obsession with this game. It is criminally gorgeous. From the colours, to the impressive level of detail in the modelling and mechanical animation, to some of the odd and bizarre landscapes you encounter. It really fires up the imagination. The first half of my time with this game was spent under an addiction to exploring over just one more ridge. Then I transitioned into building and outfitting a base. Then gathering a fleet and dispatching them across the galaxy on missions. Then I wrapped up the single player missions - as strange as it was to play a game like this with no voice acting, it was oddly captivating. Next I did some trading and bought some better ships. Then I started a crusade to the heart of the galaxy via black holes... which have bugged out and stopped working for me.

Bugs. So, so many bugs. Some are little, some are game breaking. I've taken to manually backing up my save files, because the two saves the game has are not nearly enough to save you from falling through the geometry of a frigate, or having your base be suddenly filled in the side of the hill you had since excavated away.

And on top of that, the whole experience is a bit obtuse. Things aren't documented well, and most for most of my time playing, I had a browser open on the second monitor to help me figure out if the obstacle I currently faced was as the creators had intentioned, an unintentional bug, or just a feature that was implemented in a way totally neglectful to educating users as to how it should work. It's a bit of a mess.

But it's also a beautiful loneliness. It's an experience I haven't quite come across before, and I was surprised to get so sucked into it like I did. Being so isolated across such a stupefyingly grand scale. Alone with alien wildlife and plants, on planets doused in a vivid palette that changes from on planet to the next.

Bugs aside, this game is flawed. There are so many weird features and functions that don't make sense. Incredible depth in some areas, and a complete lack of it in others. But I love the ambition of it all the same. If it wasn't for the bugs that have driven my exploration to a halt, I'd give this game a perfect score. I want to give it a perfect score; I love the vision and ambition behind it all. Alas, 4/5.

Bomber Crew
Hrm, cute little characters hustling around a cute little bomber, trying to keep the thing in the air long enough to make it back home? The art style made me skeptical, especially considering it's for my keep-it-pure-and-reverent-genre of WWII. But in the end, it worked. It all just kinda came together in a surprising way, and I really, really enjoyed the process. Frustrating at times, yes, but when you finally figured out the strategy to crack a troublesome mission, it was really rewarding. Despite the cartoonish mechanics and presentation, it had a decent amount of depth respect for the source material. 4/5.

Like, All of Christopher Nolan's Movies
They're awesome. We're re-watching them and I love it all. 5/5


Game of Thrones, Many Seasons 
Pretty darn good. Impressive how they manage to juggle so many characters at once and keep things satisfying. I'm quite invested and can't wait to see how it ends. Sometimes I feel like it's a tad too gory and they're too eager to show off some boobies. I'm not complaining about the last one, though.

What I will complain about though, is WHY DIDN'T SANSA TELL JON ABOUT THE KNIGHTS OF THE VALE?! Yeesh, what a blatant waste of life that could've been avoided.

?/5. We have three episodes to go, plus the entire final final season. They better not screw this up.

An Old Shitty Honda Motorcycle That's Worth Less Than the Cost of Getting the Carbs Properly Fixed and Re-tuned
At some point I was riding around to do some errands, and the following thought slipped through the folds of my brain: "Ah, finally something that makes summer worth it." I'm not going to try to explain or defend that statement, because it's quite frankly rather stupid and doesn't make sense. But I do enjoy riding a motorcycle in the summer.

I think this weekend autumn has landed with all the subtlety of a bag of bricks, and it sucks that I'll have to put the bike away soon. Oh well, it gives me something to look forward too in the spring.

5/5, until I get in an accident and am spread all over the pavement like chunky strawberry cream cheese.

-Cril

Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Soaked and slumped over

I passed out yesterday at the pool. Well, fainted is probably the more accurate term, but it doesn't sound nearly as noble. I need to keep my fragile and dwindling sense of masculinity in tact somehow.

My upper body got properly buggered up at the beginning of the month. I'm not sure what did it, but one evening I felt a bit stiff, and the next day in transitioned into a rock n' roll song worth of proper pain. Then it started waking and keeping me up at night - I'd get about four hours of sleep at most, and then whittle away the early morning hours by shuffling my antsy bones around the house. The pain started meandering downwards leaving my left arm generally weak, and my thumb, index, and middle fingers are semi-numb.

I went and got an evaluation with a physiotherapist who declared my shoulder was the culprit, and she got to work on me. After a few sessions nothing had changed, so she called in her boss who gave me another evaluation and declared that my neck was the culprit. She got to work, and it our last appointment I was stretched, stabbed, burned and electrocuted. I think I've collected the whole set of Physiotherapy Torture in one sitting. The pain has gone down, though, and now I can stay in bed all night. I'm still not sleeping steadily - after the first few hours I'm still waking up in discomfort every 45-60 minutes, but it's better. Alas, this physio is on vacation this week, so I'll be seeing her boss for my next appointment. Three therapists in as many sessions. I'm not sure what I think of that, but at least things are improving.

Needless to say, I've been trying to take it easy recently. So yesterday we decided to do a short, and admittedly half-assed, workout in the gym. It wasn't too surprising when the elliptical made me uncomfortable, but I wasn't expecting it when the stationary bike did the same. After we were done we decided to hit the hot tub, in hopes that it would be good for the shoulder.

We hot tubbed for about 15 minutes, and then decided to cap things off with the steam room before heading home. There's a small shower you're supposed to use before entering, so we stood and waited for our turn. I started feeling a bit woozy as if I stood up too quickly, so I waved my girlfriend to go ahead first while I leaned forward against the shower wall. My blood then proceeded to march in various directions not related to me head, and then within 30 seconds I found myself on the floor.

Apparently I went down ass-first (I've got a proper bruise to prove it), followed by my upper body. I hit the right-back corner of my head on the ground, but it wasn't too bad - I was able to hold a conversation and complete the various tests the lifeguard gave me just fine. Then they sat me up in a poolside chair, and gave me water, juice, and a sugar pill (an amusing prescription, given the fact that I'd just resumed a no-sugar-added diet a few days prior). I was feeling pretty far away and my vision was pretty blurry. Well, blurry isn't quite right. It was like there was a pulsing web-like sheen of yellow and green, bleeding through the fabric of my vision. After 10-15 minutes things cleared and I felt more of myself.

Everyone seemed to remark, "People tend to get light headed when they bounce between the hot tub and steam room." Alas, I don't get the luxury of that excuse - I didn't even make it into the steam room to begin with.

The whole thing freaked my girlfriend out, though. She said that she had spoken to me once or twice, I didn't respond, and then I just deflated to the ground.

I don't know what the cause of this whole episode could be. Maybe it's the lack of sleep. Maybe it's the change in diet (resuming after a cheat week full of hard ciders and birthday ice cream cake). Maybe it was the change in temperature or the first trace amounts of physical exertion I've made since my arm/shoulder/neck has gone wonky. Maybe it's a combination of all the above.

