At 12 noon today, just as I was about to go to lunch, my cell phone rang. It was Stephanie. She told me that the sliding glass door had been broken (I missed the "how" at the time).
So, I drove home, swept up a billion pieces of glass, and set a giant board up where the back door used to be.
(Oh, the how it happened part - Irina, in anger, threw a magnet that belongs to Saren. It hit Saren in the head, and then hit the sliding glass door, shattering it. Yeah. That girl needs to get a deal with a professional baseball team.)
So, anyway. I got out the yellow pages to call a glass company or two to get quotes to find out how much it would cost to replace the door.
First company I called, I got a voicemail. The message said, "We're unable to get to the phone, please leave a message. If this is an emergency..." But I hung up at that point because it wasn't, and if the people weren't going to answer their phones, well, that's their loss.
As I was looking for the next company to call, the phone rang. I answered, and it was a guy from the place I had just called, he said, "This is [iforgethisname], I just missed your call?"
I was a little surprised, but I explained the situation and the door's measurements to him. He asked if we wanted tempered glass (which is what we had) or laminated, which would be extra, but it (supposedly) wouldn't shatter if it broke in the future. The tempered glass would cost $250, the laminated would be $375.
I said the tempered, and he told me that he'd have to check his stock to see if he had a piece that size, and that he would call me back in 20 minutes. He also asked me, "If I don't have the tempered glass, I *do* have the laminated in, would you want to go with that?"
I agreed that, if we had to do the laminated, I'd go with that.
I hung up, and talked to Steph.
After a few minutes, she said, "Do you want to call any other places to see if it might be cheaper?"
I said sure, and called another place, and long story short (too late!), they're going to be able to put the tempered glass in for 200, and they've got it in stock. (ALthough they said they won't be here until sometime between 5pm and 8pm....so we're still waiting.)
After hanging up with Company #2, I was like, "Should I call the first guy back to let him know we don't need him?"
Steph said to just wait until he calls us. But I didn't want to risk him actually sending someone out, so I called him up and here's how our conversation went:
Me: "Hey, I just called you a few minutes ago, about the sliding glass door?"
Jerkass Glass Guy: "Yeah."
Me: "I wanted to let you know that we got someone else that is going to do it."
JGG: "Oh. Thanks for making me go out of my way."
Me: "Well, sorry, man."
JGG: "Asshole." and then he hung up.
Wow. So glad we didn't go with him. And really, I stopped him from going out of his way. I mean, jesus. Some people.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Upfront, briefly
This year's CW Upfront actually took place on Thursday of last week. However, since I was at home with Silas at the time, I didn't get a chance to watch it until today. Since it was a really short presentation, and since I've blogged about each upfront for the past three years, I figured I'd blog my thoughts on this one.
(And, yeah, this is sort of a procrastination tactic for my story. But I swear, The Greater Good should be posted tomorrow.)
Like I said, this Upfront was brief. Which is good. They should all be this short. But I guess since the CW is eliminating an entire night's worth of programming next fall [they're dropping Sundays from the schedule, giving the time back to the affiliates {yay! More work for me!}], it doesn't take as long to talk about their lineups.
So. Anyway, out walked some CW bigshot, whose name and position I've forgotten, who spoke for maybe a minute, and introduced some character from Gossip Girl (I deduced. I don't watch the show.). His name was Chuck Bass, and I guess his character is a greedy womanizer. He's supposed to be a CEO of some industry, so he's like a millionaire playboy or something. Somehow I doubt he's dressing up in batsuits and doing vigilante justice. But if that is happening, I might have to start watching Gossip Girl.
Anyway, Chuck Bass does a shpiel about how in these tough economic times, even networks can fail, (but enough about NBC - Ha!) but the CW won't because they're going after the demographic of young women. His speech was slightly amusing, and I'm sure I'd've appreciated it more if I watched the show, but whatever. He introduces Dawn Ostroff (CW's President of Entertainment), who comes out and does a little more of the "CW is awesome" shtick that is to be expected at these things. And then, after about three minutes, she gets right to the new shows. Yay!
First up was Melrose Place. Yup. The Beverly Hills 90210 spin-off from the 1990s is now the 90210 spin-off of the aughts. It looked like more of the same - pretty, rich people having not-real-life problems. And sex. So I think I'll pass. The future girlfriend of Derek Reese (Jessie, I think her character's name was?) from Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles is in this show, though, so that was neat in a "hey! I know that actress!" sort of way.
Next up was Vampire Diaries, which, I guess, are based on some books. Basic premise: Vampire who used to live in Generic Town X moved away, then comes back for Mysterious Reasons. Oh, and he doesn't kill people anymore. Or so he claims.
Anyway, Mysterious Vampire attends high school (insert world's biggest fucking sigh here) and falls in love with World's Most Beautiful Girl whose parents died in a car crash a few years back. Um. So, it's Lana Lang?? Ugh. Shoot me.
I was all set to write it off, but then there was a twist. Mysterious Vamp has a vampire brother! And vamp bro is totally evil!! As in, he still likes killing people! And when he finds out that Mysterious Vamp is in love with World's Most Beautiful Girl, he's all, "ORLY?" and decides he might just fall in love with her. Or, you know, kill her. Sibling rivalry and vampire fighting ensues.
But the best part? Evil Vamp Bro is totally Boone from season one of Lost!! Yay!
It looks like it might suck (and it probably well) BUT!! Boone!! So, maybe. (but probably not)
Third up was The Beautiful Life, a scripted show that is about the fashion industry. So, rich, pretty people having not-real-life problems. And sex. Yawn!
The midseason show, Parental Discretion Advised looked semi-good, actually. A teenage girl who was given up for adoption finds her birth parents in Portland, Oregon (dad is a slacker type who lives above a bar he owns, mom is a famous DJ - they hooked up in high school and then went separate ways). She wants to get emanicipated, but a judge forces the parents to watch over her? It sounds kinda cheesy when I write it out like that, but it might not be half bad. I'd be willing to give it a shot, anyway.
So, having shown clips of the new shows, Dawn went to the schedule. New shows are bold:
Mon
8p - Gossip Girl
9p - One Tree Hill (again?? Won't this show just die already?)
Tue
8p - 90210
9p - Melrose Place
Wed
8p - America's Next Top Model
9p - The Beautiful Life
Thur
8p - The Vampire Diaries
9p - Supernatural
Fri
8p - Smallville
9p - America's Next Top Model repeat
Smallville on Fridays? Huh.
And Vamp Diaries on Thursday at 8 means we won't be watching due to Survivor. Oh well. Since I'm not a young woman, I'm not really the CW's target audience anyway.
(And, yeah, this is sort of a procrastination tactic for my story. But I swear, The Greater Good should be posted tomorrow.)
Like I said, this Upfront was brief. Which is good. They should all be this short. But I guess since the CW is eliminating an entire night's worth of programming next fall [they're dropping Sundays from the schedule, giving the time back to the affiliates {yay! More work for me!}], it doesn't take as long to talk about their lineups.
So. Anyway, out walked some CW bigshot, whose name and position I've forgotten, who spoke for maybe a minute, and introduced some character from Gossip Girl (I deduced. I don't watch the show.). His name was Chuck Bass, and I guess his character is a greedy womanizer. He's supposed to be a CEO of some industry, so he's like a millionaire playboy or something. Somehow I doubt he's dressing up in batsuits and doing vigilante justice. But if that is happening, I might have to start watching Gossip Girl.
Anyway, Chuck Bass does a shpiel about how in these tough economic times, even networks can fail, (but enough about NBC - Ha!) but the CW won't because they're going after the demographic of young women. His speech was slightly amusing, and I'm sure I'd've appreciated it more if I watched the show, but whatever. He introduces Dawn Ostroff (CW's President of Entertainment), who comes out and does a little more of the "CW is awesome" shtick that is to be expected at these things. And then, after about three minutes, she gets right to the new shows. Yay!
First up was Melrose Place. Yup. The Beverly Hills 90210 spin-off from the 1990s is now the 90210 spin-off of the aughts. It looked like more of the same - pretty, rich people having not-real-life problems. And sex. So I think I'll pass. The future girlfriend of Derek Reese (Jessie, I think her character's name was?) from Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles is in this show, though, so that was neat in a "hey! I know that actress!" sort of way.
Next up was Vampire Diaries, which, I guess, are based on some books. Basic premise: Vampire who used to live in Generic Town X moved away, then comes back for Mysterious Reasons. Oh, and he doesn't kill people anymore. Or so he claims.
Anyway, Mysterious Vampire attends high school (insert world's biggest fucking sigh here) and falls in love with World's Most Beautiful Girl whose parents died in a car crash a few years back. Um. So, it's Lana Lang?? Ugh. Shoot me.
I was all set to write it off, but then there was a twist. Mysterious Vamp has a vampire brother! And vamp bro is totally evil!! As in, he still likes killing people! And when he finds out that Mysterious Vamp is in love with World's Most Beautiful Girl, he's all, "ORLY?" and decides he might just fall in love with her. Or, you know, kill her. Sibling rivalry and vampire fighting ensues.
But the best part? Evil Vamp Bro is totally Boone from season one of Lost!! Yay!
It looks like it might suck (and it probably well) BUT!! Boone!! So, maybe. (but probably not)
Third up was The Beautiful Life, a scripted show that is about the fashion industry. So, rich, pretty people having not-real-life problems. And sex. Yawn!
The midseason show, Parental Discretion Advised looked semi-good, actually. A teenage girl who was given up for adoption finds her birth parents in Portland, Oregon (dad is a slacker type who lives above a bar he owns, mom is a famous DJ - they hooked up in high school and then went separate ways). She wants to get emanicipated, but a judge forces the parents to watch over her? It sounds kinda cheesy when I write it out like that, but it might not be half bad. I'd be willing to give it a shot, anyway.
So, having shown clips of the new shows, Dawn went to the schedule. New shows are bold:
Mon
8p - Gossip Girl
9p - One Tree Hill (again?? Won't this show just die already?)
Tue
8p - 90210
9p - Melrose Place
Wed
8p - America's Next Top Model
9p - The Beautiful Life
Thur
8p - The Vampire Diaries
9p - Supernatural
Fri
8p - Smallville
9p - America's Next Top Model repeat
Smallville on Fridays? Huh.
And Vamp Diaries on Thursday at 8 means we won't be watching due to Survivor. Oh well. Since I'm not a young woman, I'm not really the CW's target audience anyway.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
I wish it really worked this way.
Irina and I were playing pretend.
Irina: You wanna buy some ice cream?
Me: Sure!
Irina: Okay. Do you have moneys?
Me: No.
Irina: Okay. Here's some moneys! *hands me imaginary money* ...And some pennies! *hands me imaginary pennies*
Me: Thanks! *hands her the imaginary money back*
Irina: And here's your ice cream! *hands me imaginary ice cream cone*
Best. Ice Cream. Vendor. Ever.
Irina: You wanna buy some ice cream?
Me: Sure!
Irina: Okay. Do you have moneys?
Me: No.
Irina: Okay. Here's some moneys! *hands me imaginary money* ...And some pennies! *hands me imaginary pennies*
Me: Thanks! *hands her the imaginary money back*
Irina: And here's your ice cream! *hands me imaginary ice cream cone*
Best. Ice Cream. Vendor. Ever.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Of keyboard kidney stones and other issues
Hodge-podge entry.
So I haven't blogged the next installment of my story yet, despite the fact that I should have posted the next 2 sections by now (and the final one, if I had stuck to my schedule, would have been up on Thursday). I have, however, been writing it out on paper, but here's the thing: Writing this story (or any story, really) is like passing a freaking kidney stone. The ideas are more or less there, in my head, oftentimes playing out like I'm watching a movie, but getting them to transfer from there to screen (or page) is damn difficult. And it's highly frustrating.
I've told myself about a billion times with this tale that it's just a first draft (and it is) but that hasn't exactly helped. I don't know what it is, exactly, that makes it so hard for me to write, but I wish I could get past it. I mean, it's not fear of it sucking, because as I said, I KNOW the errors that are present in the form that it's taken so far, and I'm (more or less) okay with them. It's not not knowing where it's going, because, oddly, I have this one pretty much mapped out. [Which is unusual for me. Generally when story ideas come to me, it's the beginning and some plot points along the way of things that would be good to have happen, and absolutely no idea how it'll end. Not so in this instance. I've known from the get-go how this was going to start, a few of the middle bits, and the end. So. Why. Won't. It. Flow?? Arrgh!]
Anyway. The point for now is that even though I haven't finished writing out The Greater Good (which is the title of the next section), and I haven't even begun typing it up - I will. I made a promise to myself (and the readers of this blog) that I would finish the entire thing by the end of this month, and I plan on keeping that promise. The last 3 sections: The Greater Good, Another Version of the Truth, and Zero-Sum will all be typed up and posted by midnight of 5/31/09, even if I need to travel back in time to make it happen. (ha!)
Other things: Last night I had my first work-related dream since I've been on 'paternity leave' this week. It was rather dull, as most work dreams are. And it was simply nerves about going back after having been gone for so long. In the dream, my work space had been cleaned up and all my papers were misfiled and I couldn't remember how to, you know, do my job. Rolleyes. Silly brains. Of course, I really am NOT looking forward to going back tomorrow, but what am I gonna do - starve?
We've got a bit of an empty nest here now. The older girls have gone off with their grandmother to have a camping trip for 3 days. This will be the longest that the girls have ever been away from us (they've done sleepovers at grandma's before, but three days is a new record). It's ...quiet here. I don't know how Steph (and Irina!) will handle things tomorrow when I am gone, too.
I really need a haircut. I haven't had one this year.
Yesterday I went out to get gas for the van, and some dinner as well, and ended up getting hit by a guy on his bike. He was okay, as was his bicycle - although his handlebars were bent a bit - but for a few minutes afterward I was shaky as hell. It seems like each time I go to get food lately, something unusual happens. I'm getting ready to go out now with Irina to grab a Slurpee and some junk food. We'll have to see what goes down this time.
So I haven't blogged the next installment of my story yet, despite the fact that I should have posted the next 2 sections by now (and the final one, if I had stuck to my schedule, would have been up on Thursday). I have, however, been writing it out on paper, but here's the thing: Writing this story (or any story, really) is like passing a freaking kidney stone. The ideas are more or less there, in my head, oftentimes playing out like I'm watching a movie, but getting them to transfer from there to screen (or page) is damn difficult. And it's highly frustrating.
I've told myself about a billion times with this tale that it's just a first draft (and it is) but that hasn't exactly helped. I don't know what it is, exactly, that makes it so hard for me to write, but I wish I could get past it. I mean, it's not fear of it sucking, because as I said, I KNOW the errors that are present in the form that it's taken so far, and I'm (more or less) okay with them. It's not not knowing where it's going, because, oddly, I have this one pretty much mapped out. [Which is unusual for me. Generally when story ideas come to me, it's the beginning and some plot points along the way of things that would be good to have happen, and absolutely no idea how it'll end. Not so in this instance. I've known from the get-go how this was going to start, a few of the middle bits, and the end. So. Why. Won't. It. Flow?? Arrgh!]
Anyway. The point for now is that even though I haven't finished writing out The Greater Good (which is the title of the next section), and I haven't even begun typing it up - I will. I made a promise to myself (and the readers of this blog) that I would finish the entire thing by the end of this month, and I plan on keeping that promise. The last 3 sections: The Greater Good, Another Version of the Truth, and Zero-Sum will all be typed up and posted by midnight of 5/31/09, even if I need to travel back in time to make it happen. (ha!)
Other things: Last night I had my first work-related dream since I've been on 'paternity leave' this week. It was rather dull, as most work dreams are. And it was simply nerves about going back after having been gone for so long. In the dream, my work space had been cleaned up and all my papers were misfiled and I couldn't remember how to, you know, do my job. Rolleyes. Silly brains. Of course, I really am NOT looking forward to going back tomorrow, but what am I gonna do - starve?
We've got a bit of an empty nest here now. The older girls have gone off with their grandmother to have a camping trip for 3 days. This will be the longest that the girls have ever been away from us (they've done sleepovers at grandma's before, but three days is a new record). It's ...quiet here. I don't know how Steph (and Irina!) will handle things tomorrow when I am gone, too.
I really need a haircut. I haven't had one this year.
Yesterday I went out to get gas for the van, and some dinner as well, and ended up getting hit by a guy on his bike. He was okay, as was his bicycle - although his handlebars were bent a bit - but for a few minutes afterward I was shaky as hell. It seems like each time I go to get food lately, something unusual happens. I'm getting ready to go out now with Irina to grab a Slurpee and some junk food. We'll have to see what goes down this time.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
whoosh!!
That would be the sound of time flying by.
I can not believe that Silas is a week old already.
I know time (seems to) speed up as you get older, but it's pretty ridiculous at how fast things are going now. I'm only 33!
