Another One Word Topic

When starting this blog I knew that I would hit a rut sooner than later.  Yes, even for me there are times when I just don't feel like writing.  Unfortunately, I never really figured out a game plan that would help me get back into the saddle.  I mean do I force writing something every day (a personal goal of mine) or do I say nothing until that feeling passes. This time I focused on the latter and that feeling to write did return in full force.  The downside is that I disappeared  for a week. I'm sure I will find a happy medium between the two.  Until that time comes to pass I simply ask that you bear with me until I figure it all out. 

Now with that being said, I do have the urge to write but I don't know what I should write about.   I liked the idea of the one word topics but I didn't have my trusty husband with me to give me one. I ended up finding an online random word generator.  So my topic today would be centered around the word ::pushes the button of the random word generator::  Paragraph. Paragraph? Yeah I know what you're thinking, now imagine having to write a post about paragraphs.  Well posts are made up of paragraphs...and you have to get your paragraphs in order for your point to make sense.  Oh, and sometimes when I write these posts I start with the middle and work my way outward if you can believe that...and you couldn't, could you?  Hrm, this isn't working is it? Okay I'm going to twist this a bit, and I can do that because I make up the rules.  I'm going to use this topic to address a comment that I received and to talk about words.  Because words make up paragraphs so I have every right to talk about them.

Words fascinate me.  Language fascinates me. Words are all around us and yet I've never really stopped to think about them until recently and how I interact with them on a day to day basis.  I mean just look at all the words that are splattered across this page and I hardly give it a thought.  Once you starting thinking about it words, are nothing more than carefully places squiggles.  Words by themselves are meaningless, and hollow; they are chaos. But when you put meaning behind them they are probably the most powerful tool a person can utilize.  Words are vessels that connect your psyche to something that is physically tangible and more importantly words convey your thoughts to other people.  Consider what these little squiggles can accomplish.  We have used them to convey emotions, make them sound like music, fought wars, gained peace and one of my personal favorites, shared knowledge and information.  The same words that make me tear up when I read Hallmark cards in the middle of Walgreens were used to draft the Declaration of Independence.  Think about that, there is nothing so versatile than our words.  They are the keepers of hopes, and dreams, and memories.  They tell of our triumphs and of our mistakes.  Without words we wouldn't have a history to remind us from where we came, and without words great minds couldn't tell us where we are going.  They are simple and beautiful and hold no expectations of those that wield them. Look at how I was able to expand my thoughts on one single word.  Look at how I was able to share my emotions with you by using simple characters compounded in a non-randomized order fused with emotion and intellect.  Words are amazing, I just never really stopped to appreciate them before.

The second topic is that I've gotten comments that I've used too many words.  My posts are too long and there aren't any pictures. Okay, I can concede that my posts are a bit long but trust me when I say that I am giving you an abridged version.  I've written a post and have taken out countless paragraphs simply because I thought that it needed to be shorter.  Writing is my catharsis and I do hope that people would not deny me that simply because they don't want to take the time to read it.  I am okay with the fact that you think that but just know that this blog is probably not for you.  Now why don't I use pictures?  Because I like words better.  Let me give you an example-

"As I heard the excited barks and pounding of four paws, I broke out into an uncontainable smile.  Soft pads rushing over the ground quickly covered the distance between me and where the catch was made.  Laughing, I bent down to retrieve the prize and I was met with eyes that begged to go again.  "Are you ready?" I asked and was met with bright expectant eyes and the "whump whump whump" of a tail.  "Okay, go get it," was all that needed to be said.  Well that and the extension of my arm which released pure joy for one of my greatest friends."

Now after reading that, its not hard to figure out what is going on.  Someone is playing fetch with their dog.  But this little blurb was written in such a way that I didn't tell you a lot of information.  In the end you supplied it.  What kind of dog was it?  Where were they?  Who was throwing the toy? Was it you? Was it someone else? What type of toy was it? What time of the year were they playing?  I'm sure that you could tell me the answer to any one of these questions simply because you supplied the reality.  I didn't tell you specific details, I only set the scene.  That is why I don't supply many pictures.  You look at a picture and the mystery is gone.  You are immediately confined to the standards and expectations that I set.  With this passage you could have said that this dog was a purebred "gnosdag" from the planet "dgho;aed3" playing with is favorite "genojad".  Or you could have said that this was Snarlax, one of the greatest battle dogs of all the Trinarlian Empire playing with a severed hand after a great conquest.  Both scenarios would have worked because you filled in the gaps.  You could have never done that with a picture.  So yes, am I verbose? Absolutely. Am I going to provide pictures? Not often.  I want you to use your imaginations and start thinking.  That is my greatest goal.

Things I learned last week

I have decided that life is just one big learning experience.  I know that there are huge life altering lessons that we must learn; what it feels like to get your heart broken, the joy of making a team that you trained for, starting your first job.  But when I say that life is just one big learning experience I really start to look at the smaller things in life.  If you really sit down and think about it, you really are learning all the time.  Most of the things I learn is due to funny situations that result in me looking like an idiot.  No really, I'm serious.  I did the math. Last week 87% of the things I learned resulted in me looking utterly foolish.  But that's okay, I've decided God decided to put a good deal of Indian rubber in me because I usually bounce back rather quickly from my foibles. So here is small list of things that I learned last week:

1. My cat is evil- I guess this isn't much of a surprise because as we all well know all cats are evil.  That or they just don't like me.  Each Christmas my mom gives Nate cat toys in his stocking.  After several years I have finally concluded that she legitimately wants the cats to have them and they aren't just a slight to Nate and his character (if she wanted to do that, I'm sure she would have given him dog toys). This year she hit the ball out of the park with two lizards filled with catnip and crinkled when you bit down on them ("you" is pertaining to the the cats, not me speaking from experience). I have since named them Glitz and Glamor (because they're sparkly).  It is a complete understatement when I say that Torque loves these toys.  Since Christmas they have been his best friends and I always know his friends get into trouble when he comes up to me, starts whining, runs away a bit, comes back, starts whining, runs away a bit, etc. I know that if this was a dog doing this then Timmy has once again fell down the well.  If my cat starts doing this then I know that he managed to get either Glitz or Glamor lodged underneath something and wants me to get it. I don't know why cats do this.  Evolutionarily speaking this doesn't make much since.  I can imagine Saber-Tooth-Cave-Torque (scientific name- Pudgicus lazicus) bat around his recent kill until it gets stuck underneath a rock ledge and he can't get to it.  Technically the species would have died out long ago due to starvation (more credibility to the theory that all cats are evil and must have made a pact with the devil to survive).  However, I was happy to oblige because it makes him happy (that way he won't try to steal my soul when I'm sleeping) and he needs a bit of exercise.  I started getting suspicious last week when he seemed to do this routine excessively.  On the fifth time of me playing golden retriever for the day, I decided to  actually watch him. So I set up a sting operation.  Fortunately, he isn't too bright so me sitting in a chair reading a magazine was the perfect cover.  The following events happened: Torque took a few moments to sniff Glitz, took a look at me picked it up in his mouth, went over to the pantry doors, set Glitz down, took another look at me, and with one swipe of his paw pushed Glitz under the door frame.  After a few seconds he started whining.  That's when I realized with ice cold dread shivering down my spine that the lizard wasn't his favorite toy of all time...I was. 

2. Be careful what you write, don't make assumptions- I'm still kind of new with this whole blog thing and it its extremely easy to get lost in your own little bloggy world. When I write in this, I'm more of a stream of conscience writer, meaning I don't really think a lot about what I'm saying.  It just comes to mind and I write it down.  Sometimes, though, there are consequences.  First, I was chastised by my mother because she was worried about my grandmother reading my Valentines Day post.  She thought that the words "genitals, venereal disease, and procreation" were going to be too much for her delicate sensibilities. In my defense I did put a rating of pg-13 up there because I do know that family members read this and I didn't want offend them without warning them. Since then I have tried to tone down the more colorful descriptions and still get my point across. Second thing I've learned is don't make assumptions about who reads your stuff.  Last week when I went to my game session, one of the guys mentioned that they should start this session off by going around the room and telling something about themselves.  I had no idea what he was talking about until it dawned on me that he had read my RPG post.  I was completely caught off guard, followed by waves of embarrassment.  It wasn't what he said that was embarassing but the fact that I distinctly remember me wondering what their reactions would be if any of them read my analysis of the group.  I thought for a few moments and then completely brushed it aside thinking "bah, they'll never read this anyway." Boy, was I wrong. Outside world: 2, Mad Scientist: 0.

3. A New Word- I came across a new word that I never heard before: Venality. Venality is a vice associated with being bribeable or of selling your services or power, especially when one should act justly instead. In its most recognizable form, dishonesty, venality causes people to lie and steal for their personal advantage, and is related to bribery and nepotism, among other vices. Its a neat word that I'm sure I will probably use during the next Presidential/Congressional election.  I just see venality and politics going hand in hand.

