Complete and Utter Wonderful Nonsense

Technically speaking, I'm a zombie. I got tagged while trying to go to rehearsal, and that's that. I'm one of the undead horde.

I also got reminded that I really, really don't like competition. I mean, playing Brawl with Rob/Adam/Red/The Gang is one thing, because we're just having fun. So is doing the occasional online thing with friends. Because, y'know, they're friends. Trying to have fun.

But when it comes to grander things, that aren't just with my immediate bunch of comrades? I tend to have significantly less fun. It's the reason I don't do tournament-based play in Pokemon, the reason I try to avoid online gaming, combat-based RPs, etc etc. Because to me, trying to get the better of some random bloke you don't know isn't entertaining. It's just frustrating. A lot of the time when playing a group game (scrabble or bowling in particular), the challenge doesn't come from playing the game--the challenge comes from finding a way to view it as solitaire. And, more importantly, staying with that view.

And this always happens, too--I always get excited about some game, go off to play it, and realize that I didn't really want to in the first place. Every time I go bowling, I have to reprimand myself later for going bowling.

So I quit. I knew that I'd just get more and more pissed off as the week went by, and take my anger out in increasingly unhealthy ways. (Already I snapped at a guy who did absolutely nothing. I had at least the sense to apologize and explain myself)

However, this doesn't make for a particularly interesting tale in-game. So here are the three versions of the story: Game lingo, out-of-game lingo, and Graham's Geeky lingo.

IN GAME: After slaying one of the undead horde, Graham succumbed to their madness near the Fenenga bridge. He also lost a par of socks in the progress. Not being a very good zombie, he died of starvation.
OUT OF GAME: Graham realized that he never particularly wanted to play in the first place, and quit after being turned, to provide the least effect on the rest of the players. He threw away his bandanna, and also lost a pair of socks.
GRAHAM'S VERSION: Graham died because of a zombie attacker. However, being a Time Lord, he was able to regenerate, slip into his TARDIS, and bugger off. He vows to come back later to save everybody he can. And to find the pair of socks he lost.

There is an uneasy silence over Northland College. The sight of students with weapons--mainly guns of some kind--is common enough, but still incredibly surreal. I try to avoid people whenever I can, reviving some long-suppressed instinct from Junior High. The things we do to survive are mad indeed.

From time to time, I see one of the undead, in their typical daze. I've recently received news that my good friend Emily has succumbed to their ranks. May God have mercy on her soul.

Going to and from rehearsal will be the most difficult nightly task I have. I've considered canceling them for the week, but decided against it. Culture is still important, even in the face of the apocalypse.

Especially in the face of the apocalypse.

Whenever I feel homesick, or want to clear my head, or just feel like I need to do something, doing the dishes and organizing my dishes/foodstuffs makes me feel better.

Don't let my parents know; they'd never let me hear the end of it.

Despite any minor anxiousness about homework or directing.
Despite the fact that I miss home when I'm at college, and college when I'm at home.  (Ahoy there, conflict on where I belong!)
Despite one of my favorite hats not fitting me very well anymore

I'm incredibly happy at this point in time.  It's a very nice realization.

And to whomever's reading this (all thirty or so of my flist), I sincerely hope that you're feeling this way as well.  (And, if you aren't, I'm sure that you will soon).


PS:  Check this icon, made about half a year ago.  Black jacket, violet shirt.  I had many violet shirts at the time, but no black jacket.  Before I came back to college, I bought a black corduroy jacket.  And tonight I wore it with a violet shirt.  Did my icon predict the future?

The Fourth Wall is producing 'The Butler Did It,' a comedic whodunnit within a whodunnit.

I'm directing.

Only good can come of this.

Well, now that I've been back at campus for a couple of days, y'all get a smörgåsbord of thoughts and impressions concerning the sophomore year.

-Campus minus freshman?  Weird as all hell.  The first half a day or so was spent wandering around, feeling how empty everything was.  It's taking a bit of time to get everything filled up--people are still coming back from their orientation trips--but it's a bit more like 'home,' now.
-Jesus Christ on a pogo stick, have I missed 99% of the people up on Campus.  Friends, hallmates, faculty, everything.  But having five people I haven't seen in ages arrive within an hour?  Best day ever.
-There's a new addition to the group!  A transfer student, Lydia, got lucky enough to score a townhouse, and is living with Red and Shannon.  She's a pretty bitching with fabulously pink hair.  (I also really hope I'm spelling her name right).
-Drew's back, with the same six cases of chocolate protein drink-thing as last year.  How I have missed him so.
-Last night, most of us (Emily A., the Dude/His father, Rob/His mother, Red, Shannon, Lydia and I) went down to the Deepwater.  I snuck back and forth between the two tables...  And then Drew arrived with his family.  So that was awesome.  (They have a very tasty spinach/artichoke dip).
-If all goes well,  I'll be getting a job at the Information desk.  I have the application filled out, I just wish that they'd open it up so I could turn in the damn thing.  Just think of the money, Graham.  Just think of the money.