The worst part is that as more time passes, the memories will fade too. We'll have the pictures and the words and the memories as well, but they won't be as strong and fresh as they were in the moment. Not sure if I'm expressing myself very clearly. The point is that time is a precious gift that I truly wish we could get more of.
But, since we can't, I'll just have to appreciate the time we do have.
Happy 1st week in the world, Silas!
I can not believe that Silas is a week old already.
I know time (seems to) speed up as you get older, but it's pretty ridiculous at how fast things are going now. I'm only 33!
The worst part is that as more time passes, the memories will fade too. We'll have the pictures and the words and the memories as well, but they won't be as strong and fresh as they were in the moment. Not sure if I'm expressing myself very clearly. The point is that time is a precious gift that I truly wish we could get more of.
But, since we can't, I'll just have to appreciate the time we do have.
Happy 1st week in the world, Silas!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
I've always relied upon the kindness of others
Is that the right quote? I wasn't sure if it was "others" or "strangers". Both sound right, and either could actually fit the theme of this post, but "others" fits better, honestly.
A few weeks before Silas was born, about ten or twenty people at work chipped in to purchase a gift card for our family as a baby shower gift. They gave us a 300 dollar gift card to Walmart, which was awesome, because Walmart has food, which will help us out in the buying of groceries department, since we are incredibly strapped for cash.
Since we got it, we've used it twice. Once for a pretty big grocery trip before Silas arrived, and then yesterday I used it to buy some formula for Silas to help ease his crankiness until Steph's milk comes in. (Which has happened.)
So. Kindness of Others Example 1 was the Walmart gift card.
Yesterday we got two phone calls. The first was from my work. The business department wanted to send us food! They were ordering a bunch of sandwiches from Jason's Deli (YUM!) to be delivered our way. They asked me when would be a good time, and I said, "How about 1pm tomorrow?" So, then, we were covered for lunch for today. The second phone call was from Steph's aunt, who was offering to bring us dinner. YUM! And Yay!
So, Kindness of Others Examples 2 and 3 were our free lunch and dinner today. (Both were delicious, by the way. The turkey sandwiches from Jason's Deli were scrumptious, and Lori's casserole was perfect and very filling.)
That brings me to Kindness of Others Example 4.
I had to go to Walmart today to pick up some items we've run low on (or completely out of). I opted to take Irina with me, to give Steph a break from the tornado, and also because Irina enjoys Daddy/Daughter trips.
So, I grabbed the gift card, and we went on our way.
While in the checkout line, I was putting the items on the conveyor belt, when the man behind me tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and saw an older guy - early 50s, perhaps - carrying three TV dinners and a couple of cans of Coke. He said something that I *thought* was "Add this to it?", and I thought he was jokingly (or maybe not so jokingly, people can be odd) asking me if I would purchase his meal along with *my* items.
Assuming it was a joke, I laughingly said, "Sorry, man. I can't." and returned to emptying my shopping cart. He motioned to Irina and asked me, "That your kid?"
Any time strangers start mentioning my children, alarm bells start tingling, but I cautiously said, "Yeah."
He asked, "Where's mom?"
I said, "She's at home, resting."
And then he said, "Tell you what I'm gonna do. Let me put this [he indicated his TV dinners] on there [meaning the conveyor belt], and I'll pay for it all."
I looked at him like he'd lost his mind, and so he said, "I'm in construction, and I'm doing well. I just like to give back to people."
I continued to unload the cart and I said, "I don't think I can let you do that." At that point he saw that I was wearing my Pink Floyd t-shirt {that Harper gave to me on my birthday} and said, "Yeah, when pigs fly, huh? Then said, "Pink Floyd, huh? Anyone who likes Pink Floyd can't be all bad."
He talked a little bit more, telling me that he would be insulted if I *didn't* take him up on this offer, and that there was no catch, he just likes to give back when he can.
At that point, I figured, what the hell. Maybe this is the universe continuing to shower us with kindness/gifts because of Silas. Or just because. So, I said, "All right.", and thanked him - he told me his name was Ray Welsh - profusely. He said that it was his honor, and that he himself had been through good times and bad, and since he was currently in good times, he knew he needed to help others, and that by buying my groceries, he was saving us a few bucks.
But wait. There's more.
On the way to the parking lot, I was heading back to the van, and he was heading in the opposite direction. I thanked him one more time and he said, "Hey! Wait a minute!" And I thought, "Okay. Here we go." I stopped, and he opened his wallet and pulled out five 20s. He gave them to me and said, "Take care of momma."
I felt really uncomfortable about taking his cash, but he insisted, and I was sorta in a little bit of shock. While he was handing me the money, someone else in the parking lot saw the transaction and said something to Ray. (Probably asking for some cash since he was just giving away from money) Ray responded, "That's your problem, not mine!" and then he asked me name (again. I had given it to him earlier) and said, "Good luck!" And then, that was it.
I've heard of random acts of kindness before, but I've never actually been on the receiving end of one so ...random.
A few weeks before Silas was born, about ten or twenty people at work chipped in to purchase a gift card for our family as a baby shower gift. They gave us a 300 dollar gift card to Walmart, which was awesome, because Walmart has food, which will help us out in the buying of groceries department, since we are incredibly strapped for cash.
Since we got it, we've used it twice. Once for a pretty big grocery trip before Silas arrived, and then yesterday I used it to buy some formula for Silas to help ease his crankiness until Steph's milk comes in. (Which has happened.)
So. Kindness of Others Example 1 was the Walmart gift card.
Yesterday we got two phone calls. The first was from my work. The business department wanted to send us food! They were ordering a bunch of sandwiches from Jason's Deli (YUM!) to be delivered our way. They asked me when would be a good time, and I said, "How about 1pm tomorrow?" So, then, we were covered for lunch for today. The second phone call was from Steph's aunt, who was offering to bring us dinner. YUM! And Yay!
So, Kindness of Others Examples 2 and 3 were our free lunch and dinner today. (Both were delicious, by the way. The turkey sandwiches from Jason's Deli were scrumptious, and Lori's casserole was perfect and very filling.)
That brings me to Kindness of Others Example 4.
I had to go to Walmart today to pick up some items we've run low on (or completely out of). I opted to take Irina with me, to give Steph a break from the tornado, and also because Irina enjoys Daddy/Daughter trips.
So, I grabbed the gift card, and we went on our way.
While in the checkout line, I was putting the items on the conveyor belt, when the man behind me tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and saw an older guy - early 50s, perhaps - carrying three TV dinners and a couple of cans of Coke. He said something that I *thought* was "Add this to it?", and I thought he was jokingly (or maybe not so jokingly, people can be odd) asking me if I would purchase his meal along with *my* items.
Assuming it was a joke, I laughingly said, "Sorry, man. I can't." and returned to emptying my shopping cart. He motioned to Irina and asked me, "That your kid?"
Any time strangers start mentioning my children, alarm bells start tingling, but I cautiously said, "Yeah."
He asked, "Where's mom?"
I said, "She's at home, resting."
And then he said, "Tell you what I'm gonna do. Let me put this [he indicated his TV dinners] on there [meaning the conveyor belt], and I'll pay for it all."
I looked at him like he'd lost his mind, and so he said, "I'm in construction, and I'm doing well. I just like to give back to people."
I continued to unload the cart and I said, "I don't think I can let you do that." At that point he saw that I was wearing my Pink Floyd t-shirt {that Harper gave to me on my birthday} and said, "Yeah, when pigs fly, huh? Then said, "Pink Floyd, huh? Anyone who likes Pink Floyd can't be all bad."
He talked a little bit more, telling me that he would be insulted if I *didn't* take him up on this offer, and that there was no catch, he just likes to give back when he can.
At that point, I figured, what the hell. Maybe this is the universe continuing to shower us with kindness/gifts because of Silas. Or just because. So, I said, "All right.", and thanked him - he told me his name was Ray Welsh - profusely. He said that it was his honor, and that he himself had been through good times and bad, and since he was currently in good times, he knew he needed to help others, and that by buying my groceries, he was saving us a few bucks.
But wait. There's more.
On the way to the parking lot, I was heading back to the van, and he was heading in the opposite direction. I thanked him one more time and he said, "Hey! Wait a minute!" And I thought, "Okay. Here we go." I stopped, and he opened his wallet and pulled out five 20s. He gave them to me and said, "Take care of momma."
I felt really uncomfortable about taking his cash, but he insisted, and I was sorta in a little bit of shock. While he was handing me the money, someone else in the parking lot saw the transaction and said something to Ray. (Probably asking for some cash since he was just giving away from money) Ray responded, "That's your problem, not mine!" and then he asked me name (again. I had given it to him earlier) and said, "Good luck!" And then, that was it.
I've heard of random acts of kindness before, but I've never actually been on the receiving end of one so ...random.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Silas
My take on the birth of Silas:
On Sunday, the 17th, Steph was having contractions throughout the day, with them increasing in intensity, but not really getting any more frequent. However, she must have known that that day was going to be the day, because she set up her "nest" (old blankets and towels) and birth candles and CDs in the bedroom around 2 in the afternoon, and more or less waited it out as the contractions started to happen more frequently.
Around 6:30, Steph called for us to come in, and we did.
During the labor, Steph was in a lot of pain. Several times she said that she didn't want to do it anymore, that it was too difficult. I asked her if she wanted me to call an ambulance so we could go to the doctor, but she said she didn't know. (Saren was against this idea quite strongly) Steph said that she was worried that he was facing the wrong way (although she said "the baby", since we didn't know it was a boy yet) which worried me a great deal.
Soon, though, he began to crown, and we knew that it was going to happen at home. (there was a rather embarrasing moment where when his head was first coming through, there was a glob of blood on him that I mistook for a penis. I'm sure that didn't help matters any with my announcing that the baby was being delivered the wrong way)
With the head starting to crown, Steph pushed several times - I believe it took four pushes to get his head completely out, which is unusual for her. All the other births have been one push for the head, and one push for the body - or in Irina's case, simply one push for the whole baby.
After his entire body came out with the next push, I caught him, and was amazed again at how slimy and tiny and amazing newborn humans are.
The cord was draped over his neck, but he started crying right away, which was a great sound to hear. Irina, however, was standing on the bed with her hands over her ears. Poor girl.
I set the baby on Steph's leg and got a towel to wrap him up in.
Saren got the camera and took some pictures.
He had a lot of hair, which was also unlike the other births. His head was also much larger than I remember any of the girls' being. His eyes were open and looking around very shortly after being born, just taking in his new surroundings.
Steph took Silas and nursed him for a bit, as we all huddled around looking at the newest member of our family.
Once he was out, I asked what time it was, and Harper reported back to me - 7:37. (We later remembered/found out that the clock in the bedroom is five minutes fast, so his official birth time was 7:32pm)
We called Steph's mom, and my family as well, and told them the good news. Stephanie's mother said she was on her way over - but that she would give us some time so that Steph could deliver the afterbirth, and so that we could get things cleaned up a bit.
Silas, the girls, and I all went out to the living room, and we turned on the finale of Survivor (what? We wanted to see how it ended) while I put some frozen pizzas in the oven for dinner. Steph stayed in the bedroom, waiting out the delivery of the placenta.
Once Steph's mom showed up, she looked over Silas while I went back in to check on Steph, who was still not out of the bedroom. I was dismayed at what I saw - there was a LOT of blood on the nest, and Steph's face was really pale. She was sitting up, and saying she couldn't get the placenta to come out. She said that she had stood up to take a shower, and that she had started seeing black spots and her ears were ringing. That was when the option of calling an ambulance for help with this part of the birth was brought up for the first time. Steph at that point said she didn't know.
I left her there to continue working on it, figuring that she simply needed some time (Irina's placenta had taken a while to deliver as well), and joined everyone back in the living room. The girls turned Survivor off so that we could use the Wii Fit's balance board to weigh the baby. :)
According to Wii Fit, he weighed 8 pounds, 9 ounces. We were all like, "Holy crap!" Since the other three children had all been around six pounders.
Another ten minutes or so passed, and Steph still wasn't able to get the afterbirth out. When I went back there again, the amount of blood on the ground was ...not good. Steph went through a contraction while I was there, and she pushed, and all that emerged was more blood.
I got her mom, who came back to talk to Steph, and we talked about calling for help again, and this time Steph agreed. I called 911 and the operator told me to have Steph lie flat on her back, and deeply massage her belly, and that the paramedics were on their way. I set the phone down to go do as instructed, and Steph was deeply upset at the idea of going to the hospital. She was terrified that they were going to hurt her, or that they would admit Silas.
We assured her that neither thing was going to happen, and continued to try to get the placenta out. I went back to the operator, who told me to leave the front door open for the paramedics when they arrived so they could have easier access to Steph. I did so, and hung up with 911, and then went back to help comfort Steph.
As we heard the sirens of the ambulance pull up, Steph pushed extra hard, crying, "Just get out!" A large bloody lump about the size and shape of a softball emerged. I thought it was the placenta and I said, "It's out!" Stephanie was super relieved, saying that she didn't want to go - they could still check her out, but she didn't want to actually be taken anywhere.
I relayed the message to Steph's mom that she had just gotten the placenta out, and the paramedics arrived and stormed inside at that moment. Holy cow, there were suddenly a lot of people in our house. I swear about 8 or 9 different officials paraded into our bedroom, and I have no idea who they all were, or why there were that many people there. However, one of the EMTs (I think) took a look at Steph and gave us the bad news - the lump that Steph had just delivered? Not the placenta. It was simply a blood clot. (Which still amazes me. That thing was gigantic!)
Anyway. A whole lot of chaos happened, and much of those ten minutes or so are a blur. I was told by an EMT to put an old sheet on the couch so that they could move Steph there, rather than in the bedroom, because there was more room out there. I also remember the same head EMT lady asking us, "Did you plan on having a home delivery?" ("Yes") and then "If you planned on it, then why did you call 911?" ("Arched eyebrow" [okay, that was implied. Our real answer was]"Because of the blood loss.")
The EMTs also, of course, wanted to check out Silas. We informed them that he was fine, and didn't need to be admitted, but Steph wanted to bring him along in case he got hungry, so she could feed him. They agreed to that.
During this chaos, I lost track of Harper completely - I think she was in the living room with her grandmother. Saren was in the hallway with me - neither of us could get into the bedroom because there were, as I said, about a dozen people there, and the room is crowded enough when there are just four of us. I did see that Irina was standing on the bed, looking terrified of the entire scene. Saren was able to go into the bedroom and get her.
With the aid of the EMTs, Steph was able to make her way to the couch. She waited for the wheeled stretcher to carry her out to the ambulance to show up (apparently in the vehicles that first arrived, they didn't have one of the stretchers, and needed to call another ambulance onto the scene).
There was a two minute window where things seemed pretty calm. They asked us some more questions (I don't remember what, other than the fact that us weighing Silas on the Wii Fit board resulted in a large laugh from the head EMT lady, which ...I don't know if I should be insulted about that or not. I felt like she was laughing due to amusement, but also like she was mocking us. Eh. Whatever.) and then there was a lot of chaos again, as they loaded Steph onto the stretcher. Irina began to cry, and I gave her a hug, telling her things were going to be okay. I got Steph's mom's cell phone number, and promised to call them once we got there and knew more info. This was around 10:40 or so.
They loaded Steph and Silas up into the ambulance, and I thought I'd be able to ride in the back with them (that's how it goes in the movies!), but they instructed me to sit shotgun. I climbed into the passenger seat, and fretted during the entire ride to Sunrise Hospital. The only thing I remember about the ride there, really, was that the AC was cranked and it was really cold.
Once we got to the hospital, they unloaded Steph's stretcher, and I took her hand. She still looked pale, and scared. She had a breathing tube in her nose, which she said she hated, and she had an IV in her arm as well. Silas was sleeping peacefully. Heh. Babies. :)
As we got to a hallway we were separated - Steph would go to Labor & Delivery (L&D), while Silas would have to stay with me, and would be looked at by the doctors in the pediatrician ward. Steph instructed me to not allow them to admit Silas - or at least not to do anything intrusive to him test-wise. And then she was wheeled away to go be taken care of.
I was taken to the pediatrician area where I was asked a round of questions about Silas by about three different people (rolleyes) and the nurses took Silas and placed a device on his foot to get his pulse (and blood pressure?) and then took his temperature (anally, which I didn't like, and really, neither did Silas, but I didn't object too hard because, how else were they going to do it?) They weighed him - and their scale said 8 pounds, 12 ounces. Which means either our Wii is miscalibrated, or he gained some weight. (Or, I guess, maybe the hospital's scales are wrong) Anyway, 8.12 is what we've been going with ever since.
They didn't measure him, which was surprising to me. But I didn't think of it at the time. (We measured him the next day, and he was 19 and a half inches long)
They did conduct a blood sugar test, which was done by poking his foot with a pin to get a drop of blood. I made a Marge noise, but was still not strongly objecting to his tests at this point.