4. Justin Bieber Nail Polish Exists- Surprisingly my brother told me about this little gem.  I don't really know what Bieber was thinking other than taking the KISS mentality and slapping your face on everything in existence.  I'm not saying guys are excluded from wearing fingernail polish. Its just that usually guys wear black nail polish (occasional a bright neon color like yellow or orange)  and are usually pegged as either goth or punk, which, for the most part, is fine with me. I just think that sparkly polish with glitter hearts in it is even a little too feminine for our little androgynous pop star here.  Okay, I told myself when I was writing this that I would not hate on the Bieber.  I don't hate him, he's too silly to hate, and he's an interesting look into what young girls consider hot date material.  I thought girls that age liked the bad boys, and had guys like Bieber fill the best friend slot.  Hrm, maybe I'm getting my dumb girl love phases wrong.  Now that I think about it, girls that like him are at the age where they do want the best friend until the hormones kick in and then they go after the bad boys. So really its just a matter of time before he fades from our existence.  Until then, if you want to slap your name on nail polish then for for it.  I will say I'll be ticked if I see your face on the side of my Tampax box (sorry Grandma).

5. TV Seasons are shot before they're aired- Nate and I have been watching the entire Farscape series for the past month of so.  I made the comment that Wayne Pygram (who plays Scorpius) must have hated it to sit in makeup chair for hours to just do one ten minute scene in that week's episode.  Nate pointed out that they probably shot several scenes for several different episodes at the same time so he wouldn't have to do that. I gave him this look of confusion.  I said that was impossible because how could they shoot a scene for next weeks episode when they only had a week to shoot the episode for this week, there wouldn't be enough time.  That's when Nate decided to speak very slowly and use small words and explained to me that most seasons were shot before hand. I cannot even begin to tell you why I thought that the cast would get together and shoot the episode for that week in the week that it was to be aired.  How stupid is that? Even worse is that I thought that the animators for The Simpsons would be doing the exact same thing. Nate pointed out what would happen that week if someone got into a car wreck or was sick, or the time it took to edit.  I couldn't get over how silly my original thought was.  Wow, the things you learn in a week.

Behind the Poetry 1

 This is a new series I'm thinking about adding to MotMS.  In case you don't know I've been writing poetry for many years of my life.  Its a hobby I take advantage of whenever the mood strikes me unless its during the Holidays where I've been writing a yearly Christmas poem for over ten years to give to family and friends as their Christmas card. Rest assured friends that I hope to continue that tradition even though I am now married.  Anyway, I got to thinking that I have never really shared my inspiration or critical thinking when it comes to these poems. Many of them have background stories and reasons as to why I write them.  Sometimes they are quite surprising and I think it would give better insight to myself.  To be honest, I've never really put into words why I write the things that I do and so I'm eager to do so today.  I've hardly ever written a poem based on diction or syntax, mostly I get feelings or impressions and I put those experiences into words which result in a poem. Okay, I'm now yammering. Here's the first one-

 Dear Old John

Once upon a time when the morning was new
And the grass was fresh and kissed with dew
Dear Old John would sit on a stump
With the children at his knee

And he would regale them with stories of old
Of dragons fire and knights so bold
But this morning he would tell them
Of a tale he truly did see

Once, he began, when I was a lad
I knew that there were wonders to be had
So I set out to search for a blessing
A glorious unicorn

And since I was so pure of heart
And did a lot of sacrifice on my part
I was rewarded to see the blessed beast
With the single spiraling horn

He beckoned me to join a dance
And my feet would whirl and his hooves did prance
And we waltzed in the meadows
As if I were again born

The children's eyes were wide with delight
For they longed to see that sight
And John felt lightened by the smiles
He knew that he procured

And as the children when home to sup
His rickety old knees struggled to hold him up
But that was nothing compared to the burden
That he had long since endured

For as John went home that eve
I could truly see his need
As a single tear rolled down
From his milky eyes of gray

For when he was young and full of life
He was beckoned by the beast of white
His soul wanted nothing more than to go
But his heart he did betray

And so he sits in agony
His eyes that will never see
He is left in eternal darkness
With the mistakes that he has made

And his dreams are now all but gone
For they had no reason to linger on
So they left to dance with the unicorn
In a clover laden glade

I've published this poem as a "note" on facebook so I figured I might as well start there before I select something for my other collections.  This is a piece I did as homage to another poem I used to read as a child.  The original was about a village that had a  person, aptly named John, who would knock on doors to ask people if they have seen his unicorn.  The villagers assumed that he was making it up and therefore dubbed him as crazy and would shoo him away.  It turns out he really did see a unicorn  and in the end found the beast again but kept the secret for himself since the other villagers didn't believe him.  I always loved this piece because it showed the rewards of keeping an open mind that anything is possible.  I would rather try to believe the unbelievable and learn more of the world around me than to stay in my comfort zone and live in the "world of the known".  The worst thing that can happen is that I'm wrong, and that is a learning experience that shouldn't be avoided. 

I liked that poem but I wanted to make it more personal.  And so I made a character that wasn't so much an outcast but a respected member of the community; a story teller.   I wanted someone who on the outside appeared to be happy and content but deep down he was devastated over a missed opportunity.  The fact that I made him blind reinforces the idea that sometimes you only have one chance to act upon something wonderful.  It is in the here and now that opportunities must be utilized, not later or maybe some other day.    Is this a tragic representation? yes, but sometimes that is necessary to drive the point home.  I needed something to illicit a strong reaction in myself whenever I knew what I had to do but was unsure of myself.  The words still affect me even though I wrote it many years ago.  This is one of the few times my poem was written for me by me. If someone else read it and took home the same or even a different message then that is all the better but it wasn't the original intent. The character of John was written as a reminder of myself that sometimes things might seem overwhelming or scary even though they are good once in a lifetime opportunities. And for me to be apart of that, I need to abandon those doubts and fears and just join the dance.

I am what I am

I realized something today.  Here I've been rambling out into cyber space as The mad Scientist and I haven't really given a reason as why I claim to be who I am. I might have hinted or given a tidbit now and again but I think its time to broaden that topic a little bit.  I'll try to be brief but I urge you to get comfy, this could take a while. I guess I've always been in love with science. As I've said in a previous post, I got my first microscope when I was six.  I remember as I was taking it out of the packaging I sliced open my finger.  My mom was nearby and instead of giving me a band-aid she gave me a glass slide so I could do a blood smear and examine it under the microscope.  After that the pre-made slides of pollen or a bee's detached leg wasn't nearly as cool. I wanted to know more about the world around me and science was the best vehicle for me to learn. I'll skip over my grade and middle school days because they weren't that interesting academically other than providing a decent foundation for learning (well as decent as public schooling can get). I did well grade-wise and my only regret was that I wasn't as emotionally mature as I was mentally.  Fast forward to Highschool. Not much there either other than I did well with my studies and grades (though AP history and chemistry I struggled with).  My ACT/SAT scores were high but not on genius level and I didn't have above a 4.0 so there wasn't much coming my way in terms of scholarships.  I did get about 9-12 hours (I can't remember) of college credit from AP testing which was nice.  Probably my favorite year was my senior year, not because it was my last year in school but because I felt like I finally had freedom to chose my classes.  So I took band, the obligatory math class, 2 AP courses and 3 science classes.  That was probably the only year where I was truly happy with my course schedule. 

 When I enrolled at OU I was lost as to what I wanted to do with my life.  In my youth I wanted to be a vet and breed show dogs.  Then once Bricker died I didn't want to be a vet anymore.  I knew I wanted to do something with science but I couldn't be a doctor like so many people thought I should be.  I can't get around sick people and I have this weird nerve problem with my hands where one mirrors the others movements so I didn't have the independent dexterity to sew sutures or do complex operations as a surgeon. I didn't fit the typical OU mold of get a degree in Zoology and be Pre-Med.  For two years I struggled with what I wanted to be.  I knew it had to do with science so I took those pre-recs but I had to declare before my first 60 hours of school was completed. So I sad down and thought and thought.  I realized I needed to answer two things: my purpose as a scientist and what I enjoyed most about science.  That is where I got my answer; I wanted to help people and my favorite thing to do is work with a microscope. Finally I had it, clear as day.  I declared myself as a Microbiology professional major with the intent to do research. Funny because declaring as a professional degree meant a lot more chemistry and I barely made it out of chemistry alive in high school.   Not very many people go in to the degree with the intent to do research.  Microbiology was for pre-meds once again who had enough sense that if they didn't get into med school at least they had something decent to fall back on.  But the idea scope work, combined with a sterile environment, and a field ripe with undiscovered questions appealed to me in such a way that I experienced euphoria when I went to my classes. Some of them were extremely difficult but I didn't mind it because since I had to study so much I wasn't memorizing to pass an exam, I was actually learning.  And with that knowledge I was shaping my appreciation and wonder of the world around me. There is another world out there. A world we can't see but yet its there.  It thrives and changes the way we live.  It sustains life one moment and is our undoing the next. And I very much wanted to be apart of that world; to understand it and cultivate that knowledge for the betterment of our society.

It was at that time that I began working in the lab of one of my professors.  In that lab I learned more than I could ever hope to learn in books.  I got experience.  I went in there without even knowing how to use a pipetter and I walked out a changed person and a better scientist.  It was there that I discovered the idea of identifying potentially new species of bacteria with DNA extraction and identification with the help of something called Polymerase Chain Reaction (PCR).  It was nothing short of amazing and it provided the fuel for a little flame that had been burning in my mind for several years.  When I was in high school I wanted to be a Forensic Pathologist.  I had to abandon the idea because I had to go to med school and then get four years of specialized training on top of that.  I knew I would never make it. But with the idea of DNA analysis with PCR, I started doing some research and that is when I applied to grad school at UCO for Forensic Science.