Stuff I need to do:
-Turn in job application
-Buy books for class
-Get books from home to loan to people
-Organize foodstuffs/kitchenstuffs
-Find posters, hang them up
-Find true love

EDIT:  Okay, I need to briefly summarize this incredibly epic Deadlands game that Rob hosted with me, Adam, and Jake.  I was playing a grifter/conman, Adam was a semi-senile prospector, and Jake was a cyrptozoologoy-obsessed student.  My character lost an arm, but Adam's prospector shoved a stick of dynamite up a wendigo's arse.  And blew it up.

Somehow, we all survived.

I asked a friend of mine to help me find RPs on insanejournal.  She pointed me to a few communities and let me loose.

Quite possibly not the best idea in the world, as I already spend too much time looking for RP.

Journals I already have:  The Master (Doctor Who), the Eighth Doctor (Doctor Who), Elphaba (Wicked), Charlie Andrews (Heroes).
Journals I want to make:  Arthur Dent, Simon Tam, River Tam, Nymphadora Tonks, Adam Monroe, Parker.

Goodbye, free time!  Goodbye, time that I was planning on spending doing something constructive!

On a side note, 'Leverage?'  Is really good.  Take Ocean's Eleven, cut the cast in half, remove the smarm, replace 'Casinos' with 'Corporations and general assholedom,' and add a Robin Hood complex.

And Parker.  Hardison, too, but mainly Parker.

PS:  One day, I shall make a post about my life, instead of TV and the internet.  I just don't lead a terribly interesting life.

( Throwback to Two, perhaps? )

( My Life According to Bruce Springsteen )


Anyway:  I start volunteering tomorrow at Springboard for the Arts.  I'll be just doing basic office work for a bit, until they start up an interviewing project that I'll focus on.  I'm looking forward to it.
Once a week, I'm doing office work for my mom.  I'm not looking forward to that so much, although money is nice.
I have Skype!  graham.qulz
Purple continues to look good on me.
Grilled sandwiches are godly.

Morning, Livejournal!

I love waffles.  Who doesn’t?  They’re like all that’s good in the world of breakfast distilled down to one grid-covered pastry.  Frozen waffles, done up with peanut butter and jelly are one of the finest things in this world. In the past year up at Northland, I’ve developed quite a taste for waffles of the homemade variety.  It was a rare treat when I was growing up, (Dad was a pancake maker), and having them at least once a week only made it better.

So, I decided that for my foray into breakfast foods, I’ll start by this classic.  (Also, waffles are about the only thing I haven’t tried.  Pancakes I’ve done once or twice with friends, made French toast, and eggs are easy as hell).

Additionally, because we had the ingredients, I thought that I’d make blueberry waffles.  For my first time.  On a waffle iron that hadn’t been used in, most likely, several years.

 

(PS—I enjoy waffles, travel through time, try and be a hero [mostly], and am a shameless geek.  Tell me, flist.  Am I secretly Hiro Nakamura

For my birthday, the 'big present' was two tickets to the Phantom of the Opera--one for myself and one for whoever I wanted to take along.  I went with my good friend bessyboo .  Good times were had by all.

Phantom was the last of my 'big' shows that I needed to see.  That is, the last of the shows that I'm honest to god obsessed with--not just musicals I really like, but things that I lived and breathed for a while.  Things like Ragtime, or Wicked, or Les Miserables.  So it was both really cool to see it, and a bit odd.  What's to look forward to now, in my Broadway world?

In short, it was completely awesome.  Andrew Lloyd Webber isn't the best composer, I feel, but Phantom is one of his best jobs.  Sure, there are some dud parts (I can never, ever understand what anybody is saying in 'Prima Donna'), but for the most part?  It's a pretty damn good score.  The singing, all around was very good.  Orchestration was nice, the sound was good, etc etc.

( In long? )

So, in brief:  Meg Giry is hot as hell and needs to crossdress more.  Raoul is finally likable.  The movie can go piss off.  Things were shiny shiny shiny.  Music was loud loud loud.  Andrew Lloyd Webber needs to learn how to do countermelody properly.  Watching Christine start to grow from a snivelling weakling to a strong woman was a treat.

And the actor who played the Phantom changed how I saw the character for good.

So, now that the internet has (mostly) calmed down about the casting of twenty-six year old Matt Smith as the Eleventh Doctor, here I am to bring everything up to the forefront once more.  Of course, there's some new things to chat about, such as the casting of twenty-one year old Karen Gillan as the Doctor's (currently unnamed) Companion.

