The Siren Song of Sales, and other thoughts
I was blinded by a 25% off sticker.
I bought a box of pewter Warhammer Fantasy Black Orcs with two-handed weapons. I thought, "Wow, these would make a great Warhammer 40k Ork Nobz mob." Then I realized that the 'eavy armor that the Black Orcs are wearing may look cool, but equipping them with cybork bodies is in fact the correct choice as far as game-play (at least for the battlefield role I had in mind), as well as fitting my theme of robo-Orks. Now I'm stuck with a 10 models I either A) can't use, B) have to convert. They are solid, one-piece models made of METAL! I do not look forward to such a prospect. Or, what the hell, C) Use as they are. i.e. inferior and off-theme. Curses!
Also, I could've gotten the new plastic Black Orcs Regiment for the same amount of money and had multipart, easily convertible models with bits left over. Double curses!
Sigh. At least I finally won a game in the campaign last night.
Also, I hate Seattle. Not really, I love it, but driving is a maddening chore. I went to meet an artist yesterday, to discuss doing business on Black Leaf, as well as --insert name of my top-secret project here--. Google maps told me it would be a 36 minute drive. Knowing that Google Maps usually lies, I gave myself an hour to get there...
Two and a half hours later, I finally show up to the meeting. Imagine a string of traffic 24 miles long. 3 car accidents. I topped out at 15 mph, and there was no way to get off and try another route. Also, there was no phone number I could call to reschedule. Through some miracle, the artist was still there, but my lateness coupled with my stress from the drive harrowing ordeal shattered any possibility of projecting a professional image. Well, at any rate, I have an artist. She's good, has been vouched for, and works for nothing but industry cred, and a cup or two of coffee.
Also, afterward I met a homeless veteran and traded hobo-stories with him for a bit. Then I decided to give him a 20. I'm really not doing so well that I can just hand out 20 dollar bills willy-nilly, but I don't feel bad about it. In fact, pretty good. I probably woulda just spent that money on a box of Burna Boyz anyway. No big loss.
So, when I was homeless it was voluntary and for a short time. But the facts of the matter are as follows: I owned nothing. I lived in a van, that was, at times, down by the river. Sweltering heat and freezing cold, with no shelter. I didn't know when or from where my next meal would come, to say nothing of showers or restrooms. I had to rely on the kindness and charity of others to survive. That and it's been damn hard to pick myself up again. Actually without the help of friends and family along the way, I would still be living in that van, cursing the day I sold my guitar for a tank of gas and wishing I had it so I could make a few extra bucks as a busker and wondering why I ever thought any of this would be a good idea.
Basically what I'm saying is this. My experiences have made homeless people into people for me. By that I mean, not just a symptom of society and individuals caught in vicious cycles, spheres of circumstance from which not even hope can escape, but actual human beings. They are men and women with names, lives, stories, and needs. I do not envy them, but I do not feel useless pity, either. Perhaps, a sliver of understanding is closer the mark, and that makes all the difference.
I bought a box of pewter Warhammer Fantasy Black Orcs with two-handed weapons. I thought, "Wow, these would make a great Warhammer 40k Ork Nobz mob." Then I realized that the 'eavy armor that the Black Orcs are wearing may look cool, but equipping them with cybork bodies is in fact the correct choice as far as game-play (at least for the battlefield role I had in mind), as well as fitting my theme of robo-Orks. Now I'm stuck with a 10 models I either A) can't use, B) have to convert. They are solid, one-piece models made of METAL! I do not look forward to such a prospect. Or, what the hell, C) Use as they are. i.e. inferior and off-theme. Curses!
Also, I could've gotten the new plastic Black Orcs Regiment for the same amount of money and had multipart, easily convertible models with bits left over. Double curses!
Sigh. At least I finally won a game in the campaign last night.
Also, I hate Seattle. Not really, I love it, but driving is a maddening chore. I went to meet an artist yesterday, to discuss doing business on Black Leaf, as well as --insert name of my top-secret project here--. Google maps told me it would be a 36 minute drive. Knowing that Google Maps usually lies, I gave myself an hour to get there...
Two and a half hours later, I finally show up to the meeting. Imagine a string of traffic 24 miles long. 3 car accidents. I topped out at 15 mph, and there was no way to get off and try another route. Also, there was no phone number I could call to reschedule. Through some miracle, the artist was still there, but my lateness coupled with my stress from the drive harrowing ordeal shattered any possibility of projecting a professional image. Well, at any rate, I have an artist. She's good, has been vouched for, and works for nothing but industry cred, and a cup or two of coffee.
Also, afterward I met a homeless veteran and traded hobo-stories with him for a bit. Then I decided to give him a 20. I'm really not doing so well that I can just hand out 20 dollar bills willy-nilly, but I don't feel bad about it. In fact, pretty good. I probably woulda just spent that money on a box of Burna Boyz anyway. No big loss.
So, when I was homeless it was voluntary and for a short time. But the facts of the matter are as follows: I owned nothing. I lived in a van, that was, at times, down by the river. Sweltering heat and freezing cold, with no shelter. I didn't know when or from where my next meal would come, to say nothing of showers or restrooms. I had to rely on the kindness and charity of others to survive. That and it's been damn hard to pick myself up again. Actually without the help of friends and family along the way, I would still be living in that van, cursing the day I sold my guitar for a tank of gas and wishing I had it so I could make a few extra bucks as a busker and wondering why I ever thought any of this would be a good idea.
Basically what I'm saying is this. My experiences have made homeless people into people for me. By that I mean, not just a symptom of society and individuals caught in vicious cycles, spheres of circumstance from which not even hope can escape, but actual human beings. They are men and women with names, lives, stories, and needs. I do not envy them, but I do not feel useless pity, either. Perhaps, a sliver of understanding is closer the mark, and that makes all the difference.