Sporadic Updates: COMMENCE.

No real schedule here, I'll just be updating when I feel I have something to say. At least once a week, for sure, but whenever something noteworthy happens.

So: I got the radio job. At least, I'm 99.9% of the way towards getting it. I made a demo tape, which Harry decided he liked the sound of, so he gave me a multiple choice: Did I want to start Saturday, Sunday, Monday, or today? Of course, I chose today. This is why, after I write this, I'm going to take a nap. I only got five or so hours of sleep, and I do not want to fall asleep in the middle of my first shift. Even if it is just a sort of mock-shift, this is important.

Harry said I needed to inject more enthusiasm into my voice, which is probably true. He did add, though, that in all other aspects I was doing quite well, and that in the actual studio (as opposed to merely the recording room, which is boring) the odds were pretty good that I would be inspired to greater heights of, er, enthusiasm. I hate to repeat a word, but "fervor" doesn't really apply and I'm too lazy and tired to go to thesaurus.com. That seems kind of like cheating, anyway.

My first shift will only be an hour, from 2:00 a.m. to 3:00 a.m., and there'll be another DJ (jock) in the studio with me. Sorry, but to the best of my knowledge there is no online simulcast through which the folks in Wellington might listen. I looked all over the website ( http://www.rock104.com if you want to try yourself), and found nothing. But it's not going to be that interesting, anyway. I'll only speak on-air twice or three times total, and those times are generally just going to be me promoting the next song we're playing or reminding everyone that yes, they're still listening to Rock 104, in case they thought their radios had gone schizophrenic on them and randomly switched them to NPR when they weren't watching. I'll probably stumble through all of them. But hey, that's why I'm doing this at 2 in the morning - not that many people to hear me screw it up.

Rachel informed me that she just wants to be friends. I get the feeling that, though she gave me what even my jaded mind considers to be a fairly good reason, it was my personality. Oh well. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that sort of thing. I'd be more bummed, but we hadn't even been going out for two freaking weeks yet. So no big downer there. I'm just glad she came to this realization now and not, say, three months from now after emotional investments had already been dug in deep. Saved both of us a lot of trouble.

I'm going to make a new D&D campaign, to the approximately one of you out there I haven't told this to yet. It's going to put the players, 6th level, inside a massive castle that formerly belonged to an ally of theirs but has since been taken over by an evil king, his crazy powerful bodyguard, and his legions of cannon-fodder troops. Stealth and subterfuge will be the order of the day. Though the guards will mostly be 1st-2nd level mooks who drop like flies to any kind of attack from the main characters, there will be higher-level sergeants and captains to put the hurt on...and if the players get too uppity, the king's bodyguard, a 19th-level monk, will put a stop to that nonsense.

Here are the tricks that will make this better than any dungeon I've ever run:

- I'm mapping out the whole dungeon. Six floors and a basement, and I'll detail every room, every floor, every secret passage, every everything. With the help of the Dungeon Master's Guide and the Stronghold Builder's Guide that I serendipitously purchased on a whim some years back, I will construct an epic castle of awesome, drawing it all out on engineering paper and making detailed blueprints. The players will have access to these, it being mostly their home turf - the enemies will not, they having just taken the place and not found everything yet.
- But the enemies are not stupid. If, say, the PCs decide to book it and run into a secret passage, and an enemy watches them go, all of a sudden, that secret passage ain't so secret anymore. I plan to draw an enemy version of the blueprints, much more sparse than the main one, and update it as we play whenever the enemy finds out a secret that they previously had not. And they might anyway, because...
- I'm keeping track of days, and time of day. The first time the enemy figures out something is going on, sees a dead body or whatnot, a timer will start, and a certain number of days later, reinforcements will arrive in the castle. These may or may not include more soldiers, enemy rogues and spies, nonhuman assailants, etc. Also, in terms of secret passages, there will be a very, very small but slowly increasing chance of the soldiers accidentally finding the secret passages independently of the players. (They are combing the place, you know, looking for the players.) Keeping track of days will be additionally important, because...
- I'm also keeping track of supplies. Creating water is no problem, as long as the party has a cleric (hint: they'd better have a cleric), but I'm ruling that magically created food doesn't nourish. They'll have to go on supply runs from the various storerooms located throughout the castle, or suffer successively increasing penalties to their, well, everything, due to hunger pangs. This won't be too hard, but it'll be something they have to consider. I'm ignoring bathroom breaks, though. There is such a thing as too much realism, and that's about where it starts.
- I'm not using pre-generated stats and creatures from the Monster Manual for the soldiers. I'm rolling them up manually. That's right, I'm sending PCs at you. Mwahahaha. Taste of your own medicine, chumps. I'm not going to roll up each and every soldier, but there'll be a "mook" template, "slightly better mook" template, "sergeant" template, "captain" template, and so on and so forth. This is just one of those reasons why open combat is somewhat discouraged in this particular campaign.

I'll be giving the players objectives they can follow, rescue the captured royalty and secure weapons caches and suchlike, but they can feel free to ignore that and see if they can boot out the invading army without my help. It'll be tougher, but I won't discount ingenious plans. Obviously, killing the enemy king will be a free pass to win the campaign, but with his bodyguard, that will take some insane amount of doing. Be aware, though, that if you do things right, you'll never have to fight the bodyguard...(No more hints.)

Oh, and we were having this conversation: I accept and understand the use of Bluff checks to get past the guards. The mooks aren't going to be very bright. If you encounter a door and a surly guard points a spear at you and says "Who goes there?", there's the perfect time to use Bluff. If a bunch of guards, hurrying towards a strange noise, runs smack into your group, a quick "They went that way! Hurry, they're getting away!" is what Bluff was made for. But as soon as an enemy actually draws his weapon and attacks you, Bluff checks go bye-bye. I don't care what the rules say. No soldier in the world is going to be listening to what his enemy says as he is charging at said enemy at swordpoint. You can Intimidate until the cows come home, but when combat begins, Bluff checks end. To disprove this, name me one single thing you can say to an attacking soldier, who knows that you are in fact the enemy, that will successfully bluff him into not attacking you. I'll wait.

Remember that play I wrote? After a bunch of minor edits, I performed it in class, and my teacher thought it was such a hit, he wanted me to go on stage and perform it in front of an actual audience at an actual theater, after his presentation of "An Evening with Harold Pinter." Hoo boy. Kind of nervous, but really really excited. It'll be on Sunday, March 22, for anyone who wants to come and watch it. I haven't thought of a name for it...maybe y'all can inspire me?

So that's it. The Luke-Approved YouTube Link of the Day is...um...it's around here somewhere...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2491LucLa1g That'll do. Mitch Hedberg always gets laughs. Always. Watch him and be hilarity-ized.

REPLIES.

Mike: Why did I decide on a schedule? Because otherwise I wouldn't have started doing it with any regularity. And I know about the whole "things fall apart" mental thing, trust me, that's most of my mental processes right there.

Steve: I'm working on a new schedule. Monday nights are tricky, as I have 7:00-10:00 class and then the gym right afterwards. I'm really not interested in that list, but I can't stop you (plus you've already posted it), so whatever.

Mom: I think I can work something out. I'll have some kind of schedule, never fear, even if it is a random and chaotic one. As for the play, well, I already answered that.

Steve: I don't see any meat there. Where is the meat? I can't live without meat. I am not a vegetarian. I demand meat every single day. Red meat. Dripping with meaty goodness. If that'll give me a heart attack when I'm forty, so be it, because I don't want to live an extra twenty years if all I have to look forward to is bran and hemp milk.

And what's the hubbub about being organic? Every kind of food is organic. If you eat it, I'm pretty sure it's organic. I rarely find myself eating inorganic material. The time does not often roll around where I munch on the plastic wrapping instead of the Doritos, or forsake a turkey sandwich to gnaw on some pebbles.

Karen: 300 words is about half a page, single-spaced. I was writing three, four, even five-page entries, three times a week. I can hack 300 words on pretty much any subject I have even the vaguest idea about, but 3,000? Difficult. I realize there's more interesting in my life than I think there is, but not a lot inspires me to write, and me trying to write when I don't feel I have anything good to write about is like me trying to jog through an Olympic swimming pool filled with peanut butter. I could probably, eventually, technically make it, but it would take way too much effort and I would be exhausted at the end. And like Dad said, there's a difference between my job, which is central in importance, and my hobby, which shares space with all my other hobbies. I realize I am sounding whiny. I often do this. It is a trait of my personality, at times.

Steve: Einstein? I don't get it.

Dad: Pretty much. Running is getting easier...I plan to try three miles tomorrow. See how that goes. I think I can do it - I made two miles without even getting seriously winded. This is getting easier all the time. And it sounds kind of silly when you put it that way...

Da Ann'd.

This Just Plain Isn't Going To Work

I can't keep up a schedule of three updates a week. I missed a full week, due to several different reasons, but I can't keep updating three times a week. I honestly can't. There are a couple of reasons for this.

Interesting, notable stuff just doesn't happen to me that often. Honestly. Most of my days can be summarized by saying "I woke up rather late, went to class, met someone I knew, talked for a while, ate, returned home, messed around a lot on the Internet, bummed around in my dorm, and went to bed." Coming up with things to write about was getting increasingly difficult. This isn't helped by the fact that I set a bad precedent early on for writing enormous blog entries that spanned multiple pages, and was now forced to come up with filler stuff and describe what seem like, to me, very boring activities, just to fill up space.