When I was young(er), I really resented how people would casually drop snide remarks about being young and invincible. I hated the pride and ignorance associated with being in your youth, and the idea that my perception is tainted just by virtue of being under the age of home repairs, retirement savings, and Classic Hits radio. I disliked my point of view being written off or dismissed with the underhanded compliment of physical resilience.

Here I am. My hands ache if I hold a controller to long. My teeth are a hot mess. My shoulder and/or neck requires two (soon to be three) physiotherapists to diagnose and treat. My skin is oh-so-ever-inconvenient. My ear canals are small and regularly get clogged. And now apparently I get to add passing out at the pool into the mix. All this within my early 30's. Makes me a bit fearful of what comes next.

I don't know if I've ever properly held the 'I'm young and invincible' assumption. I think the mis-step I did make, however, was that due to my lifelong enjoyment of skin issues I had kinda decided to hope I wouldn't have any other big health problems. And maybe if ate decent foods and made an effort to go on walks and do things, my skin karma would balance the scales and I'd be free of other ailments.

Alas, 'tis not so.

I always knew I was mortal. Over the last two or three years, though, I've slowly become aware that mortality won't be as trouble-free as I had wanted. If my current status of well-being is any indication, there may be some tough years ahead.

Skin issues are, unfortunately, not an antidote to other issues. I just wish I didn't need to collapse on the pool deck to figure it out.
-Cril

Saturday, July 21, 2018

An Unfictional Review of an Unfictional Company

I've been moonlighting as a bit of a project manager and design consultant for an ecommerce company I've had quite a long history with. Their website is old and decrepit and about as precariously stable as a man changing a lightbulb while standing one rung past the "don't go past this rung" point on a stepladder. You know, the one your dad keeps in the back of the garage that he bought from a neighbour's moving sale twenty years ago so that the Christmas decorations could be taken down at the end of each season. We all know that noble intentions of this particular variety have a shelf life of two years, max.

Anyways, this online storefront is generally terrible and they want to replace it. Having worked with them on the last 2-3 incarnations of the site, I've been called on to be a second set of eyes and generally facilitate development with the firm they'd signed a contract with. We'll call the development firm XYZ Corp, which is lead by their intrepid client manager Mr B.

So far the work has gone terribly awry. It's been painfully obvious that both the client and the developer are speaking to each other through forced, shiny grins from across an icy divide. The good news is that we've almost wrapped things up: after (hopefully) one last set of revisions, the hand-off will be complete and the two companies will part ways. Then we'll start work with another developer to actually get this new website into functional condition so that it can be released out into the wild.

In order to secure a not insignificant discount on the general bill of labour, XYZ Corp offers their clients the option to write a review/testimonial to be used for marketing purposes. My boss seems pretty keen on being the one to write it, and not necessarily as an opportunity to spread around some warm and fuzzies.

I've been thinking a lot about how I'd write this review, if it were left to me. So what I'd like to do here is write my own version as a way to unpack what I think has happened and generally confront one of my biggest professional failings to date.

---

Hrm.

Mr. B deftly informed me that the above word was an unprofessional way to start a communication. Quite frankly, I find professional speak to be an embarrassingly abundant and semi-worthless commodity. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned: I choose to speak through my keyboard in a manner that conveys a bit of personality and humanity.

But who are hell am I talking to right now, anyways? Someone that wants to hire XYZ to make some cool shit? Right on! Before you sign on and get started, I'd like to give you a few tips.

PIECE OF ADVICE FOR XYZ CORP'S FUTURE CLIENTS

#1: Don't assume that XYZ understands your needs. Insist on a proper evaluation at the start.

When we begun our project with XYZ Corp they told us that an in-person evaluation of our site and needs would be cost and time prohibitive without much benefit. In hindsight, we should have insisted. Instead we made a few assumptions that turned out to be quite wrong: We assumed they'd take even the most cursory of glances at the existing site. We assumed the new site would be made to be equal to or better than the existing site. We assumed that development would be a dynamic process that would let us make reasonable changes/revisions until things were completed.

We should not have assumed any of those things. Instead of a proper hands-on review, they pushed us to do a brand-building exercise which proved to be wholly useless and a legitimate waste of time.

PIECE OF ADVICE FOR XYZ CORP'S FUTURE CLIENTS

#2: If it ain't in the proposal, it ain't happenin'. Get absolutely everything in writing.

Next, XYZ Corp gave us a big-ass proposal. It detailed many things using many words organized under many headings and subheadings. We thought it was pretty cool that they'd be so throrough with the documentation, even though it was a bit of a chore to review. Alas, what we found out (the hard way) was that the most remarkable thing was not what was included in the proposal, but what wasn't included. And how iron-clad this document was.

A lot of what we perceived as being standard, obvious, necessary elements were thrown to the side of the trail on our little journey in Web Development Land. "That Feature is Out of Scope" would become an annoying and reoccurring one-liner character present throughout the entire process.

Now we're taking delivery of a site that doesn't support all our products, omits a payment method popular with a quarter of our visitors, and has a broken navigation incompatible with our catalog.

PIECE OF ADVICE FOR XYZ CORP'S FUTURE CLIENTS

#3: No, seriously, make sure the proposal is done right from the beginning. Just because it's long and detailed doesn't mean it's even remotely on target.

There were other gaps in the proposal. The number of products and categories to be imported? They were off by a factor of 10. We thought, "That's obviously just a placeholder value and it won't matter as everything will be automatically imported." Nope, nope, nope. They seriously thought they were dealing with a mere fraction of what we actually had. This highlights two things: we were supremely stupid for not correcting this earlier, and XYZ never even looked at the existing catalog of products. They did not reference the very piece of technology they were being hired to replace.

PIECE OF ADVICE FOR XYZ CORP'S FUTURE CLIENTS

#4: Colour within the lines. Do not colour outside the lines.

XYZ does a really kickass job of outlining how they'll tackle the whole kit n' kabootle. Four overall phases of development, with an itinerary that details how many business days it takes to complete each step. It's impressive that they can lay it all out in a linear manner. But have mercy on your soul if you don't personally work like that.

When it works, it works flawlessly and XYZ can get a large amount of work done on a tight schedule. The problem is that, being a mere human (notice my unprofessional lack of a professional writing style), sometimes things aren't quite so self-contained.

One of the biggest points of contention between us and the developer is that we would sign off on one phase and later discover problems that should have been addressed earlier. Ladies and gentlemen, we're now introducing "Out of Scope's" wise-cracking sidekick, "You've Already Signed Off on That". And, yes, XYZ is absolutely right - we signed off. We should not be revisiting this territory. But we uncover something we hadn't noticed before, and it takes a great deal of effort to address the issue outside of the designated structure.