I appreciated my time as a microbiologist, loved it even, but I feel more at home as a Forensic Chemist. To me its the best of both worlds because I can combine my microbiology skills and teachings to better help me succeed with Forensic Chemistry.  I call myself a Forensic Chemist simply because if you say Forensic Science everyone thinks you're CSI.  As of right now, I am not CSI  My admiration knows no bounds to those people who want to do crime scenes or technical investigations day after day  When I come in contact with a body or a sample, it's in a confined, controlled space.  It's removed from the outside world; it's sterile.  Sterile as in to me it is just a body.  To them it might be someone who was walking their dog, a motorist, someone in the middle of paying bills, someone who said they would run to the store and that they would be back, someone who had parents fraught with worry.   I would imagine its a tough job to work the field.  If the cards ever fall towards that favor then I would consider it a great opportunity.   Fortunately though,  I'm in love enough with the laboratory that I like to analyze what they bring in.  Though I did take a Crime Scene Processing class as one of my electives so I could better understand what those people go through in order to bring me something I can use.  It is more complex than it seems. I enjoyed my time at UCO because I learned so much and could still focus on my love of DNA.  My second favorite area would probably be trace evidence because lets face it, I like working with the microscope, but I also had interest in toxicology and even digital forensics and firearm/ballistic forensic work.

And I'm sure you're wondering so I'll answer this question: No, I've never seen a full episode of CSI in my life. I tried one time and all I gathered is that they have like 4 people doing the work of 100 and every dang piece of equipment in the laboratory glows blue. And its really REALLY flawed, so much so, I couldn't sit there and watch it.  After I heard the phrase "the gas chromatogram is on the microscope for observation," I shook my head and turned it off. Shows like CSI are the scourge of the forensic field. They alter opinions of the public, and that's not good during jury trials.  For example a defense attorney could create doubt of credibility for an expert witness when DNA analysis took 4 months to perform.  People now expect turn around could be a couple of days when that is hardly ever the case.  They could ask what took them so long, maybe they had some problems etc. Even if you establish that is the normal time frame, it still creates doubt in people's minds.  Its romanticized, and I never thought forensic work to be edgy or cool.  It is my job to help piece together what happened to a person that can no longer speak for themselves.  To me lies cannot come from evidence for they always speak the truth. Unfortunately, in most cases, I cannot help a victim directly but I can help their family and society find some peace of mind.

Has it changed me personally? yes and no.  I've always wanted to help people so I get the satisfaction of that however, I do deal with the dregs of society.  Your perception changes. For example, if I hear a suspicious noise or what I think are playful screams of children outside I always notice what time it is.  I don't see those stickers families put on their cars depicting the football number and name of their kid as cute, I see it as all the information a pedophile needs to know. The worse ones are those that depict the entire family and have their names underneath. If I don't hear from someone for a few days, there is a little twinge of panic.  Because lets face it, bad things happen to completely innocent people. I just get more up close and personal reminders of that than most. But I think that I'm in the right place in life and I made the right decisions for me.  I think that I have completed my goal that I set out to accomplish 19 years ago when I first cut my finger on my microscope. And because of that, I will be forever grateful.

RPG

One of the things I think about before going to bed is what will I write about in my blog the next morning.  I usually have many half baked ideas in my head.  Each night I pick out an idea and try to flesh it out so that I would have something to write about come morning.  Last night though I just couldn't do it, nothing that I could think of tickled my fancy.  So I had this great idea and asked Nate to think of one word.  Whatever word he thought of then that is what I would write about today.  So he thought about it for a minute and said: Role-playing.  That is when I groaned inwardly and tried to think about how to get out of that one.  I wasn't ready to talk about my subterranean habits. Aha!  I thought to myself...role playing is two words, I asked for one.  Therefore I can discount it.  It was then I remembered that role-playing is hyphenated, so I was stuck.  True to my word, I'll talk about Role-playing.

Hi, My Name is The Mad Scientist.  And I have been a nerd for the past 19 years.  Whew!  Felt good to get that out.
Truth is, I wasn't always comfortable with admitting that.  I still sometimes have that squelching sensation in my gut when I say something really brainy in a social situation where it wasn't really called for.  My mouth just opens and I'm off to the races. And once I'm done they give you that look.  You know, the one that comes with awkward feet shuffles and uninterested coughing.  I usually feel three inches tall after that.  But now that I'm older and wiser I do my best to fit in with whatever social situation I find myself in, and usually I can perform rather well. Still, it wasn't until a few years ago when I felt really comfortable in my skin.  As much as I hate to say it, I think the whole science to TV prime time revolution helped a lot.  Now that I tell people what I do, I don't get vacant stares, but usually some recognition. Granted usually the wrong idea, but at least its something. It wasn't that I was ever ashamed that I was a nerd, its just that there were few times where there was any commonality.  Okay let's get back to the point.  Why am I talking about this?  Well, dabbling in Role-playing was a pretty big step for me.  Its when I shucked off all of the pre-conceived notions and stereotypes to finally dove into it.  For those that don't have any idea what I"m talking about here are a couple of terms (per Wikipedia because I'm too lazy to make my own definitions):

Role-playing- The idea of changing one's character to assume a role for a personal or common goal

Role playing game (RPG)- a game in which the participants assume the roles of characters and collaboratively create stories. Participants determine the actions of their characters based on their characterisation, and the actions succeed or fail according to a formal system of rules and guidelines. Within the rules, they may improvise freely; their choices shape the direction and outcome of the games.

Live Action Role-playing (LARPing)-  participants physically act out their characters' actions. The players pursue goals within a fictional setting represented by the real world, while interacting with each other in character. The outcome of player actions may be mediated by game rules, or determined by consensus among player. A infamous video that depicts LARPing can be found: here

Cosplay- Short of costume play. Not heavily focused on  role-playing other than participants don costumes to represent a specific character or idea (think Halloween or Medieval Faires though most prevalent at game or comic book conventions).

The kind of role-playing I dabble in are RPGs (otherwise known as tabletop or pencil and paper RPGs).  Basically every Friday night I sit down with six other guys and play an interactive story, that involves little miniature people and one big game board.   One that can literally be shaped by our will and imagination.  I assume a character that's based on specific traits and can play her accordingly.  Right now I'm playing a fighter, so she is super strong but doesn't have a lot of charisma (meaning that I can kick any enemy's butt but I wouldn't be a good player for trade negotiations). Its fun, intuitive, and you aren't limited to anything.  To give you an example of this, here are some of my characters that I have to play for different campaigns:

Jocelyn Grey- A young fighter turned mercenary in order to raise money to free her father after he was unjustly thrown in jail by a devious noble.

Tesla de Lupo- Set in a star wars setting- Former mafia boss, mutinied against by her late brother's right hand man. She has to join this team of rag tag individuals in order to gain enough resources to take back her place among the Shadow Wolf Gang

Dr. Beatrice Ivy O'Hazard- Scientist studying a unknown radioactive element Q-32.  During a lab accident came in contact with element and now has gained super human powers. Decided to become a super hero and take up the name The Catalyst.

Naomi Aharonov- Israeli fighting against terrorists in the Middle East (I haven't flushed out her story yet, which reminds me that I need to get on it soon)

I can't think of a single entertainment that is as varied as this one. Honestly, I really like it.  Everything changes based on what character you're playing.  If I'm playing Jocelyn, my primary role is to run up to an enemy and stab things, or work collectively with my melee fighting partner to take down larger enemies.  On the other hand if I'm playing Tesla, she doesn't have that many health points so I will have to strategically find cover or get out the way for larger enemies, however she's useful for negotiations and repairs. Everything is new, everything is different, and my only regret is that I didn't discover this sooner.


Probably the most amusing aspect of this whole thing is that I hardly know anything about the people with whom I'm playing. Whenever I do a something social with girls I will walk away knowing their life history, their mother's maiden name, how many animals they have, where they live, and whether or not they like artichokes. I've been playing with these guys for almost two months and the number of facts I know about the collectively couldn't even match the number of fingers I have.  I know three are married, one likes cats and I think has the hots for Abby on NCIS.  Most if not all like Farscape and hated the way Battle Star Gallactica ended.  One is hopeful that the upcoming Thor movie will be good.  And one likes his Cheshire Cat background on his computer (though I think he's changed it since then).  Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining.  I just find the differences between both interactions interesting and quite frankly, I find the latter curiously refreshing. Its nice to spend an evening not worrying about anything, or not have the expectation to carry a conversation that would be considered good decorum. 

So if anyone is considering getting started I highly recommend it.  Though I will say the hardest part is finding a group, but once you do that you're golden.  Well I have some characters to tweak so I'll sign off by saying I hope you have a fabulous day!