They turned on a heater/incubator type thing and had him lie down under it (despite the fact that his temp was plenty warm, I had him coddled in a blanket to begin with, and holding him next to me was much more ...humane than being placed on a flat bed under a heatlamp) but I stood right by him the whole time. The nurses went to get him some socks, and a homemade hat (which didn't really fit him) and a onesie. They also put a few ID badges on him, just so he couldn't be stolen, I guess.
Then, a nurse put a plastic clamp on his umbilical cord, despite the fact that a) I had tied it off just fine b) I said that it didn't need to be done and c) there was not really any room for the clamp to go.
God, this is the thing that irritated me the most out of all the action that the hospital staff did. I so should have spoken up more and demanded that they NOT put it on him. Irina's cord had been done the same way - tied off with string, cut with scissors - and had been perfectly fine. Silas' would have been as well. But they fed me some bullshit line about not wanting to have "circulation problems", and I cowed to their authority. Sigh.
Anyway. At some point after that, another nurse came in and turned off the heater/incubator thing and told me I could pick him up again. She then got me a chair to sit in while I waited. It was almost midnight at that point, and I had no idea how Stephanie was doing. I opened my cell phone to call home, to at least update them on how I was doing, and also to see how the girls were holding up, but I had no bars, so I simply took a few photos to store on my phone instead.
After about ten more minutes, a doctor came in, asked about giving Silas some eyedrops, to which I refused. He was actually cool with that, and nonjudgmental. He asked some questions about the home birth as well (some of the same questions I'd already answered a few times, but I really liked this guy. He was quite nice and had a great bedside manner) and then he said that he'd be letting me and Silas go in a little while, and that my wife was doing just fine. Yay!
After the doctor left, me and Silas sat for a bit. A nurse came in with some formula in a bottle, in case Silas got hungry while we were waiting. He had been fussing a bit, so I did offer him the bottle. He ended up drinking maybe three or four milliliters. Very little of it at all. But it did calm him down.
After another ten minutes or so of just waiting, a different nurse came in and said we'd have to take his temp again (grr!). We found out that he'd filled his diaper, so she went and got some wipes and a diaper for him, and we changed him up. She then took his temperature, and finally after about three or four more minutes, a different nurse walked me out to the station where I could leave. I had to provide my insurance information at that point, and, of cousre, I didn't have my insurance card on me. So, she got the rest of the info from me, and gave me a number to call later so that the billing information could be updated.
Then, FINALLY, at about 12:30am, I was able to go up to L&D to see Steph.
She was resting, and looked wiped out. But she was awake, and alert, and told me that they were able to get the placenta out right away, and that it had some sort of extra lobe on it, which was why it wasn't being delivered. Huh. Bodies are weird.
The nurses up there told Steph that she was just waiting on her results from her blood test to come back, and then she would be dismissed.
I finally got some bars and was able to call home. The girls were fine - Irina had fallen asleep, and Saren & Harper were playing MarioKart with their uncles.
I updated everyone on how things were going, and then Steph and I waited. About five minutes after hanging up my cell phone, Steph asked me, "So who won [Survivor]?" Hee.
I answered her, "J.T." And she rolled her eyes, "Figures."
We're such nerds.
After about half an hour, Steph suggested I go home, get her stuff, and come back, that way she'd be able to just go, once they released her. I called home, and had Steph's brother, Chance, come and get me. The older girls rode with him, and we all drove back home. I grabbed the car seat for Silas, and Steph's clothing, and then drove back to the hospital. By this time it was about 3 in the morning.
When I got there, there was still a little waiting to go through, and then she was able to go.
After I got the van and drove it around to pick Steph up, she set up the car seat and set Silas into it. She then got in the passenger seat and she said, "I'm so tired. I just want to go to sleep."
I had started to drive home, when Steph gave me the biggest (or one of) scare of hte night - her eyes rolled back and she kinda snored/snorted and twitched a little. I thought she was having a seizure of some sort, and I stopped the van and shook her, yelling her name, asking her if she was okay. I was about two seconds away from backing hte van up to the emergency room (luckily we were right there, so if something had been wrong, that was the place for it to happen) when she came to saying, "What? I just fell asleep."
I told her that she had passed out, and wasn't answering me. She apologized, and said, "Keep an eye on me". I drove home, shaking for a good portion of the drive.
We got home around 4:30 in the morning, and then we said our goodbyes (and thank yous) to Steph's mom and brothers.
And...just like Steph, I don't really have a good way of ending this. That's about all there is to say about Silas' birth. If you haven't already, you should check out Stephanie's version of the night. (And I think it would be cool if Chance and Sean and Saren and Harper all blogged their versions. It would be like a Rashomon type thing!)
It was most certainly a memorable night.
On Sunday, the 17th, Steph was having contractions throughout the day, with them increasing in intensity, but not really getting any more frequent. However, she must have known that that day was going to be the day, because she set up her "nest" (old blankets and towels) and birth candles and CDs in the bedroom around 2 in the afternoon, and more or less waited it out as the contractions started to happen more frequently.
Around 6:30, Steph called for us to come in, and we did.
During the labor, Steph was in a lot of pain. Several times she said that she didn't want to do it anymore, that it was too difficult. I asked her if she wanted me to call an ambulance so we could go to the doctor, but she said she didn't know. (Saren was against this idea quite strongly) Steph said that she was worried that he was facing the wrong way (although she said "the baby", since we didn't know it was a boy yet) which worried me a great deal.
Soon, though, he began to crown, and we knew that it was going to happen at home. (there was a rather embarrasing moment where when his head was first coming through, there was a glob of blood on him that I mistook for a penis. I'm sure that didn't help matters any with my announcing that the baby was being delivered the wrong way)
With the head starting to crown, Steph pushed several times - I believe it took four pushes to get his head completely out, which is unusual for her. All the other births have been one push for the head, and one push for the body - or in Irina's case, simply one push for the whole baby.
After his entire body came out with the next push, I caught him, and was amazed again at how slimy and tiny and amazing newborn humans are.
The cord was draped over his neck, but he started crying right away, which was a great sound to hear. Irina, however, was standing on the bed with her hands over her ears. Poor girl.
I set the baby on Steph's leg and got a towel to wrap him up in.
Saren got the camera and took some pictures.
He had a lot of hair, which was also unlike the other births. His head was also much larger than I remember any of the girls' being. His eyes were open and looking around very shortly after being born, just taking in his new surroundings.
Steph took Silas and nursed him for a bit, as we all huddled around looking at the newest member of our family.
Once he was out, I asked what time it was, and Harper reported back to me - 7:37. (We later remembered/found out that the clock in the bedroom is five minutes fast, so his official birth time was 7:32pm)
We called Steph's mom, and my family as well, and told them the good news. Stephanie's mother said she was on her way over - but that she would give us some time so that Steph could deliver the afterbirth, and so that we could get things cleaned up a bit.
Silas, the girls, and I all went out to the living room, and we turned on the finale of Survivor (what? We wanted to see how it ended) while I put some frozen pizzas in the oven for dinner. Steph stayed in the bedroom, waiting out the delivery of the placenta.
Once Steph's mom showed up, she looked over Silas while I went back in to check on Steph, who was still not out of the bedroom. I was dismayed at what I saw - there was a LOT of blood on the nest, and Steph's face was really pale. She was sitting up, and saying she couldn't get the placenta to come out. She said that she had stood up to take a shower, and that she had started seeing black spots and her ears were ringing. That was when the option of calling an ambulance for help with this part of the birth was brought up for the first time. Steph at that point said she didn't know.
I left her there to continue working on it, figuring that she simply needed some time (Irina's placenta had taken a while to deliver as well), and joined everyone back in the living room. The girls turned Survivor off so that we could use the Wii Fit's balance board to weigh the baby. :)
According to Wii Fit, he weighed 8 pounds, 9 ounces. We were all like, "Holy crap!" Since the other three children had all been around six pounders.
Another ten minutes or so passed, and Steph still wasn't able to get the afterbirth out. When I went back there again, the amount of blood on the ground was ...not good. Steph went through a contraction while I was there, and she pushed, and all that emerged was more blood.
I got her mom, who came back to talk to Steph, and we talked about calling for help again, and this time Steph agreed. I called 911 and the operator told me to have Steph lie flat on her back, and deeply massage her belly, and that the paramedics were on their way. I set the phone down to go do as instructed, and Steph was deeply upset at the idea of going to the hospital. She was terrified that they were going to hurt her, or that they would admit Silas.
We assured her that neither thing was going to happen, and continued to try to get the placenta out. I went back to the operator, who told me to leave the front door open for the paramedics when they arrived so they could have easier access to Steph. I did so, and hung up with 911, and then went back to help comfort Steph.
As we heard the sirens of the ambulance pull up, Steph pushed extra hard, crying, "Just get out!" A large bloody lump about the size and shape of a softball emerged. I thought it was the placenta and I said, "It's out!" Stephanie was super relieved, saying that she didn't want to go - they could still check her out, but she didn't want to actually be taken anywhere.
I relayed the message to Steph's mom that she had just gotten the placenta out, and the paramedics arrived and stormed inside at that moment. Holy cow, there were suddenly a lot of people in our house. I swear about 8 or 9 different officials paraded into our bedroom, and I have no idea who they all were, or why there were that many people there. However, one of the EMTs (I think) took a look at Steph and gave us the bad news - the lump that Steph had just delivered? Not the placenta. It was simply a blood clot. (Which still amazes me. That thing was gigantic!)
Anyway. A whole lot of chaos happened, and much of those ten minutes or so are a blur. I was told by an EMT to put an old sheet on the couch so that they could move Steph there, rather than in the bedroom, because there was more room out there. I also remember the same head EMT lady asking us, "Did you plan on having a home delivery?" ("Yes") and then "If you planned on it, then why did you call 911?" ("Arched eyebrow" [okay, that was implied. Our real answer was]"Because of the blood loss.")
The EMTs also, of course, wanted to check out Silas. We informed them that he was fine, and didn't need to be admitted, but Steph wanted to bring him along in case he got hungry, so she could feed him. They agreed to that.
During this chaos, I lost track of Harper completely - I think she was in the living room with her grandmother. Saren was in the hallway with me - neither of us could get into the bedroom because there were, as I said, about a dozen people there, and the room is crowded enough when there are just four of us. I did see that Irina was standing on the bed, looking terrified of the entire scene. Saren was able to go into the bedroom and get her.
With the aid of the EMTs, Steph was able to make her way to the couch. She waited for the wheeled stretcher to carry her out to the ambulance to show up (apparently in the vehicles that first arrived, they didn't have one of the stretchers, and needed to call another ambulance onto the scene).
There was a two minute window where things seemed pretty calm. They asked us some more questions (I don't remember what, other than the fact that us weighing Silas on the Wii Fit board resulted in a large laugh from the head EMT lady, which ...I don't know if I should be insulted about that or not. I felt like she was laughing due to amusement, but also like she was mocking us. Eh. Whatever.) and then there was a lot of chaos again, as they loaded Steph onto the stretcher. Irina began to cry, and I gave her a hug, telling her things were going to be okay. I got Steph's mom's cell phone number, and promised to call them once we got there and knew more info. This was around 10:40 or so.
They loaded Steph and Silas up into the ambulance, and I thought I'd be able to ride in the back with them (that's how it goes in the movies!), but they instructed me to sit shotgun. I climbed into the passenger seat, and fretted during the entire ride to Sunrise Hospital. The only thing I remember about the ride there, really, was that the AC was cranked and it was really cold.
Once we got to the hospital, they unloaded Steph's stretcher, and I took her hand. She still looked pale, and scared. She had a breathing tube in her nose, which she said she hated, and she had an IV in her arm as well. Silas was sleeping peacefully. Heh. Babies. :)
As we got to a hallway we were separated - Steph would go to Labor & Delivery (L&D), while Silas would have to stay with me, and would be looked at by the doctors in the pediatrician ward. Steph instructed me to not allow them to admit Silas - or at least not to do anything intrusive to him test-wise. And then she was wheeled away to go be taken care of.
I was taken to the pediatrician area where I was asked a round of questions about Silas by about three different people (rolleyes) and the nurses took Silas and placed a device on his foot to get his pulse (and blood pressure?) and then took his temperature (anally, which I didn't like, and really, neither did Silas, but I didn't object too hard because, how else were they going to do it?) They weighed him - and their scale said 8 pounds, 12 ounces. Which means either our Wii is miscalibrated, or he gained some weight. (Or, I guess, maybe the hospital's scales are wrong) Anyway, 8.12 is what we've been going with ever since.
They didn't measure him, which was surprising to me. But I didn't think of it at the time. (We measured him the next day, and he was 19 and a half inches long)
They did conduct a blood sugar test, which was done by poking his foot with a pin to get a drop of blood. I made a Marge noise, but was still not strongly objecting to his tests at this point.
They turned on a heater/incubator type thing and had him lie down under it (despite the fact that his temp was plenty warm, I had him coddled in a blanket to begin with, and holding him next to me was much more ...humane than being placed on a flat bed under a heatlamp) but I stood right by him the whole time. The nurses went to get him some socks, and a homemade hat (which didn't really fit him) and a onesie. They also put a few ID badges on him, just so he couldn't be stolen, I guess.
Then, a nurse put a plastic clamp on his umbilical cord, despite the fact that a) I had tied it off just fine b) I said that it didn't need to be done and c) there was not really any room for the clamp to go.
God, this is the thing that irritated me the most out of all the action that the hospital staff did. I so should have spoken up more and demanded that they NOT put it on him. Irina's cord had been done the same way - tied off with string, cut with scissors - and had been perfectly fine. Silas' would have been as well. But they fed me some bullshit line about not wanting to have "circulation problems", and I cowed to their authority. Sigh.
Anyway. At some point after that, another nurse came in and turned off the heater/incubator thing and told me I could pick him up again. She then got me a chair to sit in while I waited. It was almost midnight at that point, and I had no idea how Stephanie was doing. I opened my cell phone to call home, to at least update them on how I was doing, and also to see how the girls were holding up, but I had no bars, so I simply took a few photos to store on my phone instead.
After about ten more minutes, a doctor came in, asked about giving Silas some eyedrops, to which I refused. He was actually cool with that, and nonjudgmental. He asked some questions about the home birth as well (some of the same questions I'd already answered a few times, but I really liked this guy. He was quite nice and had a great bedside manner) and then he said that he'd be letting me and Silas go in a little while, and that my wife was doing just fine. Yay!
After the doctor left, me and Silas sat for a bit. A nurse came in with some formula in a bottle, in case Silas got hungry while we were waiting. He had been fussing a bit, so I did offer him the bottle. He ended up drinking maybe three or four milliliters. Very little of it at all. But it did calm him down.
After another ten minutes or so of just waiting, a different nurse came in and said we'd have to take his temp again (grr!). We found out that he'd filled his diaper, so she went and got some wipes and a diaper for him, and we changed him up. She then took his temperature, and finally after about three or four more minutes, a different nurse walked me out to the station where I could leave. I had to provide my insurance information at that point, and, of cousre, I didn't have my insurance card on me. So, she got the rest of the info from me, and gave me a number to call later so that the billing information could be updated.
Then, FINALLY, at about 12:30am, I was able to go up to L&D to see Steph.
She was resting, and looked wiped out. But she was awake, and alert, and told me that they were able to get the placenta out right away, and that it had some sort of extra lobe on it, which was why it wasn't being delivered. Huh. Bodies are weird.
The nurses up there told Steph that she was just waiting on her results from her blood test to come back, and then she would be dismissed.
I finally got some bars and was able to call home. The girls were fine - Irina had fallen asleep, and Saren & Harper were playing MarioKart with their uncles.
I updated everyone on how things were going, and then Steph and I waited. About five minutes after hanging up my cell phone, Steph asked me, "So who won [Survivor]?" Hee.
I answered her, "J.T." And she rolled her eyes, "Figures."
We're such nerds.
After about half an hour, Steph suggested I go home, get her stuff, and come back, that way she'd be able to just go, once they released her. I called home, and had Steph's brother, Chance, come and get me. The older girls rode with him, and we all drove back home. I grabbed the car seat for Silas, and Steph's clothing, and then drove back to the hospital. By this time it was about 3 in the morning.
When I got there, there was still a little waiting to go through, and then she was able to go.
After I got the van and drove it around to pick Steph up, she set up the car seat and set Silas into it. She then got in the passenger seat and she said, "I'm so tired. I just want to go to sleep."
I had started to drive home, when Steph gave me the biggest (or one of) scare of hte night - her eyes rolled back and she kinda snored/snorted and twitched a little. I thought she was having a seizure of some sort, and I stopped the van and shook her, yelling her name, asking her if she was okay. I was about two seconds away from backing hte van up to the emergency room (luckily we were right there, so if something had been wrong, that was the place for it to happen) when she came to saying, "What? I just fell asleep."