That's just it - the whole blog was getting increasingly difficult to write. You may have noticed, all six of you that read this, that updates were getting steadily more sporadic in the last few weeks/months. I'd say weeks. The answer to that is that it started feeling like a chore, like something I had to do. There were times when I dreaded having to sit down and come up with a couple of pages of stuff that would be even mildly entertaining to read about. And that's really not the point of this exercise at all. It's supposed to be fun, you know? The funness has declined considerably recently. It almost feels like an annoying, recurring homework assignment.

So I present to you a couple of options for the future of this blog. I'll let the readers, such of you as there are, decide. (Note: Anyone who reads this blog but doesn't often [or ever] comment, well, now's the time. I need to know these things.)

1. I can keep the update schedule as it is, and even update it more often, four or five days a week - but each update will be far shorter than the past ones have been, ranging from about a page on the outside to just a couple of paragraphs on the inside.
2. I can keep the length the way it is, but reduce my update calendar to once a week. A week is about long enough for me to accumulate enough interesting stuff to write about. (And yes, the Increasingly Inaccurately Named Weekly Luke Report flashbacks are beginning, but if I say once a week updates, I mean once a week updates.)

Either way, I'll try to put up a short story of mine about once a week. I've been writing a bunch of them lately, and some of them should be published. Some of them, I don't ever want people to see them. But some need to be seen, so I'll post 'em up about once a week. I may skip weeks without warning or provocation. But that's the way it is.

Bad news, I know, but this is how it has to be. It doesn't help that several different forces are conspiring to rob me of my free time. Between my increasingly-maddeningly-difficult Writing for Mass Communication class, my running around trying to secure the job at Rock104 (oh, on that regard, Mr. Guscott says that when I bring him one more tape, on Friday morning, if it's good, he'll give me a beginning shift right then and there. Woot!), and various and sundry other tasks that are eating up my spare time, I find myself lacking the time to post long, frequent updates, anyway.

(I'll still do these.) The Luke-Approved YouTube Link of the Day is probably going to be (well, it is) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3q_iqrvnC_4 I didn't know The Onion even had a TV news network, but here they are, talking about how the US gave billions in foreign aid to Andorra before realizing that it was not, in fact, a war-torn African country, but a wealthy European principality. Good stuff.

REPLIES.

Steve: You should very much swing by. And I'm not sure how many more plays I'll write, but I've been tightening up this one gradually. Your prattle about healthy eating only serves to contribute to my general pool of annoyance on the whole subject.

Michelle: Hiya. And oh, darn, I completely forgot to call you when I went down last weekend. Sorry about that. >_> I'll find some time to meet you before the end of the semester, I promise.

Jake: Well, it's for Joe's own good. Kevin has his reasons for wanting Joe to go away, he just takes a very roundabout way of showing him.

Dad: The trick is that Kevin is not, in fact, a standard teenage male. And anyone willing to put up with him long enough to date him is pretty obviously not a standard teenage female. Kevin went on and on because he enjoys doing it, and his girlfriend is willing to indulge him in it, at least for a while. (The whole exchange takes less than five minutes.) I saw the eclipse, it was awesome.

Mom: See my comments towards Dad's comment. My teacher liked it, and I guess Joe just isn't the sort to hit people.

Karen: I've been editing it bit by bit over the last few days, especially considering as I'm going to act it out at my theater class tomorrow (with me playing Kevin, of course). That's, er, an odd poem.

Olive-Oil Man: Who are you, exactly? And why should I care about the cleansing properties of olive oil vs. shampoo?

My Stoppard-Esque Play. Also, I Finished Saturday's Post.

So go and read it. I commented, I replied, I finished things up. Sorry about slacking...I know it kind of is hypocritical of me to demand comments and then not follow through with my side of the bargain. I'll do better, I promise.

So, as I promised in the last post (if you read it), I went to go see a bunch of scenes from Tom Stoppard plays, and was inspired by this Stoppard deluge to write my own Stoppard-esque scene for a play. I like it a lot, and I'm bringing it into class tomorrow. Maybe if it's good enough, I can act it out some week in the future with Mallory. Who knows?

Here it is. I haven't titled it, but the main idea is that there are two roommates, Joe and Kevin. (Credit to Mallory and my other classmate Nathan for the names. Everyone knows how badly I stink at names.) Joe is trying to subtly hint to Nathan that he wants the room to himself for a while to bring a girl in, while Nathan is amusedly repelling him at every turn.
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Scene: A dorm room at a university. The room is standard dorm-room fare; two beds, desks and chairs, posters of sports teams and movies up on the walls, bookshelves, an empty pizza box on the floor, etc. Kevin is seated at the desk, typing on his computer. He’s wearing a Bills T-shirt, jeans, a digital watch, brown shoes, and a black bandanna. His desk is next to a closet, with a closed door.

There is a rattling sound, such as keys fumbling to get into a lock, from offstage to the left. This continues for five or ten seconds. Kevin does not react. Eventually, an unlocking sound is heard. Enter Joe from stage left through the door. He’s wearing a gray polo shirt, black slacks, black loafers, and a brown belt. Seems hesitant.

Joe: Hey, man.

Kevin: (looks up) Oh, hi, Joe.

Joe: Why was the door locked?

Kevin: Does not a man have a right to his privacy? I simply can’t concentrate when every simpleton with no superior occupation can come barging in and disrupting my hard-earned concentration.

Joe: What? I...whatever. Hey, uh, I got something to ask you.

Kevin: Shoot.

Joe: Are you in here...for any particular reason?

Kevin: Say what?

Joe: I mean, is there any reason in particular that you have to be here?

Kevin: Where?

Joe: Uh...the room?

Kevin: Ah. Next time, be more specific.

Joe: What?

Kevin: I thought you were taking a more metaphorical route. Asking me my life’s purpose. Why am I here on God’s green earth, that sort of thing. A bit heavy for casual conversation, but I figured I’d play along.

Joe: I don’t...never mind. What I’m trying to say is-

Kevin: No, you’ve touched upon a very valid point here, Joe. Why are any of us here, hmm? Why exist? Why the quintessential “to be”? Is there a reason, behind the selfish fulfillment of our own small and mortal desires?

Joe: Did you just come back from philosophy class?

Kevin: No, that’s Wednesdays. Anyway. What’s up? Why am I in the room, you ask?

Joe: I guess.

Kevin: I was just doing some homework.

Joe: Is there any way you can, uh, do it somewhere else?

Kevin: Why?

Joe: Well, I’m just wondering.

Kevin: A curious thing to wonder, in the absence of a stated reason.

Joe: I was just wondering, you know, if there’s any reason you have to be here, I mean, specifically here. In the room.

Kevin: It’s my room, isn’t it? Don’t I have a right to be here?

Joe: Sure, but it’s my room too.

Kevin: And I’m not abridging your right to stay. Feel free to linger as long as you please. I’ll even go the extra mile and suppress all my questions about your reasons for being one place or another, on account of I’m feeling generous today.

Joe: What? You’re not making any sense.

Kevin: Really? I understand everything I’m saying.

Joe: Sometimes, you’re the only one who understands what you’re saying.

Kevin: Are you telling me that communication should be a two-way street?

Joe: I guess.

Kevin: You and all the others. You’re all the same. Why can’t conversation become the art of self-indulgence, like so many other art forms have?

Joe: Look, all I’m asking is if I can have the room for a little while.

Kevin: Don’t you already?

Joe: I mean to myself.

Kevin: Really? Then where will I sleep, hmm? Where will all my things go?

Joe: I just mean for a couple of hours, man.

Kevin: I suspected as much. I know you’re not the sort of person to up and evict your roommate for the low crime of speaking in circles, but a man must always err on the side of caution.

Joe: Well...can I?

Kevin: Have the room to yourself for a couple of hours?

Joe: Yeah.

Kevin: Well, I don’t know. I was doing something, you know.

Joe: Can’t you do it somewhere else? Like the study room?

Kevin: The study room? That disheveled den of obfuscation? Between the over-caffeinated crammers struggling to push a semester’s worth of information into their brains in three hours and the couples who view the place as a safe haven for the most blatant public displays of affection imaginable, I’d hardly get a word written.

Joe: Can you go to someone else’s room?

Kevin: Yes, but then I fear I’d have to have this exact same conversation, only with the roles reversed, and you know how I hate seeing my true self reflected, even if only in an exchange of words.

Joe: What?

Kevin: Besides, nobody else is on the floor. They’re all at the concert downtown. All their doors are locked fast.

Joe: Oh. Really?

Kevin: I’m afraid so. The siren songs of the local garage bands have worked their hypnotic magic, and the floor is vacant.

Joe: Dang.

Kevin: Thus is this potential avenue of egress closed.

Joe: For God’s sake, man, I just want the room to myself for a little while.

Kevin: Why?

Joe: Uh, well-

Kevin: You need to accomplish something that cannot be interrupted by the prying eyes of bystanders? Something so secretive and intimate that not even I, your roommate, am privileged enough to witness?