Good Night, Sleep Tight

At the end of every day the world (well at least the people in your hemisphere) settles into the groove of destiny and starts doing a ritualistic dance.  This dance isn't intricate or refined, yet day after day many of us enact the pajama bottom hop, the toothbrush shuffle, and the toilet tango in hopes that they would soon be carried off into REM restitution.  I am like any other and once I settle under the covers, I calmly await for sleep to overtake me and delve me deep into dreamland. Night after night, my expectations are the same.  Night after night, my expectations are not met.  Whenever I try to sleep I'm not just merely lying there all snug and comfy.  Nope, to me, it's more of an Olympic event.
First we have the REM race between me and my husband.  My husband, bless him, does a lot of great things, but being a courteous sleeper isn't one of them. He snores, and kicks, mumbles, and makes snuffling sounds into the wee hours of the morning. If I have any chance of getting good sleep, I have no choice but to nod off before he does. It's not an easy feat simply because I have about 3.2 minutes in which to do this.  On top of my husband's sleep escapades, he also falls asleep faster than anyone I know. So far, unless I'm utterly exhausted, I usually don't beat his time. This starts the chain reaction of me lying in bed wide awake, hoping against hope that I'll fall asleep soon.

The second event involves kitty escapades.  Torque, being the needy kitty he is, sleeps with us every night.  This can cause problems in its own right.  Sometimes he wants love and will stop at nothing until you give it to him.  The worst part being that he knows that I'm the one that's awake even though I'm not really moving. Sometimes I wish he would bug Nate so I have another 3.2 minutes to try to get to sleep but alas, he doesn't bother him.   So of course he goes up to me, gets right into my face and starts purring. This might be cute during the daylight hours, but at night, I find it irritating. My irritation compounds when his next move is to find any inch of exposed skin and start to lick it.  Torque is a rough licker. I swear every swipe of his sandpaper tongue takes off a layer of skin.  After the licking starts I have no choice but to pick him up and move him to the bottom of the bed.  Then he has 3 choices. 1. He'll come back and start his purry/lickie thing, resulting in being banned form the bed (it lasts about 15 seconds). 2. He will just stay there where I put him and falls asleep. 3. He'll fall asleep but move into a position where it is impossible for me to get comfortable during the night.  For example he'll sleep right between my legs, making it impossible for me to turn over or cross my legs at the ankles, which I sometimes do when I'm on my tummy. Finally, just when I'm finally starting to get drowsy and almost asleep, Torque will suddenly think that my feet are some dangerous beasts and he takes it upon himself to try to kill them.  This is the cat that is usually too confused or startled to attack a bug.  But no, he needs to attack my feet which are about a third the size of his body.  This results in being banned from the bed (which still lasts about 15 seconds).

Finally the last event is usually the biggest most impossible event in sleep Olympic history.  I am forced to compete against myself.  Oh I do things to prepare that will help me get to sleep; no caffeine after noon, no naps, do some metal stimulation and physical exercise every day etc. but that can only help me so much.  My biggest problem is that I can't shut off my brain.  My brain has the hardest time figuring out when to simmer down and quit thinking.  I can't stop it, I think and analyze all the time.  I feel like a hamster on a wheel whenever I'm about to go to sleep.  First comes what I call the Worry Ring.  Its a cyclic worry cycle filled with rational and irrational things that concern me or I feel anxious about.  Right now, it doesn't have too many things on it, but those things are pretty big worries.  This is followed by an analysis of what I did that day and if there are any things that I need to think about and what I need to do to plan for the next day.  Finally, comes the time where I have to think about usually one set problem or analyze something that interests me.

For example, last night I started thinking about an article I read about anti-matter.  My first task was to try to grasp the concept of anti-matter. I mean matter is anything that has mass and takes up space, so anti-matter wouldn't have either of those properties. Try to imagine something that doesn't have mass or space...I mean even air has a mass and fills any container. Its hard to grasp. As crazy as that sounds I then thought about what scientists would have to do to collect that anti-matter. You would have to use something that doesn't involve matter, so I settled on they would have to use a force, like a plasma magnet or nuclear magnetic resonance to gather the anti-matter. I then started thinking about if I were on the project, if they would trust me to collect the anti-matter. So to prove myself that they would, I started mentally spitting out everything I learned in college and grad school about nuclear magnetic resonance.   Then I thought about how if there was anti-matter, then there needs to be anti-protons, or anti-electrons (called positrons), and anti-neutrons (then I pondered if there were anti-neutrons or just neutrons because they are well...neutral). And if you take an anti-proton and a positron then you would form an anti-hydrogen.  And if you could form an anti-hydrogen then there isn't a reason why an anti-element chart couldn't exist; which would mean elements, chemicals, organic matter, worlds, galaxies, and universes completely built out of anti-matter.  Would there be an anti-earth?  Would anti-people live in anti-houses doing anti-things? Walking their anti-dog, going to anti-movies, eating anti-hamburgers perhaps? Then I thought about what those anti-scientists would do if they found something extraordinary called matter (which has mass and takes up space if you can believe it) and what those scientists would have to do in order to collect the matter.  Then I thought about some anti-girl who had just read an anti-article about matter, and was awake at night with her snorting anti-husband and her anti-cat was attacking her anti-feet. She could think that if there was matter, then there could be protons, electrons, and neutrons (that is when she would ponder if there were neutrons or just anti-neutrons because they are well...neutral).  And if you take an electron and a proton you would get hydrogen.  Then there wasn't any reason why an element chart couldn't exists; which would mean elements, chemicals, organic matter, worlds, galaxies, and universes would be completely built out of matter. That would be a very strange place indeed. I don't remember much after that, I guess I must have fallen asleep.

Our kitties

Yesterday I complained about my cat, and some people didn't like that very much.  I guess I need to clarify by saying that this blog is more of a melodrama.  Do I really dislike my cat? Absolutely not.  Did I say I couldn't stand my cat during a moment of weakness when he was caterwauling and I could only think of four things for my post? Absolutely yes. So to rectify the misunderstanding I'm going to talk about our cats.

I will go ahead and admit this:  I am a dog person.  I got my first dog when I was four.  I named her Logger and Bricker (yes that was her full name) because I was going to teach her to carry logs and bricks so that I could build a play house.  Her name was shortened to Bricker and she was an amazing pet and friend for me growing up. About four years later we got a rescue dog and named her Punkin. She was a German shepherd, lab, bordercollie, chow mix and was rescued in what I could only process as being a puppy mill. Punkin was the smartest dog I have ever met.  You look into her eyes and you could tell she was processing her surroundings, thinking about what she could do to get into trouble.  And that was her middle name, Trouble.  She got into everything but she did it so creatively that we could only stay mad at her for so long.
Bricker passed away 11 years after we got her, and I was heart broken. It was also that time I gave up my life long dream of becoming a vet.  Punkin was heart broken as well.  So after a while I got another Golden Retriever and named her Chloe.  She was gorgeous! She was also not very intelligent but her sweet nature made up for that.  Chloe and Punkin were mostly looked after my brother when I went away for college but I did miss them when I was away.  One day I got a call that Chloe was sick and at the vet.  I found out that after several days of testing that she had inoperable cancer. My brother and I gave the order to put her to sleep.  She was only 6 years old.  Two days later Punkin died of congestive heart failure.  She was 14.  This was one of the saddest times of my life.  I didn't realize how hard my dad was taking it that "his girls" were gone. So my mom convinced my dad that he needed a new pet.  So we started looking and found a litter of puppies that recently were born to a stray mother dog that a family decided to adopt.  We were going to get just one but in the end we left with two.  Two sisters by the name Juno and Tilly.  We got them on D-day so Juno was naturally after Juno beach and Tilly was named after Tilly sur Seulles, a famous battle site.

That is my pet history.  All dogs, all lovable, all wonderful creatures.  I know I didn't go into too much detail but this is because I would never get around to talking about our kitties.  I could regale you with stories that each of them were apart of so you could see why even if they are gone, and even if it has been all these years, I am still in love.  I love dogs, so you can imagine my expression when Nate said that he wanted to get a cat.  And now we don't have one cat; we have two.  The first cat we have is a my serenading grey tabby named Torque.  He is aptly named because even though he's not very fast, once he gets power behind him he takes you along for the ride.  His big too, a whopping 19 pounds on a very large kitty frame.  Yeah he does need to lose a couple of pounds and I've been trying for the last few years to get it off of him.  A couple of years I wrote a Haiku about him:

My cat keeps me warm
His pudge blocks away all cold
Fat does have its use



Though Torque has his immense size, he's kinda a scaredy cat. He is extremely cautions if he doesn't know what's going on, hates new surroundings and change, and usually follows us around from room to room.  Of course he puts up this tough guy front but its funny when he gets huffy and leaves the room only to come back ten minutes later.  Torque has many different nicknames (all lavished with affection I can assure you): Torkey, Pudgy buddy, Porkey Torkey, Torker, and Pear Kitty. Usually these names are all ignored by him but then again he doesn't really respond to Torque that much either. 