I told her that she had passed out, and wasn't answering me. She apologized, and said, "Keep an eye on me". I drove home, shaking for a good portion of the drive.
We got home around 4:30 in the morning, and then we said our goodbyes (and thank yous) to Steph's mom and brothers.
And...just like Steph, I don't really have a good way of ending this. That's about all there is to say about Silas' birth. If you haven't already, you should check out Stephanie's version of the night. (And I think it would be cool if Chance and Sean and Saren and Harper all blogged their versions. It would be like a Rashomon type thing!)
It was most certainly a memorable night.
God Given
Previously: The Beginning of the End; The Good Soldier; Me, I'm Not; My Violent Heart
He doesn't know where he is. He doesn't know who he is. He does know he's frightened. His fingers in his left hand ache - they're bandaged up, but the pain is still intense. His whole body is tingling slightly, in a way that feels similar to when your foot falls asleep. He is carrying a gun, and can smell that it has been fired recently. This simultaneously alarms and comforts him. Has he shot at someone? Has he hit them? Was it self-defense? He places the gun back in his holster and begins walking.
His mind feels muddled, like his memories and thoughts have been struck by a tornado. Names float to the top of his consciousness, but he can't make connections - they are simply words. Kyle... Reese... Sarah... Connor. Those last two feel right. He feels a sort of mental click, and knows that Connor is his name. Sarah is his mother's name, but he senses he hasn't seen her in many years. And while he now knows what he is called, nothing else has come back to him.
Connor tries to remember how he got wherever it is that he is, but he simply can't. It's all a blank. He is in a residential area, but the streets are deserted. All the doors are shut, and many of the homes have bars on the windows.
He approaches one of the homes cautiously, glancing around. The sensation that he is being watched is strong. He pauses, and his hand - his good hand - goes instinctively to his gun. Looking around, he sees nobody. In the distance, he hears dogs barking. Beyond that, the rumbling of vehicles. A busier road must be nearby. If he can't get assistance here, he'll make his way to the traffic.
He knocks on the door of the house and yells out, "Hello? Is someone there?"
There is no response, so he knocks again, a little harder, and calls out again, trying in English and in Spanish.
Again, no answer - although he senses that there are, in fact, people inside this residence. He calls out a third and final time, when a voice from inside responds, "Go away! We're armed, and we've called the Guard! They're on their way!"
"Please," Connor begged, "I need a hospital. My hand..."
"LEAVE!" the voice on the other end of the door interrupted. Connor could hear that the voice was spiked with fear. The people in this neighborhood, or at least, in this house, were terrified. Connor knew that people that emotionally distressed would not be rationalized with. "Okay! I'm going!" he yelled out as he made his way down the driveway and back to the street.
Once there, he continued walking toward the sound of the dogs. Guided by some forgotten memory, or maybe just by instinct, he drew his gun as he rounded the corner. The barking of the dogs - and it sounded like a lot of them - coupled with the feeling of being watched he'd experienced earlier led him to proceed cautiously.
About three hundred yards ahead, he saw a lone figure walking on the sidewalk. Connor called out to him, "Hey! Mister!"
The man turned, and raised a hand to wave. He began running toward Connor, when he was jumped by four other people - three men and a woman, it looked like. The assailants knocked the man to the ground, and began to viciously beat him.
What the hell? was Connor's initial thought, as he began to run to the man's aid, screaming as he ran. One of the attackers looked up, leapt off the man, and flew toward Connor.
Several things happened very quickly then.
A green Humvee rumbled around the bend, and several men in camouflage exited the vehicle. They yelled warnings, but they went unheeded.
The man who was being attacked was evidently armed. He fired multiple rounds into the female assailant's head, obliterating it. With his other hand, he punched one of the other attackers in the face, hard enough to send him flying into the air a few feet. He brought a knee up to the third attacker's head, knocking him off so he could get to his feet. He stepped on the neck of the man who he had just punched, and pressed down quickly several times.
Connor couldn't see what happened with the third assailant, because he was busy being attacked by the one that had leapt at him. Connor had been pushed to the ground by this man, who was impossibly strong for his size. Connor attempted to stand up, but he was pinned. How did that other guy fight off three of them? Connor fired his gun four times - emptying it. Two of the shots went wild, but the last two connected - he'd hit his atacker in the ribs and gut - and yet he still was holding Connor down, and ...trying to bite him?
Connor could see the man's face - rage filled, but devoid of color. He looked like a corpse. His fingernails were long and jagged, and he scratched Connor's arms several times in the struggle. The attacker was also snapping his jaw, trying despearately to sink his teeth, which also appeared long and jagged, into Connor's skin. At one point he almost succeeded, but Connor turned his head at the last possible second and the man ended up only with a mouthful of Connor's hair. He pulled, and a patch of his hair was painfully removed.
I can't fight him much longer, Connor thought. He punched the man in the face, feeling one of his fangs scratch his knuckles. The idea of stopping and just allowing himself to be beaten - or bitten, or whatever this freak wanted to do - was feeling more and more alluring.
And then, like a deus ex machina, the man was simply gone. Connor sat up, dazed, and was able to witness his rescuer simply crush the man's head between his hands like it was a grape.
A bloodstained hand was offered to Connor, to assist him in standing. Kyle said to him, "If you want to live, you need to come with me."
******
Seeing my dead twin standing before me, along with the vamp attack we had just been through had been enough to jar my memories back. Although I still had about a million unanswered questions. Apparently, those would have to wait to be addressed.
As the machine carried me over his shoulder, the military men down the street were calling out orders for us to stop. Kyle turned to face them. He yelled out, "Five more, approximately two hundred yards southwest of here!" He then turned and began running in the opposite direction. The militia men fired one shot as a warning - or perhaps Kyle simply dodged the bullet - before we were out of their line of sight. Kyle jumped a few fences, passing through several yards, making random turns, in case we were being followed by either military or vampires.
After he was satisfied that we were not being tailed, he set me down on my own feet. He gave me a quick cursory once-over, examining my wounds. "Have you seen Simon Birden?" I shook my head. "Not since..."
Kyle interrupted, "What about Reese Hamilton?"
A wave of grief and rage swept over me, but quickly dissipated into exhaustion. I was too tired to feel much of anything - my adrenaline levels were spent, and I was crashing. I simply answered the bot with a "No."
Kyle was busy breaking into a parked Toyota Tercel.
"Get in," he ordered.
I climbed into the passenger side as he worked on hot wiring the vehicle. The engine rumbled to life, just as the owner of the car emerged from his house, brandishing a shotgun, yelling at us to get the fuck out of his car.
Kyle glanced over at the man, reached over to open the glove box, reached in, pulled out a socket wrench, opened the car door, and threw the wrench. It hurled through the air for a second - just long enough for the Tercel's owner to realize what was happening- and then it hit the man in the head. He crumbled to the ground instantly.
Kyle was already halfway up the driveway. He picked up the shotgun in one hand, and checked the man's pulse with the other. He then grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck, dragged him into the house, shut the door, and walked back to the car. The entire interaction took about ten seconds.
"What the hell are you doing?" I screamed.
Kyle had already started to drive. He answered, "He'll live. I had to neutralize the threat, and with him unconscious, it will be a while before he can report the stolen vehicle. Additionally, I acquired a weapon with ammunition." He paused, then added, "You're welcome."
"You're insane," I said, but I had to grudgingly admit there was some cold logic to his actions.
After a half minute or so of silence, I asked, "Where are we?" He had navigated onto a busier street, although the vast majority of the vehicles on the road were military green.
"Heading south on Fourth Avenue."
I let out a deep breath. "Yes, but where are we? Fifteen minutes ago we were in a Mim-cha base of some sort, and now, we're ..." I trailed off, partly because I was piecing it together, partly because it simply could not be true.
"If the temporal displacement sphere's readouts were correct, then, yes, Connor, we are in Los Angeles, California in the year 2013. Approximately nine months before the bombs fall."
******
General Brewster had mixed emotions on Project Mimic. The AI was state of the art, as were the cybernetic organisms that ran the program. But perhaps that was the problem - the things had begun to creep him out. They looked - and acted - too human. He himself had been fooled about three weeks back. He had had a five minute conversation with one of the machines, mistakenly thinking it was one of the lab technicians. He'd only discovered the error when a systemwide shutdown had taken effect (the head technician insisted on performing such shutdowns periodically) and the "person" he had been speaking with simply had it's life spark disappear. He had been furious, with himself for falling for the ruse, and also deeply impressed that they had come so far.
For if he had been fooled, that meant that the robots were capable of doing their job - fooling the monsters that were currently wrecking havoc on the outside world. The media had dubbed the victims as suffering from a highly contagious new form of rabies, but Brewster knew that they were actually vampires. They didn't fit all the Hollywood stereotypes - sunlight didn't kill them (although they didn't like it), crosses had no effect, they had reflections - but they matched the important ones: They fed on blood, they could convert other people into creatures like themselves, and they were extremely difficult to kill. It seemed only destruction of the brain could truly keep them down. They seemed to have borrowed that mythology from the zombie movies. Stabbing them in the heart would slow them - some - but in every case that Brewster had seen, it had to be the head that would finally stop them.
So Project Mimic had been created with the purpose of keeping the vampires away from civilians. And if Brewster couldn't tell the difference between a human and a machine, then hopefully neither could the monsters they were seeking to destroy.
Which brought him to the video tape he was currently watching. Four hours ago, a Guardsman infantry in Los Angeles had recorded a vamp attack that had ended... unexpectedly. Brewster had watched the footage a dozen times already, but was still amazed by it. He had seen vamps swarm and take down entire platoons before - the things just did not stop attacking - so watching one man take out four single-handedly was awe-inspiring.
The swarm had pinned him, just as they pinned a normal human, but this guy - this robot - was not going down easily. He emptied his gun into one of the vamps, and fought two others off him with no problem. At that point, the soldier who had taped this zoomed in, and made it clear that the "man" was in fact, a machine. The vamps had ripped off portions of his neck and face, revealing metal underneath. Brewster had seen enough of the metallic endoskeletons to recognize what he was looking at. The machine - nicknamed "Bot X" until they could get more information - had, after taking care of the three vampires attacking him, gone on to remove the last one. Brewster found himself grimly amused at how he had disposed of that one. But then came the oddest part of the footage. Bot X had just rescued a civilian from being attacked. However, the person he rescued...looked nearly identical to Bot X. Facial recognition software had stated that there was a 98.74% match in identity, which had led Brewster to several possibilities:
One - they were both bots, and off the same assembly line. Project Mimic had thousands of different prototypes, but many of the original bots were identical to one another. However, the Bot X that had been rescued was clearly human (or a much more advanced model that did not have visible metallic underworkings) so that led to possibility number -
Two - The human was the model for the Bot X. This could explain the loyalty that Bot X displayed toward Human X. But would the maker of these bots put himself in danger like that?
The third possibility was just that this was something different completely, and Brewster didn't yet have enough information to make a judgment call. Brewster didn't like Possibility Three, but it seemed the most logical at this time. He needed answers. Fast.
He'd put several teams out on the lookout for Bot X and his identical companion, but there had been no sign of them since the report they had gotten from a William Wisher, who had been assaulted by one of them as they stole his car. Wisher had also reported that they had taken his shotgun. Which meant that there was an armed robot, which may or may not have been one from Project Mimic, loose somewhere in the city. If it was, in fact, a Mimic bot, heads would certainly roll.
Brewster picked up the telephone on his desk and barked the order, "Get Birden in my office, now!"
******
As Simon Birden watched his old companions fight against the vamps and then flee into the residential neighborhood, he felt the color drain from his face.
He hadn't given himself enough time.
If Kyle and Connor were here, that meant that the other Mim-cha would be soon, if not already. His best bet at finding - and stopping - them was to release the ones he'd helped build over the past twenty-eight years, under Project Mimic. They would help find, and destroy, the Mim-cha from 2037, as well as help take care of the vampire plague. It was risky, but if it worked, the future could be altered, preventing the nuclear war and the Mim-cha revolt.
As soon as the video stopped, he turned to General Brewster and said, "It is essential that I speak with President Palin immediately."
Next: The Greater Good
He doesn't know where he is. He doesn't know who he is. He does know he's frightened. His fingers in his left hand ache - they're bandaged up, but the pain is still intense. His whole body is tingling slightly, in a way that feels similar to when your foot falls asleep. He is carrying a gun, and can smell that it has been fired recently. This simultaneously alarms and comforts him. Has he shot at someone? Has he hit them? Was it self-defense? He places the gun back in his holster and begins walking.
His mind feels muddled, like his memories and thoughts have been struck by a tornado. Names float to the top of his consciousness, but he can't make connections - they are simply words. Kyle... Reese... Sarah... Connor. Those last two feel right. He feels a sort of mental click, and knows that Connor is his name. Sarah is his mother's name, but he senses he hasn't seen her in many years. And while he now knows what he is called, nothing else has come back to him.
Connor tries to remember how he got wherever it is that he is, but he simply can't. It's all a blank. He is in a residential area, but the streets are deserted. All the doors are shut, and many of the homes have bars on the windows.
He approaches one of the homes cautiously, glancing around. The sensation that he is being watched is strong. He pauses, and his hand - his good hand - goes instinctively to his gun. Looking around, he sees nobody. In the distance, he hears dogs barking. Beyond that, the rumbling of vehicles. A busier road must be nearby. If he can't get assistance here, he'll make his way to the traffic.
He knocks on the door of the house and yells out, "Hello? Is someone there?"
There is no response, so he knocks again, a little harder, and calls out again, trying in English and in Spanish.
Again, no answer - although he senses that there are, in fact, people inside this residence. He calls out a third and final time, when a voice from inside responds, "Go away! We're armed, and we've called the Guard! They're on their way!"
"Please," Connor begged, "I need a hospital. My hand..."
"LEAVE!" the voice on the other end of the door interrupted. Connor could hear that the voice was spiked with fear. The people in this neighborhood, or at least, in this house, were terrified. Connor knew that people that emotionally distressed would not be rationalized with. "Okay! I'm going!" he yelled out as he made his way down the driveway and back to the street.
Once there, he continued walking toward the sound of the dogs. Guided by some forgotten memory, or maybe just by instinct, he drew his gun as he rounded the corner. The barking of the dogs - and it sounded like a lot of them - coupled with the feeling of being watched he'd experienced earlier led him to proceed cautiously.
About three hundred yards ahead, he saw a lone figure walking on the sidewalk. Connor called out to him, "Hey! Mister!"
The man turned, and raised a hand to wave. He began running toward Connor, when he was jumped by four other people - three men and a woman, it looked like. The assailants knocked the man to the ground, and began to viciously beat him.
What the hell? was Connor's initial thought, as he began to run to the man's aid, screaming as he ran. One of the attackers looked up, leapt off the man, and flew toward Connor.
Several things happened very quickly then.
A green Humvee rumbled around the bend, and several men in camouflage exited the vehicle. They yelled warnings, but they went unheeded.
The man who was being attacked was evidently armed. He fired multiple rounds into the female assailant's head, obliterating it. With his other hand, he punched one of the other attackers in the face, hard enough to send him flying into the air a few feet. He brought a knee up to the third attacker's head, knocking him off so he could get to his feet. He stepped on the neck of the man who he had just punched, and pressed down quickly several times.
Connor couldn't see what happened with the third assailant, because he was busy being attacked by the one that had leapt at him. Connor had been pushed to the ground by this man, who was impossibly strong for his size. Connor attempted to stand up, but he was pinned. How did that other guy fight off three of them? Connor fired his gun four times - emptying it. Two of the shots went wild, but the last two connected - he'd hit his atacker in the ribs and gut - and yet he still was holding Connor down, and ...trying to bite him?
Connor could see the man's face - rage filled, but devoid of color. He looked like a corpse. His fingernails were long and jagged, and he scratched Connor's arms several times in the struggle. The attacker was also snapping his jaw, trying despearately to sink his teeth, which also appeared long and jagged, into Connor's skin. At one point he almost succeeded, but Connor turned his head at the last possible second and the man ended up only with a mouthful of Connor's hair. He pulled, and a patch of his hair was painfully removed.
I can't fight him much longer, Connor thought. He punched the man in the face, feeling one of his fangs scratch his knuckles. The idea of stopping and just allowing himself to be beaten - or bitten, or whatever this freak wanted to do - was feeling more and more alluring.
And then, like a deus ex machina, the man was simply gone. Connor sat up, dazed, and was able to witness his rescuer simply crush the man's head between his hands like it was a grape.
A bloodstained hand was offered to Connor, to assist him in standing. Kyle said to him, "If you want to live, you need to come with me."
Seeing my dead twin standing before me, along with the vamp attack we had just been through had been enough to jar my memories back. Although I still had about a million unanswered questions. Apparently, those would have to wait to be addressed.
