Slice of life - have a slice of my life.

So this happened at work today (aka yesterday):

My supervisor takes me to the side and asks me if I’ve been having fun at the expense of the new intern/summer temp. Baffled, I replied no. She then said that there was some “rumors” going around and that I’ve been acting… less than professional. Now, I’m stunned and my supervisor asks me if I had any idea what she was talking about – and I’ve got no idea. I’ve just been myself. Clearly, that was offensive – me being friendly, trying to be supportive and casual made this new co-worker uncomfortable. This proves two things – that the new intern is far too young to work in this kind of environment (man, I remember that I’ve had quite some shocks when I started in the business over seven years ago) and that my current work location is WAY too much conservative for me.

I promised my supervisor I'd be more professional in said co-worker's vicinity from here on now.

Getting back home, slightly discontent and mildly upset, I went to watch some blind reactions to A SLICE OF LIFE – having seen that episode plenty o’times already. Fun fact, they’ve got too many references to even notice them all the first time (hint: it helps if you’re focusing on the episode instead of commenting on it). I’m glad (And proud!) to say that I got the trio from the bowling the first time they appeared on my screen.

Having now watched several of blind reacts to this episode (in fact, I’ve lost count on how many I’ve seen), I’ve got maybe two who’d I’d watch again. Others… not so much.

However, it’s nice to see different people, fans and all sorts of Bronies gets excited about it – not to mention what the particular kind “gets” and what’s slipping past them. At some point, there’s going to be a study about this. I just know it. But I’m not going to do it. Almost makes me wish I’d taped my reactions to the episode and uploaded it to YouTube. Almost. Yeah. That and the message.

A roleplaying game (RPG) is a type of game where players assume the roles of fictional characters via improvisations. At its core, an RPG is a form of interactive and collaborative storytelling. Whereas cinema, novels and television shows are passive, RPGs engage the participants actively, allowing them to simultaneously be audience, actor, and author.

In case you didn't knew that.

Someday, I’d like to be able to sing Let It Go. I’m talking full costume, hair styled in the same fashion… the whole thing, only slightly different because it’s going to be me and not Elsa. I mean, sure, I’ve stepped into the shoes of Prince Hamlet and spoken the words “to be or not to be” (although it was at my mother tongue at the time, thus making them “å være eller å ikke være” – strange Norwegian letters ftw), portrayed a Norse God (as well as a Jotne (that’s like the intelligent, smaller cousin of a Troll – think of them what Goblins are to Orcs if that helps you get the idea) in the same play), been Willy from Where is Willy for an evening (that was fun) and made (almost) an entire LARP crew hate, dislike or want to murder me based on my performance as a (much) darker Rhett Butler inspired blockade runner Captain (filthy rich, smug, self-centered and spoiled – not to mention spiteful and a beater of his wife)… The point is, I think I can do a fairly decent Elsa.

And I think it would be good for me, too.

a kiss in the dark

One of my favorite thinkers, Gonzalo Lira, wrote a blog the other day where he said, "I'm down. I'm really down. I'm waiting for something. I don't know what I'm waiting for, but I'll know it when I see it." That's a beautiful thing. I felt really moved by the fact that this brilliant guy could stop in the middle of everything and admit that. No bullshit; just sharing the truth. People responded and started telling him what he should do with his life. They were all trying to be rescuers... But he didn't need rescuing. He didn't need to be fixed. He was just being honest. To me, that's the real power of all of this... We're sharing ideas. We're sharing the truth...

Lance Henriksen

Insignificant self inflicted rant.

After turning twenty-eight, I knew I wasn’t going to join the 27 club, so I made a drastic life changing decision instead.  I’m not yet ready to talk about it publicly, but if you read this and know what I’m referring to, then please keep it to yourself.

A former friend and coworker of mine once uttered the sentence “smile with sound” – come to think about it, it’s true. Even smiling silently makes noises of it’s own. Sort of.

I keep way to much stuff around.

Having spent the last days going through old clothing that no longer fit or will become unfit, I’ve yet to turn my eye at the junk that keeps on collecting around me – old birthday presents, gifts, random things I bought for an occasion that most likely will never happen… I’ve begun sorting through some items and done some hard choices, but I fear that several more is to come. I only wish that my resolve will not wither away.