Tony is a beautiful orange tabby with light stripes and a long, brush bottle tail. He's more delicate than Torque and likes to be handled very carefully and only when he wants to be held. Though Torque is very vocal, I've never really heard Tony meow before.  He's extremely quiet. We picked him up as a stray outside of Nate's apartment complex before a big freeze hit. Tony is more of the adventurer/independent kitty.  He has no qualms with exploring new places and he seems like he can be at home anywhere.  He loves sleeping in the sunshine and his sleeping places reflect where the sun goes during the day.  Though Torque is more grumpy and moody, Tony is not as social as his brother.  Torque is always by you and sleeps with us at the foot of the bed every night.  As of right now, I haven't seen Tony since yesterday.  He comes to us when he wants attention  and of course we're happy to give it to him. Tony is also a master strategist when play fighting Torque. The acrobatics that guy can do is amazing.  And though Torque outweighs Tony by almost 6 pounds, I put my money on Tony any day of the week.   Tony's nicknames are Tony Bones, Little Cutes, and Big Sweetie.




I just wanted to give you a brief introduction to our two little furballs.  I have a separate post in the works about their antics that is sure to please.  I was going to put it on this one but to be honest, it would be a bit long and today my writing seems a bit off.  Probably would be because I'm tired today. Yeah, I'm looking over to my sleeping Torque and I will have to admit I'm jealous.

Things I can't stand in life 2

1. My spelling- I don't think that this entry is going to be rather funny or clever.  I'm just using this as a way to say "I"m sorry" for my bad spelling.  I have no idea why I was blessed with the appreciation and pleasure to write when I have so many spelling errors. Its like someone who wants to paint but they have arthritis so badly that they can't hold the brush properly. Thank goodness for the addition of spell checker but if I'm in a hurry I can replace a word with the wrong one etc., so its not always an easy fix. And though most people judge spelling and grammar errors as being a sign of sub-intelligence, there has been a pretty big anti-spelling/ grammar movement.  i meen sinc most ppl are tlkn lik this  mayb ill blend n w/ evry1 else!1!1! lolz!11 After reading that I feel a lot better spelling "offense" as "offence".

2. That metal lip on the bottom of the shower door- I like taking showers rather than baths. I don't find baths that relaxing. The idea of me getting in there dirty and then soaking in my own microbial filth is enough for me to leave my large, deep, garden soaking tub mostly unused. I have used it exactly one time.  For me to take a bath, I would have to take a shower first so that I would get clean, then get out, wait for the water tank to heat up again so that I can take a bath for relaxation. I usually forgo the idea somewhere between me getting out of the shower and me waiting for the water tank to do its business. I'm clean and I have stuff to do.  Yeah, I'm definitely a fan of showers.  That is why I feel so betrayed when my sole/foot/toe comes into contact with that stupid metal lip on the bottom of the shower door.  You know the one I'm talking about, the one they have to put there, jutting up in all of its 3/4" glory, for there to be a proper seal so water won't leak out.   The pain is quite singular and hurts a heck of a lot. I think its due to the whole experience. Imagine me sitting there for the water to warm up, semi-sleepy because my husband decided to dream he was in a marathon the night before (complete with corporeal dramatizations), I keep saying to myself that I'll be fine as soon as I take my shower.  I slowly extend my foot ready to be embraced in the warm watery goodness when I hear a "thwick".  As soon as my sleepy brain tries to process what an unusual noise that was, and where have I heard it before, the pain radiates from my big toe.  How can hitting your toe hurt so bad?   I mean really, its just a toe.  But that persistent dull hollow pain followed by the "whomp, whomp, whomp" side effect is terrible.  Though, sometimes I get lucky.  Sometimes when I take my first step I clear the evil metal lip. When my brain just barely begins to process victory, my other leg follows and lo and behold, that toe gets clipped, causing me to fall foreword and get a face full of bath scrunchie. What can I say, life is rough for me.

3. Telemarketers-Yes, I know this is an easy one.  I mean who likes telemarketers?  I know they are just trying to do their job but now that we've moved into a house, it beyond ridiculous.  So far I have received calls as early as 7:45am on a Sunday and as late as 9:15pm on any given day of the week.  Most of the time I just let it go to voicemail because we haven't really had a reason to give out our home number (I don't think we would even have a home number but we need it for our security system). I know if it rings then its a telemarketer. Sometimes if I'm in a vindictive mood I'll pick up the phone and mess with them.  Here are some of the ones I have done personally:

1. Ask them if they've found Jesus and if they would like to get to know Him better
2. Saying that I don't own a phone after being asked if I wanted to switch my long distance (they actually believed me)
3. After getting a call for carpet cleaning, I asked them if they can remove blood.  They asked me what kind (yeah I found that odd too). I replied, mostly goat and a little bit of human.
4. Asking them if they want to hear something really neat.  If they say yes, then hang up on them.
5.  After they've identified me as the person they want to talk to, I put down the phone and just walk away.
6. Answer No to everything once they start their spiel.
7. Say "You know I don't have my credit card number with me right now, may I have yours?"

I'm in the process of putting us on the national do-not-call list, but sometimes telemarketers are a good source of entertainment.

4. My Cat- Sometimes I just don't understand you.  I mean really I would kill to have your life.  You sleep 19 hours a day, you get unconditional love, you eat food four times a day that you don't work for, your water is filtered, you poop in my house which then gets cleaned up, you get any toy your little kitty heart desires, and you have a brother to play with.  So then tell me why in the world are you sitting at my feet whining your head off?  And its not a cute whine is it?  I can deal with a sweet mewling every now and again but no, you have to emit this sound that is a cacophony (should have been named cat-cophony if you ask me).  I don't know why you do this.  I try to hold you and give you love and you want down, I played with you until you're exhausted, I know you just fed so you can be hungry, and I"m not helping you poop- you know where the litter box is. I know there isn't any Siamese in you or else I would understand why you're so vocal.  Come on, you're a big strapping tabby, quit acting like a queen. Hey, while I've been ranting you've gotten quiet.  Oh...you're eating a dust bunny you found in the corner.  Great...

5. The Black Eyed Peas- You know, I was going to let it go. I gave my little jab when I was talking about The Christmas Shoes in my previous "Thing I can't stand" and I was going to let sleeping dogs lie.  But combined with a super bowl performance that had me missing Janet Jackson's right breast to the release of their new song, I just can't be rendered silent.  I never liked The Black Eyed Peas. The first song that introduced me to their music was the notorious "My Humps".  I can remember me just trying to grasp why this song was popular.  But then again I have a hard time grasping why any pop music is popular.  There's little substance, rhymes are forced, absolutely no new themes or ideas, and with the use of auto-tune, you don't have to be talented to be able to be a star. The only thing I've come to grips with is that pop music is just for fun.  The tunes are catchy and repetitive and I bet if I had four shots of tequila, I could see getting into it.

Yeah, so back to "My Humps", a whopper of a piece saying nothing but a girl using her body to get gifts from guys (nothing we haven't heard before but this presentation seems to really grate on me).  Combine that with the droning music and the terrible lyrics and I began to really hate the group.  I figured it would get better but then they came out with songs like Boom Boom Pow, Imma Bee, and I Gotta Feeling.  I just don't understand it, there is nothing redeeming about these songs. But yet they're still making money off of fans that I can only assume to be brainwashed.

I was just set on ignoring them but then they had to screw with my childhood and that can never be tolerated.  Enter their newest song: The Time.  Where we have Will.I.Am (who's first name is William...cute) singing The Time of My Life.  If only you could have seen my face when I first heard this.  I think the expression would have made the my personal top 10 list of horrified expressions. The Time of My Life is iconic, almost reaching sacred ground of the 80's.  At the very least, it was sung by Bill Medley.  And you don't mess with songs sung by Bill Medley! But nope, here we have Will.I.Am and Fergie singing a perverted rendition of the song before it is reduce to nothing more than another mess for the clubs hit.  They don't even get the lyrics right.  I mean you would be pretty ticked off is some Johnny Castle look-alike said "Nobody puts Baby in a nook." You would just screw your face up with disgusted confusion. The rest of the song...downhill from there.  They rhyme "maggots" with "baddest", apl.de.ap makes a joke about ladies downloading an app (because you know..he's apl.de.ap), and probably the worst use of auto tune I have ever heard.  I did manage to agree with one aspect of the music video.  Around minute 3:07 there was a girl throwing up pixilated puke and I could totally empathize with that. And news flash: rhyming swagger with Mick Jagger has already been done. If you're down with ripping off someone like Ke$ha, then maybe you're in more trouble than you think you are. 

Maybe that's the one thing I can hold out for.  They're singing that they had the time of their life; not having or going to have.  So maybe they've realized that they're on the downward slope and they'll break up before they can crank out more abominations.  I can only hope.

A Husband By Any Other Name

Normally there are two types of males on this earth; guys, and men.  What is the difference, you ask?  Men like reading wall street and have a portfolio. They discuss politics and usually have a glass of red wine every night.  Guys like to have piggyback races in the middle of Target or make a suggestive arrangement in the produce aisle with two granny smith apples and a cucumber. They like to tinker with things and if they cut themselves during said tinkerings they prefer to use a shop towel and electrical tape to dress the wound instead of the perfectly good first aid kit in the house. Both have their pros and cons and usually males have a combination of both traits, though I would consider my dad and my brother both a couple of guys and my grandpa would most certainly be a man.  Me personally I like the idea of a male having both traits to help balance out my life.  I think my perfect male cocktail would be 30% guy 70% man.   I want someone whom I can depend on to keep our finances in check but understands why I need a pink sock monkey elephant.  I guess what I am leading up to is now that V-day is out of the way, I figured I would take a few moments and talk about my husband.