As the machine carried me over his shoulder, the military men down the street were calling out orders for us to stop. Kyle turned to face them. He yelled out, "Five more, approximately two hundred yards southwest of here!" He then turned and began running in the opposite direction. The militia men fired one shot as a warning - or perhaps Kyle simply dodged the bullet - before we were out of their line of sight. Kyle jumped a few fences, passing through several yards, making random turns, in case we were being followed by either military or vampires.
After he was satisfied that we were not being tailed, he set me down on my own feet. He gave me a quick cursory once-over, examining my wounds. "Have you seen Simon Birden?" I shook my head. "Not since..."
Kyle interrupted, "What about Reese Hamilton?"
A wave of grief and rage swept over me, but quickly dissipated into exhaustion. I was too tired to feel much of anything - my adrenaline levels were spent, and I was crashing. I simply answered the bot with a "No."
Kyle was busy breaking into a parked Toyota Tercel.
"Get in," he ordered.
I climbed into the passenger side as he worked on hot wiring the vehicle. The engine rumbled to life, just as the owner of the car emerged from his house, brandishing a shotgun, yelling at us to get the fuck out of his car.
Kyle glanced over at the man, reached over to open the glove box, reached in, pulled out a socket wrench, opened the car door, and threw the wrench. It hurled through the air for a second - just long enough for the Tercel's owner to realize what was happening- and then it hit the man in the head. He crumbled to the ground instantly.
Kyle was already halfway up the driveway. He picked up the shotgun in one hand, and checked the man's pulse with the other. He then grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck, dragged him into the house, shut the door, and walked back to the car. The entire interaction took about ten seconds.
"What the hell are you doing?" I screamed.
Kyle had already started to drive. He answered, "He'll live. I had to neutralize the threat, and with him unconscious, it will be a while before he can report the stolen vehicle. Additionally, I acquired a weapon with ammunition." He paused, then added, "You're welcome."
"You're insane," I said, but I had to grudgingly admit there was some cold logic to his actions.
After a half minute or so of silence, I asked, "Where are we?" He had navigated onto a busier street, although the vast majority of the vehicles on the road were military green.
"Heading south on Fourth Avenue."
I let out a deep breath. "Yes, but where are we? Fifteen minutes ago we were in a Mim-cha base of some sort, and now, we're ..." I trailed off, partly because I was piecing it together, partly because it simply could not be true.
"If the temporal displacement sphere's readouts were correct, then, yes, Connor, we are in Los Angeles, California in the year 2013. Approximately nine months before the bombs fall."
General Brewster had mixed emotions on Project Mimic. The AI was state of the art, as were the cybernetic organisms that ran the program. But perhaps that was the problem - the things had begun to creep him out. They looked - and acted - too human. He himself had been fooled about three weeks back. He had had a five minute conversation with one of the machines, mistakenly thinking it was one of the lab technicians. He'd only discovered the error when a systemwide shutdown had taken effect (the head technician insisted on performing such shutdowns periodically) and the "person" he had been speaking with simply had it's life spark disappear. He had been furious, with himself for falling for the ruse, and also deeply impressed that they had come so far.
For if he had been fooled, that meant that the robots were capable of doing their job - fooling the monsters that were currently wrecking havoc on the outside world. The media had dubbed the victims as suffering from a highly contagious new form of rabies, but Brewster knew that they were actually vampires. They didn't fit all the Hollywood stereotypes - sunlight didn't kill them (although they didn't like it), crosses had no effect, they had reflections - but they matched the important ones: They fed on blood, they could convert other people into creatures like themselves, and they were extremely difficult to kill. It seemed only destruction of the brain could truly keep them down. They seemed to have borrowed that mythology from the zombie movies. Stabbing them in the heart would slow them - some - but in every case that Brewster had seen, it had to be the head that would finally stop them.
So Project Mimic had been created with the purpose of keeping the vampires away from civilians. And if Brewster couldn't tell the difference between a human and a machine, then hopefully neither could the monsters they were seeking to destroy.
Which brought him to the video tape he was currently watching. Four hours ago, a Guardsman infantry in Los Angeles had recorded a vamp attack that had ended... unexpectedly. Brewster had watched the footage a dozen times already, but was still amazed by it. He had seen vamps swarm and take down entire platoons before - the things just did not stop attacking - so watching one man take out four single-handedly was awe-inspiring.
The swarm had pinned him, just as they pinned a normal human, but this guy - this robot - was not going down easily. He emptied his gun into one of the vamps, and fought two others off him with no problem. At that point, the soldier who had taped this zoomed in, and made it clear that the "man" was in fact, a machine. The vamps had ripped off portions of his neck and face, revealing metal underneath. Brewster had seen enough of the metallic endoskeletons to recognize what he was looking at. The machine - nicknamed "Bot X" until they could get more information - had, after taking care of the three vampires attacking him, gone on to remove the last one. Brewster found himself grimly amused at how he had disposed of that one. But then came the oddest part of the footage. Bot X had just rescued a civilian from being attacked. However, the person he rescued...looked nearly identical to Bot X. Facial recognition software had stated that there was a 98.74% match in identity, which had led Brewster to several possibilities:
One - they were both bots, and off the same assembly line. Project Mimic had thousands of different prototypes, but many of the original bots were identical to one another. However, the Bot X that had been rescued was clearly human (or a much more advanced model that did not have visible metallic underworkings) so that led to possibility number -
Two - The human was the model for the Bot X. This could explain the loyalty that Bot X displayed toward Human X. But would the maker of these bots put himself in danger like that?
The third possibility was just that this was something different completely, and Brewster didn't yet have enough information to make a judgment call. Brewster didn't like Possibility Three, but it seemed the most logical at this time. He needed answers. Fast.
He'd put several teams out on the lookout for Bot X and his identical companion, but there had been no sign of them since the report they had gotten from a William Wisher, who had been assaulted by one of them as they stole his car. Wisher had also reported that they had taken his shotgun. Which meant that there was an armed robot, which may or may not have been one from Project Mimic, loose somewhere in the city. If it was, in fact, a Mimic bot, heads would certainly roll.
Brewster picked up the telephone on his desk and barked the order, "Get Birden in my office, now!"
As Simon Birden watched his old companions fight against the vamps and then flee into the residential neighborhood, he felt the color drain from his face.
He hadn't given himself enough time.
If Kyle and Connor were here, that meant that the other Mim-cha would be soon, if not already. His best bet at finding - and stopping - them was to release the ones he'd helped build over the past twenty-eight years, under Project Mimic. They would help find, and destroy, the Mim-cha from 2037, as well as help take care of the vampire plague. It was risky, but if it worked, the future could be altered, preventing the nuclear war and the Mim-cha revolt.
As soon as the video stopped, he turned to General Brewster and said, "It is essential that I speak with President Palin immediately."
Next: The Greater Good
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
It's a boy!
Vital info:
5/17/09
7:32pm.
8lb.12oz
Silas Patrick
More information at Steph's blog shortly!
5/17/09
7:32pm.
8lb.12oz
Silas Patrick
More information at Steph's blog shortly!
Saturday, May 16, 2009
delay
Just a note to say that the regularly scheduled installment of the story I've been writing won't be posted tomorrow, and neither will the haikus for the season finale of Lost. Both will eventually show up on my blog, just...not tomorrow.
The problem is that both things are going to be lengthy, and our computer is not up to the challenge of staying alive (heh) for a great amount of time. So, in the interim, I'll be writing them on this neat thing called paper, and then transfering them to the blog at a later date.
The problem is that both things are going to be lengthy, and our computer is not up to the challenge of staying alive (heh) for a great amount of time. So, in the interim, I'll be writing them on this neat thing called paper, and then transfering them to the blog at a later date.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
My Violent Heart
Previously: The Beginning of the End; The Good Soldier; Me, I'm Not
As the sun went down completely, the jungle air cooled. Reese, Andrew, Simon and I all had flashlights, and turned them on in order to see where we were going. Kyle had a flashlight as well, but did not use it. It seemed that he didn't need it to know where he was going.
Soon we came to a clearing that was covered by a large fallen log. Kyle stopped and we watched in awe as he simply lifted the tree, revealing a metal door built into the ground underneath.
Kyle pushed the log a few feet away, then knelt down and grabbed the handle of the door. He pulled, and the door swung open revealing a short drop to a linoleum floor, which led into a darkened hallway. “There were Mim-cha here,” Kyle stated.
“Were?” Andrew asked, glancing around nervously. He had drawn his weapon again, and was pointing it at various locations in the woods.
Simon, meanwhile, was nodding enthusiastically, while consulting his handheld device. “This place,” he said, “is definitely what we were picking up on our equipment before the planes went down.”
I glared at the machine and through gritted teeth asked it, “How do you know all this?”
It considered me momentarily and then said, “Mim-cha can sense one another. A sort of echolocation inside allows us to know when there are others of our type around. It ensures that we don’t attack one another.” He paused, and then added, “Normally.”
Simon joined in. “Pinging! It’s like in the days before the bombs, when computers wanted to speak to each other, they would send packets of information to each other in order to determine if they were hooked up to specific networks. I suppose with the Mim-cha, that it could…it could very well be like telepathy, if they were able to send and receive enough information.”
I cocked my gun. “Which means that any of the ‘bots that are around here know that he,” I nodded in Kyle’s direction, “is here. So much for the element of surprise.”
Kyle shook his head. “You needn’t worry, Connor. I am the only Mim-cha in a two mile radius.”
“Bull,” I spat. “You mean to tell me that this state-of-the-art building, which took down two of our planes, is empty of bots? How stupid do you think we are?”
Kyle chose not to answer my rhetorical question, and focused only on the first. “I can not explain it. However, there were slight ‘pings’, to use Simon’s terminology, when I first came back online. And now they have vanished. Perhaps we should investigate.”
Reese put her hand on my shoulder. "Connor, listen. Things are tense here, and I can sense that you are upset. I think maybe you should step back away from Kyle for a bit. It's obviously not good for you to be around him. We discussed this back at home."
I took a deep breath to calm myself and turned to address her. "You're right, Reese. I'm overly stressed, and you know that seeing his face on a daily basis is not allowing the wounds to heal. But for now we are stuck with it." I looked over her shoulder at the robot. It was currently staring out into the jungle with extreme interest. Simon and Andrew were both looking restless, waiting for a decision.
"Let's put it to a vote," I announced to the group. "Do we enter the Mim-cha facility that may be empty, or do we head back to the plane?"
Simon said, "We could see if there is equipment we can salvage in there. It could help us contact headquarters and/or make repairs on the Vulture."
Andrew nodded adding, "It might very well be a trap," he glanced nervously at Kyle when he said this, but the bot was ignoring all of us at the moment, "but what Simon said makes sense. And we do have our guns ...and Kyle on our side."
I looked at Reese. "Well?"
She simply nodded silently.
"All right," I said, resigning myself to fate. "Let's do this."
******
The hallway opened to a large room, with three separate doors. The walls themselves were barren, but above each door was a few numbers and some symbols. I assumed it was Mim-cha language. "Kyle, what do those signs say?"
He pointed at the one to the right, "That one reads, 'High Voltage'." He turned to the one on the left, "That one reads, 'Emergency Exit'."
Andrew took a step toward the center door. "And this one?" he asked.
Kyle said, "It reads, 'Temporal Displacement Room'."
"Temp..." I was unable to finish that sentence, because we were no longer alone in the room. I could see five forms standing near the entrance. I shouted to the others, "Ambush!!" and began to duck and fire my gun in their direction.
Gunfire erupted for several chaotic moments. In the flashes from the guns, I saw glimpses of madness. "Pablo?" I thought, before Kyle removed the man's head with his bare hands.
Reese opened the door that Kyle had said was labeled "Emergency Exit". At the same time, Simon had opened the "Temporal Displacement Room" door and ducked into that room. I followed, as did Kyle, who shut the door behind him, blocking out the din from the other room.
Before I could even yell at Kyle for leaving Reese behind - and for evidently leading us into a trap of some sort - we were scanned by some sort of red laser light.
I turned to focus on what was in the room we had just entered.I sawter row of large metal balls. They looked like oversized hamster balls. As soon as we entered the room, a laser beam scanned over us, and three of the hamster balls dropped and rolled toward us, stopping just a few feet in front of us.
"What the hell?" I asked, before I felt a strong push and fell into the ball. There was a loud buzz, and a lot of crackling electricity, and then I lost myself.
Next: God Given
As the sun went down completely, the jungle air cooled. Reese, Andrew, Simon and I all had flashlights, and turned them on in order to see where we were going. Kyle had a flashlight as well, but did not use it. It seemed that he didn't need it to know where he was going.
Soon we came to a clearing that was covered by a large fallen log. Kyle stopped and we watched in awe as he simply lifted the tree, revealing a metal door built into the ground underneath.
Kyle pushed the log a few feet away, then knelt down and grabbed the handle of the door. He pulled, and the door swung open revealing a short drop to a linoleum floor, which led into a darkened hallway. “There were Mim-cha here,” Kyle stated.
“Were?” Andrew asked, glancing around nervously. He had drawn his weapon again, and was pointing it at various locations in the woods.
Simon, meanwhile, was nodding enthusiastically, while consulting his handheld device. “This place,” he said, “is definitely what we were picking up on our equipment before the planes went down.”
I glared at the machine and through gritted teeth asked it, “How do you know all this?”
It considered me momentarily and then said, “Mim-cha can sense one another. A sort of echolocation inside allows us to know when there are others of our type around. It ensures that we don’t attack one another.” He paused, and then added, “Normally.”
Simon joined in. “Pinging! It’s like in the days before the bombs, when computers wanted to speak to each other, they would send packets of information to each other in order to determine if they were hooked up to specific networks. I suppose with the Mim-cha, that it could…it could very well be like telepathy, if they were able to send and receive enough information.”
I cocked my gun. “Which means that any of the ‘bots that are around here know that he,” I nodded in Kyle’s direction, “is here. So much for the element of surprise.”
Kyle shook his head. “You needn’t worry, Connor. I am the only Mim-cha in a two mile radius.”
“Bull,” I spat. “You mean to tell me that this state-of-the-art building, which took down two of our planes, is empty of bots? How stupid do you think we are?”
Kyle chose not to answer my rhetorical question, and focused only on the first. “I can not explain it. However, there were slight ‘pings’, to use Simon’s terminology, when I first came back online. And now they have vanished. Perhaps we should investigate.”
Reese put her hand on my shoulder. "Connor, listen. Things are tense here, and I can sense that you are upset. I think maybe you should step back away from Kyle for a bit. It's obviously not good for you to be around him. We discussed this back at home."
I took a deep breath to calm myself and turned to address her. "You're right, Reese. I'm overly stressed, and you know that seeing his face on a daily basis is not allowing the wounds to heal. But for now we are stuck with it." I looked over her shoulder at the robot. It was currently staring out into the jungle with extreme interest. Simon and Andrew were both looking restless, waiting for a decision.
"Let's put it to a vote," I announced to the group. "Do we enter the Mim-cha facility that may be empty, or do we head back to the plane?"
Simon said, "We could see if there is equipment we can salvage in there. It could help us contact headquarters and/or make repairs on the Vulture."
Andrew nodded adding, "It might very well be a trap," he glanced nervously at Kyle when he said this, but the bot was ignoring all of us at the moment, "but what Simon said makes sense. And we do have our guns ...and Kyle on our side."
I looked at Reese. "Well?"
She simply nodded silently.
"All right," I said, resigning myself to fate. "Let's do this."
The hallway opened to a large room, with three separate doors. The walls themselves were barren, but above each door was a few numbers and some symbols. I assumed it was Mim-cha language. "Kyle, what do those signs say?"
He pointed at the one to the right, "That one reads, 'High Voltage'." He turned to the one on the left, "That one reads, 'Emergency Exit'."
Andrew took a step toward the center door. "And this one?" he asked.
Kyle said, "It reads, 'Temporal Displacement Room'."
"Temp..." I was unable to finish that sentence, because we were no longer alone in the room. I could see five forms standing near the entrance. I shouted to the others, "Ambush!!" and began to duck and fire my gun in their direction.
Gunfire erupted for several chaotic moments. In the flashes from the guns, I saw glimpses of madness. "Pablo?" I thought, before Kyle removed the man's head with his bare hands.
Reese opened the door that Kyle had said was labeled "Emergency Exit". At the same time, Simon had opened the "Temporal Displacement Room" door and ducked into that room. I followed, as did Kyle, who shut the door behind him, blocking out the din from the other room.
Before I could even yell at Kyle for leaving Reese behind - and for evidently leading us into a trap of some sort - we were scanned by some sort of red laser light.
I turned to focus on what was in the room we had just entered.I sawter row of large metal balls. They looked like oversized hamster balls. As soon as we entered the room, a laser beam scanned over us, and three of the hamster balls dropped and rolled toward us, stopping just a few feet in front of us.
"What the hell?" I asked, before I felt a strong push and fell into the ball. There was a loud buzz, and a lot of crackling electricity, and then I lost myself.