I’m a brony. There. That’s one thing that’s become obvious, but that I’ll say out loud none the less.

Being me I’ve been neglecting myself in ways that will come back and haunt me later. But for now, I don’t really care – I’m who I am, I’m not giving in and despite it all, friends do really make the magic.

I don’t think I’m fit for being an officer.

Being sentimental.

A friend and a former coworker of mine once had to go through her wardrobe to get rid of some of her clothes. I was asked to help because I wouldn’t have an sentimental point on view, but provide objectivity (also, it was a nice way to score some of her clothing for myself because we were about the same build and height). The pile that was going to charity by donation grew quite large and I ended up with her favorite top that she couldn’t use much more after her body had changed since she had become a mother. I’m wearing that top right now. It reminds me of her and the fact that even if it wasn’t bought with me in mind, it went to me after it was worn, loved and given freely. Yeah. I might not have been sentimental when we made her hard choices, but I am now. And I don’t mind because it’s a good feeling.

An actress once said: “I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking her to love her.” I don’t know who that boy is. I don’t even know if that boy is a boy. But I know that I am that girl.

Acceptance.

“I've learned since then that no matter what a pony has done in the past, they have the capacity to change. They have the ability to better themselves and deserve the right to do so. Not allowing a pony to move beyond their past means they will forever be defined by it. Refusing them the chance to improve robs them of their ability to become more than what they were.

I've also learned that no matter what a pony is on the outside, great potential lies inside them. Assuming a pony is a certain way based solely on a label is ignorant and cowardly. It imprisons that pony inside the boundaries of that label. They can never live up to their potential because they are never given the chance.

In the end, I guess I learned that love and tolerance should always win out over hatred and prejudice. Not everypony is trustworthy but everypony deserves the chance to earn trust. Knee-jerk reactions and reflex persecution can destroy something precious before you ever realize just how special it was.”

 

...

This was written in a fan-fic about MLP. I’ll not give away the story, but if you wish to read it, it’s here. It’s the second fan-fic concerning MLP I’ve read so far and I’m quite happy with it. This is the first. Warning; both contains ponies in situations not appropriate for foals to read.

As the US have made a great stride in the right direction, I’ve come to grow fond of a character in Sense8 that at some point I think might be me. Well, similar to me, I mean. What I’ll become. What I hope to become. And that being that person will make me as happy as I can imagine now.

Let's put a smile on that face!

Yes, I’m fully aware that this might sound creepy and uncomfortable for some, but I still mean it. It fills me up with sunshine all the while glee springs across my face, beaming out to the world in a look that screams “I’m happy and I want to share it with you” – instant joyfulness in a glance. Yay! Happy-happy-happy!

Now, the way you actually say it makes all the difference – as proven when Joey Tribbiani makes “grandma’s chicken salad” sounds just a little too dirty for his friends comfort – the voice can be a powerful tool. Well, duh, you’re thinking, and you’re probably right in doing so, because knowing something is easy but sometimes it’s JUST a little bit trickier to actually do it. Hence, the smile – you’ve got the Joker and Pinkie Pie using the same theme, but at oh so very different results. And that’s what makes it all so fun – you’ve got lots to work with when it comes to smiling. So yeah, I smile. I like to smile. I enjoy smiling. Now, this is the place I could recite facts about how it makes the body healthier and the world a better place, but I’m not going to do that. I’m merely going to SMILE!

And the best part of it is than then you’re least expecting it, it sneaks across your lips and goes straight to your eyes, just because something random goodness fell into your lap when you tried to remain serious and was slightly tired and hadn’t slept well during the night. Complications may arise, but the smile will still be there when you’re all gloom and doom – gleam, gleam, gleam.

Also, I need new shorts. Short shorts. Like, really short shorts. Like, mini skirt length short shorts, tight, possible with the option of having stockings underneath… yeah, I’m going to need some new shorts now. Blue, jeans, fit. Yes, I’ve got great legs, but I’m not trying to flaunt them – not much, anyway – I mean, who doesn’t have some kind of issues they’d rather not talk about in public?