Nate is close to my ideal mixture, probably 35/65 guy to man. He has an executive desk with a leather chair, he has spreadsheets that can pinpoint exactly how much we spent on any given day of the year (going back about 7 years), and every piece of data we own is neatly filed and (to him) easily accessible. Though as I look over in his office that contains his executive desk and leather chair, I can see a shelving unit that has muscle cars, a dippy bird, a Garfield beanie baby, and a beer stein from his favorite Bavarian restaurant.   I guess the best way to further describe him is to tell a story that would reflect each side of his demeanor.

About a year ago I thought I would be sappy so I took one of our checks and wrote it out to him with "my heart" in the amount and "all my love" in the dollar line.  I then put it on his desk for him to find when he got home.  When he came upon the document professing eternal love he examined it, smiled a little, and then proceeded to take a ink pen and write "VOID" in big capital letters across the entire check.  Now if I were any other woman I probably would have gotten offended by this.  But I knew that was Nate's man way of keeping us safe in case the check got into the wrong hands.  Though how someone would alter "my heart" to look like $1,000,000 is beyond me.  A year later he still has the check sitting right underneath his computer in his office, VOID sign and all. In fact, I almost like it better this way.

On the flip side one Saturday morning I was reading my magazine in the family room when I see Nate walk by in his birthday suit.  He was making his way to the laundry room to get some clothes that had finished drying.  Normally I wouldn't have an issue with him in all his glory but the problem was we have a bank of windows that stretch along an entire wall.  And because I'm a fan of natural light we have drapes but no sheers or window covering of any kind. Granted these were the windows that overlooked our back yard.  However, we have a multi-million dollar house that share our back wall, the house complete with windows and a lot of balconies.  This gave rise to my alarm.   "Nate!", I said. "You can't walk around naked in front of the windows. What if our neighbors see?" To which Nate pauses and replies with all seriousness, "I am not naked. I have socks on." And with that he continues his trek to the laundry room.

Two sides of a very different coin, but for me I wouldn't have it any other way. He's funny and sweet and allows me to decorate the house any way I want.  He is my adventure buddy and my best friend.  He's doting and doesn't hesitate to tell me when I'm being stupid or stubborn (usually this comes from me admitting that I'm sick and need to take care of myself or the gravity of certain injuries- yeah, I'm accident prone). If we have disagreements we talk about it instead of argue. He puts up with my whims knowing they're important to me. And I'm a better person after knowing him. Is he perfect? No, but then I'm not either. Sometimes if I'm upset I literally have to tell him "this is the part where you make me feel better." And why he leaves his trash on top of the kitchen countertops instead of throwing it away (we have a trash can right underneath the sink!) is beyond me.  But those incidents are just cherrios in the great breakfast bowl of life. We're happy and content, and that's enough for me.

Happy VD Everyone!

The following is rated PG-13:

Whenever I hear someone saying Happy VD, even if it is on the 14th, the first thing that comes to my mind is Venereal Disease.  That combined with the sheer amount of procreation that is going to happen on the 14th is enough to make my head spin.  To be honest I don't like Valentines day.  My dislike can be attributed to a number of reasons.  The first being that the color scheme of red, white, and pink is probably the worst thing I could think of (obviously a straight male thought of this).

  The second being that the symbol of the heart looks nothing like the thing its supposed to represent (you know, that organ that has 4 chambers sporting its vena cava splendor so we can all live?).  Even when I looked up the mental mechanics behind the heart looking like it does I only got two answers: 1. we have no clue, we just roll with it. 2. a representation of a female's genitals. Great...so when someone gives me something with a heart on it, the best case scenario is a gift sporting something completely thoughtless, and the worst case is an artistic depiction of a woman's neither regions. Okay, once I start thinking about how many heart necklaces are going to be passed out today, that is kinda funny.

The third thing is that last year they broke my heart by changing the flavor of the candy hearts.  That was one thing I was actually nostalgic about and enjoyed seeing their little cardboard boxes in the stores.    You have to admit they always tasted bad but for some reason I loved them as a kid and I could indulge in a box about once a year.  So it was perfect timing they always came on V-day.  But last year they changed the flavors into something that was more inedible than their predecessors. Everyone knows that creepy sour taste and chalk don't mix. That day Necco made a pretty big enemy.  I was okay with changing the little sayings to match the times, though I thought 'txt me' was pretty weak.  I'm sure maidens felt pretty dejected when they took out "u r worth >2 pigs" during 1500 B.C. but I understand the change in times mean a change in lingo.  But to change the flavor is just something I can't support.  So I have decided that Necco will not get my yearly 39 cent contribution any longer.

Finally my biggest point is that V-Day is just a terrible holiday. It instills material expectations that are deemed directly proportional to the amount of love or affection one would have. What boggles my mind is that the action is always expected on this one day, completely negating any tokens of affection you might have given throughout the year.  For many Valentine's Day is Armegeddon, a final day where if expectations aren't met then the relationship is over.  I can promise you the collected contented sighs of women getting a dozen roses today are effectively drowned out by the wails of men who suffer incomparable wrath because "he blew it" or "just doesn't get it". Yes, I'm sure not all people are perfect but to draw such a big line in the sand every Feb. 14th doesn't solve anything.  Its just a band-aid over a gangrenous wound.

I bet if I go to any valentines day aisle at any store today I would be able to feel two things; panic and fear.  Men milling around desperately trying to find something that would placate an expectation.  Those flowers, chocolates, and stuff animals are effectively reduced to war trophies of women who want to show off that their guy cares.  I bet if I  toured any office that has a cubical system I would see if a woman did get something, she puts it on the side of the desk closest to the aisle, so if anyone was walking by they would notice it.  And that's just sad to me.  Who knew what was riding on an $8.99 stuffed monkey holding a rose with card that included a quip probably involving bananas? And these are the people that actually have someone.  Its terrible to think of the people who have to adopt a bravado during this day.  Those that are effectively alone year and year and all they want is someone to tell them they care; that they are special, and mean something.  But no, they have to develop "single's awareness day" to deal with the loneliness. Its unintentionally cruel.  

Even children can feel the sting, though school officials make rules to compensate for that.  I know in my class everyone was required to give everyone else a valentine.   However that didn't matter because I knew the kids that would begrudgingly give me something knowing full well that they didn't like me.  I mean let's face it, I was the butterball child who got her first microscope when she was six, it wasn't like I was ever Miss Popular. I could tell because they always gave me the crappy cast off characters in any one set of themed valentines.  I never got Princess Leia or Han Solo; I was usually stuck with C-3PO or Jabba the Hutt. And somehow that always made me feel worse.

So much is riding on this holiday that in the end it does more harm than good. I'm sure the original intentions of this holiday was once something sweet and innocent.  A stolen kiss behind an oak tree, a token charm to wear, a homemade valentine. But the people who are in good stable relationships don't need a day to celebrate love.  And those that desperately think they do may not be in the best of places. I am not saying that all relationships are like this but that is the general trend I perceive and I don't like it.  Not one bit.  In fact, I don't think that there was a single Valentines Day that I could remember as having a good outcome.  Actually there was one:

Febuary 14, 1929. Al Capone set up a meeting with Bugs Moran to deliver a illegal shipment of hijacked whiskey. Five men got out of a police car, two in uniforms, and entered the building that was supposed to act as a rendezvous point. The clatter of machine guns broke the stillness of the morning air and after a short time later, five men quickly left the building.  Police found the execution of seven of Moran's men who were sprayed with machine gun fire against the wall of the building.  Now, I am NOT saying that the massacre of these men are a good thing even if they were criminals, but rather the importance of the case, which was this:  Calvin H. Goddard, one of the forerunners of ballistic intelligence, was set to work on this case. Goddard was able to positively link the .45 caliber cartridge casings found at the crime scene to the weapons that fired them; .45-caliber Thomson submachine guns.  By differentiating two distinct sets of ejector marks on the cartridge case, Goddard determined that two weapons had fired the seventy shells. Fifty cartridges had been fired from one Thompson and twenty from the other. He did this by using a recent invention called a comparison microscope that could compare two cartridge cases or projectiles simultaneously. Goddard also used to the same methods to clear the police from any suspicion since many members of the community thought that this was a police execution.  This was one of the first times that these methods were ever used in forensic history.  And because of this, the first Independent Crime Laboratory in America was established to provide a more cohesive environment for unsolved cases.  The St. Valentine's Day massacre was a landmark event that propelled forth both the techniques and methods required for crime scene analysis.  

As much as I hate to say it, my favorite Valentine's Day involved a massacre. But honestly, I can't think of one that has been more beneficial to me.  I guess the best part is that after today there's 364 days left till the next Valentine's Day.