Next: God Given
Monday, May 11, 2009
Haiku Review: Hot Fuzz
Too good, say the other cops
in the service, so...
...they ship him to the
country, where there is little
crime. Or so it seems.
Nick and his partner,
Danny, uncover a vast
ring of murderers.
They also incur
considerable amount
of paperwork, laughs.
The Shaun of the Dead
guys prove they can make a great
action-comedy.
Haiku Review: Tropic Thunder
was crude, crass, and vulgar, but
moments were funny.
Haiku Review: High School Musical 3: Senior Year
the well one too many times.
The magic was gone.
Bottom line, the third
High School Musical turned out
quite forgetable.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Haiku Review: Lost - Follow the Leader
cover this time around. I'll
split the sections. First...
...Seventy-seven:
Jack and Kate get to see Dan
get shot by his mom
Before they can flee,
they are caught by the Others!
(They hit Jack's face! Pow!)
Eloise, now that
she's done shooting, asks questions:
Are you with Dan? And....
...Why do you need our bomb?
Jack explains how time has gone
haywire, and how they...
...can hopefully fix
it all by blowing shit up.
Eloise: "Really?"
Jack: "Trust me. We can
put right what once went wrong." Kate:
"But what about us?"
Jack doesn't care that
he'll be erasing their lives,
'cuz lots of it sucked.
Kate says, "It wasn't
all bad! Like remember when
Smokey chased us, or...
...you watched me and James
have cage-sex? Or all those times
the Others caught us?
And remember when
we lived together, and I
kept secrets from you?
Do you really want
to make it so that never
took place?" Jack: "....Maybe?"
So Eloise says,
"Our bomb is sorta under
the Dharma barracks."
On the way there, Kate
says, "Screw this. I'm going back
to James!" Others: "Nope."
They point guns at her
but who should show up just then?
Why it's Sayid! Yay!
And since Sayid is
a bad-ass, he shoots, and kills,
a nameless Other!
Sayid: "Hey guys! What's
going on?" Jack: "We're off to
blow up history!"
Sayid: "Pfft! I did
that three weeks ago when I
shot young Ben Linus!"
Kate: "Um. Yeah. About
that." Sayid is upset to
learn that Ben lives on.
So he hooks up with
Jack on Mission Explode The
Past, while Kate goes back.
Jack, Sayid, and Dan's
mother make it to where the
bomb is stored. "Now what?"
Meanwhile, Sawyer is
being tortured. (Just like old
times!) Dharma wants him...
...to reveal where Kate
took Ben. Pointless torture scenes
ensue. In the end...
...James and Juliet
are put on the world's fakest
looking submarine...
...along with Kate! Um.
Weren't they just looking for her?
Why'd they let her go?
Two-thousand seven:
Locke brings the Others a dead
boar. Mmm. Bacon. Mmmm.
Locke, Ben, and Richard
head into the jungle, to
reenact a scene...
...from earlier this
season. It's very Back to
the Future Part 2.
Once the past-Locke gets
his message and compass from
Richard, now-Locke asks...
...Richard to take him
and all the Others to go
see Jacob. Road trip!
As they make their way,
Locke confides to Ben his new
mission: Kill Jacob.
Saturday, May 09, 2009
Me, I'm Not
Previously: The Beginning of the End, The Good Soldier
Hidden in the darkness of the jungle, he watched, and waited. Even from this distance, he was able to detect the scents that the humans were emitting - adrenaline, sweat, fear...and now, with this new group returning to the aircraft, the enticing aroma of spilled blood.
He crept closer to the people, the draw of fresh blood was difficult to resist. It had been so long since he had fed upon human plasma. Animal blood would work as sustenance, of course - it had done him quite well in the past, and there were plenty of mammals to feast upon in the rainforest - but there was nothing really like hunting and killing a person. And, of course, humans were the only creatures that could be turned.
There had been rumors of others like him who had successfully converted chimpanzees, orangutans, and other primates, but the idea of such a creation seems ...distasteful to him. But those myths - if they were myths - were long ago, and far behind him. For all he knew, there were no chimpanzees left alive on the planet to convert, even if he had wanted to. Or perhaps the only chimps that remained were in fact, ones that had been converted into his type. Vampire-chimps, hiding in the darkness of the night, avoiding both the remaining humans, and of course, the Mim-cha. Just like he himself had been doing so recently.
Things had been so good for so many years. Food was abundant, conversions were made often, and his power and influence grew. Humans feared his type, even if they doubted that they truly existed. Eventually, though, they learned the truth, and they began to fight back. Armies of humans trained to kill and hunt vampires began to strike back. It did little good. Vampires were simply too animal-like in their cunning, and much stronger predators. The human race could not defeat the vampiric infection.
So they sent in machines to do the job for them.
The robots looked human, and they even smelled human, so vampires, of course, thought that they were. But the damn things excelled at taking out the undead. They did a pretty thorough job for the first few years, too. As he had seen more and more of his companions get taken out by the machines - which had begun to refer to themselves as Mim-cha, a name that they had apparently self-appointed - he had retreated to the deep rainforests of South America. He had not gone alone, of course, and for a few years he had contacts who ventured back and forth between the jungle and the civilized world. But then, the bombs had fallen, and his contacts had dried up: either killed in the nuclear blasts, or taken out by man or machine. Regardless of how it happened, he had been on his own for practically two decades, and for all he knew, was the last of his kind.
Now, however, there was this group of humans. Which meant food, and a chance to have others like him again. Looking at the new set of people who had just joined the group, he was struck by one individual in particular. There was some sort of aura about him that drew his attention so much more than the others. Interestingly, he appeared to have a twin brother - who was carrying the wounded man over his shoulder. The twin appeared physically similar, of course, but there was something ...off... about him as well. A moment later, a canine approached, looking uneasy, and it made sense. The twin - or perhaps both of the men - were Mim-cha.
Were they hunting him down? Had they somehow gotten word that he had been in exile all these years, and wanted to ensure that I never bothered humanity again?
If so, they would have a fight on their hands.
******
After we got back to the Vulture, we reunited with the crew members. All four of them were alive and unharmed. Isaiah, the pilot, had been working on the radio, and had, in fact, gotten it back to operational status. He had not, however, received any feedback on it.
Reese welcomed me back with a warm embrace and a kiss. She asked me how I was handling the fact that "he" (she nodded her head toward Kyle) was reactivated - the shrink in her doing her psychoanalyzing again - and seemed to take my "I'm fine with it" at face value. I admit that being reunited with my lover helped put me more at ease.
Simon, the Vulture's tech guy, and one of our experts on Mim-cha, was particularly surprised to see Kyle up and mobile. He had some sort of handheld device which he scanned over Kyle's head and chest area. He interrogated the bot for a while, but I was unable to hear the questions or responses. After getting enough information, Simon walked off, muttering to himself, while studying the readings he had picked up on his initial scans.
James went to assisting Evelyn with bandaging Pablo and addressing his wounds as best they could. After getting him as comfortable as possible, they announced that time was critical. James also applied a make-shift splint for my fingers, and ordered Evelyn to rest off her leg. Isaiah told us all that he would continue to contact HQ on the radio, because getting the Vulture airborne again was going to take some time.
When asked about Lindsay, Kyle informed us all, in that oh-so-touching way that robots have, that he had "expired as a result of the crash". I noticed that Reese looked around to see who was taking the news hardest, and might need counseling later.
Kyle announced again his intentions for us to make it to the mysterious hidden facility. Simon asked what I had asked earlier, "What sort of facility?" And added, "How do you know about this?"
Kyle replied that he again did not know what type and as for how he knew about it said, "Certain files have been activated. We should, however, hurry."
Simon told us that his readings before the flashes which had caused the Vultures to crash had indicated that there was, in fact, Mim-cha activity near where Kyle was talking about.
"All right," I said, "Me, the bot, Reese, Andrew and Simon will make our way to this facility. We'll check it out and see how fortified it is. The rest of you, stay here, and hang tight. We'll return with info in 45 minutes."
I was wrong. I never saw the Vulture, or most of the crew, again.
Next: My Violent Heart
Hidden in the darkness of the jungle, he watched, and waited. Even from this distance, he was able to detect the scents that the humans were emitting - adrenaline, sweat, fear...and now, with this new group returning to the aircraft, the enticing aroma of spilled blood.
He crept closer to the people, the draw of fresh blood was difficult to resist. It had been so long since he had fed upon human plasma. Animal blood would work as sustenance, of course - it had done him quite well in the past, and there were plenty of mammals to feast upon in the rainforest - but there was nothing really like hunting and killing a person. And, of course, humans were the only creatures that could be turned.
There had been rumors of others like him who had successfully converted chimpanzees, orangutans, and other primates, but the idea of such a creation seems ...distasteful to him. But those myths - if they were myths - were long ago, and far behind him. For all he knew, there were no chimpanzees left alive on the planet to convert, even if he had wanted to. Or perhaps the only chimps that remained were in fact, ones that had been converted into his type. Vampire-chimps, hiding in the darkness of the night, avoiding both the remaining humans, and of course, the Mim-cha. Just like he himself had been doing so recently.
Things had been so good for so many years. Food was abundant, conversions were made often, and his power and influence grew. Humans feared his type, even if they doubted that they truly existed. Eventually, though, they learned the truth, and they began to fight back. Armies of humans trained to kill and hunt vampires began to strike back. It did little good. Vampires were simply too animal-like in their cunning, and much stronger predators. The human race could not defeat the vampiric infection.
So they sent in machines to do the job for them.
The robots looked human, and they even smelled human, so vampires, of course, thought that they were. But the damn things excelled at taking out the undead. They did a pretty thorough job for the first few years, too. As he had seen more and more of his companions get taken out by the machines - which had begun to refer to themselves as Mim-cha, a name that they had apparently self-appointed - he had retreated to the deep rainforests of South America. He had not gone alone, of course, and for a few years he had contacts who ventured back and forth between the jungle and the civilized world. But then, the bombs had fallen, and his contacts had dried up: either killed in the nuclear blasts, or taken out by man or machine. Regardless of how it happened, he had been on his own for practically two decades, and for all he knew, was the last of his kind.
Now, however, there was this group of humans. Which meant food, and a chance to have others like him again. Looking at the new set of people who had just joined the group, he was struck by one individual in particular. There was some sort of aura about him that drew his attention so much more than the others. Interestingly, he appeared to have a twin brother - who was carrying the wounded man over his shoulder. The twin appeared physically similar, of course, but there was something ...off... about him as well. A moment later, a canine approached, looking uneasy, and it made sense. The twin - or perhaps both of the men - were Mim-cha.
Were they hunting him down? Had they somehow gotten word that he had been in exile all these years, and wanted to ensure that I never bothered humanity again?
If so, they would have a fight on their hands.
After we got back to the Vulture, we reunited with the crew members. All four of them were alive and unharmed. Isaiah, the pilot, had been working on the radio, and had, in fact, gotten it back to operational status. He had not, however, received any feedback on it.
Reese welcomed me back with a warm embrace and a kiss. She asked me how I was handling the fact that "he" (she nodded her head toward Kyle) was reactivated - the shrink in her doing her psychoanalyzing again - and seemed to take my "I'm fine with it" at face value. I admit that being reunited with my lover helped put me more at ease.
Simon, the Vulture's tech guy, and one of our experts on Mim-cha, was particularly surprised to see Kyle up and mobile. He had some sort of handheld device which he scanned over Kyle's head and chest area. He interrogated the bot for a while, but I was unable to hear the questions or responses. After getting enough information, Simon walked off, muttering to himself, while studying the readings he had picked up on his initial scans.
James went to assisting Evelyn with bandaging Pablo and addressing his wounds as best they could. After getting him as comfortable as possible, they announced that time was critical. James also applied a make-shift splint for my fingers, and ordered Evelyn to rest off her leg. Isaiah told us all that he would continue to contact HQ on the radio, because getting the Vulture airborne again was going to take some time.
When asked about Lindsay, Kyle informed us all, in that oh-so-touching way that robots have, that he had "expired as a result of the crash". I noticed that Reese looked around to see who was taking the news hardest, and might need counseling later.
Kyle announced again his intentions for us to make it to the mysterious hidden facility. Simon asked what I had asked earlier, "What sort of facility?" And added, "How do you know about this?"
Kyle replied that he again did not know what type and as for how he knew about it said, "Certain files have been activated. We should, however, hurry."
Simon told us that his readings before the flashes which had caused the Vultures to crash had indicated that there was, in fact, Mim-cha activity near where Kyle was talking about.
"All right," I said, "Me, the bot, Reese, Andrew and Simon will make our way to this facility. We'll check it out and see how fortified it is. The rest of you, stay here, and hang tight. We'll return with info in 45 minutes."
I was wrong. I never saw the Vulture, or most of the crew, again.
Next: My Violent Heart
So much for every day in May
A combination of forgetfulness, tiredness, laziness, and computer woes resulted in there not being an entry last night. Oh well. It's not like I had anything of importance to blog about. Today, however, is the scheduled day for the third installment of my story that I am determined to complete this month, no matter how much it might suck.
The computer seems to be working right now. If it can stay functioning long enough for me to compose (and publish) the next segment, I'll be a happy P@.
In other news, the baby has not yet arrived.
The computer seems to be working right now. If it can stay functioning long enough for me to compose (and publish) the next segment, I'll be a happy P@.
In other news, the baby has not yet arrived.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Yesterday's entry didn't get finished due to the computer dying. And then I was unable to get it to work again until now. And Survivor is currently on, and today was supposed to be composed all in haiku (since it's 5/7/um...9, which, okay, it was a better date four years ago. But still.)
Anyway. I was going to catch up on my Haiku Reviews (I still have four movies I've seen and need to compose HRs for) but now that our computer is seriously on it's last leg, (and the fact that one of "my shows" is on) I want to just wrap it up and post this as is. Sigh.
Anyway. I was going to catch up on my Haiku Reviews (I still have four movies I've seen and need to compose HRs for) but now that our computer is seriously on it's last leg, (and the fact that one of "my shows" is on) I want to just wrap it up and post this as is. Sigh.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
The world is a vampire
("Bullet with Butterfly Wings" by the Smashing Pumpkins)
All day long I've thought it was Th
All day long I've thought it was Th
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
The Good Soldier
Previously: The Beginning of the End
I was finding the jungle terrain difficult to walk through. Evelyn was as well, with her injured leg. Kyle seemed to have little problem with it, however. It seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, making me wonder what the rush was. What sort of facility was it that it knew about? And how did it know about this facility? Before the crash, we had been searching for signs of Mim-cha activity, but our bot had been inactive, and hadn’t seen any of the equipment’s readings.
Which raised another, very important question – how had Kyle been activated? Supposedly it could only be done by one of us. I hadn’t done it; Pablo didn’t appear to have been able to; Lindsay was MIA, so that was a remote possibility; Prince didn’t possess the required appendages, and wouldn’t even if he could have; Evelyn might have, but it seemed unlikely.
Only one way to find out. “Evelyn, did you activate the bot?”
She stopped and looked at me, “No. I assumed that he had been turned on prior to the crash. There was that flash …and then the next thing I knew, he was pulling me out of the Vulture 2. I …how did he reactivate?”
I drew my weapon and called out, “Kyle! We need you!” To Evelyn I said, “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.” I handed Prince’s leash to Evelyn. “Take him back a bit. If I give you the signal, release him.”
The machine approached me, still carrying a bloody Pablo, who moaned slightly. I aimed my gun at the thing's head, and said coolly, “Put him down, and answer my questions, or I will shoot you.”
Kyle regarded me momentarily, and then amazed me by disobeying the order I had given and saying, “We are being watched, Connor Johnson. There is little time for us to engage in your acts of rebellion." I was shocked at how much it sounded like my brother then. Whenever he would scold me - he was older than I was by four minutes, and he often reminded me of that fact - he would adopt the exact same tone that this Kyle had just used. It was eerie. The machine continued, "It is not safe..." a shot rang out, and Kyle dropped to the ground.
Evelyn and I crouched instinctively, and I whirled around, searching in the direction of where the bullet had come from. Prince barked ferociously while Evelyn drew her weapon, her eyes wide with surprise.
A cry of “Yes! Gotcha!” stopped us both. I recognized the voice. Glancing over at Evelyn, I mouthed, “Andy?” She nodded, although the confusion on her face matched my own. Soon enough, Andrew Garcia, one of the crew from the Vulture, emerged from the forest.
Andy was only 17 years old, and while he was a great shot - I'd trained with him several times myself - he was often over-eager when battling the bots. One of the lessons I had attempted to instill in him was to never assume that your target was truly dead until you actually saw the light in it's eyes go out yourself. It was one that he still hadn't learned.
As the young boy came forward, Kyle stood up. He had drawn his gun and cocked it, aiming it toward his assailant. Upon seeing who had attacked him, he lowered the barrel and said simply, "Do not shoot me again, Andrew Garcia."