There’s going to be a larp. A very special larpthat a dear friend of mine will host (I’m the co-host, nothing more), raising some rather uncomfortable questions about life, death and existence. It’s not going to be mush smiling done at that particular last supper, that’s for sure, but it’s going to be another kind of fun.

Sometimes, we all need to be shown a little kindness.

So, there was a wedding last weekend. I spotted what most likely was the bride, late at night, walking past with one guy behind her – the groom, I assume – carrying her dress trailing. Now, the funny thing was that there was two or three other guys – also in suits, dressed for the wedding, I imagine – was, well, not singing, but loudly humming, an anthem. You’d guess it’s the Here Comes the Bride – such a beautiful work of Richard Wagner, by the way -  but it was in fact the Imperial March. Oddly as it may sound, it didn’t fit terribly bad. Now, having heard the anthem before I was able to even see the bride, I’m not really sure what I expected – but I know for sure, it wasn’t that.

And now all I can think about is that if I’m getting married I want the band to play the Imperial March at my wedding.

How to end this particular sprout of positive attitude? Here!

Yay?

Oh, I love my job, I love my job!

Yes, I do. Today (it was today when I wrote this), we had a group of Americans, all what I presume are decedents of outbound immigrants from what I for clarification will describe as “my” country, arriving. Half of them seniors, some of them not seniors just yet, all with a joyful attitude, joking, smiling and being general excited to be here. At least a dozen of them, all quite nice to deal with – in the end, I lost count on how many compliments I had gotten for my wonderful service and King’s English by the end of the shift. Simply put, you just have to appreciate that kind of day.

Guess I’d make a good protocol droid.

And now over to something completely different.

My health issues and my doctor’s continued puzzlement about the subject as well as my mental state does not change the fact that I am capable of enjoying myself when I can. Having now made numerous new relations – several whom I now consider very friendly and quite enjoyable – as well as being able to write and create stories – alone or with others – and do the multiple characters I always end up with in games have made me reaffirm my belief that BoR still is the place for me to be.

Yay.

Having one of these characters described as someone I shall not mention here have made it impossible for me to un-see the connection. However, no matter the similarities they share, I’m making a point of NOT having them merged in my mind and keeping them as two different personas. As they represent two completely unique and very far, far apart universes what should under NO CIRCUMSTANCES be joined against the… whatever common enemy they might or might not have.

I’m also continuing the Force Diary, now with the intention of regular updates. We’ll see how long that lasts.

So, the friendly neighbors have won again, this time with a top third score ever. Must admit, not heard the song.

Also, making a change here. Unexpected one, too. Can you spot it? Yay if you can, yay if you don’t.

Now, other than rambling on about my current projects and interests, I’m going to leave you a little riddle.
Thy skin is soft,

Thy lips are cold,

Butter and milk,

May you drown in the acid lake that no longer resembles a coast.

Pour the poor flour of life into the flag and set the sail to rule 34.

Asset, baby.

Om å lytte til dørklinka.

Hvis svaret ikke er  ”mat hodet ditt”, så tenker du mest sannsynlig på feil sang. Selvfølgelig blir noe av meningen borte i oversettelsen og det hjelper heller ikke at sitatet er lettere omskrevet, heller. For å være ærlig, så forventer jeg ikke at noen skal kunne rope på Alice for å få hjelp her. Ikke det at det ville hjulpet siden hun bare er tilstede ved tre anledninger på et sted mellom to og tre minutter. Uansett.

Etter først å ha ligget søvnløs en natt endte jeg med litt idemyldring med meg selv og visp, så var det en ny potensielle historie med en noe uvanlig ”skurk” som kunne bli fortalt, samt et forslag til bruksområde av en planet jeg har funnet på. Ja, begge deler faller innenfor Byrået (BoR, for de som ikke er in the know). Det minner meg: ny endring i linkene.

Videre ble helgen benyttet i yrkets tjeneste, både på privat og profesjonell arena. Å si at det var av variert grad, dog til tross for kunnskapsinnsanking, er ingen overdrivelse. Igjen tjente bekreftelsen mitt utgangspunkt korrekt.