Joe: Sort of-

Kevin: Are you going to masturbate?

Joe: What?! No!

Kevin: Oh, so you’re going for more of a hands-off approach?

Joe: What the hell-

Kevin: No, never mind. Forget I said anything.

Joe: What are you talking about?

Kevin: Delete those last two statements from the record. Inform your mental stenographer.

Joe: You’re not making any sense.

Kevin: Well, you’re repeating yourself.

Joe: Agh. Talking to you is like...playing tennis against a wall.

Kevin: Really?

Joe: I can’t make any goddamn headway. No matter what I say, you throw it back in my face.

Kevin: An interesting simile.

Joe: Just shut up and listen to me for like five seconds, will ya??

Kevin: This should be good.

Joe: I need the room because I want to spend some time alone with...a friend of mine.

Kevin: A friend?

Joe: Yeah.

Kevin: What kind of friend demands this level of privacy?

Joe: A...good friend.

Kevin: Well. A good friend, you say. Gosh, has my curiosity been sated. You have a way of piercing the veil of confusion and vagueness with your one-word descriptions, do you know that?

Joe: Look, you asshole, I want to bring a girl in. All right? I want to bring a goddamn girl in, so you need to get the hell out. That plain enough for you? No more tricks? No more word games? I didn’t want to have to spell it out, you know, but you just won’t shut the hell up sometimes.

Kevin: ...That’s what this was all about?

Joe: Yes!

Kevin: You wanted to bring in...a girl?

Joe: Yes!!

Kevin: No.

Joe: ...What??

Kevin: Sorry.

Joe: Are you serious?

Kevin: Can’t help you there.

Joe: And why the hell not?

Kevin wordlessly reaches over and pounds on the closet door two or three times. It opens partway. A girl, clad only in underwear, partially emerges from the closet.

Girl: Kevin? Is he gone ye-omigod! (darts back into closet, slams door)

Joe: Oh.

Kevin: Right.

Joe: Uhh...

Kevin: Get it?

Joe: Um...I’ll just, uh...figure something else out...I guess.

Kevin: You do that.

Joe: Uh...bye. (leaves)

Kevin remains silent for a time, then pounds on the closet door again. It opens a crack.

Girl: Is he really gone this time?

Kevin: Yes.

Girl slowly walks out, eyes darting around for a glimpse of Joe. When she sees he is indeed not there, she relaxes.

Girl: You torment him too much sometimes, you know.

Kevin: Well, it’s for his own good.

(lights descend)
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I like it. Hopefully my teacher will, as well. When I emailed him to ask if I should undertake such a project, his reply was "Two words: HELL YES!" As I have said before, he is very neat.

The Luke-Approved YouTube Link of the Day is just the funniest and stupidest thing I've seen in a while. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0dj1V_qHC8c It's the Burly Brawl from The Matrix: Reloaded, done in LEGO form. Animation is terrible, but it's pretty amusing.

REPLIES.

Note: When I was finishing up Saturday's post, I replied extensively, then realized I was replying to Saturday's comments. So I cut them with Ctrl-X and thought I would paste them into this post with Ctrl-V. I forgot about this when I copy-pasted the play I wrote, thus losing those comments, so now I must re-write them. Damn everything.

Mom: I know, I know. And are those really the only three words? Maybe the only three common words...I'm sure some obscure scientific words don't rhyme with anything. I sent the box. Ren Fair should be fun. I'm looking forward to seeing Grandma, Grandpa, and Linda. As for special meals?

- Hamburgers (especially Omaha Steakhouse burgers, + a few turkey burgers to mix things up)
- Tacos (lots of them, with extra meat)
- Fish (salmon or tilapia, swordfish if possible)
- Spaghetti (with garlic bread made from that French bread, very good)
- Grilled cheese sandwiches (with Muenster)

Those are good suggestions. As for vegetables, spinach seems to be working for me. Just the leaves, though, not cooked and especially not canned. Maybe a little garlic to put on it, I've heard that's worth considering. And yes, I hope to get in decent shape for skiing.

Jake: You did what now?

Steve: It's not about cravings, it's about convenience. I'm hungry at the Reitz Union, and there is a Wendy's like four feet away. I'll probably never cut fast food or junk completely out of my diet, or eat as well as you, but some effort is still good. Are you seriously touting the health benefits of beer?? Of course I'll never smoke. I tried one of Michelle's cigarettes (just to see what it was like, not because I had an interest in starting) and it tasted terrible. I had a smoky taste in my mouth for like an hour. And it made me cough everywhere. No sir, I don't like it. Good to see you've gotten off milk. Nineteen days.

Dad: I've only been running every other day. Even so, I feel like it's getting easier and not harder. My legs are hurting a bit, but I can generally ignore that, for the most part. It's the wind that's giving me trouble, and even then, not much. Marc tells me that without good running shoes, though, I may develop shin splints, and that is a seriously bad thing. So I may buy a pair. Could I convince a fellow runner to help me out in that regard, wink wink?

The end. (On time? Complete?!? My word.)

What I Got Going On Recently, And The Like

Seriously. First off, I want to describe the RA retreat I went to. It was thirty-three of us in a big room with a bunch of RAs, various staff members, and a supervisor. We went around and did various little team-building exercises that were designed to, I don't know, let us get to know each other better.

Some were mystifying. We were divided into groups and made to come up with the name and genre of a band and a song by that band, in an exercise the point of which I still do not understand. It was pretty cool, though, we made a band called MENAL (a combination of the first letters of our first names, and some of our middle names, when we discovered just first names would have made MJNDL) and a song titled Bleeding Orange and Blue. My character was the drummer and backup vocalist who got pissed off when someone handed him a line to rhyme with that ended in "orange."

Some made slightly more sense. All our groups had to come up with properties that made a good RA or staff member, whatever...but then we had to draw a picture of an RA that symbolized all this. So this ended up with goofy nonsense like for "level-headed," we drew a level balanced on his head. For "inspiring," we drew him wings. For "knowledgeable," we gave him Yoda ears, since Yoda is wise and knowledgeable. I don't recall what the halo, the outhouse, and the yoga mat were for, but no doubt they had a purpose as well.

There were other things, but it's mostly more of the same. We had to pick ideal candidates from a list, discuss how we'd resolve certain situations, etc.

I did go running yesterday, with a friend of mine, who has promised to take me running every other day from now on. Since I'm running with someone:

1. I'll actually have the incentive to do it, since he said he'd beat me down if I didn't, and he's pretty buff, also
2. He keeps me going when I feel too tired to continue while we're actually running.

This second part was manifestly necessary. We ran two miles, which isn't bad for my first time in over a month, but I was nearly dead by the end of it. I am so, so out of shape, it is not even funny. Hopefully, this will fix that. Seriously, I was wheezing and sweating and my mouth was dry as a bone from all the gulping down air, it's ridiculous.

He'll be a big asset to me in the coming weeks and months, if I am to actually whip myself into shape. I have been eating better, though, and though I backslide occasionally and get fast food, I really feel that I have been making a difference. I feel better, less lethargic, sometimes.

This is sort of small, but I'll add more to it when I get back from the club I'm going to tonight with Vic, Kait, Mike, Kevin, and I think a few others.

Okay. So, the club. The club was pretty much exactly how I thought it was going to be - crowded, smoky, dark, and loud enough to pulverize iron. I had a few conversations with girls, which for a club newbie like myself I suppose is at least something. I asked two to dance, but one said she wasn't dancing at all on account of her feet were hurting (might have been a pushoff excuse, but whatever) and one said she had a boyfriend (more believable). Eh, if it was easy, it wouldn't be any fun.

I've made some observations as to the social structure of the place.

- Girls generally travel in clumps of two to five.
- Guys stand in lines of one to three, or at the bar. In the lines, they silently observe the clumps of girls.
- Of course, there are the requisite couples, and the rare mixed-gender group, but I've found that that often is a case of a couple grafting itself onto an existing clump.
- Penetrating these clumps long enough to make decent conversation is difficult. I haven't figured out the optimal way of doing this yet. Just saying "Hi, wanna dance?" may work sometimes, but I'd think it would be generally ineffective. Effective icebreakers are hard to come up with.

All right, that's that. I may give it a few more chances.

On Sunday, me and my theater class went to go see a production called An Evening with Tom Stoppard. If you've never heard of Tom Stoppard, he wrote Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, a spinoff of Hamlet starring possibly the two most minor named characters in that play. Their function in Hamlet is to arrive, be made to look like idiots by Hamlet, and then killed off-screen. Stoppard's play goes into depth about their personalities and their motivations, and their off-screen conversations, and it's generally pretty good.

He also, apparently, wrote a whole bushel of other plays. The performance we saw (directed by our teacher, I noticed, no wonder he had us go to see it) was a selection of twenty-two scenes taken from various of Stoppard's plays. At the end of it, I was so filled with Stoppard-esque material that I was inspired to write my own one-scene mini-play, done in Stoppard's style. This is Tuesday's post. Though if you're reading this, it's probably Tuesday anyway.