Why do I bring up their ages?  Quite honestly, because bloody everybody does it.  Yes, Matt Smith is now the youngest actor to play the Doctor, beating Peter Davison by two years.  Yes, that surprised me, and I raised a skeptical eyebrow when I first heard the news.  However, I got over it quickly--and I'm not going to recite the same "Give them a chance, we haven't seen them perform" spiel that everybody else has done.

So, without further ado...


( Illustrated Thoughts on Series Five )

So, one of the things I'm trying to do this summer is polish up my cooking skills.  I'm not a bad cook, actually--I've learned a fair amount by just watching and helping my parents, and can make some things reasonably well.  Still, this is something you need experience to do, and what better time than summer, eh?

So, I've decided to try and post some things up on livejournal to detail this odd little journey I'm taking.  It might be a new recipe I'm trying, it might be something I'm making up as I go along.  I'll sum up the inspiration, process, and the result, as well as give a general 'yes/no' concerning whether or not the meal is worth it.  I very much appreciate feedback

And if nothing else, at least I'll actually use my journal.

( Grilled Sausage and Apples )

Well, here we are.  After nine months of friends, schoolwork, drama, and even (gasp!) complicated love, I've reached the end of my Freshman year of college.  My dad'll be here to pick me up in a couple of hours, so all that's left to do is say goodbye to the last of my friends and wait.

It's been a good year.  No, actually--it's been a great year.  I've grown as a student (actually taking notes and staying organized!), as a friend (actually having a social life!), community member (participating in theatre) and person (somehow).  College has down all of the magical, mystical things that everybody said it would.

I don't know what I'm going to be up to this summer.  I had applied and interviewed for a job, but it didn't pan out--so it looks like I'll be sticking to a lot of volunteer work.  I do have a few personal projects dreamed up, though--writing a radio drama or two, working on an epic Doctor Who fanfic, and learning how to cook.

Drew's leaving.  He's checking out with our local RA right now.  I'm having to do the big official thing, once my dad gets here.  We'll be bunking again next year.  Why try and fix something when it's not broken, eh?

I've got to say goodbye to a lot of good people--Pan, Casie, Dan, Rich, Erika, and a few more.  It's just...I dunno.  A lot of them really helped me get situated and suchlike.  It's just damn weird.

Last night, I had a dream.

I was flying--this in itself is not an uncommon occurrence; I fly a lot during dreams.  But this time it was different.  I was visiting my old high school, and there were a lot of people I know around in the area--friends, old classmates, church members, etc.  I left the building and started to levitate, before I was full-out soaring above the school's grounds, doing loops and spins.  Everybody was cheering as I went by, waving if I dipped low to see them.  I finally touched down and chatted with a few people, who all gave me compliments about my flight.  I grinned, and the dream ended soon after.

I find this incredibly appropriate for today.

Never before have I had a dream that I was so happy to wake up from.

It began innocently enough, I suppose.  I was back at an old favorite camp of mine, just running around and relaxing.  Before too long, though, it became apparent that I had a final soon that I hadn't studied for.  (I don't remember the subject--French, maybe?)  Anyway, I had to read two books (one of them a very bad version of Don Quixote) in a day or so.

And then it became clear that my sister was on trial in a sort of Roxie-Hart-Chicago-esque thing.  I remember that Billy Flynn (played by Richard Gere) was her lawyer, there was some lie about a divorce or somesuch...It was just extraordinarily bizarre.

Mom and I went to some small town in the mountains for...some reason, I dunno.  I was flying around, wound up talking to Chrstine Daae (Phantom of the Opera), and suchlike--not doing my readings, mind you.  Finally, I went up with my mom to the courtroom, to watch my sister's trial.  (There were a few random Northland students giving surveys here and there).

Around this time, my teeth began to fall out.  I eventually had to find a bathroom, and, most of my mouth in my hands, sit while my sister's fate was being decided.

And then I remembered that I didn't have my books.

In the past twenty-four hours, I've realized that electronics really, really hate me.

1--Last night, I somehow managed to fry my mouse (cordless, but there's a plug-in receptor thingy) into a useless wire.  Which is a shame, because I had had it for...about a month and a half, or so?
2--About ten minutes ago, I saw that my cell phone had randomly run out of batteries, even though I had just charged.  Alright, fair enough
3--When I sat down to make this post, I realized that I was crushing my headphones.  Managed to fix them up, though, and they work fine.  I actually think that I've started to get over my 'randomly break headphones all the time' phase of my life.  I once had a pair that started to die on me six days after I bought them.
4--More of a long-term thing, but my iPod is physically falling apart.  The white strip on the top fell off, so now I can't lock it anymore--causing it to play if I bump against something with it in my pocket.  The bottom strip, then, is starting to bulge and suchlike.


Unrelated:  I'm apping for a journal-based panfandom RP as Elphaba Thropp.  I'm completely comfortable with my sexuality, why do you ask?

