What? I Never Left!
I'm tired, I'm cold, and I'm on call, but hey! I have Livejournal access at work again. For some reason. I don't understand their roulette of banning and unbanning. But anywho.
I've been completely terrible about updating LJ, or even keeping up with the folks who have left comments saying hi, and I'm sorry. Except for the spam bots. Stupid spam bots.
The thing is, I'm not good at telling stories about my life. Good storytelling requires details, and I forget details. A lifetime ago when I posted daily, I would comb over what I did and who I did it with, and what was interesting or funny, and I could maybe remember it because it happened just an hour ago. My life isn't interesting enough anymore to remember to post about what just happened an hour ago.
I've always envied people with great, detailed memories. My friend Mike, for instance, can tell stories about individual games of Smash Bros. Melee from High School. (My lord, I was still in high school when Smash Bros. Melee came out) I can make up details, which is why I write decent stories, but even then my stories tend to work in concepts and broad shapes rather than the fine lines and shadows and textures.
For instance, I see color fine, but I have to struggle to remember color. Likewise, I remember the gists and emotions of conversations rather than the actual words. It's interesting, because I read somewhere that left-handed people are twice as likely as the general population to have major brain disorders, and that mixed-handed people are several times more likely than that. Interestingly, I was ambidexterous in Kindergarden until I finally settled into left-handedness.
Anywho, I think Thanksgiving Friday is officially a tradition at the Mallory household. We ended up feeding about fifteen people. Holding Thanksgiving feasts is good. We clean the apartment from top to bottom, get rid of clutter, reorganize. For now we've managed to keep the apartment that way. It's been one week, I guess. That's a start! We also got lots of delicious leftovers, which we have finally just about finished.
Meanwhile, our World of Warcraft guild completed its first official Cataclysm raid: the first two bosses of Baradin Hold. Nevermind that they will be releasing a third boss tomorrow; this is proof that we have enough interested, capable people in our guild to DO RAIDS. That's crazy, for a social guild.
Stephie and I continue to read; I'm on the third book of the Song of Ice and Fire series; Steph is on the fifth book of Harry Dresden. The Song of Ice and Fire is really harsh. It's a textbook example of a Crapsack World where horrible things happen, and then things get worse.
The first snow of the season was yesterday. I love snow, almost as much as I love wind. Snow some more! Snow some more!
I've been completely terrible about updating LJ, or even keeping up with the folks who have left comments saying hi, and I'm sorry. Except for the spam bots. Stupid spam bots.
The thing is, I'm not good at telling stories about my life. Good storytelling requires details, and I forget details. A lifetime ago when I posted daily, I would comb over what I did and who I did it with, and what was interesting or funny, and I could maybe remember it because it happened just an hour ago. My life isn't interesting enough anymore to remember to post about what just happened an hour ago.
I've always envied people with great, detailed memories. My friend Mike, for instance, can tell stories about individual games of Smash Bros. Melee from High School. (My lord, I was still in high school when Smash Bros. Melee came out) I can make up details, which is why I write decent stories, but even then my stories tend to work in concepts and broad shapes rather than the fine lines and shadows and textures.
For instance, I see color fine, but I have to struggle to remember color. Likewise, I remember the gists and emotions of conversations rather than the actual words. It's interesting, because I read somewhere that left-handed people are twice as likely as the general population to have major brain disorders, and that mixed-handed people are several times more likely than that. Interestingly, I was ambidexterous in Kindergarden until I finally settled into left-handedness.
Anywho, I think Thanksgiving Friday is officially a tradition at the Mallory household. We ended up feeding about fifteen people. Holding Thanksgiving feasts is good. We clean the apartment from top to bottom, get rid of clutter, reorganize. For now we've managed to keep the apartment that way. It's been one week, I guess. That's a start! We also got lots of delicious leftovers, which we have finally just about finished.
Meanwhile, our World of Warcraft guild completed its first official Cataclysm raid: the first two bosses of Baradin Hold. Nevermind that they will be releasing a third boss tomorrow; this is proof that we have enough interested, capable people in our guild to DO RAIDS. That's crazy, for a social guild.
Stephie and I continue to read; I'm on the third book of the Song of Ice and Fire series; Steph is on the fifth book of Harry Dresden. The Song of Ice and Fire is really harsh. It's a textbook example of a Crapsack World where horrible things happen, and then things get worse.
The first snow of the season was yesterday. I love snow, almost as much as I love wind. Snow some more! Snow some more!