I went on my date with Rachel. It was quite nice. We went to Leonardo's By The Slice, a little pizza place just off-campus, and had lunch and talked for about an hour and a half about our families, our backgrounds, what we did for fun, etc. She said she had a good time, and later that evening she called me and asked if I would like to meet her for lunch on Thursday as well. I gave her the obvious answer ("Yes"), and it remains to be seen how that will go over. Oh, as well as that, we set up another date for next Monday, same time. So both the second and third dates are already planned out, assuming I don't really, really blow things on the second. Time for my compulsive overanalyzing of every word and every gesture on our first date, tally-ho. (Though I am told this is a bad idea.)

I ran another two miles today. Perhaps next week I'll start trying for three miles. I went alone, for the first time, as Marc, my running buddy, was too busy to come out with me. So instead I brought my mp3 player and set it to play "Artist - Dragonforce." If any kind of music will inspire me to run and keep running, it's them. I can't even sit still as I listen to their jammin' tunes and melodies. Yes, all their songs sound basically the same, but minor variations on an awesome theme = still awesome.

I had to rage at myself mentally to keep going for the last half-mile, as I was getting pretty tired. Fortunately, I was inspired by the presence of the nearly-full moon hovering in the sky. "All right, Luke," I said to myself. "If you stop running before you reach the end, the moon is going to plunge out of the sky and smash into Earth, killing billions. Are you going to accept a near-global apocalypse just because you're in a little pain? No? I didn't think so." I got through the whole thing, although my left leg kind of hurts now. Eh, I'll walk it off.

Ooh, an amusing anecdote. Last week in Sci-Fi class, we started to watch 2001: A Space Odyssey. Our teacher, who is the straightest-laced professor I've ever had, shared with us a story of the first time he and his friends, as college students, went to see the movie. "We decided to commemorate the occasion with some...special brownies," he told us. "We ate heavily of them, then went in to watch. I need hardly tell you that it was the greatest cinematic experience of our lives." I was agog to hear this, but he was not yet finished. "During the intermission," he continued remorselessly, "I was so out of it, that when I saw people walking around the lobby I thought 'How can they be moving around without their space-suits on??'" Quite hilarious. Yes, I know celebrating drug use isn't the best thing ever, but come on, it's funny.

The long and the short of it is that I'm going to bring in some brownies to the class on Wednesday. I'll really want to see my professor's face when I bring them in. I can just imagine the conversation...

Him: Lucas...are these?
Me: Brownies? Yep. Made 'em myself.
Him: No, I mean, what's in them?
Me: *shrug* I don't know. Try one and find out.

Obviously, they're going to be regular brownies, as I don't know how to get my hands on any special ingredients and consider bringing drugs into a classroom in the form of delicious baked treats (and sharing them with the professor) to be just about the stupidest thing I could possibly pull off, short only perhaps of bringing in a gun in a pie.

That's about it. (I say that too much. Whatever.) The Luke-Approved YouTube Link of the Day is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nid2IZ0h0yk It's called "Ashley's Song," originally from Wario Ware: Touched! but remixed for Super Smash Bros. Brawl. I like that jazzy style, and the lyrics are kind of wacky. It's about a, er, probably 9-10-year-old girl who's a powerful sorceress, but in the cutest possible way. You know.

REPLIES.

Mom: Thanks. And I seriously was joking about the lonely bit. Besides, everything seems to have worked out well enough. RA meeting went okay.

Jake: Here's hoping. You're running too? Do you really need to lose any weight? You weigh like six pounds as it is. Mono sucks, and now I get to blackmail you with Dan. Travis had knee troubles?

Dad: I know, I know, but it seems to have been taken in the spirit in which it was intended.

Steve: Come on, man, am I really going to marry a girl because of StarCraft? No. She'll have to have at least a commensurate knowledge of the Mario, Zelda, and Metroid series as well, as well as a fair experience with WoW. I already described her - athletic. Brown hair. And I'll probably be in Gainesville for the 1st.

Bye.

Update In The Morning

I'm tired. Today didn't go as well as I would have hoped, and I'm a little down. No need to reply to this, it'll be gone in the morning, by noon tomorrow. I guaran-freaking-tee it.

Edit: Ha! This is before noon! 11:52, chumps. Now all I need is some content. That'll, er, come real soon. Next hour or so. I'm writing it as you read this.

I had a lot to say, about the RA meeting I had last night, about the stuff I've done last few days, but all that has suddenly and seemingly become irrelevant. The answer as to why? Four short words: I got a date.

Ooh, those words are fine. Think I'll repeat them a bit.

I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date, I got a date.

That's...that's about enough. For now. I got a date. Heh.

So here's how it happened. The girl's name is Rachel. I had talked to her a few times previous and we hit it off fairly well, on account of it came out early in our conversation that she was a gamer girl. She spotted my "Rules of Video Games" T-shirt that my sister bought me for Christmas years ago (gotta call her and thank her for that), and mentioned that she herself liked to play the occasional game. Conversation ensued, and she said that she went to Video Game Club once a week on Friday's. I like the sound of that. Her exact words: "I like a guy who knows how to DDR." I do. But I'm out of practice and must practice heavily. It'll be good for me.

So last night at around 1:45 a.m., I went to the Graham Oasis convenience store across the street from Hume (how convenient), where she works and where I had met her previously. I didn't know she was working then, but I was pleasantly surprised to meet her. We talked a bit, and she mentioned that she had been up for the last 48 hours straight. Apparently, she had need to pull an all-nighter, and after that, had seen no reason to go back to sleep. So here she was, on a caffeine bender, as she described it. Conversation ensued once more.

Her: This is nothing. I've stayed up for three days at a time.
Me: Oh, I did that once.
Her: Any reason in particular?
Me: Ever heard of a game called Homeworld II?
Her: Uh...no.
Me: You know like, uh, StarCraft and WarCraft and those?
Her: Oh, StarCraft? I love that game. I'm looking forward to StarCraft 3. [She considers Brood War to be a separate game, she told me later.]
Me: (thinking) I might just have to marry this girl.

So that worked. A few minutes later, we had this conversation:

Her: How was your Valentine's Day?
Me: Not good.
Her: Aww, why?
Me: Because I'm so desperately lonely. (Editor's note: This was said in a joking fashion. I didn't bawl my eyes out in front of her. It was sent and understood as a joke. [I had asked a girl out two days previous, and made moves on a girl that night, with no success.]
Her: Well, maybe I could be your valentine. *bats eyelashes*
Me: Er...[While my brain is screaming at me You idiot! Respond! Get your rear in gear, mister, I want coherency and I want it now!!] Okay. Sure. I'd like that.
Her: Well, it's too late now, it's already tomorrow.
Me: Well, in that case, how about being my retroactive valentine?
Her: *giggles* Okay.

We talked for a bit more. I bought her a Mountain Dew, which she had mentioned drinking (she told me, though, that she got them for free on account of her job, which made me feel dumb), and a small heart-shaped box of candy. She liked them. We arranged a date for Monday afternoon to go and have lunch.

I left, because I had to leave on account of the store was closing. She gave me a hug as I was at the door, and as I pulled away from the hug I gave her a small kiss on the cheek. (Why? Because I had consumed vast quantities of sugar earlier, and was a little erratic anyway on account of finally getting a date, so my confidence was dangerously, recklessly high.) She smiled and blushed a little as she closed the door and walked inside.

That's really about it. I couldn't sleep, so I walked around the campus and up and down University road for a little while. Then I went to bed, woke up, talked on the phone a bit, and posted this here. A very unsubstantive update, yes, but...I got a date. That's all I want to think about.

The Luke-Approved YouTube Link of the Day is this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hue3B772hXA It could not be anything else. It could not.

REPLIES.

Mom: I may have gotten shot down, but I have apparently learned to compensate. Working on eating more vegetables. I'll be careful at the club, I know not to consume vast quantities of drugs and alcohol. I am not, after all, my sister. I'm not going to lie to you and say I haven't drunk at all at college, but I do so very, very seldomly. I might sign up for a simpler Spanish course in the fall, if my schedule allows.

Steve: Not that I know of, no. And bear in mind that I taste things much differently than you do. Onions I can't tolerate, not in the slightest little bit, raw or cooked. Garlic, maybe. Shut up about the milk. I'll send you that picture, trust me, I will. And yes, I concentrate too much in English to really learn another language well.

Mike: That's good. I'm looking for a house, I'll go back to the Apartment Hunters people on Monday. Distance is, of course, a huge factor.

Kelli: That is good. That is very good. Good to see you here. I had mono once, it sucked. I'm coming down next weekend, about five days from today. I'll look into Across the Universe. And yes, the background still goes blinkety-blink.

Dad: I'm emerging, and the fact that I got a date is helping this along enormously. I'll give things a try. And if this girl doesn't work out, well, I will find another. My confidence just needed boosting, is all.

End.

Witty Title Goes Here

Theoretically, it should, at least.

I really don't have much to talk about. I'm kind of bitter, on account of the girl I've been sort of hoping to go out with for the last month or so just turned me down. As nicely as possible, certainly, and we're still good friends, but...eh. It's the first time I've really had that happen, had a girl I've been after for a while spurn me like that. It was the old "You're sweet, and I like you as a friend, but I just don't see you like that" talk. Sigh, sigh, very deep sigh. But, as the saying goes, life goes on. 24,998 other eligible girls on campus, after all.