So, I'm glad that Indian Cinema is getting respect other than silly Bollywood stuff (to make way for good Bollywood stuff), but god dammit Oscars.

Stop giving WALL-E the shaft.

(Also, yup, still wanna sleep with Hugh Jackman).

Tonight was an extraordinarily eventful night in an extremely calm and quiet way.

Last Friday was my annual lots-of-stress-small-things-pile-up-oh-god-oh-gaaaawd night. (For those curious, disappointing math scores, various idiots at mealtime, getting slapped, RP troubles, and Yoga at seven-thirty in the morning in a room without heating when it was almost twenty below). It was a bit stressful, really, and it cumilated in my incredibly rare cry--but after a phone call with a friend of mine (Shoutout to my true love, Lauren), I felt better. The problems weren't solved, but at least things got better.

When night came tonight, I was a bit restless. It was an uneventful day as a whole, the most memorable decision being whether or not I wanted to go to Yoga after a rather rotten night's sleep. (I did, and it was fortunatly in a heated room today). I was pretty exhausted after dinner due to no reason whatsoever, and had already decided to not go to Nightsounds (a sorta variety show my friends are in), audition for the one-act (with the added excuse that some of my classes are going to murder me), or a gaming session downstairs (but I don't like the guy hosting it, so whatever). I did wake up a bit, though--hence the restlessness. I had to do something or other, apart from just alternate between Super Mario RPG and Chrono Trigger.

I was already a bit dapper (I've taken to wearing vests and tucked-in shirts now and again), so I thought I'd just go the whole nine yards. I took out my awesome frock coat (the Prom attire for you St. Paul-ites) and, as my winter hat clashes with it, dust off (literally) my bowler. I figured that I'd run down to the Ponzio, grab some chocolate or a pastry or something, and head on back and make some cocoa while watching a movie on my laptop or something.

So, I got down to the place, and a couple of my friends were there. It was a nice surprise, as I thought they'd headed off to Nightsounds--so I opted to buy hot chocolate down there and tart it up, to spend some time chatting away. We're nestled away in a corner, and there are a couple tables of Hockey-playing jocks nearby. I ignore them, as one of their friends (who wasn't there) singles me out during mealtime to try to raise my blood. For whatever reason, I start to describe to my friends the difference between a dork, a nerd, and a geek. One of the jocks is looking over as I talk, clearly interested, and comes over once I'm finished to hear it from the start. I comply, and another guy comes over and sits down. I jokingly ask if anybody else wants to listen.

Cue everybody in earshot huddling around our corner to hear what this weird guy with the coat and hat had to say.

I wind up giving a five-ten minute lecture on the social ramifications of geeks, nerds, and dorks--differences, examples, similarities, etc etc. I finish, people applaud, and most everyone goes back to whatever they were doing. Three of the jocks, though, hang out with us, and we start talking. (Brandon, Stevie, and...I forgot the last guy's name).

Our conversation covered a variety of topics--life at Northland, our respective hometowns, the Mall of America, TV when we were younger. The best part, though, was that after the initial chit-chat about my lesson, he said that he knew the guy who kept on shouting at me during lunch/dinner and told me not to worry, that he was just a dick to everyone. My opinion of the guy I was talking to (Brandon) grew.

The talk cumilated with a tag-team explanation of my voice and various hearing recovery procedures. (My friend, Emily, has a younger brother with much the same situation). After that, the two groups (Brandon and his friends, me and my own) go our separate ways, before I headed back to my dorm.

So, tonight I had some rather delicious hot chocolate, gave an improvised speech on a theory of mine, unexpectedly met up with friends, made new friends, and let my preconceived stereotypes crumble the slightest bit. And I was in Nineteenth-century formalwear.

It was a damn good night.

The Christmas Eve service at my church always ends with the congregation singing "Silent Night" while lightning candles, and walking out of the sanctuary.  It's always incredibly beautiful--not quiet, per se, but just...still, I suppose.  This was my first Christmas coming home from college, so after the song there were many hugs to be given, many quick summaries of my first semester.  I saw a lot of people who I hadn't seen since Thanksgiving, and even more that I hadn't seen since I left in Mid-August.

We exchanged Secret Santas tonight, as we always do--our family rule is that you can't spend any money on them.  In other words, they're handmade--poems, collages, gift certificates for specific meals and services, and whatnot.  All of them had things to do with growing up, this year--I wrote a poem about change for my Dad.  My dad gave me some humorous (and useful) college lists--why I'm doing well, rules for my dorm, etc.  Mom made my sister, Ellen, a small cookbook of her favorite recipes, and Ellen gave Mom a really awesome collage detailing some highlights of the Campain and Election.

In this time of change and confusion about life, direction, and the state of the world, it's nice to just have quiet little moments.

Merry Christmas, everybody.

Rest in Peace, Gordon.

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