This became particularly true towards the end: we had signed off on the functionality and design of the site, and then XYZ Corp populated the site with production-level content as the final step to wrapping up the project. Once we saw our new house filled with our actual furniture and belongings (rather than a cardboard sofa with the word "SOFA" written in large letters), things started to really come together for us. We got deeper into testing and begun understanding the relationship between content and features. Problems were becoming uncovered which should have been flagged much, much sooner. A large amount of our detailed testing was being conducted outside of the period XYZ had initially slotted for us.

To their credit, they've attempted to address our concerns as best they can. Alas, "You've Already Signed Off on That" and "Out of Scope" came along for the ride.

Yup, we dun goofed. We should've done a more thorough job of testing earlier. And yet I can't help but feel like it isn't too out of line to want to do most of the testing with the real content near the end on the approach to final hand-off.

PIECE OF ADVICE FOR XYZ CORP'S FUTURE CLIENTS

#5: Mind the details and the cutting of corners.

Due to budget constraints, over the course of the project we had to trim a lot of extra features, procedures, and services that XYZ had initially proposed. I imagine that we significantly gutted their profit margins for the whole project, and it must've been frustrating as hell for them. I feel kinda bad, but they were warned up front that we didn't have the deepest of pockets.

It felt like it took a lot of effort to steer the ship onto a new course, and at times I felt like Mr. B was fairly tone deaf towards us and our monetary plight. But after a lot of the professional equivalent of wailing and gnashing of teeth, navigational corrections were made.

It seemed to me, oh so subtly, that as we trimmed the fat (and money) off the project, the relationship turned a bit cold. At one point, a simple revision to the payment schedule for services would have cost us $1800; apparently the only way to change some dates were to have his lawyers spend 2-3 hours (at $600/hr) amending the contract. We were unimpressed. I started getting the sense that XYZ just wanted to get this thing done and out the door, and with that... Came what we perceived as some corner cutting.

The cover of the project proposal (of which I've received many, many revisions) has the XYZ logo with the tagline, "High Quality Software Solutions". Many sections of said proposal talks about thorough testing and vetting.

One of two things must be true to explain the several bugs and odd design choices we've encountered over the last few weeks: Either XYZ does not have any capacity for attention to detail (which I find unlikely), or the frigid working relationship and reduced scope of the project has lead them to relax their standards in the sake of completing the designated scope of work. Part of me doesn't blame them if the latter is true, but the other part of me is just pissed that they'd be so sloppy with parts of their work.

From a design and UX/UI perspective, they've made some GLARING mistakes. Clumsy at best, completely ignorant at worst. Maybe they're more technically-minded, and my dumb artist brain can't appreciate all their wonderful work they've done behind the scenes to make this ship water-tight. Maybe they just don't recognize bad typography and design, because that's not their specialty. If so, it's hard to blame them - you gotta trust who you hire to know their stuff, and sometimes they aren't quite as good at what they do as you're paying them to be.

Me, here, as a project manager on developing this whole website is a good example.

But to recap the point: they may claim to be high quality, but keep your eyes open to make sure they prove it through their work.

PIECE OF ADVICE FOR XYZ CORP'S FUTURE CLIENTS

#5: Don't be a shitty client.

Yup, I'm going there. I did a horrible, terrible job of being a project manager on this. Sure, I did an okay job of facilitating deliverable and communications and setting up meetings... But I should have paid closer attention to the damn proposal. I'm embarrassed at my own lack of attention to detail when reviewing the project specifications, and at how I thought things would get sorted out as we moved along. I should've known what lane we needed to be in with the exact toll booth change in hand, rather than trusting that we could just cross bridges as we got to them.

I. Did. A. Bad. Job.

It was all written out in the proposal. I have no excuse for why I didn't slow down and read it all, line by line, and make a list of things that needed to get added or modified. Instead I figured we could approach it as having a developer on staff, addressing things as we went along. XYZ Corp made a comprehensive document that we signed off on multiple times, and I should have paid closer attention before giving a thumbs-up. From a legal standpoint, they have us over a barrel. We gave our approval to things that should not have been approved.

And yet I don't think I, or the company I'm representing, are entirely at fault. Mr. B and XYZ Corp didn't quite do a good job of communicating how exactly the process would work, how rigid they'd be in their adherence to it, and helping us to understand that features, functions, and layouts needed to be thoroughly vetted much earlier in the process. I don't think Mr. B succeeded at reading and connecting on an empathetic level with his client.

At one point he was quite indignant that we were coming to him with problems. He insisted that he had always been available and willing to field questions during the entire length of the project. And you know what? He was. The problem is that we were only discovering these concerns now, and not earlier in the process when it would've been ideal for him to address.

I had written him a long email generally recapping our position: I admitted it was our fault for signing off on things without vetting it thoroughly, but suggested that we didn't fully understand the process and content. His response was essentially, "You've already signed off on things". It struck me as, once again, somewhat tone-deaf. Maybe I was hoping he'd meet me part way and acknowledge that we'd had some communication issues. Instead he stuck to his Contractually-Bound Proposal-Shaped Guns. A bit of a disappointment.

I think perhaps I approached this whole project with too much humanity and optimism, thinking that we would get along and figure it all out as we went. I think Mr B and XYZ had a bit too much to drink from their flask of professionalism, making the process rather rigid and cold.

Looking at what we wanted to accomplish with this new site versus what we'll actually receive... We're left feeling a bit cheated in a bamboozlement admittedly of our own making. And we can't help but feel that XYZ stood by and let it happen.

Maybe it's stupid to blame someone else for allowing you to do something stupid. Perhaps my psyche is really that fragile that I'm making desperate attempts to project the blame for my own shortcomings onto another party. Or it could be that they really do deserve for some of the blame.

So what now? A tidy little tl;dr review:

XYZ Corp: ?/5 stars.

It hasn't been a pleasant experience for either our company or XYZ, and the final product is about 3/4 of what we needed to have developed. XYZ Corp was structured, technically capable, and professional. We should have paid much closer attention to their paperwork and vetting process. They should've done their fundamental research. If we weren't such a bad client, and if they were a bit more flexible, attentive, and empathetic to guide us through the process... Things might've gone a lot differently. But as is, I have no idea if I should recommend these guys or not. Your mileage may vary.

Thursday, June 28, 2018

Actual Senses

OPEN YOUYR EYES, COLEEN. COLEEN, OPEN YOUR EYES.

It's a precariously thin curtain. Clouds of white lace at the top that rain down stripes of warm opaque hues. The entire apparatus looks like they belong in your grandparent's bathroom, circa 1973.

Every once in a while an anguished cry floats across the barrier. A cry that could belong to a mother.