But in the realm of good news, I'm making strides on getting that radio job every day. Basically, I'm going to the studio whenever I find myself with a free hour or something and working on recording my voice in mock "breaks." Breaks are those bits on the radio when you hear the jocks talking about the next song coming up or the contest that night or something. I went in yesterday and recorded myself doing five breaks, and today I shared them with Harry Guscott. He told me that I was much improved, and in fact was doing "more than adequately" (which from him, apparently, is high praise), but I still had a few problems. No biggie, that's what practice is for.

Today I participated in a taste test at the Food and Nutrition building. I figured they might appreciate my unique perspective. They gave me cups of juice and told me to rate them and give brief descriptions. I sampled pineapple-orange (I liked it) and apple (not so much). The cool bit was they gave us crackers and a glass of water to cleanse our palates between cups. At the end, I got a coupon for 50 cents off a meal at one of the dining halls, so I went and had lunch there. I discovered that broccoli is another vegetable I can eat, so I had some of that and some spinach. Victoria recommended that I get some garlic and cover my vegetables in it. She may or may not have been joking. Perhaps her goal is to get me to spray half-chewed garlic-and-vegetable admixture out of my nose with sufficient force to dent the wall opposite.

I'm sad to say it, but I have officially decided to drop my Spanish class. It has to be done. I can't compete in this class. I got a 39% on the first essay and a 58% on the first test. I don't even want to think about the oral report I would have had due in three weeks. It just requires a level of fluency that I don't have and can't acquire in time to succeed. My mother will be upset, and I commiserate, but frankly I know when I'm beaten, and I'd rather have a W on my transcript than a big fat F.

I went to my first session in the procrastination study. My doctor ("I'm not a doctor yet," he said when I addressed him as such. "I'm in the last year of my doctorate. I have two master's degrees, though," he said, when I looked a little suspicious. "I'm no newbie.") is an affable fellow named Bob, and I spent most of the first session just talking about my problem and trying to come up with things that symbolize it well. He wrote down some things on a piece of paper and suggested that I read it when I get up and go to bed. Whatever works, I say.

Eh. Not terribly inspired to write at the moment...I've been thinking of writing a new line of short stories. I call them "Protector of the Universe." It's about a human who was fated to be, well, the protector of the universe, and to this end on his 21st birthday manifested insane, godlike powers with which to keep a lid on things, cosmically speaking. The stories would follow him as he traveled around Earth, taking care of various supernatural discrepancies. Yeah, he's too powerful to be directly opposed by pretty much anyone, but in some of the best superhero stories I've ever read, the power of the main character is irrelevant to the story. Storylines of the Incredible Hulk and the Sentry directly reflect this - they're mostly too powerful for anyone to fight, so the story doesn't focus on their big battles, it focuses more on inner issues. His abilities take a backseat to what happens and a more psychological aspect, how he deals with things. Though he's in no danger of failing, how he takes care of business might be just as interesting. I'll write one and see how it goes.

Today sucked. There was a tornado watch, and of course tonight had to be the night that I walked all the way to the bookstore outside of campus, in a driving rain. And I think my umbrella has holes in it. Today seemed rife with, I don't know, ennui seems like a good description, if my definition of ennui being "a sort of tired boredom" is accurate. Overcast and rainy days always get me down. I'm not usually like this. Nothing seems terribly interesting. Eh. Either it'll fade by tomorrow or I'll have to seriously kick myself in the behind in the morning to get things going again. Maybe I'll pick something I feel strongly about and build up a head of rage. Anger always dispels depression for me.

Anger, to me, has always been greater than depression. Anger is a productive force. I don't believe depression has ever spawned anything at all useful in this world except maybe for some art. Anger is one of the driving forces of civilization, of invention, of passion and fire.

Tomorrow, if I have free time, I'll go to the Apartment Hunters shop I heard about from my RA, Ricky. Since I got wait-listed for housing on account of some misfiled paperwork, I pretty much have no chance of living on-campus next year unless I qualify to be an RA. So I'm looking for an apartment. Mike, if you're reading this, I'll find a place where your share will be around $2,000 a semester, or less if I can find it. I'm willing to pay a little extra on my share to keep yours down - frankly, even if I do this, it'll be less than I'm paying now. Hume is the most expensive dorm on campus, costing over $2,800 per semester.

I'm listening to music as I write this. My music player is on "Random." I glanced at the song I was listening to, it's by Metallica and called "My Friend of Misery." Next song, I think.

Ah, Disturbed's "Land of Confusion." Awesome song. I feel better already.

On the plus side, I'm going to a club for the first time in my life on Friday evening. Friday's going to be busy for me: from 4:00-7:00, I have my RA retreat. At 7:00, Dungeons & Dragons begins. And at 11:00, I leave for the club, whichever one it is we're going to. I left the planning and suchlike entirely to my friend Catherine, who has much more experience in these matters. It as yet remains to be seen how I handle the club scene. If it's at all what I expect it'll be - a smoky, poorly-lit room packed to the eyebrows with people trying to act cool and music pounding over speakers at a volume that violates certain laws of physics merely by existing - then I probably won't do it much. But, as I say, it remains to be seen how things will go.

And, that's about it. Today's Luke-Approved YouTube Link of the Day is probably going to be http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFtw7qW7Vcw This is for anyone who's ever wondered exactly why Captain Falcon has the move "Falcon Punch" in Super Smash Bros. As for everyone else, well, it's only thirty seconds long. Give it a try, it's pretty funny, in an over-the-top kind of way.

REPLIES. (in a bit.)

Steve: Truth. Twenty-six days.

Enish: Thanks for the vote of confidence, man. I truly appreciate it. You really have no idea how much you did to keep me going...

Steve: Whoa there, Skippy. I want to start eating better, not be a whole-grain and tofu-eating lunatic freak such as yourself. I can't stand whole-grain pasta, it tastes like it's made of sand, granulating to pieces in my mouth. (And no, I haven't just been buying the cruddy kind.) And I did get actual vegetables, not just juice, read the whole list.

I know about stadium runs. I tried to do it once, and became exhausted after about 15 minutes. I know, I know, out of shape. I'm working on it, dadgummit. I'll take the picture when I'm good and ready. STFU about milk.

Mike: Yes, yes, blame the action cards and not my supreme awesomeness. Bear in mind that you did have the Dreadnought and several other ships. I had, literally, a Carrier and a handful of fighters, out of range of helping.

Mom: I'm chipping away at this whole radio-station gig a little at a time. When I advance next is up to Mr. Guscott. He'll tell me when I'm ready, which I am hoping will be soon. There's no way to bypass Steven's milk-related objections, not now. He's on a roll. I'm actually eating raw spinach and broccoli as my main vegetable staples, at the moment. Haven't tried sweet potatoes. My posture is okay, better than it was. It's a slow process.

Steve: I have only one response: fermented milk??

Michelle: Good to see you still going. You had me concerned a while back. And thanks.

Dad: I am hoping so. I have my demo tape on me, but it's on a minidisc, and I have no idea how to convert that to a CD or any other medium. And I'm still working on the food, dangblastit.

End.

Today's Twilight Imperium Game, And My Radio Station Comments

I'll fill this in fully in a couple of hours. For now, I'm headed off to the Rock 104 radio station room, so I can get some of that on-the-scene training that Mr. Guscott tells me is so essential. They're there 24/7, unless they go out and cover some event, and my card key will get me into the building anytime, so I'm headed over now.

So, uh...bye. Back in a few hours, maybe less.

Edit: Uh, guess I'll update in the morning. I'm tired now. Not that anyone reads this these days, anyway. Honestly, this is getting to be a serious drag.

Well, it's morning. And here's the update.

Twilight Imperium. Boy howdy, is that ever a fun game. I mean, really. We began with an "accelerated start," which means that we all started off able to capture a couple extra planets than we normally would be able to. Combine that with the fact that my side of the board was rife with awesome planets while the other side was pretty much a star desert, supernovas everywhere and asteroid fields cluttering up the place, and I got a great start.

The real fun began when I researched War Sun technology, along with my friend the University (one of the races) across the table. I worked hard and spent lots of resources getting all the fiddly little prerequisites to get that, as it meant that I could build the unstoppable war machines known as War Suns. Death Stars, basically, but without the copyright infringement. Then, of course, someone had to play the bill Shared Technology (you can vote on bills in this game, pass laws, lots of fun), which passed overwhelmingly, which meant that my neighbors could copy my War Sun technology without any of the prerequisites. The long and the short of this was that every player had a War Sun by turn 3, something almost completely unheard-of. "There goes the neighborhood," I was heard to comment. "Even the University's got the bomb, er, the War Sun now."

My race was the Naalu, a bunch of psychic space mermaids, basically. We had the awesome racial ability to always go first. Always. I exploited this fully when it came to attacking, troop deployment, technology research, all that sort of thing. Grand fun. Especially when it came to all-out war between me and Mike, who had the Federation of Sol, I believe it was, the only earthlings on the table. "Their weakness is that they're balanced," it was explained to me. I...guess that makes sense. Most of the other races played were horribly overpowered, like my always-goes-first ability. Though attackers gain no specific benefits, the ability to always decide where conflicts are held is invaluable.