Andy's face went through multiple levels of shock - first at seeing that he had not actually felled his target (although Kyle now had a nickel-sized bullet hole in it's jaw. Bits of the mechanical endoskeleton was visible if you peered close enough. The hole would, of course, heal itself up within a matter of hours), then when he saw who the bot was that he had just attacked, and finally when he saw me, Evelyn and Prince.
Putting away his weapon quickly he began to ramble, mostly in Spanish, apologizing profusely to all three of us. He had heard Prince's barking, and before the flash that had knocked out power to the planes, the readings had indicated that there were several Mim-cha in the vicinity, so he had simply shot first and asked questions later. He told us that the Vulture had landed more or less intact about half a mile back, and he was patrolling the area for the bots, in addition to scouting. All of the crew of the Vulture were alive, and were waiting back at the plane.
"Is the Vulture operational?" Kyle asked. "Can it fly?"
Andy thought about it. "Dunno," he shrugged. "Isaiah was working on fixing the radio when I left. I gotta say, his landing was not the best I've been through. Although it sounds like he did a better job than Lindsay did, yeah?"
I grimaced. I suspected that Lindsay had not survived the crash, since Kyle had not retrieved his body from the wreckage.
"We should continue on our way," Kyle said. So like a machine. Focused on it's task. It seemed to consider all of the circumstances then said, "Perhaps Andrew should take Pablo to the Vulture for medical assistance."
"What about this facility that you spoke of?" I asked. "Doesn't it have supplies?"
"It might," the machine answered. "I do not know for certain what resides in the building. But we should hurry. It is not safe here."
"Facility?" Andy asked. "What's he talking about?"
"I don't know," I answered him. "But I suspect that it has something to do with the Mim-cha readings you guys picked up before our unexpected landings. And I'd be willing to bet that it probably caused the power outages. Which means," I added, "that we go there with more than just us."
"All right," I spoke loudly enough for the whole group to hear,but I was mostly addressing the bot, "We all go to the Vulture first, and from there we will decide what to do about this facility of yours. That's an order."
Kyle stared at me, his face an emotionless mask. "Yes, sir," he said. He was, after all, a soldier and knew when to fall in line.
Next: Me, I'm Not
I was finding the jungle terrain difficult to walk through. Evelyn was as well, with her injured leg. Kyle seemed to have little problem with it, however. It seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, making me wonder what the rush was. What sort of facility was it that it knew about? And how did it know about this facility? Before the crash, we had been searching for signs of Mim-cha activity, but our bot had been inactive, and hadn’t seen any of the equipment’s readings.
Which raised another, very important question – how had Kyle been activated? Supposedly it could only be done by one of us. I hadn’t done it; Pablo didn’t appear to have been able to; Lindsay was MIA, so that was a remote possibility; Prince didn’t possess the required appendages, and wouldn’t even if he could have; Evelyn might have, but it seemed unlikely.
Only one way to find out. “Evelyn, did you activate the bot?”
She stopped and looked at me, “No. I assumed that he had been turned on prior to the crash. There was that flash …and then the next thing I knew, he was pulling me out of the Vulture 2. I …how did he reactivate?”
I drew my weapon and called out, “Kyle! We need you!” To Evelyn I said, “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.” I handed Prince’s leash to Evelyn. “Take him back a bit. If I give you the signal, release him.”
The machine approached me, still carrying a bloody Pablo, who moaned slightly. I aimed my gun at the thing's head, and said coolly, “Put him down, and answer my questions, or I will shoot you.”
Kyle regarded me momentarily, and then amazed me by disobeying the order I had given and saying, “We are being watched, Connor Johnson. There is little time for us to engage in your acts of rebellion." I was shocked at how much it sounded like my brother then. Whenever he would scold me - he was older than I was by four minutes, and he often reminded me of that fact - he would adopt the exact same tone that this Kyle had just used. It was eerie. The machine continued, "It is not safe..." a shot rang out, and Kyle dropped to the ground.
Evelyn and I crouched instinctively, and I whirled around, searching in the direction of where the bullet had come from. Prince barked ferociously while Evelyn drew her weapon, her eyes wide with surprise.
A cry of “Yes! Gotcha!” stopped us both. I recognized the voice. Glancing over at Evelyn, I mouthed, “Andy?” She nodded, although the confusion on her face matched my own. Soon enough, Andrew Garcia, one of the crew from the Vulture, emerged from the forest.
Andy was only 17 years old, and while he was a great shot - I'd trained with him several times myself - he was often over-eager when battling the bots. One of the lessons I had attempted to instill in him was to never assume that your target was truly dead until you actually saw the light in it's eyes go out yourself. It was one that he still hadn't learned.
As the young boy came forward, Kyle stood up. He had drawn his gun and cocked it, aiming it toward his assailant. Upon seeing who had attacked him, he lowered the barrel and said simply, "Do not shoot me again, Andrew Garcia."
Andy's face went through multiple levels of shock - first at seeing that he had not actually felled his target (although Kyle now had a nickel-sized bullet hole in it's jaw. Bits of the mechanical endoskeleton was visible if you peered close enough. The hole would, of course, heal itself up within a matter of hours), then when he saw who the bot was that he had just attacked, and finally when he saw me, Evelyn and Prince.
Putting away his weapon quickly he began to ramble, mostly in Spanish, apologizing profusely to all three of us. He had heard Prince's barking, and before the flash that had knocked out power to the planes, the readings had indicated that there were several Mim-cha in the vicinity, so he had simply shot first and asked questions later. He told us that the Vulture had landed more or less intact about half a mile back, and he was patrolling the area for the bots, in addition to scouting. All of the crew of the Vulture were alive, and were waiting back at the plane.
"Is the Vulture operational?" Kyle asked. "Can it fly?"
Andy thought about it. "Dunno," he shrugged. "Isaiah was working on fixing the radio when I left. I gotta say, his landing was not the best I've been through. Although it sounds like he did a better job than Lindsay did, yeah?"
I grimaced. I suspected that Lindsay had not survived the crash, since Kyle had not retrieved his body from the wreckage.
"We should continue on our way," Kyle said. So like a machine. Focused on it's task. It seemed to consider all of the circumstances then said, "Perhaps Andrew should take Pablo to the Vulture for medical assistance."
"What about this facility that you spoke of?" I asked. "Doesn't it have supplies?"
"It might," the machine answered. "I do not know for certain what resides in the building. But we should hurry. It is not safe here."
"Facility?" Andy asked. "What's he talking about?"
"I don't know," I answered him. "But I suspect that it has something to do with the Mim-cha readings you guys picked up before our unexpected landings. And I'd be willing to bet that it probably caused the power outages. Which means," I added, "that we go there with more than just us."
"All right," I spoke loudly enough for the whole group to hear,but I was mostly addressing the bot, "We all go to the Vulture first, and from there we will decide what to do about this facility of yours. That's an order."
Kyle stared at me, his face an emotionless mask. "Yes, sir," he said. He was, after all, a soldier and knew when to fall in line.
Next: Me, I'm Not
Monday, May 04, 2009
35%
Hmm. I suppose I need to reread The Zombie Survival Guide.
Created by OnePlusYou - Free Online Dating
Hmm. I suppose I need to reread The Zombie Survival Guide.
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Haiku Review: Lost - The Variable
has come back to the Island,
acting all cagey.
Flashback to Daniel's
younger days: his mum says, "Dan,
focus on Science!...
...You've got to be a
science nerd to fulfill your
(crappy) destiny!...
...You know, the one where
I end up shooting you in
the back. Um. Spoilers!"
So Daniel does as
he's instructed, gets all smart,
then loses his mind.
Turns out he tested
on himself, causing some flaws
in his memory.
Widmore says, "Hey, go
to Craphole and you'll be healed!
...And shot by your mom."
In the present/past,
Dan tries to warn Chang 'bout The
Incident - no go.
Then he tries to tell
The Losties that they should not
be here in the past.
Dan also instructs
a young Charlotte "Stay away".
Dude's like Cassandra.
Jack and Kate take Dan
(and some guns, of course) out to
visit the Hostiles.
But first they have a
shoot out with the Dharma guys,
who go to find James...
...And discover he
has Phil tied up and gagged. They
don't seem real happy.
Meanwhile, outside Camp
Others, Dan explains to Jack,
Kate, and the viewers...
...that he was wrong, and
whatever happened didn't
happen. Things can change!
Seems when doing his
calculations, he forgot
to carry the four.
He tells them that they
need to stop The Incident,
thus changing, well, Lost.
Jack seems intrigued at
this idea. "Fix time?!? I am
so there!" Kate's less thrilled.
(Personally, I
hope that things can't be changed.
You can't fight fate, dude.)
But before time is
"fixed", Daniel gets shot by his
mother. Destiny!
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Calling all nerds
Topic of discussion: Superman as a vampire.
I don't think it could even happen. I mean, I don't think the vampire's teeth could even penetrate Kal-el's neck to begin with - unless perhaps he was weakened from kryptonite.
But vampires are killed by sunlight, and Superman gets his power from the sun, so ...would that balance each other out? So would he be completely invincible?
I suspect that if he could become a creature of the night, that the only way to kill him would be to use a stake made of kryptonite.
Which, of course, Batman would have on hand, I'm sure.
I don't think it could even happen. I mean, I don't think the vampire's teeth could even penetrate Kal-el's neck to begin with - unless perhaps he was weakened from kryptonite.
But vampires are killed by sunlight, and Superman gets his power from the sun, so ...would that balance each other out? So would he be completely invincible?
I suspect that if he could become a creature of the night, that the only way to kill him would be to use a stake made of kryptonite.
Which, of course, Batman would have on hand, I'm sure.
Friday, May 01, 2009
April Word Cloud
Word cloud for last month! (Oh, and the story below is just the first part. And, yeah, I've started many-a story in the past and not finished, but this one is different. I *will* complete it by month's end.)
The Beginning of the End
“Mayday!”
Time was distorted as I came to. Lindsay was screaming the distress call into the non-functioning microphone, but his words were stretched out, emitted at a reduced rate of speed. The effect was similar to, I believe, what the movies used to depict with slow-motion scenes. It would have been comical, if not for the dire nature of our situation. The plane, Vulture 2, was in free-fall. The aircraft had suffered some sort of electrical malfunction, and nothing was working in it. Our companion plane, the Vulture 1, was also suffering from the same fate.
I looked over at Lindsay – slowly, since it seems that all of reality was passing through a speed filtration – with a questioning look. “What the hell is going on?”
He returned my look with a confused shrug of his own. He was just as clueless as I was. He turned his attention to the plane’s controls, attempting to pull us out of our snail’s pace descent. I shifted my focus on the rest of the crew. Everyone appeared to still be unconscious. Pablo, Evelyn, and Prince were all out, but breathing shallowly. My ‘brother’ was also unalert, but that was to be expected, and just as I had hoped. A precursory glance at the cabin showed me that everything electrical had stopped functioning. I wondered if that was what had caused us to black out as well. There had been a flash of electrical sparks, and then darkness. It could have been a weapon test. Or a booby trap of some sort. We had been searching for a base, after all.
As I was turning back to face the front of the plane, Lindsay was yelling, “Brace for impact!” The plane was going down, and there was nothing that could be done about it. It was at that moment that time reasserted itself. Due to the fact that we had just spent the last who knows how long moving at a much slower velocity, when time began to flow again at a normal speed, it felt much faster. So the final seconds before impact happened almost instantaneously. There was very little that could have been done to actually prepare for the crash other than close my eyes and pray.
*********
As I came to after the crash, time was at least flowing normally. However, I had no idea how long I had been out after losing consciousness from the plane crash – or where I was, for that matter. I could not see the Vulture 2, and I was propped up against a tree. My head hurt, and I could feel an intense pain in my left hand. As I attempted to move my hand, I saw that my fingers had been broken. My vision blurred and I bit the inside of my cheek in an attempt to stay conscious.
A few feet away, Evelyn was kneeling down, calming Prince. He was emitting a low, steady growl. She noticed I had awakened, and walked over toward me, bringing Prince with her. I detected she was limping.
“Hey,” she said, “how are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been through a plane crash,” I said. She smiled wanly.
Kneeling down to get a better look, and grimacing a bit when she did so, she shined a small flashlight in my eyes. “Do you know what year it is?”
I said, “It’s twenty thirty-seven. August 29th. I think I’m okay, mentally, Ev. My left middle and ring fingers have been broken, though.” I raised my hand to show her, wincing slightly at the pain. "What about you? How are you feeling? And where is everyone else? And what about the Vultures?" I looked around briefly and a sense of dread overcame me. "Where is ... it? Did it survive the crash?"
Evelyn pointed off to the distance. "Yeah, it... he survived. And I doubt we would be as lucky if he hadn't. He pulled us both out of the wreckage, Connor."
Prince was whimpering at me, nipping on my sleeve, and alternately looking off in the direction Ev had pointed. The dog was obviously worried about it returning, regardless of whether it had a hero status. Using my good hand, I scratched the canine's head, trying to put him at ease.
Evelyn continued, "He is out there right now, attempting to rescue the rest of our crew. I understand your animosity toward him - I really do - but he's different, Connor. He's not like them. Not anymore. I think his actions just now prove that, if nothing else."
I looked at her, and thought of all the things we had been through in the past two years that we had known each other. She had never met my twin, Kyle. For her to suggest that she understood my situation was laughable at best. If she had known Kyle - the real Kyle - before, then maybe she would have a ground to stand on. But all she had ever known was the impostor. For the past year and a half, the fake Kyle was the only connection I had to my twin brother. That damn machine, with my brother's face and therefore, my face, was posing as Kyle Johnson. Evelyn was human, and had, of course, suffered and lost a great deal - we all had - but none of her relatives had (to the best of my knowledge) been captured by the Mim-cha, tortured, and had their identities stolen in order for them to infiltrate and murder other humans. She'd seen it happen to friends and complete strangers, but never a relative. Her family had all perished under the bombs twenty-five years prior. They were the lucky ones.
I thought all of this, and more, but said only, "His actions prove nothing but that he's following his current set of orders. He is a robot, Evelyn. It is a robot."
"That saved the lives of two people just now," she added.
I nodded. "Because we altered it's programming. But there is so much we still don't understand about them." I paused, seeing that we had hit a sort of stalemate in the debate. "Look," I said, "I'll concede that it is on our side, and is doing good things right now. But the first sign of any sort of betrayal on it's part, and it gets turned off. Permanently. I can still shoot with my right hand."
Prince began to growl harder, and barked several short, loud warnings. 'Kyle' was returning from the wreckage. Pablo was draped over his shoulders, and bleeding profusely.
We both stood and walked over to our companion. The robot said, "He requires medical attention. Promptly. We need to find a way out..." he paused, turning his head to the side, much like a dog when it hears a tone it doesn't recognize. I swore I could hear some mechanical buzzing. I glanced over at Evelyn, who looked nervous.
"Kyle?" She asked.
The bot snapped it's head up and said, "There is an underground facility 1.4 miles to the southeast. We should go there."
Evelyn and I looked at one another. "What sort of facility?" I asked, but my mechanical twin had already begun to march into the jungle, still carrying Pablo. We had no choice but to follow.
Next: The Good Soldier
Time was distorted as I came to. Lindsay was screaming the distress call into the non-functioning microphone, but his words were stretched out, emitted at a reduced rate of speed. The effect was similar to, I believe, what the movies used to depict with slow-motion scenes. It would have been comical, if not for the dire nature of our situation. The plane, Vulture 2, was in free-fall. The aircraft had suffered some sort of electrical malfunction, and nothing was working in it. Our companion plane, the Vulture 1, was also suffering from the same fate.
I looked over at Lindsay – slowly, since it seems that all of reality was passing through a speed filtration – with a questioning look. “What the hell is going on?”
He returned my look with a confused shrug of his own. He was just as clueless as I was. He turned his attention to the plane’s controls, attempting to pull us out of our snail’s pace descent. I shifted my focus on the rest of the crew. Everyone appeared to still be unconscious. Pablo, Evelyn, and Prince were all out, but breathing shallowly. My ‘brother’ was also unalert, but that was to be expected, and just as I had hoped. A precursory glance at the cabin showed me that everything electrical had stopped functioning. I wondered if that was what had caused us to black out as well. There had been a flash of electrical sparks, and then darkness. It could have been a weapon test. Or a booby trap of some sort. We had been searching for a base, after all.
As I was turning back to face the front of the plane, Lindsay was yelling, “Brace for impact!” The plane was going down, and there was nothing that could be done about it. It was at that moment that time reasserted itself. Due to the fact that we had just spent the last who knows how long moving at a much slower velocity, when time began to flow again at a normal speed, it felt much faster. So the final seconds before impact happened almost instantaneously. There was very little that could have been done to actually prepare for the crash other than close my eyes and pray.
