I’m Only Blogging to Get Rid of Peter Jackson’s Mug

That’s mostly true, really. Sorta. I mean, I am tired of still seeing his head on the screen when I log into the blog.

We had a good Christmas. Drove down to McKinney last Sunday and crashed at Casa de Blandice. Had some good grub. Did some shopping. Watched some movies. Played fake guitar. Other than Monday when we were scrabbling around doing some last-minute xmas shopping (didn’t have time to do it online like I usually do; still don’t have anything for you Jerm; haven’t even had time to ask). Even Dad wasn’t bad to be around (and listening to his quest for a perfect 0 points in Scene It was actually funny).

Had to actually perform major surgery on the laptop while we were there. Some keys on my keyboard had up and vanished on me, specifically the R and the D keys, and I’d transplanted the Page Up and Page Down keys in their place. Messy. Plus, the transplants were rejected by the host brackets, so they’d stick.

I found someplace online a couple of weeks ago that sold replacement keyboards, so I’d ordered one. How hard could replacing a keyboard in a laptop be? I’d seen one of the Dell douches playing around in the guts of our other laptop when it required surgery. Didn’t look so hard.

And as it turns out, it wasn’t. Too bad for all the proprietary bs in these laptops. Can’t wait for the day when you can just build your own the same way you can desktops.

Got back home Wednesday night and Steph’s mom and Paula were here keeping the kids company. We did Christmas with them that night as well, wrapping up just before Midnight (sorry I missed ya, Jones).

Oh, and the goddamn water heater was out. Is still out. Haven’t had a shower since Wednesday, haven’t shaved in more than a week (longest gap ever). Scheduling shenanigans ensured we won’t have hot water until Monday morning, which sucks ass in so many different ways. Could be worse. Could be without power.

And that’s pretty much that. Oh, and one strand of lights on our pre-lit tree aren’t working, so it looks like it has a dark belt on. Annoying. Damn thing is like three, four weeks old. If not for the fucking floods, we’d still have the old one.

I Wouldn’t Say I’m Missing It, Bob

So I’ve more or less been off work since the 20^th or so. I went in for half a day the Friday before xmas, but was off the Thursday before that. Kind of nice. I could get used to being a “man of leisure.”

Been so busy, however, the time has flown by and I’m already starting to dread having to go back to work next Wed. Poor me, I know. Most of you don’t get the mad time off I do.

I needed it this time. The magazine went to press a week late on account of thanksgiving and I’d had to pretty much beat my designer, volunteer writers and photographer into submission to get it out even then. I’ll have even less time for this next one. It’ll have to go to print first week of February (have to especially given that the Chosen One will probably be here sometime around Valentine’s Day). I know she’s not due until the 27^th, but I’m anticipating an early arrival.

A lot of last weekend (prior to leaving for big D) I spent doing nursery stuff. Saturday Dad came up and installed our chair rail (we’d just finished the painting – I’m sure Steph’ll post some pictures after I get the crib put together). Later that night, I put the dresser together (five hours and a bruised hand later). It’s starting to look like a little kid’s room, not that she’ll ever care what color the walls are. I have no plans on still living in this place by the time she’ll be old enough to care.

Starting to get excited about her getting here. Not so much scared anymore. Just ready. It’s going to be pretty cool. Much of the discussion over xmas was about the baby. This kid is anticipated. Everyone can’t wait for her. She’ll have tons of people who care for her. Kinda chokes me up, actually.

Mark and Candice kept trying to get us to tell them her name. I think they got the initials out of Steph. I couldn’t believe she told them even that. Neither of us have told anyone thus far, so don’t feel left out that you don’t know. Just trust me, it’s a cool name. I wouldn’t let my kid have an uncool name. Names have power, after all.

Reading, Writing and the Decline of Desire to Game

Been reading a lot lately. I usually do this time of year. I reread Ender’s Game, read Patriot Acts and Private Wars by Greg Rucka (comic book author and damn fine novelist). I read Armor by John Steakley. And something else that I can’t think of just now. Oh. A War of Gifts by Orson Scott Card.

On deck, I have The Devil’s Right Hand by Lilith Saintcrow, A Gentleman’s Game by Rucka, White Night by Jim Butcher (again), Shadow’s Bend by David Barbour and Richard Raleigh (the two protagonists are H.P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard; that said, I just read a review of it on amazon and someone trashed it, so I’ve got that to look forward to), and lastly, Gentlemen of the Road by Michael Chabon. This last is written in the tradition of Leiber and Howard. The two main characters might as well be The Mouser and the big barbarian.

Of course, time for reading has to come from somewhere, and right now, it’s out of my gaming time. The more I read, the less I want to game. Been playing Halo in various incarnations for going on five years. Call of Duty 4 is fun, but our shitass internet connection makes it inconsistent, which in turn makes it frustrating. When you’re playing a game based on reaction speed, being half a second behind is a recipe for frustration.

I played the hell out of Guitar Hero II and III a couple of nights last week. Boone wasn’t kidding when he told me Medium on GH2 is a lot easier than Medium on GH3. Blew through GH2 on Med. But now I’m bored with that, too.

We bought Scene It and have had some epic battles so far. Okay, not really epic. I shouldn’t play that game, though to be fair, none of the questions the thing throws at you I’d really consider esoteric. Besides, I really don’t know much about a lot of stuff that came out prior to my arrival on this rock.

It’s been more than a week w/o Halo, and I just don’t want to play. I know, theoretically, I should play. When you don’t play these games, your skill and reaction times go in the toilet. I just don’t want to.

Take tonight. Steph went to bed at midnight after we finished watching Stardust and I could’ve gamed for a couple of hours like usual. Instead, I watched the extras on the DVD and then started typing out this longass blog entry. The thrill may be gone.

I don’t imagine I’ll stop gaming. I want to get Mass Effect and Assassin’s Creed and see how the single player stuff goes (which will be important with the girl coming soon; can’t play a lot of multiplayer games if you have to bail out to take care of the little one).

The last week or so, I’ve had this nagging in the back of my head, this notion that I should be somewhere else. Normally, that happens when I’ve been reading something hardcore escapist (like the first time I went through the Harry Potter books or The Dresden Files).

Problem is, I’ve been feeling it when I’ve been between books. I know I should be writing. That’s the nagging. That’s the itch.

The decline in gaming has given me more time to read, which always makes me want to write. I wonder if at some point it’s going to become a one or the other thing…

Thinking back, I’ve written two stories in two years. Fuck all. Isn’t supposed to be that way.

My brain has been coming up with pieces for the rest of that story I started this year, the one with the abandoned farm house. It’s starting to click. I’m thinking it’s going to get rolling soon, I just need the one idea to get it moving. A scene. Something. I have pieces of it further down the hole, but I don’t have the beginning. It’s frustrating.

Anyway, I’ll stop rambling, especially about the writing bit. I’m sure none of you want my hollow promises anymore. I’ll just take my sore throat and go to bed.

Out.