War Sun aggression continued. Soon, everybody had two War Suns, at least nearly everybody. Louis didn't have a single one for most of the game, though he ended up winning because he wasn't part of the four-player blood feud that was myself, Mike, Vic, and Matt. It went sort of like this:

Me x Mike
Vic x Mike (somewhat)
Vic x Matt
Me x Matt (by proxy)

I outmaneuvered Mike, and through a succession of lucky rolls, destroyed half his battle fleet not two spaces away from his homeworld. I had to contend, though, with the fact that though I destroyed one of his War Suns, he had five Dreadnoughts in production, and those things are nearly as scary. By the time I built up enough to make my move, he had his second War Sun rebuilt and ready to go.

We had another epic battle, but this time my victory was far from complete. Though I scrapped his entire fleet, I had nothing left but two damaged War Suns, no Fighters, no Dreadnoughts, not even Cruisers or Carriers. He could have moved in and mopped the floor with me. At that point, though, the game ended on account of we had to go immediately. This, of course, meant that we first spent half an hour picking up every piece, every chit, every scrap of cardboard with weird symbols and putting every card back in every deck.

I in particular had trouble with the deck of planet cards, the ones that gave information on the planets one could capture. I was handed the incomplete deck and told to alphabetize them, which I did. This took some time. Scarcely had I finished when someone gave me what I believed to be the second half of the deck and added, as an afterthought, "Oh, alphabetize these too." Annoyed, I turned back to the deck I had already alphabetized, only to find it nowhere to be found. Someone had picked it up in their vigor. Scowling, I alphabetized this new deck, and after no small amount of interrogation found the other part. I painstakingly put both decks together, and this time I was secure in the knowledge of a job well done, and most importantly, a job completed.

So, as any student of literary foreshadowing has no doubt already predicted, someone then plopped a third stack of previously unmentioned planet cards. From on high the command came, "Alphabetize these, too."

ARGH!

But we got cleaned up, finally, and went to the mall. Vic bought some new clothes, which she likes, and apparently the whole exercise of going shopping was to make herself feel pretty and dissuade herself of the notion - a previously unshakable notion - that her swollen cheeks made her look like a chipmunk. I pointed out, logically I think, that her lacking of several vital chipmunk characteristics, e.g., fur, tail, paws, etc., would tend to disprove this, but she was adamant about her chipmunk resemblance. So nothing for it but she had to go shopping.

The shopping complete, I dithered around at home a bit, getting a little work done on this stupid political science project I have due (I don't want to give details, it hurts my brain just to think about it), then I went to the radio station. WRUF, 103.7, Rock 104. Hopefully, my new workplace.

It was great. There's this somewhat complicated board with switches and knobs and slide-y things all over it, and lights go on and off depending on what you're trying to do, but I think I've got a pretty good handle on it at this point. The jocks - the DJs, they call them "jocks" - were very helpful each time I came, each of them showing me what I needed to do and asking if I had any questions, answering all I asked, etc. It was very neat.

Low-impact job, too. I inquired as to one of them, a sprightly girl named Summer, as to the pay of the position. "Minimum wage," she said. "But who cares? We get paid to sit here and occasionally press a few buttons, maybe talk into the mike twice or three times an hour, and answer the phone. It's the easiest job I've ever had, and it's pretty fun, too." Later, she said "I could come here and get paid to listen to the radio, watch TV, and go on the Internet. Or, I could go home and not get paid, where I would listen to the radio, watch TV, and go on the Internet. I know which one I want to do." This is gonna be great.

Obviously, I'll start with the terrible shifts to begin with, the 2 a.m. to 6 a.m. most likely, but as time goes by I'll be able to upgrade my shifts to some time when I actually intend to be awake and alert. Until then, I'll just have to rely on truly legendary amounts of caffeine, and catnaps before I head in.

So that's about it. The Luke-Approved YouTube Link of the Day has just got to be http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejweI0EQpX8 I don't know if anyone here knows what kinetic typography is, but for those who don't it's basically moving text to match the spoken words that the text matches. Hard to explain, but just watch it. This one is Abbott and Costello's "Who's On First."

REPLIES.

Before I begin, I would like to make a quick note. I lagged on this update, leaving it until, well, until tonight. I was even thinking of leaving it for tomorrow morning, when I noticed I had a comment on this unfinished post, by a guy by the name of Enish. He said that he read this blog, without even knowing who I am personally. Not only does this mark the first person who reads this blog that I don't know IRL, that I know of, but it really was a breath of fresh air, honestly. It energized me into finishing this post. It gave me hope, basically. To a writer, feedback and an audience are everything, and his note reassured me that I have both. I'll formally reply next post, but for now...thanks.

Steve: All right, but you being my last reader is a disquieting thought. It makes me wonder what about me drove everyone else off but kept you interested...You tell me to buy bottled algae without informing me of the terrible string-related deaths it could cause?!? I'm never taking your shopping advice again.

I was going to post this in the main blog, but this is more addressed to you. I went on a shopping run that would please even you, I think:

Package of baby spinach leaves
Bananas
Organic orange juice
V-8 "Fusion" fruit-vegetable juice
Package of broccoli
Elbow macaroni
Parmesan cheese

Except for the last two (old habits die hard, dangnabbit), I can't see you finding fault with anything I bought. What do you think now, nyah?

Magic has, I believe, improved as a result of the power creep. So much more is possible now, and not everyone does the same thing. In Mirrodin, it was obviously broken, and everyone did the same dang thing. The new sets, there are many, many paths to victory. There is no one broken card like Skullclamp that everyone just groans at, no single combo that everyone exploits. They're powerful but balanced. Vic was a little woozy, but mostly coherent.

I'm not going to...what? And as for "every cell phone can take a picture," no, they can't. My cell phone can't take a picture. My cell phone is nearly ten years old. It's the same brick that my parents bought my sister when she entered high school. It's got a new faceplate, but it's a brick all the same. And yes, fine, I'll use my digital camera to take a blasted picture for you. Eventually.

Shut up about milk. Twenty-seven days.

Jake: You should be. Tell the others to post. Hold knives to their throats if you must, but get them on here! Megacon plans are still in the making.

Bye.

One Person Replying. One. What Is This Nonsense?

I never thought I would be saying this, but Steven Nebb just pwned everybody. He posts the only two comments! What is this ridiculousness? That post wasn't that boring. Not even my own mother deigned to comment, and I'll not even speak about Jake or ANYONE ELSE WHO NEVER COMMENTS. Hello, Kait, Matt, Dan, Daniel, Travis, and anyone else I forgot. How's it going. Oh, wait. I don't know. Because you never write.

And frankly, I feel your pain. I really have nothing to write about. I haven't been doing anything of special importance. Game Night was intriguing, I guess I can venture a few paragraphs on that.

I participated in a Magic: the Gathering Morningtide draft. I like the new Morningtide cards, they are very neat. I built a blue/black Faeries/Rogues deck, although this was somewhat complicated by the fact that three out of the five of us at the table were building blue/black. The schmucks were inhaling all of my good cards like smoke. The other two guys built red/green and mono-white, respectively. Of course. The mono-white deck was pretty good, and I never played against the red/green.

It was cool. The first match I played, against the mono-white player, went well, at least in the beginning. First game, I stomped all over his face. ("Not the face!" I could hear him cry. Well, not really.) Second game, I was color screwed, drawing Island after Island and sitting on five black cards in hand. So I lost. Third game, I was just straight-out mana screwed, sitting on seven cards and two lands. The occasional card I actually could play was swiftly smacked down by my opponent, who really didn't expect to win and was both shocked and gratified at his deck's success.

But this lackluster performance was more than made up for by my second match. I was facing a blue/black/white Wizard deck. Let me tell you, the two games we played were both absolutely epic. I know that word is overused, but within the standards of Magic games I've played, these are surely ones that will endure the test of time, evade the erosion that memory brings, and stand out as completely awesome games. We both had so many tricks and counter-tricks, it was absurd. I beat him in the first game, but I had an awesome starting hand, so it wasn't too difficult. Long and entertaining, though, as he had trick after trick.

The second game was even better. Out of 40-card libraries, we were both down to about six or seven cards in each library at the end of the game. It stretched on and on and on. We all drew all of our best cards, and we always, always had a response. He tried to draw lots of cards with Mind Spring, I had a counterspell in my hand (counter target noncreature spell) from the beginning. I tried to play two Faeries that got bonuses from one I had existing on the field, he killed one and dynamited the existing one while the second was just coming into play. It was a long and epic battle, one I eventually ended up winning as well...at one life. And I held this for five or so turns, too. Quite amazing.

I forfeited the next two matches. I wanted to play other games with my friends, my opponents weren't going to complain as they just got a free win, and there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to top those two games. They were perfect.

Next, I played the dice-rolling game from Pirates of the Caribbean, though I am given to understand that said game far, far predates the movie. But that's where I first saw it, so whatever. I ended up losing to the far older and more experienced Greg, who beat me with one die remaining. Narrow victories and defeats were the order of the day. Then we played Fury of Dracula, which I have described in some detail in previous posts, and which ended in a disappointing draw after we ran out of time.