There's a doctor's voice that says something about a rupture in the brain. Family members saunter out and are replaced by nurses. The curtains are drawn taut, fully enclosing (what is technically called a pod) in nothing but visual privacy.

Then the sounds of lazy fluids meeting greedy suction. It sounds like that staple experience at dentist, yet it somehow travels right through your ears, taking the express downtown line to the base of your tailbone. It's the last stop, so the sensation has no choice but to linger with you a while.

After a bit the curtains reopen and professionals swap out. A nurse says something about "Social Services to Bed A10". She admonishes the few nearby distraught to accompany her to the family room to discuss making decisions about a suddenly ominous "the future". They all walk down the hall together.

A different nurse appears from behind the curtain. They've got her all cleaned up, she remarks.

Time slides by quickly here. A bit too much for comfort.

Nurses and orderlies are nonchalant angels. Somehow more than human and far away in their uncanny ability to remain calm and dispense limitless empathy on demand.

The moment has come for me to leave with and drive home the patient I came to visit. I never get to see Coleen, despite how my close proximity is mixed with a truly morbid and selfish sense of curiosity. She'll remain a curtain away.

Something is said about giving Tylenol 'to the dying family member'.
-Cril

Donated her eyes
When she was young and shy
Hated awkward breasts
And felt the yawning skylines
With care set sweet
To hear existence beat
To hold the tangible
And drifting ever so gently

Second summer sky
Donated her eyes
Donated her eyes
To feel her actual senses
So sweet sixteen
To feel what life was like
Donated her eyes
To feel life as she imagined it

Go back to sleep
You yellow-bellied freaks
Afraid of God and modern science
Go back to sleep
If I could only sleep
If I could stop imagining
If my dreams weren't after me

You curse and swear
Blanket the deafening hum
Of some great silence
The jingle jangle and the heat
The strangle and sheets
Terrible and fucking meaningless

Wintersleep - Miasmal Smoke & Yellow Bellied Freaks 

Monday, May 28, 2018

An Expectational Realignment

In the precious summer months between the eleventh and twelfth grades of my public education, I kinda imploded. My personality started to take a sudden and harsh turn towards the introverted, which was expedited by the onset of a pretty brutal episode of depression. When I got back into class for my final year of highschool I was utterly overwhelmed and hopeless. I just couldn't cope with my new reality, so after I had withdrawn from social activities and all other optional expectations, I started to withdraw from the onslaught of waking life by sleeping 16-18 hours every day. This lasted for about a week, I think, before I finally bottomed out. I decided to gut my class schedule and fill up on spares, peer tutoring, and work experience. Anything to get me away from my peers and the standard grind.

One of the courses I decided to dump was Math; while I was a solid B+/A- student, the course work had gotten too abstract and tedious. I knew I could still probably do it, but like a sinking ship, I was rabidly ejecting all non-essentials in an effort to keep my head above water. I remember passing my math prof, Mr Watson, in the halls after I had dumped his class. He looked at me and quizzically asked if I was sure I was doing the right thing. I don't remember my response, to be honest, but his parting words kinda stuck around: "Okay, well, I just don't know what universities will still take you in if you don't have your math credits..."

And I mean, that was the whole point to this school thing, right? Get good grades so you can enroll at a university for four years, and come out the other side with a degree. Get yourself a respectable career position, so then you can choose a dining room set for the new house, send postcards from your exotic vacations, pick up a set of untouched keys from the dealership, and start an education fund for your kids so they can do it all over again.

A couple months ago I started a financial plan with an adviser at my bank. We looked at my accounts. We looked at my expenses. We looked at some superficial flashcards that identified different categories of what I valued. Then she went on vacation and I went to see her a month and a half later to get my results.

$1600 a month. I need to save $1600 a month, every month, for the next 400 months so that I can retire at 65 with an income slightly above the bare minimum. I will not be spending my golden years by going on yearly cruises to Mexico or buying a new beige Camry or having breakfast at the corner cafe five days a week while griping about politicians. No, my retirement will get me a vacation every couple years, enough to keep a used car on the road, and maybe keep a simple gaming computer running. Not poverty by any stretch, but maybe two and a half steps up from that. And it's going to only cost me $640,000!

The real kicker? I need to be saving $1600/mo on top of an almost maxed-out retirement account.

So I did some number crunching. Let's assume that I'm working a job that pays a slightly above-average $65,000 a year, of which I get to keep about $52,000 after tax. Let's further assume that I spend about $2000 a month on the necessities - rent, utilities, food, clothing, basic transportation. That means that after our dear long-term companion Retirement Savings takes its regular contribution, I'm left with $750 a month. If I want to eat out, see a movie, get a new sofa, go on vacation, buy a new computer, save for a car, feed/clothe a child, it all has to come out of that $750. That's not a lot of breathing room there.

And my thoughts turn back to that innocuous comment about getting into university, and I get so... mad. We were sold a story: get the education, the job, and everything else will take care of itself. The problem is that this wonderful narrative was authored way back in the 50's, where a single salary position could afford the new car and house and yearly vacation with a bit of room to spare. Back in the 50's when you could actually live on a minimum wage job and benefit plans were plentiful.

My financial planner said, "Oh, don't worry - you are in fantastic shape compared to most people I see your age. You have nothing to worry about. Maybe when it comes time to switch jobs, consider finding one that offers a pension or some sort of matching financial contributions!"

Wait, what? Two things:

a) Where the hell do you get a pension these days? The only people I know of that have one work for the government (health, education, libraries, municipalities, etc). None, and I mean absolutely none of the people I know working in my industry have a pension.

b) What does this mean for people who aren't in as good of a position as I am? I have siblings and friends that are just getting by and struggling just to become debt free, never mind saving for retirement. And in some cases, never mind even moving out of their parents' house. How the hell are they going to save for retirement? How much will they need to put away every month? Something tells me it's going to be way, way more than $1600 a month.

I just feel so... Lied to. God damn. It's like we were sold this ideal that if you worked hard and got an okay job you wouldn't have to stress about all this. That you'd have what you need to live your life and save and not put yourself on a strict budget just so that you could afford to not work some day. And maybe that was once the case, but it sure as hell isn't any more. And in 30-40 years, we are going to have some serious problems as people realize that it's stupid expensive to not work all the way into your early 70's. I don't know very many people my age who are on top (or even remotely aware) of what they need to be doing. This is terrifying.

And the people I know who have pensions? I'm not so convinced that they recognize what they have, man. They don't realize how rare and valuable such a thing is. You have a steady job with a pension? That's worth an extra $18,000 a year on top of your salary. That is good money my friend, so don't let go of it.

Do you know that a person working in a sales/retail position in 1968 was making today's equivalent of $54,000 a year? That's right, someone with no post secondary degree at all would be earning about 10% more than someone now with a bachelor's degree.