The Quest of the Coffee Crusades

For as long as I remember my world revolved around coffee.  Every Sunday my dad would brew a fresh pot in the morning and he would drink it out of a mickey mouse coffee cup as he read me the funnies out of the morning paper.  I never really started drinking coffee until I was old enough to go out with a bunch of friends.  Java Daves coffee shop was a place where everyone could hang out, drink coffee, and play board games or talk about the seemingly large drama issues in their lives.  I remember when I first tried coffee I knew nothing about it other than it coming from a Folgers can and an old tablespoon my dad commandeered from my mom's baking drawer was always placed on top of the grounds.  So when I was faced with a billboard filled with words like Venti, Macchiato, Expresso; I was lost in the sea of coffee jargon. I started to go into panic mode when I was next to order but I didn't know what I wanted.  I did an excellent impression of a carp for a few seconds and just said the first thing that I could pronounce off the board.  I had ordered a Latte. The guy asked me if I wanted anything to go in that.  I shook my head no as I really didn't know what he meant (I later found out it was flavoring) and then he asked me if I wanted it with soy milk.  Jeez, this guy is going to kill me by exposing me as a coffee riff raff in front of my friends.  I again shook my head no and paid my money.  When I got my Latte, I didn't understand that most people at that age usually like a little bit of coffee with their sugar and milk.  I didn't know any different so when I took my first drink of unsweetened coffee I nearly gagged.  After we got our drinks we went outside to hang out and talk.  Instead of me admitting I hated what I ordered, I strategically placed the cup in a precarious situation where it would get knocked over.  Fortunately for me the coffee gods were kind and the ground got the caffeine boost instead of yours truly.  After with some experimentation I found what I liked and I could order a Venti skinny Latte with sugar free raspberry with the best of them.

I have always been a casual coffee drinker until my Junior year in college when something strange happened.  I started reacting rather badly to the occasional cup of Joe.  After ingestion my stomach did flipflops, I would break out into a cold sweat and I would get terrible chills.  For the sake of those with delicate constitutions I won't even go into what usually follows after that.  I experimented with different levels of caffeine, thinking it was a intolerance, but I could handle multiple rounds of pop, tea, and yes even red bull. So without knowing why, I gave up coffee entirely.   This may not seem like a big deal but you must understand, I went though my entire stint as a grad student without one cup of coffee. And there were times where the temptation was almost unbearable.

It wasn't until my brother got one of those single cup coffee makers for Christmas this year that I was tempted with making the odd cup of coffee.  I had to face the fact that it looked pretty neat and I liked the idea of having a nice steaming cup in under two minutes.  I told myself it was a foolish purchase because I couldn't drink coffee as evidence by the clenching of my stomach every time I thought of the idea. That's when I heard that it could do things like tea and hot cider and in the end I was hooked. I had a promising amount of store credit if I took back this steamer I had purchased for getting out the wrinkles of draperies.  I had no idea that I had bought the wrong kind of steamer that was only meant for clothes.  To me a steamer is a steamer.  Sadly that was not the case so it had to go back. However, upon doing so, I would have enough store credit to get the coffee maker and a pack of K-cups so I was excited to return the merchandise. Sadly, in my haste I had forgotten my 20% off coupon that would make this purchase essentially be an even exchange.  Grumbling about my forgetfulness I trekked back home to grab my coupon and came back only to realize that the type of coffee maker I wanted was sold out.  "Great, just great," I thought to myself, "Now I have to play the waiting game." 

Two weeks later I went back to the store with my husband and was relieved when I found my coffee maker standing oh so prettily on the shelf just waiting for me to scoop it in my arms and take it home.  Having acquired my new friend, I started looking for the K-cups.  After snuffling around and asking a nice associate, I found the mountain of K-cups that were displayed on several different tables.  I went over to find where the tea was only to find a pathetic selection that had three types, Earl Grey, Breakfast Blend, and Green.  No boxes of hot chocolate or cider were to be found either. My eyes, forced to be interested in the tea, rebelled by flickering over to where the coffee is. I was mesmerized by the different kinds; Emeril's Big Easy Bold, Carribou Coffee, The Doughnut Shop, the possibilities were endless. My fingers began to twitch with an urge to pick up a box for a closer examination.  My gut twinged in protest reminding me that I shouldn't be doing this.  I really shouldn't be doing this.  Slowly I extended my hands to pick up a box and winced that I acquired Gloria Jean's Hazlenut coffee.  This thought of me going into anaphylactic shock snapped me out of my reverie long enough for me to give a futile, fleeting, glance back towards the tea.  The though of me having "tea, Earl Grey, hot" was quickly dismissed and I grabbed the first box of coffee that seemed halfway interesting; Gloria Jean's Buttered Toffee.  I really only bought it because I would be blessed with the opportunity to say "I'm going to have some Buttered Toffee Coffee," as I am attracted to the feeling of my mouth when I say Toffee Coffee.

Feeling like a kid protesting her mother I quickly grabbed my husband and go to the checkout.  I forced myself not to look back.  What's done is done; nothing was going to change that. If my tummy has to endure the occasional bout of unhappiness then so be it.  I will have my coffee.   My fate had been sealed the moment I picked up the box. Nate began to ask why I didn't buy my tea but I cut him off with a raise of the hand and that look that all wives seem to acquire after the first 48 hours of marriage.  Doing so, caused him to be exceedingly interested in a keychain that chattered like a dolphin when you squeezed the dorsal fin. One more look from me and the dolphin quit chattering.

The line began to move until we reached our cashier.  I looked up to smile and say Hello and that is when I was met with those large vacuous eyes, the heavy makeup, the girlish giggle,  the slight tilt of the head; as if its contents were preparing to process things but very slowly.  I groaned inwardly as I came to the conclusion that yes, she was young and dumb. I know what you're going to say so I will cut you off with this: I have worked retail  since I was 15 in between school breaks and the last five years of my academic career so no, I would not put down a fellow comrade unless they were a special case. This one was a doozie.  Coming from someone who has two separate purchases so that they could use two 20% off coupons with one store credit to cover them both, this was a shopper's worst nightmare.  I will cut out the details here by saying that we got out of that store 25 minutes later with one coffee maker, one pack of 25 K-cups, and 6 different transaction receipts.

 Now I'm sure that many of you are wondering why would I go though all of that trouble for something that I really couldn't have.  My answer to you is this:

In my ideal morning I would  get up and pad to the bathroom to bush my teeth and wash my face.  I would give my kitty, who undoubtedly would still be sleeping underneath the blankets, a loving pat on the head and make my way into the kitchen.  I  spend a few moments selecting what type of coffee I wanted and as it started to brew I would select what color of Denby coffee mug I wanted.  My grandfather has a set just like it and its one of the few things that immediately remind me of him.  Just like when I hear the percolator and smell the coffee I think of my dad. Tea would never do that.   I grab a steaming cup and wonder around the house in silence looking at the pretty things that my mother and I bought during our shopping trips with my grandma. Eventually I get to my favorite spot and sit for a few moments enjoying the morning and the quiet.  Then I turn to my collection of classical music and select what type of concerto or symphony I want to listen to.  Usually Chopin tops my list, followed by Dvorak or sometimes Brahms.  I sit and enjoy the thoughts that come out to play.  My memories, my blessings, my wishes, my hopes.  I don't worry about what needs to be done, or what is expected of me.  For as long as that cup of coffee lasts I am at my zenith of contentment. 
Each  morning I know I would have my one little glimpse of perfection that would make the day just that much better. I know that I could have that. All that was missing was the coffee.

Five Random Things I Can't Stand In LIfe

I'm bringing this over from one of my facebook notes so this is a repeat.  I'll slowly start to upload things from facebook once I get some time.


Five Random Things I Can't Stand In Life-

1. Truck Nutz- I hate these things.  They’re just not funny. I can only imagine the line of dialogue that would come streaming out of ol’ Earl’s mouth amidst the rusted out appliances on the front lawn and the belches of Bud Light.  “Hey Roy,” He would say, “You know what our trucks need?  A symbol to show off our virility as we drive down the street. Yeah, you’re right Roy; we already have lift kits and mud flaps with naked chicks on them.  I got it! Let’s give our trucks a pair.  That’s what they’re missing.  You’re right Roy, it would be hilarious if we made them blue!” There are so many things wrong with that.  First being the unshakeable rule that all cars are girls, no questions asked.  The second thing is that YOU’RE GIVING YOUR TRUCK TESTICLES…yeah, let that sink in a bit…testicles.  Why is that funny?  Especially since you’re outfitting your truck with equipment that is much bigger than yours.  Is this giving you something to aspire to? I just don’t get it.

1. The Chick-fil-a outcry- I know you already have some idea of what I’m going to say but I’ll throw you a curve ball here. I’m not going to weigh in on the whole controversy of Chick-fil-a being anti-gay, however, I will comment on the following.  I keep getting comments on facebook feed, or in public, heck, I even heard one yesterday as I was waiting for Nate to get Breathe Right strips at wal-mart.    The general statement I keep hearing from people who want to protest Chick-fil-a is this, “I can’t believe that Chick-fil-a would take an anti-gay stance, it’s disgusting.  I’m seriously thinking about protesting but their chicken is just so good.” This is the point where my brain has a little processing seizure and my mouth drops.  I guess I just can’t get over the fact that someone is compromising their beliefs for a flippin’ chicken sandwich. Where is the rigid spine, the sense of rightness gone wrong, the willing sacrifice to stand up in what you believe in? Can all of that disappear at the site of a cow holding an “eat mor chikin” sign?  Especially since the best way to hurt a business is to not partake in their product and send them a letter saying why you decide to forgo the delicious aroma of the crispy crust, the slight sweetness, the juiciness of the chicken, all served on a fluffy bun, the only one of its kind that actually tastes better if there’s a bit of pickle juice soaked in…yeah…okay…I kinda see your point.   