After that...hmm...I decided I'm going to live with Mike next year, Mike being one of my friends from the game club, who has often commented on this here blog and is a pretty neat guy if you don't consider all of his gaping personality flaws and crippling defects besides. (Kidding.) I haven't actually figured out how to accomplish this mighty goal, so tomorrow morning I'm going to Housing to bellyache at them and lambast them for having a rotten website interface. I can't get anything done there.

What else? Victoria got her wisdom teeth out Wednesday morning, and I agreed to drive her home after the surgery. This caused me to walk all the heck over campus, up and down various roads, getting horribly lost, tired, and hot. I walked everywhere until I found the car, then I drove back and forth fifty times because I couldn't find where it was I was supposed to go. When I found it, Victoria wasn't there. (She had been waiting inside for me to call her.) We eventually figured it out, but it took some doing, and my legs have been all cramped up all today on account of all the walking.

There's really not much else to say. Not much cool stuff happens up here...I'll try and figure out more stuff to post next time.

The Luke-Approved YouTube Link of the Day is this odd little piece that people swear up and down is a real interview, but looks like something that came straight out of Monty Python. It's called "The Front Fell Off." http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=WcU4t6zRAKg

REPLY. (grr)

Steve: I'll probably go in tomorrow morning to the radio station, I went ahead and did the survey today. He, Mr. Guscott, said I could come in whenever I was ready, and he seemed sincere, but even so I'd best not keep him waiting. And yes, the concept is a very neat one. But there's a lot of technical stuff I need to memorize in addition to just speaking and calling songs. So not easy.

Bottled algae? Disgusting sounding. And as for why: I'm a sucker for a smooth talker. I already take multivitamins, so no troubles there. I don't want to take the picture yet, I'll take it when I'm bloody well good and ready. Episode II rocks. I know Mewtwo got cut, but he was such a rotten character that it really doesn't matter. (Not that Pichu was winning awards, but still.)

Again with your anti-milk tirade. Don't let this become the new cantaloupe. I can't handle it. My mind would fracture under the stress.

Bye. (If anyone but Steven is reading.)

Steve, Stop Blithering About Milk

For it is good for you, and quite tasty besides. I have an expert's opinion on the subject, and that overrules your milk-is-bad tomfoolery. Yes, I could respond in the replies section, but I feel that this was entirely necessary. If for no other reason, then so that I could use the word "tomfoolery" in a sentence and have it mean something.

Took a test today. It was about grammar. Fortunately, I know how to grammar quite well. I can spell nearly flawlessly, too. It's one of the biggest advantages I have going into a writing-based profession. Read over this blog sometime and try to find spelling errors. No doubt there are some, but not many. And I don't use spell-check, either. Not here, anyway.

How did I attain this? Online games. It started with StarCraft, where a friendly individual named...oh, what was his online name...Evangelion, as I recall, shamed me by typing correctly compared to my un-capitalized, un-punctuated, poorly spelled claptrap. This would be, oh, eight or nine years ago, I think. StarCraft was still relatively new back then. I resolved immediately to improve my typing skills. This was not easy in a game like StarCraft, where twitch movement is pretty much mandatory for playing tournament-level. Happily, I mostly avoided playing at tournament-level, or in fact playing the main game at all. I preferred the user-created quirky mods known as "Use Map Settings," where anything from any given Lord of the Rings battlefield to the D-Day invasion of Normandy could be faithfully represented in StarCraft form. Ah, memories.

I kept practicing, but World of WarCraft really brought me into my own, as far as accuracy goes, as well as speed. In WoW, you can freely misspell (one word that always, always looks wrong to me) and people will generally understand you, but type slowly at your peril. Unless you're fast enough on the keyboard, one of two things happens.

1. You don't communicate the necessary information to your teammates, such as "Oh, look, it's a bear," and your group crumples due to a fuzzy surprise attack.
2. You communicate precisely. However, while you were communicating precisely, your teammates all fell in battle because you weren't there to support them, and you get eaten by the aforesaid bear.

So speed is treasured. By this time, I had accuracy down, and the game helped me master speed. Between the two, I can type at 80 words per minute and get all the words right as I'm doing so. This blog has also offered me extraordinary practice in this regard. So, all's well. One less thing I need to worry about in my already horrendously difficult Writing for Mass Communication class.

Today I had an interview. As some know, I am applying for a position to be a deejay at the Gainesville-based radio station Rock 104. I'm not strictly going into telecommunications, it's true, but there are several things to consider. I need experience, any experience, and this'll be good to put on the ol' resume. Plus, at the rate I've been burning through my funds recently, I'll need the extra cash around the place.

Anyway, the interview went okay. Not great, but okay. The guy, a Mr. Guscott, gave me a piece to read of the sort that I might normally read on the air. While I was there, I honestly believed I wasn't doing too badly, but now that I look back on it, I realize what a piss-poor job I did. At first, I read it like a laundry list, then I went to a Sotheby's auctioneer. When that failed, in my nervousness I divided every sentence in my mind into three parts and dropped needlessly wide verbal punctuation between those parts, some of which stretched on so long Mr. Guscott thought I had just up and died between words. Then I developed other problems.

But he was charitable. I've really had no experience in the field, after all, and he was willing to take a chance, he said. I realize what the problem is, really. I'm trying to read these lines with the same dramatic weight that I use in my theater class, carefully enunciating (I've been told it's a weak point of mine), and this is obviously not the style to use for a rock music station. So I'll go over the sample script he gave me about five thousand times and listen obsessively to the station to figure out exactly how I should be speaking, then impress him when we meet on Thursday by reciting it in the correct style and from memory. Unless I get nervous and screw it up again. In which case, I might as well just flee in shame right then and there.

After the verbal practice, he started naming rock bands, fairly well-known rock bands, to see how well I knew the field. He would name a band, and I would have to name either a song, an album title, or the lead singer. He named seven:

Red Hot Chili Peppers - I brought up "Around the World" and was complimented on an unusual choice. Maybe he expected "Californication"?
Pearl Jam - I was stymied. I know the name, but not the band.
Foo Fighters - I was so desperate, I almost said "Kung Fu Fighting?" But I imagine that wouldn't have gone over well, and didn't respond. Things weren't looking good.
Nirvana - I know "Smells Like Team Spirit," but only because of the Weird Al parody "Smells Like Nirvana." In retrospect, I should kick myself for not immediately thinking of Kurt Cobain. Even I know his name.
Metallica - I brought up "One" and "The Black Album." He seemed pleased when I mentioned that I had four Metallica albums on my mp3 player.
Guns 'n' Roses - I know no songs by them, by title anyway, but I could correctly place the lead singer as Axl Rose. Weird name.
Pink Floyd - The first thing that popped to mind was "The Wall," but only because my sister made me watch it one time and I still can't manage to expunge the memories from my brain. He went ahead and gave me credit for "Another Brick in the Wall."

So, five of seven. Maybe four and a half. Not bad, better than I'd done in the speaking portion. Mr. Guscott mentioned that I would probably have to stay at least during part of the summer, and I responded that the first part would be much more ideal for me. So I might be staying in Gainesville an extra month or so, I don't know exactly. While I'm here, I might as well take some courses, try and play catch-up. Though I can't commit at this point, I don't even know if I've got the job yet.

He gave me a packet of information and told me to see him on Thursday so we could tour the station. I see this as good news, and an opportunity for advancement. But at the same time, I see it as completely aggravating, as it displaces an earlier appointment.

Here's the thing. I've been trying to sign up for this case study on procrastination for some time. Like the old joke, I kept putting it off, but eventually last week I emailed the girl in charge and she sent me a list of possible meeting times. They were all taken. So I asked for a different time, say, Thursday morning. She agreed.

Then I got the appointment from Mr. Guscott. His earliest slot was Thursday morning. I accepted unthinkingly, and cursed myself when I realized the problem. So I emailed the girl back and asked to push it to next week. She said sure, Tuesday morning would be fine.

Then I went and completely forgot about my appointment with Mr. Guscott, and missed it. Apologizing profusely, I went to him on Friday, but he seemed okay about and penciled me in for his only free time early next week (you can see where this is headed) - Tuesday morning.

So, once more, I emailed the girl and asked to push it back yet again. Thursday morning, we decided, would be the final and immutable meeting date. And I just remembered a few hours ago that that was the time that I agreed to meet Mr. Guscott at the radio station so we could go over the next phase of my interview process. I really don't know what to do. I could push back my meeting date again, or simply tell Mr. Guscott that of course I'm sorry but I completely forgot I had a prior appointment...could we do it on Friday? I'll figure something out. I'll talk to him tomorrow.

And I have a four to five page paper due on Friday. I don't know when I'll do it. I'll be busy a lot next few days. Meh, I'll figure it out.

I spend too much money. I went to the mall today and spent nearly $100, not including the money that Mom and Dad agreed to give me to pay for my new shoes. The worst part was that $60 of that went to buying this silly little buff-and-trim nail kit that I'm never going to use and don't have a good person to give to. (Worse than that...I bought two. It was a bargain. That's what I kept telling myself. This guy was a good salesman.) So, I figure I'll give Kait one, to apologize for not calling her often enough, and...er...I don't know exactly what I'll do with the other one. I am frankly puzzled. I'm not going to shine up my own nails, certainly.