My financial adviser made chipper suggestion: I could drop that $1600 monthly amount to just $800! All I have to do is take all the other savings I've put away since I graduated and lock it in for retirement! Wow, so easy!

Holy hell. All I have to do is say goodbye to every penny I'd saved for a new car or a trip to Europe. All I have to do to start living my life is give up on any progress I'd made over the last couple years and start over again. That just hurts... but I'm not sure if it hurts more or less than that extra $800/mo I wouldn't have to be putting away.

I went into the whole financial planning thing stupidly hoping to get a bit of release. That someone would tell me, "Wow, your extreme financial anxiety has really paid off, and you're in awesome shape for retirement! You just need a couple hundred a month and you're all good - you can relax now, and start living your life!" I kinda just wanted to hear that it would be okay and I finally didn't need to spend each decision stumbling around under the shadow of, "YOU NEED TO SAVE, YOU NEED TO SAVE MORE YOU IDIOT."

Alas, no release. Just a rude awakening. Yes, I guess I'm in 'good shape' or whatever that simplistically optimistic lady at the bank says... But it sure as hell doesn't feel like it. $1600 a month is not a little bit of money, especially just to unlock a late, simple retirement. It's just so discouraging to know that I've trudged this far only to remain such a dauntingly barren distance from anything I could call home free.

And it makes me that much more afraid for those I care about that aren't in very 'good shape'. Comparatively, I feel really, stupidly lucky.

But when you take a step back, it all just kinda... Sucks.
-Cril

So your home town's bringing you down
Are ya drowning in the small talk and the chatter?
Or you gonna step into line like your daddy done
Punching the time and climbing life's long ladder?

You've been howling at the moon like a slack jawed fool
And breaking every rule they can throw on
But one of these days it's gonna be right soon
You'll find your legs and go and stay gone

Young man, full of big plans and thinking about tomorrow
Young man, gonna make a stand
You beg, steal, you borrow
Ya beg, ya steal, ya borrow

Ray LaMontagne - Beg Steal or Borrow

Thursday, May 10, 2018

The Infinity Genre

Seems like Avengers: Infinity War is on track to be some kinda film of the box office record breakin' variety. I've been a bit over the super hero movie format for a couple years now. Not that they're bad movies, but I feel like the formula is starting to show a bit. Let me know if this sounds familiar:

Good-looking, brash, man of privilege suffers from excessive pride. Suddenly, an unfortunate life changing event due to his own hubris. But he overcomes the trial and evolves into the making of a hero. But egads! A villain emerges and defeats our new hero. With the help of his plucky sidekick(s), Mr Hero learns a lesson in humility and to trust others, which lets him toughen and finally defeat the bad guy! He's stronger than he ever was before! The world is his burrito! Fade to credits.

I mean, some of the particulars change, but this pretty much describes Thor, Dr Strange, and Iron Man. Not that any of those movies were bad (well, the original Thor was kinda weak), but that one Hollywood Script Workshop I attended back at ACAD has really lead me to recognizing some familiar patterns and archetypes, so I end up feeling like I've seen some of these films more times than I already have. But if you can check your brain at the door and enjoy the good quips, clever visuals, and impressive fight scenes, hey - you're in for a fun flick. They're not bad movies, but the genre as a whole is quickly becoming saturated. And don't even get me started on DC's mess.

That all being said, after some prompting from a friend I decided I'd see Infinity War in theatre. Given my general state of Superhero Fatigue, I haven't seen the new Spiderman, Ant Man, the second Thor, or Black Panther. But last week I watched Thor: Ragnarok in anticipation, mainly to figure out what was going on with the One-Eyed Pirate Sparky Viking Man. Again, it was a decent flick. The use of Immigrant Song was a brilliant and inspired choice, but it wrote cheques that sadly the rest of the soundtrack could not cash.

A few days later, we went to Infinity War. It was fun! A good movie. It was very, very impressive how they managed to balance so many characters and plotlines into one cohesive story. Truly, those screen writers deserve some HUGE credit. That being said... the underlying structure poked through in places and I had a few little beefs:

  • It was really, painfully obvious that Dr. Strange and Iron Man are the same character (structurally speaking). With such a huge cast, it's not surprising that multiples of the archetype are going to have to pair up at some point. But damn, I wasn't expecting it to be so obvious.
  • I'm getting kinda tired of The Hulk having problems switching between his different states. It's feeling like a bit of an overused crutch to give him a basic character arch.
  • Why did Thor have to get his eyeball back? Felt like such a step backwards for his character development - leaving him with the eyepatch was such a great symbol that the character has some literal battlescars and is evolving. But, hey, gotta keep them heroes in pristine marketable condition, am I right?
  • The fight scene editing sucks. Why does everything have to be so quick and spastic? Can't we just enjoy some choreography and characters doing cool things instead of "HEY GUYS I HEAR YOU LIKE ACTION SO LOOK AT ALL THE ACTION ACTION ACTION! WE HAD TO CRAM FIVE INDISCERNIBLE CUTS WITHIN TWO SECONDS TO FIT IN ALL THE ACTION! SO MUCH ACTION!"
  • The latest Iron Man suit is lame. Yeah, I get it, they want the character to keep evolving and being more badass than the last time. But something something nanotechnology and now he's just an armoured shape shifter. Kinda defeats the appeal of the original character for me when he can grow massive legs and shields at his every whim, instead of being bound by the human tools he's brought to the fight.
  • Green screens. Green screens and CGI characters everywhere, doing green screen and CGI character things. I know it's due to the pursuit of making every movie more visually impressive and crazy than the last... But at this point I'm starting to feel like it's all just fluff without any heft or concequence. I mean, yeah, the quality is good and groundbreaking and all that, but it makes me wonder how the visuals will compare ten years from now... Will it feel like Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow?
  • Soundtrack. What sound track? There was a glimmer of life when the Guardians of the Galaxy crew appeared, and then that was it. Rather disappointing. I think Christopher Nolan/Hans Zimmer has spoiled me as to what I expect from a blockbuster.
  • So many taboo semi-secret romances between co-workers! Again, on it's own its fine. But when you put all these franchises next to each other, it makes you raise your eyebrows at how... similar many of them are.
And then... There was the ending. Fair warning, we are going knee deep in a vat of gooey purple spoiler marmalade here, so back out if that kind of thing smells too gooey for your tastes.

I wish, I hope that the writers have the balls to stick by their decision. But they don't. Okay, so, many characters are killed off with a literal snap of the finger. Those moments when they die were really well written and acted... Spiderman being afraid and apologizing as he blew away? So, so good. Too bad that none of it matters.