1. The Christmas Shoes song- I cannot imagine a worse song being made than this one.  If I don’t like songs it’s usually because they are annoying to listen to or auto-tuned to hell [see: U2/ Black Eyed Peas].  But this song is just terrible. Here are the reasons why:

a. The circumstances: I’m sorry but all I can think about is how terrible this is.  I can just imagine this little boy running out with a shoe box and there’s a freeze frame of him smiling and a banner going across saying “Loved ones are dying?  Say goodbye with capitalism!” and I even like capitalism. I don’t know if it was meant for him to be cute and misguided and people are to think this is a sweet attempt for a little boy to deal with his mother’s impending death but to do it by buying a pair of shoes?   It just comes off as being morbid.  I bet in five minutes I could write a better ending to this song.  Actually, you know what?  I am going to try. Okay this is my pathetic song writing attempt to try to come up with a better message than the current one…ready…GO!
“Son, come here for a moment.  Don’t you worry and do not cry.   It’s okay if the shoes stay here, let me tell you why. God made your momma perfect in every way he knew.  He would look beyond what she was wearing including that pair of shoes.  Her joy will be great as it will know no bounds.  She will dance among the stars, her feet will never touch the ground.  So go to her tonight, you are the best gift she’ll ever know and spend this last Christmas with her before God calls her home.”
This literally took me 2 minutes and 48 seconds to write.  I timed myself.  Granted some of the rhymes are forced but this message warms the very cockles of my protestant heart and gives a much better message than spend money on materialism for your dying mother.

b. Where is the father in all of this?  Yeah it’s a minor point but really, where’s the dad?  I know the case can be made where he’s with his dying wife but what father would let his (I presume) 5-6 year old boy go down to payless and buy a pair of shoes?  I mean he would have to give him money.  I can imagine this dad just giving him 60 bucks and saying “size 7 and she likes slingbacks.”

 c.  The intended message: This just kills me.  At the end of the song, they guy who ends up paying for the shoes thanks the Lord for sending the boy to remind him what Christmas is all about. So let me get this straight. This is a song about God giving a boy’s mother a terminal illness in order for him to try to buy a pair of shoes he can’t afford so some guy who is slightly depressed can be reminded what Christmas is all about. I have suddenly been rendered speechless. As much as I love the holidays, this is beyond the “Christmas spirit” message, it’s just human decency. Let’s say that I agree that his mother should have some shoes. I wouldn’t even hesitate if I saw this scene unfold before my eyes. You better believe those shoes would be purchased in full by me.  Hell, I would get her Gucci if I could afford it.  But this song seems like this guy would have some internal struggle about helping this kid pay for some shoes.  I can just imagine the inner monologue, “Well he is short ten dollars and it is Christmas.  Hey, it’s Buy One Get One half off today.  Okay, I’ll give him the money.”  This song is an epic failure. NewSong should be sacked.

4. Using hashtags on facebook- I guess the easiest way for me to explain this is by saying if I wanted a twitter like atmosphere I would have a twitter account. But now I’m starting to see this bleed over to facebook and I don’t see the point except to flesh out an obscure joke or comment.  Most of the time it’s not funny and it usually takes me more time to figure out the connection between the status and the hashtag.  I mean the whole point of hashtags is to allow people to categorize their entries so they’re easy to search for later.  I guess you might have a case when you’re linking your twitter account to facebook but 99 times out of 100 people don’t do this, so I don’t see the point. I’m on facebook so I don’t have to deal with #unintelligible @twitter #nonsense #with @everyone #in #the #universe…but I guess it was only a matter of time until we have a cross over. I’m not a fan of twitter mainly because I’m verbose and 140 characters wouldn’t cut it for me.  And to me twitter is more personal because it’s intended to catalog day to day actions than just generalizations.  With twitter I feel compelled to tell you what I’m doing every ten minutes. The only thing that I would think important enough to catalog that often and keep under 140 characters is my bodily functions and I don’t think people would subscribe to me if my twitters revolve around the phrase “gotta poo”. Maybe I’ll come around and be okay with this as it gets more prevalent but as of right now, hashtags and facebook don’t mix.

5. The phrase “No offense, but…”- Yeah I’ve been guilty of saying this too but the more I think about it the more I don’t like it.  People only say no offence if they know it’s going to offend. It’s almost like they’re trying to lessen the blow but whenever I hear no offence I take the following words that much harder.  I bet I would not be offended if someone would just say what they’re thinking, but the moment they say no offence, I become….eh, hostile is too strong of a word but I’m more primed to be offended.  To me saying no offense is like saying “I’m still going to say this hurtful thing but you can’t get mad at me because I prefaced it with the intent that even though I know it might hurt you, I’m saying it in a way so that I don’t get in trouble.”  So what, you say whatever you want and then you get a “get out of jail free” card by saying no offense? I still feel like crap on the other end but you feel justified in flapping your mouth? Or phrases like this, “No offence, but you’re an asshole.” That is an entire contradictory statement! How am I not to take offence to the fact that you just called me an asshole?  I guess it’s the irony?  No offence, but that's just stupid.

The first time I ever heard the word "schtick" I was in 6th grade listening to the 8th grade band perform on stage.  Their teacher, a former genius on anything that can be hit with a mallet, was showcasing the promising percussion section with a musical piece called Drum Schtick.   I didn't really understand the humor in this as my brain was too busy processing why in the world they spelled stick wrong.  This episode, and subsequently the word, had been long forgotten until the time blogs started to come into existence.  Funny things blogs. I had often wondered why someone would spill their soliloquies into cyber space and some of them, very successfully I might say, actually caught other readers attention.  Then I realized that they had something that most other blogs didn't, a schtick. I don't mean disrespectfully that they had a bit or a gimmick but more like something that gave their postings collaborated unity. From a journalist who had a Julia Child obsession to a lady who likes to cook and is married to a cowboy, these people knew how to turn a blog into something more than ramblings of a day to day life. And when I decided to start a blog I mulled in my mind as to what my schtick would be.

Aside from the fact that musings of a mad scientist and meditations of a mad scientist were taken on this site, I figured "mullings" would be a better representation (though the Shirley method jury is still out on whether or not I used a proper plural subject form of the verb "to mull").  Quite literally it is the spice of life and I'm not someone that takes a thought and handles it with care.  In my mind the word "musing" means that thoughts are handled as if they are bubbles or butterflies.  They float within your mind, lightly bouncing off synapses until they fly away. I usually take the mortar and pestle approach.  I grind thoughts down until I have used most of its resources and there isn't much left.  Is this a more barbaric way to think?  Probably, but to me thoughts need to be mulled in order to be most advantageous to the thinker.  Now imagine me mulling away as to what my schtick would be.  I kept pushing aside thoughts of whether or not I wanted my schtick to be maple or birch, and really tried to try to find a new angle.  My biggest fear was that I would put myself out on a limb, figure out something spectacular, and have my mom be my only reader.  That is when I started thinking of whether or not this would work out and if I would be okay with that. Would it be okay if I logged on and no one visited my site.  No one ever would leave a comment, no subscriptions, nothing.   After much thought I said that it would. Why would that be, you ask?  Because I want a place where I could write in such a way that it would be okay if I were the only reader.  I want a blog that would appeal to myself.  Now that is a crazy idea and a paradox at that. Blogs aren't meant to appeal to a personal audience. Well I guess I didn't call myself Mad for nothing. That is when I decided that I had found my Schtick, the biggest Schtick of collaborated unity I would ever know...life itself. 

I don't think that I would like to say much about me right away.  My profile is pretty bare because let's face it, if this blog is for me, I don't really need to tell myself about...well...me. If you want to know the person beyond The Mad Scientist then I welcome you to get comfortable and read what I will have to say. And if you think you know The Mad Scientist then I encourage you to keep reading.  Do I have any plans beyond that? The short answer is no.  These posts are about the simplicity of life, my life. And while they may have little meaning now, hopefully they represent pixels of the bigger picture.

My goal is to turn the mundane into a spectacular spectacle that would only hope to rival any great moment in my life. From that I hope that it can stir the senses, provoke thought, and be a joy simultaneously.  At least I hope I can invoke the sense of well being with good humor.  For me, humor is the universal language.  There isn't a culture or race that doesn't know what it is like to smile. In most of the animal kingdom bearing ones teeth is a sign of alarm, but not with us. Perhaps it is because a smile encompass so much more than just the mouth. With a smile you get the twinkling of eyes, laugh lines, a dimple; a glimpse of the soul.  It is a evolutionary gift that we must take advantage of in any way possible. I plan on putting that phenomenon to good use, as it is my duty as part of my species to do so.  

So enter my world and I welcome you to stay.  I can't guarantee you anything other than writings that I deem important at the time.  I wish I could offer more, but sadly that is not the way of things.  You'll just have to sit back and enjoy the journey.