I decided, quite randomly, that I was going to fast all today. I haven't had anything all day except a little water. The annoying part is that I'm not hungry in the slightest. I just have this vague feeling that I should eat something, more mental than physical. This irks me.

As for the Luke-Approved YouTube Link of the Day, it's not exactly YouTube, but it is quite amusing. Apparently, Jon Stewart, Stephen Colbert, and Conan O'Brien have been feuding over who "created" Mike Huckabee. Things escalated, and eventually it came to this: http://www.nbc.com/Late_Night_with_Conan_O'Brien/video/index.shtml#mea=213670 [EDIT: You'll have to copy and paste this manually into your browser. The hyperlink is screwing up for some reason.] Very funny.

REPLIES.

Steve: You'll see me when you see me. That is to say, I'm too lazy to take a picture. I'm FAR too lazy to sharpen my katana, and I'm only using it for display purposes (at home) anyway. I wanted a cool wooden catapult. I figured out how to fix my Steam games - I had the resolution set too high, it was choppy. I once again enjoy Team Fortress 2 and recently beat Half-Life: Episode 2. Great game. Awesome final sequence, sad ending.

Thirty-two days.

Jake: So? It's close to a month away, and anyway I figure a fighting game isn't that terrible to spoil in the first place. Yes, Gay-Man-Watch is back. As far as I know, the only characters they cut were Dr. Mario (I can hear Dan scream "Noooooo..."), Roy, Pichu, and Young Link, but they sent in Toon Link, so it's not really a cut.

Steve: Indeed.

Mom: I've started drinking skim milk already, forsaking whole entirely. That's good enough for me, but not good enough for Mr. I'll-Just-Write-A-Doctoral-Thesis-On-It Steven Nebb.

Steve: I sense more BS. And: quiet, you. I'll drink what I like. If milk were bad for me, I would have keeled over when I was younger. Ask my mother.

Peace.

Medieval Fair! Hooray!

You may have noticed that I abandoned the creative titling scheme I ripped off from my sister's blog. The official reason? I was getting bored with it. The unofficial reason? I was getting bored with it. I don't know why I even bothered to distinguish between the two, come to think of it.

So, we went to the medieval fair today. Lots of stuff to see and do, lots of entertainment all around. I went with Victoria, Mike, and Danny, the latter two being two of my friends from Wednesday night game club. (Well, Danny really knows Vic better than he knows me, I think, but whatever.) We saw lots of stuff and heard lots of interesting things, but one fragment of conversation stands out in my mind:

Me: I'm going to the ATM. I have no cash.
Vic: While you're out, can you get me a drink?
Me: ...
Vic: Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?
Me: Number one - no. Number two - what kind?

This struck them as amusing, so I committed it to memory.

I bought a lot of stuff. Some stuff I bought as souvenirs for my friends back home. I already told Dan what I got him, but I got some other things for some other people that I haven't yet revealed, nyah. And to my friends at home: Please understand that the fact that I didn't buy you something doesn't mean that I like you less than those I bought stuff for, it just means that

1. I couldn't find anything suitable,
2. The memory of your existence was temporarily blanked from my mind, or
3. I ran out of money. Which I did. But I got smaller things for other people.

For myself, I got a super sweet katana, that's fairly well-balanced if a bit heavy. Not extremely sharp, but I think it's awesome. Also X-treme, and l33t. I managed to get it for only $30, which was a steal when you consider some of the other prices I saw. I managed to smuggle it into my dorm room (my RA Ricky said that I could have it in the room as long as I didn't bring it out into the common area or expose it too much) concealed in my sweater. As I was walking out of Vic's car to sneak it in, Vic calls after me that it didn't look like a sword - it looked like I was concealing a long rifle in my sweater. Vic, sweetheart, I appreciate the warning, but did you have to yell that out so darn loud?? I could have inconspicuously sidled into my room alone without incident, but the booming roar of "YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'RE CARRYING A GUN!!" might have attracted unwanted attention. Don't sweat it, though.

Also, I got this totally awesome miniature catapult that's built historically accurately, according to the guy that built it. He was telling me about the history of siege weapons; his booth was called "Siege the Day." He mentioned that people today think that trebuchets are superior to catapults, that they carry a heavier payload or have a greater range or some nonsense. His explanation? (paraphrased)

"The Romans built their catapults like this [indicating model], see, and that was the dominant model for hundreds of years. After the Roman Empire fell, the dominant siege weapon became the trebuchet, after a good bit in the Dark Ages where siege weapons weren't used all that much. The reason they went to the extra trouble of making trebuchets - they load slower than catapults, see - was that they had lost the technology to make rope as strong as the Romans had made it. The rope they had couldn't withstand being part of a Roman catapult, so they had to come up with something else until they re-invented better rope."

Which is neat. This catapult fits in the palm of my hand, but it can fling a mini marshmallow over thirty feet. Hand-made and only $15. I was going to buy either the "cata-pistol" (the pistol-like version of his miniature catapults) or the do-it-yourself build-a-catapult kit, but I decided that I preferred workmanship over do-it-yourselfing and I wanted a catapult I could set up normally, not fire out of my hand.

Lots of fun at the fair. We saw, among other things, a living chess game, wherein all the pieces were either Robin Hood and his Merry Men or the Sheriff of Nottingham and his crowd of soldiers. Whenever one piece took another, the two "pieces" battled for supremacy, and the loser was taken. Pretty neat, all around, and Robin Hood forced Nottingham into checkmate near the end. At the end, as a matter of fact. Then they fought, and Robin won, of course.

The cool part about all that is we were in the "Gray" section. People sitting in the "White" section were cheering on Robin and his crowd, whereas people in the "Black" section cheered for Nottingham and his soldiers. (They had a sign that said "Evil will win because good is stupid!") We were in Gray, which meant we cheered for whoever was winning at the moment. Our rallying cry was "We don't care! We don't care!"

Also, we saw a pair of jugglers putting on a juggling show. They juggled and made jokes, and it was all-over very amusing. Highly skilled, too. In the same pavilion, a couple of elderly gentlemen were playing six or seven games of chess at once against whoever happened to have wandered up, and winning nearly all of them, which takes incredible skill, in my opinion. Very neat.

There were horses everywhere. I managed to avoid getting seriously damaged, but there were a few close shaves.

Me: *eating*
Mike: Uh, Luke?
Me: Yeah?
Mike: There's a, uh...
Me: What?
Vic: There's a horse.
Me: ...Where is it?
Vic: It's-
Me: It's right behind me, isn't it.
Vic: Yep.
Mike: Right there.
Me: Sigh.

I walked away. The horses left a few seconds later. It was only then that I breathed in, for the first time in that whole exchange. Thank you, tuba-playing lungs, I am awesome. I still sneezed all over the place, because it was dusty, but whatever. I can't win all the time.

What else, eh? What else...As far as the fair goes, that's about it. I'll probably be headed down to Wellington either next weekend or the weekend after, depending on how things go up here. I really couldn't say.

And, er, I'm out of things to talk about. Kind of short, I guess, but I encapsulated the fair nicely, and not that much else publicly important happened over the last few days. The Luke-Approved YouTube Link of the Day I have chosen is very neat. I originally had one planned to show, but at the last second, I found another that might be more mass-appropriate. As in, people who aren't my immediate friends will care. So I'll post them both.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aa2MfWnx2UM - The general-appeal one.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-5CIZYzL9s - The for-my-friends one. Video-game related.

REPLIES. (good lord)

Mike: Temporarily, my good man, temporarily. I can act like a clever ruse, er, like one who performs a clever ruse, except I actually am performing a ruse, and...well...what's wrong with new clothes, hmm?

Steve: You and your jeans fascination. Sigh. Why would I need to trust your computer skills when I have my infinitely-more-skilled (and more accessible) father to help me out? The icon trick is working, but any Steam games I'm playing recently, as in after the reset, are stuttering terribly and I don't know why. I can't play like this.

I really, really think you're just making that up about the taste buds. I mean, seriously. You showed me how well you can BS. This seems like more of that. And yeah, I saw the roster. Very awesome.

Karen: I suppose...It seems an affront to all that is male within me to wear a pink shirt to go out, though. I'll find something to eat, but I'm still convinced that Steve is making stuff up off the top of his head. And I'm still working on that new posture. It's a slog.

Jake: Might. But my haircut really isn't that dramatic, it's just a trimmed version of what my previous haircut was. Oh...don't I? And why didn't you comment? Gnargh.

Dad: You too, with the adapting taste buds? Madness! I don't believe a word of it. That doesn't make any sense. I can eat one food every day for a month and it tastes just the same as it did the first time I ate it. I did this once, last year. Enjoying Texas, are yer? And there are really that few native Texans larking about? How odd...

Mom: I guess. It just annoys me, though. Real Texas dirt, eh? Let's see how well real Texas dirt stands up to real Florida detergent. I can't just wear a dirty shirt all day long, even if it is Texas dirty. (Each individual dirt particle is the size of a hamster, or something?) I'll work on the veggies, as well as the posture. I'm glad you're enjoying Texas, and keep an eye out for those elusive creatures, the natives.

Farewell.