Okay, so they thoroughly established that Dr. Strange is not going to mess around with the Infinity Stone in his care, and what we know from his movie, he's willing to undergo an endless assault of death and pain to do what he has to. So we automatically know that he wouldn't just hand it over to save the Mighty Morphin' Iron Man. Therefore, he gave it over because this was the only scenario where they could stop Thanos. Which means all of these deaths are going to be undone, and it's so painfully obvious that it hurts. Most likely Thanos will rewind time to get Gomorrah back, or the Avengers will find a way to get the stone and rewind time themselves.

Looking at the list of upcoming Marvel movies in preproduction, the theory is pretty much confirmed. All the major characters that die are slated for more movies.

So the comic book wheel of "OMG DRASTIC IRREVERSIBLE CHANGES/THE STATUS-QUO HAS BEEN RESTORED!" spins on. It's all just so... Capitalistic. Gotta sell them movie tickets and merch, yo. It's funny when Creating Value for Shareholders turns out to be a spoiler in and of itself. It's all just kinda disappointing from a storytelling perspective. It especially frustrates me how this ending was used as a cliffhanger when it's so damn obvious that the deaths don't really matter because it'll be reversed. Lame.

Alright, so, predictions:

Iron Man's obviously gonna die. The talk of starting a family, continually abandoning Pepper to do Nanobot Man Things, his previous Jesus moments, the fact that RDJ has been doing this character for so long... Yeah, his number's up. Maybe Thor and Cap Amurka and Black Widow will join him too. I almost wonder if they were all spared by Thanos' finger snappage dust flakes so that we can give them a proper sendoff before they get more heroic deaths. Afterall, they do need to make room for Captain Marvel and whoever else to refresh the lineup. Maybe we'll see a Lady Thor and Lady Iron Odo Man if those franchises are too profitable to just throw away.

If most of these characters don't even die and just get a happy ending retirement, I'll be supremely impressed at how gutless the writers (and/or studio execs) are.

So just to recap: Infinity War (and all the other Marvel flicks) are not bad movies. But when you put all the elements next to each other, it becomes apparent how they're using/abusing the same storytelling conventions over and over and over again. It all starts to feel too familiar, and I'm kinda burnt out on the genre. I'm not really emotionally invested in any of the characters, and part of me just wants to see how it ends and have the fad over with.

That being said, there were two things in the movie that stood out to me as being rather intriguing.

First was Thanos. They get points for making a somewhat empathetic villain with motivations aside from greed and/or ultimate power for its own sake. Dude's legit trying to save the universe (albeit through some fairly flawed logic), just like the Avengers are. He respects his enemies and loves his 'family'. I really, really want him to have a change of heart and reverse time and undo everything just to satisfy an unquenchable sense of grief. But he won't - that doesn't make for good action sequences that you can put into trailers.

The second thing I really, really liked was Thor. In particular I was intruiged by his thirty-second monologue near the beginning of the movie where he speaks of how he can't be killed because of his destiny. I'm oddly fixated by the concept of this strong, formidable warrior king who's a knowing slave to his own malevolent fate. I want to see a weary, tired, disillusioned, battle-scarred Thor, his civilization long since perished, plowing through enemy after enemy with increasing reckless abandon. I want to see a Thor that is obsessed with finding the one enemy that's meant to kill him so he can finally stop fighting.

I know, that's kinda dark. Too dark for the Marvel brand, probably. But the concept is oddly fascinating to me, and offers a bit of a diversion from the expected structure/flow of these movies and character arcs.

Anyways, it's safe to say that I'll be seeing the next Infinity War movie. It'll be interesting to see how right/wrong I am about my predictions, and I hope that I'll be pleasantly surprised by something. If not, hey, it'll make for a good watch-and-forget flick.
-Cril

Thursday, April 12, 2018

Hindsight Optometry

I'm working on a half-baked theory. Half-baked like an impatient bachelor's pizza pocket in the microwave. You know, kinda doughy and still cool and mushy in the middle. It goes something like this: your past cannot be justified.

Have you ever dwelled on an intense decision you made? Months or years later, the reasoning behind that choice or action begins to crystalize. You find yourself making new discoveries that go something like this: "Oh, so that totally explains why I did that!! How did I not recognize that sooner?!" And it just feels so good to know that you're a self-aware smug little human being that can confidently diagnose their own actions and motivations. So clever.

But how much of that is the genuine uncovering of truth versus an unbridaled exercise in apologetics? You know, when long after this dramatic thing has happened, you make reasoned arguments to justify your actions and behaviours. Fun aside: apologetics are also, like, a solid 85% of the art school experience.

My theory, my thought, is that past a certain point, all you're doing is coming up with reasoning to be at peace with where you are now, and it may or may not actually be connected with what happened all that time ago. It's a mental soother. And yes, some of the things you come up with might be a totally accurate epiphany revealing the mechanics behind your past experience. A big part of it, though, probably isn't.

If our hindsight is just a product of an unsettled mind grasping for straws like a toddler at the McDonald's condiment counter, then that means we can't really trust our own judgement. So how do you accurately explain yourself?

You can't.

The past scenario you're obsessing over was a direct product of the person you were in that space in that time. There is no why. There is just was. That moment was the direct product of all those moments leading up to it, a direct product of a state of simply being. So you can't rationalize it, you can't justify it, it was what it was, and it is no more. You're helpless to change it, so relax and move on with your life already.

This last part has a problem: is poses the suggestion that there is no progression of logic or betterment of the self; if we're simply just in a state of zen-like being, continually married to the eternal now, we can't quite make a conscious change to our behaviours. And judging by exes I've blocked and unfriended on social media, something tells me we have the ability to adapt in some sense or another.

Okay, so if our hindsight can conjure reasoning that is derived from a memory (rather than just understanding what lead to the memory's creation), and if we can simultaneously be a drifting leaf that's blown by life's circumstances while also having some amount of control on where we go next... Where does that leave us? In a mixed up, puddle muck of all of the above.

I think the point I'm slowly arriving at here is that hindsight can't be completely trusted; while it might be logical and hypothetically correct, it could be too far derived from the person you once were. So we look back at those things that haunt us, and for a short time we seek understanding that'll guide us away from similar pitfalls in the future. And then we need to seek forgiveness for our past selves to say, "Yeah, it's alright, you did the best you could in the moment and that's all that could be asked."

To continually dwell on something, as sickly sweet as those refined sugars of manufactured understanding may be, is the pursuit of feelings about feelings, one, two, or three steps removed from truth. And part of that naked truth isn't to be explained, but simply accepted. To keep going and digging deeper for understanding is living in fear of once was and is no more, except by the virtue of your own self-obsessed mind.

Learn from it, forgive anyone and yourself, then live onwards and outwards.
-Cril

Go ahead and throw something
Objects hard to find
The vase is still broken from last time
Have you lost your temper yet?