As I came to after the crash, time was at least flowing normally. However, I had no idea how long I had been out after losing consciousness from the plane crash – or where I was, for that matter. I could not see the Vulture 2, and I was propped up against a tree. My head hurt, and I could feel an intense pain in my left hand. As I attempted to move my hand, I saw that my fingers had been broken. My vision blurred and I bit the inside of my cheek in an attempt to stay conscious.
A few feet away, Evelyn was kneeling down, calming Prince. He was emitting a low, steady growl. She noticed I had awakened, and walked over toward me, bringing Prince with her. I detected she was limping.
“Hey,” she said, “how are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been through a plane crash,” I said. She smiled wanly.
Kneeling down to get a better look, and grimacing a bit when she did so, she shined a small flashlight in my eyes. “Do you know what year it is?”
I said, “It’s twenty thirty-seven. August 29th. I think I’m okay, mentally, Ev. My left middle and ring fingers have been broken, though.” I raised my hand to show her, wincing slightly at the pain. "What about you? How are you feeling? And where is everyone else? And what about the Vultures?" I looked around briefly and a sense of dread overcame me. "Where is ... it? Did it survive the crash?"
Evelyn pointed off to the distance. "Yeah, it... he survived. And I doubt we would be as lucky if he hadn't. He pulled us both out of the wreckage, Connor."
Prince was whimpering at me, nipping on my sleeve, and alternately looking off in the direction Ev had pointed. The dog was obviously worried about it returning, regardless of whether it had a hero status. Using my good hand, I scratched the canine's head, trying to put him at ease.
Evelyn continued, "He is out there right now, attempting to rescue the rest of our crew. I understand your animosity toward him - I really do - but he's different, Connor. He's not like them. Not anymore. I think his actions just now prove that, if nothing else."
I looked at her, and thought of all the things we had been through in the past two years that we had known each other. She had never met my twin, Kyle. For her to suggest that she understood my situation was laughable at best. If she had known Kyle - the real Kyle - before, then maybe she would have a ground to stand on. But all she had ever known was the impostor. For the past year and a half, the fake Kyle was the only connection I had to my twin brother. That damn machine, with my brother's face and therefore, my face, was posing as Kyle Johnson. Evelyn was human, and had, of course, suffered and lost a great deal - we all had - but none of her relatives had (to the best of my knowledge) been captured by the Mim-cha, tortured, and had their identities stolen in order for them to infiltrate and murder other humans. She'd seen it happen to friends and complete strangers, but never a relative. Her family had all perished under the bombs twenty-five years prior. They were the lucky ones.
I thought all of this, and more, but said only, "His actions prove nothing but that he's following his current set of orders. He is a robot, Evelyn. It is a robot."
"That saved the lives of two people just now," she added.
I nodded. "Because we altered it's programming. But there is so much we still don't understand about them." I paused, seeing that we had hit a sort of stalemate in the debate. "Look," I said, "I'll concede that it is on our side, and is doing good things right now. But the first sign of any sort of betrayal on it's part, and it gets turned off. Permanently. I can still shoot with my right hand."
Prince began to growl harder, and barked several short, loud warnings. 'Kyle' was returning from the wreckage. Pablo was draped over his shoulders, and bleeding profusely.
We both stood and walked over to our companion. The robot said, "He requires medical attention. Promptly. We need to find a way out..." he paused, turning his head to the side, much like a dog when it hears a tone it doesn't recognize. I swore I could hear some mechanical buzzing. I glanced over at Evelyn, who looked nervous.
"Kyle?" She asked.
The bot snapped it's head up and said, "There is an underground facility 1.4 miles to the southeast. We should go there."
Evelyn and I looked at one another. "What sort of facility?" I asked, but my mechanical twin had already begun to march into the jungle, still carrying Pablo. We had no choice but to follow.
Next: The Good Soldier
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Off to see the wizard
We had a rep from Sony come to the station today, giving the ...well, not the sales pitch, since we've already bought the show, but ...well, just a presentation, on the "Dr. Oz" show.
I'd heard of Dr. Oz before (mostly just from knowing that we were going to be carrying the show, and that he had been on Oprah's program several times) but I didn't know all the info about the guy. Apparently he's the one who has been writing those "You" books ("You - on a diet", "You - only better", "You - oughtta know" [okay, that last one was Alanis]), he writes a weekly newspaper column, he appears on Oprah like every month, he's a doctor/surgeon, he teaches classes, and now he's going to be hosting his own television program.
And it's like, Dude. I'm exhausted just hearing about all your activities. How does he do it??
Speaking of over-extending onesself, May is going to be ...hectic.
We have Baby 4 arriving...whenever, plus I'm considering blogging daily (although now that we're at May's door, I'm feeling much less committed to that particular goal), my supervisor is going to be out from work for half of the month due to a surgery, the upfronts happen [NBC is May 5th, the other networks happen the week of the 18th], May is the month for season finales on television, and we have to devise a way to come up with an extra thousand dollars (give or take) so that we can attend the Live & Learn Conference in September.
Hectic.
I'm sure it would be no sweat for Dr. Oz, but we'll have to see how I handle things. :)
I'd heard of Dr. Oz before (mostly just from knowing that we were going to be carrying the show, and that he had been on Oprah's program several times) but I didn't know all the info about the guy. Apparently he's the one who has been writing those "You" books ("You - on a diet", "You - only better", "You - oughtta know" [okay, that last one was Alanis]), he writes a weekly newspaper column, he appears on Oprah like every month, he's a doctor/surgeon, he teaches classes, and now he's going to be hosting his own television program.
And it's like, Dude. I'm exhausted just hearing about all your activities. How does he do it??
Speaking of over-extending onesself, May is going to be ...hectic.
We have Baby 4 arriving...whenever, plus I'm considering blogging daily (although now that we're at May's door, I'm feeling much less committed to that particular goal), my supervisor is going to be out from work for half of the month due to a surgery, the upfronts happen [NBC is May 5th, the other networks happen the week of the 18th], May is the month for season finales on television, and we have to devise a way to come up with an extra thousand dollars (give or take) so that we can attend the Live & Learn Conference in September.
Hectic.
I'm sure it would be no sweat for Dr. Oz, but we'll have to see how I handle things. :)
Friday, April 24, 2009
No haikus here
I'm nearly caught up on my movie reviewing.
I don't really have anything else to say right now, but I wanted to make an entry that wasn't seventeen syllables at a time.
I have an idea (or four) for a blogging challenge for the month of May. ...that's all I'm going to say about it right now. I really hope that I a) follow through, and b) haven't jinxed myself by talking about it. Guess we'll find out in a week.
I don't really have anything else to say right now, but I wanted to make an entry that wasn't seventeen syllables at a time.
I have an idea (or four) for a blogging challenge for the month of May. ...that's all I'm going to say about it right now. I really hope that I a) follow through, and b) haven't jinxed myself by talking about it. Guess we'll find out in a week.
Haiku Review: Yes Man
to everything, like dating
Zooey Deschanel
Was this a funny
movie? Yes (and no) Can I
recommend it? Yes!
Haiku Review: Resident Evil: Extinction
to an end as Alice fights
the last boss. Game on!
Alice has powers
that don't make much sense, but then,
logic is sparse here.
Zombie birds are cool,
baked zombie birds are too, as
are the Alice clones.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Haiku Review: Eagle Eye
Shia LaBeouf plays average
guy in crazy sitch.
His name is Jerry,
and soon after his twin dies,
his life goes crazy.
He gets a call from
"Big Sister" who has him jump
through all sorts of hoops.
All in the name of
"National Security".
Go team USA!
See, the computer
wants to kill the president
for not listening.
And it needs Jerry
to help it out. Thus, action!!
Thrills, plot holes abound!
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Haiku Review: Lost - Some Like It Hoth
as the next guy (maybe more)
but, jeez, show. Really?
On with the recap:
Young Miles and his single mom,
looking for a place...
...decide to move in
to the complex so Miles can
chat with dead tenants.
Later, when Miles asks
his dying mom about his
dad, she says he died...
...years ago, and that
his body is someplace that
Miles could never go.
(Oh, yeah. You can tell
this is the past because Miles
has on a bad wig.)
We also get to
see how Naomi hired
Miles to search for Ben.
AND! Bram, who is with
Ilana on the Island,
briefly kidnaps Miles.
He warns Miles not to
go to Craphole, since he's not
on the winning team.
Miles just wants money
(well, that, and his fish taco)
so Bram lets him go.
In the present/past-
Sawyer calls Miles, asks him to
please erase tape 4.
But before Miles can,
Horace sends him to pick up
something. ...It's a corpse.
Miles uses his Sixth
Sense to find out how this guy
wound up DOA.
Turns out, fillings and
super-strong magnets do not
make a good combo.
Meanwhile, Ben's dad flips
out when he discovers his
son has gone missing.
Kate tries to comfort
him: "Don't worry, Roger. Ben
will be just fine. Heck...
...he will be up and
committing mass murder, yours
included, real soon!"
Roger is all, "Kind
words? From someone I just met?!?
She must be evil!"
Roger goes to Jack,
asks if Kate can be trusted.
Jack: "Welllll.... hey! You're drunk!"
Elsewhere, Hurley has
tagged along with Miles for the
corpse delivery.
The duo discuss
conversations with dead folk
and Star Wars fan-fic.
(Oh, and Hurley was
wrong. The Ewoks did not suck!
The prequels did, though.)
Everybody, please
welcome Miles into the Lost
Daddy Issues Club!
Everybody: "Hi,
Miles!" Miles (meekly): "Hi." So...Miles,
what are your issues?
"Well, my dad left me
and my mom when I was a
child, so I had to...
...learn how to speak with
dead people all on my own,
which made me snarky.
Now, through a weird twist
of both fate and donkey wheels,
I'm here, with my dad.
And I can see he
did love me as a child. So...
I guess I'm done here!"
And Hurley was like,
"See? Daddy issues can be
resolved without death!"
(Pointed look at Kate,
Locke, Sawyer, Ben, George Lucas.
You too, Joss Whedon.)
Things with Miles seem good
but Phil found the tape with James,
Kate, and Ben on it!
So Sawyer punches
Phil, and has Juliet get
a rope. Here we go!
And lastly, Daniel
is back! He returns on the
sub, saying, "Hey Miles!"
In two weeks we get
the one hundredth episode!
Can't wait to see it!
Friday, April 17, 2009
Haiku Review: Resident Evil: Apocalypse
was better than the first one.
It felt more...um... real?
I guess setting it
in Raccoon City gave it
a more 'real world' vibe.
This was a small step
(a shuffle, you might say) in
the right direction.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Haiku Review: Wanted
slow-mo, but they made it work.
This was full of cool.
Curving bullets, rats
that explode, shooting the wings
off of flies, and more!
The "fuck you" keyboard,
Morgan freakin' Freeman, just
a great action flick.
Although the last line
made me want to punch someone.
This wasn't Fight Club.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Haiku Review: Lost - Dead Is Dead
episode, so anything
we learn is suspect.
Charles charges in,
asks Richard, "Why'd you save him?"
"Jacob wants it so."
Charles tells young Ben
he must go back to Dharma
but he's "one of them".
In the present, Ben
awakens with Locke looking
over him. Surprise!
Ben's all, "I knew it!"
Locke: "Oh Really?" Ben: "Sorta?
See, I was hoping...
...that it wouldn't work,
and you'd remain dead, but the
Island loves you best...
...but let's go see the
Smoke Monster and see what it's
got to say." Locke: "Cool."
On the beach, Ben talks
with Caesar, "Hey, do you think
Locke might be... loco?"
Caesar is intrigued
by Ben's views and would like to
subscribe, etc.
Flashback! You can tell
it's the past, because Ben is
wearing a bad wig.
Anyway, he and
teenage Ethan are on a
mission - kill French chick.
But, Ben has a heart!
(Who knew??) When he sees newborn
Alex, he spares her.
Instead of killing
Danielle, he just takes her child,
warns her 'bout whispers.
Back in the present,
John and Ben are taking a
boat. Caesar stops them.
Well, "stops" them until
Ben shoots Caesar in the chest
with a shotgun. Damn!
Ben and Locke arrive
on the main island, where Sun
and Frank are waiting.
Sun shows Ben the pic
of the Dharma crew with Jack,
Hurley, Kate in it.
Ben seems surprised by
this, but then, he's a master
liar, so who knows.
When he asks what Frank
and Sun are doing there, they
"Waiting for
Frank has had enough
craziness for one lifetime,
says he's going back.
Sun says, "I got to
try and find my husband, so
I'll stay with these guys."
Locke tells Sun, "I have
some ideas on how to find
Jin again, but first...
...Ben has to summon
our pal Smokey." Ben pulls a
plug on a drain. Huh?
When Smokey doesn't
show up, Locke says, "Follow me."
and heads jungle-bound.
They get outside the
Temple. Locke tells Ben, "Under
there you'll find Smokey."
Ben tells Sun, "If you
see Desmond, tell him 'Sorry',
he'll know what I mean."
And we know - sort of -
because we flash back to when
Ben confronted Des.
Ben shoots Desmond's bag
of groceries, spilling his
milk! No use crying!
He then is planning
on killing Penny, but stops
when he sees her kid.
Desmond then beats the
crap out of Ben and throws him
into the water.
Other flashback stuff:
Widmore gets pissed that Ben saved
Alex, claims it's fate.
Later, Charles is
banished from the Island 'cause
he had his own child.
On the small island,
Frank comes back to find a coup
Ilana asks him...
...this question, "What lies
in the shadow of statue?"
(Is the answer 'Ben'?)
When Frank doesn't know,
Ilana smacks him in the
head with a gun. Ouch!
In the Temple (of
Doom?), Ben is surrounded by
Smokey in Judge Mode.
After showing Ben
the Alex Greatest Hits, the
monster goes back home.
An Alex vision
appears before Ben, commands
him, "Do. What. Locke. Says."
Ben swears he will, and
that appeases SmokeAlex.
It leaves Ben alive.
Seems there's been a shift
in power from Ben to Locke
in who knows the most.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Haiku Review: Bolt
declawed cat, and a hamster
make a funny team.
Predictable? Sure.
But, dude, it's Disney. Plus, it
made me laugh a lot.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
They had similiar discussions a thousand years ago
So. Next year - is it "two thousand ten" or "twenty ten"?
We've got about 260-ish days to figure it out. Discuss.
We've got about 260-ish days to figure it out. Discuss.
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Haiku Review: Lost - Whatever Happened, Happened
here, but plenty to discuss.
Let's break it down, yo.
Ben spends most of this
episode in pain from the
bullet in his chest.
It's not a question
of if he'll live, but the how
is what we don't know.
Juliet does her
best to save the young kid's life
but she's no surgeon.
Hey, good thing that there
is a doctor in the camp!
But Jack says "uh-uh."
Wait.... WHAT? Jack doesn't
want to fix something?!? Are we
sure that's really Jack?
Hey Jack, remember
that oath you took that you would,
you know, do no harm?
Well...I guess you could
argue you haven't taken
that oath yet, but still.
Since Jack doesn't want
to save a young kid's life, Kate
will have to step in.
Kate, along with James,
take Ben to the Others and
say, "Fix him up, guys!"
Richard Alpert warns
"This will wipe his memory,"
and I roll my eyes.
But at least we have
an answer (however bad)
to Hurley's question:
"If this all took place
already why doesn't grown Ben
remember Sayid?"
Speaking of Hurley
his conversation with Miles
was hilarious.
If you're still confused
about the whole time travel
issue(s), this may help:
Scroll down and read the
bit about cookie crumbs and
Central Avenue
Other important
events from this ep: Kate came
back to rescue Claire.
Seems that raising a
kid who belongs to someone
else ate at Kate's soul.
Also - Kate told the
truth (all of it?) about the
Island to James' ex.
AND she told Claire's mum
at least some of the truth, too.
Kate. Here. Look this up.
Do you remember
Rose and Bernard and Vincent?
The writers sure don't!
In the future/now,
Ben wakes up and sees John Locke
next week's gonna rock!
Friday, April 03, 2009
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
March's word cloud is here.
There was a Stephen King category on Jeopardy! today, and I got every response correct. So, that was nice and ego-boosting.
I've gone back to the haiku review entries made on the last day of '08, and separated them all into individual posts (rather than grouped in bunches of 20). I'll also restart posting haiku reviews of movies I see from here on out.
Not a lot else to say right now. All of Spish is currently in varying degrees of unhealthiness, which sucks.
...that's about all for now, I guess.
There was a Stephen King category on Jeopardy! today, and I got every response correct. So, that was nice and ego-boosting.
I've gone back to the haiku review entries made on the last day of '08, and separated them all into individual posts (rather than grouped in bunches of 20). I'll also restart posting haiku reviews of movies I see from here on out.
Not a lot else to say right now. All of Spish is currently in varying degrees of unhealthiness, which sucks.
...that's about all for now, I guess.
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