Where's the romance in watching TV
Where's the future
Stale air will bring a stale me
I'm better off with guitars and paper

And we can't afford the rent
This love's all but spent
I can barely sleep the night
Dreaming about brand new spaces and brand new faces yeah
Dreaming about brand new spaces and brand new faces yeah

Michael Bernard Fitzgerald - Brand New Spaces

Sunday, March 11, 2018

Boxes & Containers

Looks like the guy that lives upstairs has suddenly vacated the house. There are odd building supplies strewn around the yard, boxes of trash and old toys sitting on the back porch, and the recycling bin is overflowing. I even got a call from the property managers to confirm that none of it belongs to me before they start clearing things ouch. Yeesh.

I think I'll be following suit myself, actually, and be vacating the property sooner than later. I don't know if it'll be in a month or two, or in the summer when my lease expires. Either way, I'm pretty sure I won't be leaving the same mess behind.

Most things go in boxes. Some things go into other boxes, which will be donated to a non profit organization. Some things get their picture taken and a cheeky writeup, so they can go online for sale. You know, like a personals site, but for all the crap you don't want to see again. And just like a personals site, many an inquirey will be made, several of which will never reply back. Even fewer will make an appointment, and of those, a very small percentage will even show up. Some things will go in the garbage and recycling. And some things go into the fire; simultaneously too good for and not good enough for the garbage.

I actually did that last step this afternoon. I brushed the snow off the back yard firepit (left behind my ex-housemate), pulled up a lawnchair, and torched a some old letters, drawings, and trinkets that once had held some personal meaning. But when these particular type of specimens seem to have an emotional weight that far outmatches their physical properties... Sometimes it's best to know that something has been destroyed versus just discarded.

So there are now fresh ashes in the firepit, and I'm all the better for it.

Surveying my small basement suite, I think I could fully move, start to finish, within a week if I really wanted to. I'm kinda conflicted, though, because I find myself alternating between feeling like I don't have much, and I have entirely too much. Despite my pack rat inclinations, I'm pretty good at not accumulating a lot of junk.

I have an unnecessary plethora of books, though. Coming from a family of readers and librarians, I know the refrain well, "You can never have too many books!" But you can. There are a lot of covers that don't spark any type of excitement, and each one is full of pages I know I'll never ogle. I think I'm getting rid of about half of my collection. It's a lot, but I still wonder if it's not enough. But one thing at a time.

For the past, oh, six to eight months, my girlfriend and I have danced, pranced, and beat around the bush. And let me tell you, despite the well trodden path around it, that shrubbery was in immaculate condition up until we finally brought out the shears a month ago and discussed some hardcore logistics of moving in together. The biggest items of business include where to put my massive desk (it's literally a door laying on desk legs), what furniture we'll need to house my many books, and whether or not I'll be able to keep my Ikea reading chair (you know the one).

Although I've started packing/selling/donating/trashing/burning my various possessions, the major speedbumps are the motorcycle (which can't be moved until it's reassembled) and making space at my girlfriend's condo (she's been sick the last couple weeks). I still have three months on the lease, though, so I can afford to take my time.

The move will be easy. I'm a bit apprehensive about what it'll be like to live with someone, though. And not having a mere roomate, where you can bugger off at your whim with little to know explanation. No, this is going to be living with someone you need to cook with and plan you week around and share TV shows. Someone that's a light sleeper, so no matter how softly you sleep into bed at stupid-early-AM, they will know you were binging on that new game.

I'm sure it'll be fine. But it's a new dynamic I've never experienced before, and I suspect it'll take some getting used to.

What can I say, it's the end of an era. But considering I'll be going from living alone in a cold and dark basement to sharing a second floor condo/townhouse/thing with a lady I love... it looks I'm moving up in the world, in more ways than one.
-Cril

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

The Best Valentine's Day Is The One Left Uncelebrated

Whelp, it's Valentine's Day again. But this time it feels a bit different. For once I'm in a relationship full of mutual love and respect. We trust each other, we're comfortable with each other. And I'm earning enough to take her out to a fancy restaurant so she can order a stupidly expensive steak. And I have a comfortable car to get us both to and from said fancy restaurant. And I still have enough money left so I can get her a big bunch of flowers and some good chocolate and a couple of gifts. It seems like, for once, I've met all the prerequisites to have a wonderful Valentine's Day.

And the best part? We're not doing any of the above. Be still my heart, I've found a woman that I can be myself around and is happy to just be together without all the obligatory customs. The knowledge that we could easily celebrate the holiday but we're both happy not to... is sublime.

This is, by far, the best Valentine's Day I've ever had.

My god, I love this girl. I think I'm going to have to drive her to a fancy restaurant to eat a stupidly expensive steak, then give her flowers and chocolates and gifts to show her how much I appreciate her.
-Cril

My funny valentine
Sweet comic valentine
You make me smile with my heart
Your looks are laughable
Unphotographable
Yet you're my favourite work of art

Is your figure less than greek
Is your mouth a little weak
When you open it to speak
Are you smart?

But don't change a hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little valentine stay
Each day is valentines day

Michael Buble - My Funny Valentine

Sunday, January 28, 2018

I Took A Beating

Once upon a time, a girlfriend of mine was getting frustrated with my communication skills. She kept on giving me the impression that I wasn't telling her everything and that I was censoring my thoughts when we spoke. It might have something to do with the fact that I'm not the most... vocally fluid person when socializing in person. I tend to take an extra beat to sort out what I think in my head, and another half-beat to compose how I can put it into words before my mouth opens and sound comes out.

She had been reading this here blog for a while, I think, and one day told me that she wished we could just "talk like you write." What a strange statement to make. I don't know how exactly she intended it, but it landed like a bit of a slap to the face.

I think the undertones to what she said were alluding to her frustrations that I didn't speak to her as eloquently as I do here, and that I wouldn't tell her some things I'd write about.

Both those things are, of course, totally correct. I totally resent what she said, though, because what I do here is not a conversation. If she wants to talk like how I write, then she doesn't understand how I type and retype sentences until I figure out where they want to take me. And make no mistake, I often have zero idea where they'll lead me - a written entry here usually starts off as a notion, and I beat it to death which each word until a semi-formed thought emerges. It's a long, drawn out process. She wanted to talk like I write? Well, then she should've been willing to wait in total silence for an hour or two while I fumble my way through expressing a complete thought.

Yeah, maybe the final product looks intentional and palatable, but the act of forming it is anything but. Goddamn, what an obnoxious, clueless thing to say, especially for someone who considered themselves to be a 'creative'. I should have replied by saying, "Yeah, and I wish we could talk like you draw."

Ugh.

Okay, take a step back, and breaaaaathe.

That little remark of her's has stuck with me, occasionally zipping around my skull like that stupid fly you swore you swatted into oblivion five times over. And yet it buzzes. I'm hoping that writing it down here will let me lay it to rest once and all.

I really resented that comment. I think it highlighted a couple problems, one of which was her assumption that I was withholding what I thought and felt. And yet I really, honestly was not.

Her words really got inside my head and make me doubt myself and feel like I was terrible at communicating and just plainly wanted to avoid talking to her. The really scary thing was how long it had taken me to understand I wasn't doing anything wrong, and how she was, just maybe, projecting something else onto me.

The exact words were, "do i EVER wish we could talk like you write."

What a fucking insult. For the record, this short little piece of writing has taken me 1.25hrs to compose, I've reordered seven paragraphs, split three in half, deleted two others, and started, retyped, and removed countless sentences. The real kicker? I know there are some goddamn grammatical errors lurking in there somewhere.

There always are.
-Cril

Now tell me why we never respected each other
And tell me why I never believed that you were a person too
I always thought that you fancied my brother
I may not have liked it, oh but memory is a strange thing, oh, and Enid? 
Enid I remember you

Enid we never really knew each other anyway
Enid we never really knew each other anyway
Maybe we always saw right through each other anyway
But Enid we never really knew each other anyway

Barenaked Ladies - Enid

Sunday, January 21, 2018

How Much is Enough / The Delayed Gratification King

I live in Canada, particularly in the part of it where it tends to snow. So the early morning pre-commute routine goes something like this: Get all bundled up, walk out to the car. I open the door, slide my ass into the seat and give my winter boots a rough tap tap like a pissed off Dorothy with malfunctioning shoes. One foot, now slightly less snowy, comes in to push the clutch so I can start the car, pop it in neutral, before I get back out and grab the snow brush from the back seat to clean off the car.

I generally make three passes; one to dust off the snow, one to scrape ice off the windshields, and another to brush off the ice I'd just dislodged. My recent car purchases seem to have fallen prey to the annoying trend of no rear windshield wipers, so that means I need to brush off the entire damn automobile, less I get snow accumulating at the back and obscuring my rear vision.

But I digress, this is the important part: when I'm standing beside the car to start cleaning it off, I always strain my reach just a bit in order to clear off two thirds of the vehicle on my first pass. I mean, yeah, I need to go around to the other side anyways, so I could just do two equally comfortable passes to clean half of the car at a time. Alas, that's not how I roll - I stretch to do more on the first side, so that the second side is easier.

And thus a surprisingly well-entrenched quirk of my personality is illuminated in the cold, dark hours of the morning while I work through a totally banal task: I am a complete sucker for delayed gratification.

I think one of the more interesting manifestations of this is how I tend to play single player video games. Is it an RPG system with levels and skill points I can use to unlock to abilities? Yeah, I'll hover 2-3 levels' worth of upgrades just in case I get to a tough section where I might need some specific skills. Got a new/fun mega gun in an FPS? Start hoarding all that ammo, and *only* use some when I've come across more than I can immediately pick up.

Spoiler alert for the original Half-Life: When I got to the point where you get the alien hornet shooting gun with recharging ammo, that immediately became my default weapon for all encounters. Even when it wasn't ideal, and even when it was obviously not efficient for taking down certain enemies. I had to keep my rocket launcher and rail gun topped up for... You know, whatever might come.

Alas, this whole strategy takes a turn in the final act when you lose your entire inventory and have to start from scratch. All that preciously hoarded ammo immediately disappeared. So I used the basic pistol/SMG through the rest of the game, until about half way through the final boss fight when I was fairly certain that this was, in fact, the final boss. And then I unleashed all manners of hell on that poor bastard, and you're damn straight that I had enough rockets and energy packs to keep going another three rounds. Instead it just went to credits.

Kind of amusing, right? I have a jar of cherries that my mom canned in my fridge. She gave it to me a couple years ago, and I came close to eating them... Until I decided that I should save them for a special occasion. But apparently paying off student loans, owning a dream car, landing a new job, and/or getting out of a bad relationship don't qualify. Instead the cherries are surely tip-toeing past their expiration date while hiding behind the margarine and mayo.

The whole thing suddenly takes a turn away from just a harmless quirk, doesn't it?

For the past three or so years, I've been living in an absolutely terrible hole in the ground. It's technically a basement suite, and most likely the single cheapest independent living accommodations in the city. For $575 per month I have to wear slippers so my soul isn't sucked away through the cold concrete floor, and need to travel through a common area to get to my bathroom under the stairs. During the winter I need two space heaters and a blanket to stay warm at my desk. There's a huge railway tie that makes it difficult to back out of my gravel driveway, since a condo unit went up across the street I've lost about 50% of what precious little direct sunlight navigates its way through my small windows. To get out of my suite I need to go up a narrow set of stairs and out through a door that doesn't latch without the deadbolt. That last part doesn't sound too bad until you reality drop-kicks you in the head with the fact that it's impossible for you to close the door at all if one of your hands is full.

But I mean, hey, it's a space of my own and, more importantly, I'm saving a bundle. It makes all my troubles worth while! That's why I renewed the lease. And why I did it again two times more. Just think of how much I'm saving! Take advantage of it while I can! Tuck those dollars away into the bank!

And I'm working at a good job right now, too. I need to make the most of that fact, and put away as much money as I can - I'm technically a contractor, so I don't have a lot of job security. So I'll skip on taking vacation time, and even if I do take vacation, I'll make sure I still work at least half days. Now's the time to take advantage of this income and low expenses so I can establish some financial security.

Money. Save, save, save. Save now so that later down the road I won't have to worry so much! Now's the time to catch up/get ahead on retirement! I mean, yeah, set aside some each month for travelling and amazing adventures, but don't really do any of those things. I gotta just keep my head down and work hard so I can take advantage of full paychecks, right? If I'm doing that, I may as well invest some of it so it isn't just sitting idle while I'm too busy to actually use it for the reason that I'm saving it in the first place. Don't ever wan't to see that bank account number get smaller.

I wonder if money, too, can tip-toe past an expiration date while hiding behind the margarine and mayo. Maybe instead of worrying about my money's expiration, I should be worrying about my own.

Some of this is no doubt tied to growing up as a sensitive kid in a poor family. I remember shopping at second hand stores before the start of school, and being told that there wouldn't be any milk until pay day, and if I was hungry to look and see if there were any canned beans in the pantry. And I remember my mom crying because she bought a small carton of strawberries on sale. That spontaneous purchase was enough to throw the entire family's budget into chaos that month. Fun times.

I'm not broke, and I don't have a family to feed. But here I am, enduring daily discomfort for the sake of living (un)comfortably below my means and feeding my insatiable bank account. When does enough become enough? Will I know it when I see it, or did I pass that point two years ago? Will I recognize the final boss in time to even use up half of my big-gun ammo? That's a scary question.

The things your mind ponders to fill the empty darkness of a winter's morning as you get ready for your snowy commute.
-Cril