The day I had my insides probed by a black tube was also the day I went to pick up my lightsaber.

Having your gut medically examined isn’t the most pleasing thing I’ve ever done, but it wasn’t that bad. A few gags and a good team to keep me (and tell me to remain) calm, a spray of something that tasted strongly of… something synthetic, I think – anyway, it numbed my throat before they could begin and down with the long, black wire looking equipment with a light and a camera. Wasn’t so bad.

Now, the lightsaber. It’s heavier than I expected. It’s got the look of steel in it, polished and darkened. It’s a sinister lightsaber with a red crystal in it. A lightsaber that promises and whispers. You might even say it’s prophetic as well.

I’m no Jedi. Never was, never will be. But Sith… the very definition of the word is one who follows the Sith Code. I do follow the Sith Code. Or I try to. Even made a story arch that was inspired by it. Not that it matters. Because even if I am what I am, I’m not what I want to be. So it makes little difference.

Four more weeks. Four more weeks before I’ve got an answer. An answer I’ve come to dread.

I do not fear death. I welcome death. It’s part of life. But what I do fear, is pain. Pain and the fear of the unknown, that is something to be afraid of.

And now they tell me tomorrow will be a day without sun.

News for Taqia.

It is not very hard to get access to a security record if you know the trick. Sometimes I wish it were not so easy. Servants of the Empire should protect their information better.

I accessed the holo recording. I saw the whole scene play out before my eyes. Then I did it again. After the third time I made a second copy. 

Lord Urthewour.

Lord Muqiush.

Two names, both known to me, both of them important to remember.

I considered frying the machine, but decided not to. A public terminal could be better off serving another purpose. 

Walking out of the booth, I dropped some credit chips at the door. In a few minutes, almost all traces of my visit would be compromised or gone. Any holo recording would not show my face. I do not wear a mask and a hood while in public for this reason alone, but it is a close second.

Three Kings, three Queens

Yes, it's the Magi Eve (hellige tre kongers aften). Or, as once joked while I was a drama student for over ten years ago now, it the hellige tre kongers saften.
Oh, come on, that's funny!

So, Taqia is in for a rough ride, Xarl just got promoted and Dar... oh, where to even start? I've got plans for Dar. So let's just leave it at that for now.

My fellow Kindred. We are gathered here today to answer to the threat from the lord/land cast in shadow and flame. Together, as the piercing morning light falls on the mountain, red and pink and almost crimson to the mind against the drop of white and pale, pale blue sky, we ride across, not on horseback, but side by side, as we stop to rest at what is unknown to most of us.

Oh yes, I remember the King and all his men, set on horses around a broken egg, a shell of a man, too peachy to be recalled properly. With the drop of a hat a mellon, an orange and Miss Hartdomshire walked by.

- I believe your sanity is very much at large, a woman said; if she spoke to me, I don't know for sure, even if she did happen to wear a pig sized shape of a dress in the middle of an Easter Holiday Spring Break, shattered glass on Shatner. William, be a good lad and fetch the...
Oh, dear, what deer was I asking for again?

Thoughts. Taqia.

The former tenant of the bombed apartment still lay where I shot him. The smell had not improved since then. Not that it bothered me the slightest. If anything, the stink would keep others away. The filth, the rot and the garbage made for a nice hideout.

Sometimes it pays to be on guard. Sometimes, it pays to answer the holo call.

- Hello, Taq-taq. Long time, no see.

Only one person called me that. Yawa. Please be a prerecorded message and not an actual call. Turns out, I was wrong.

- It’s been ages…

I interrupted her.

- Why do you call me? 

- What, you’re not happy to hear my voice, Taq-taq?

- Not particularly, no. What do you want?

- I’ve got an offer for you. One even you can’t refuse.

The sad part was that she was right. I could not refuse her offer.

Yawa had left the old crew behind as I had. Or they had disbanded. Could have ended up dead, in prison or worse. Since my return to Dromund Kaas, I had not given them much thought.

In any case, if Yawa could get in touch with me, so could others. As I did not intend for others to find me, I felt I had little choice in this. Besides, the position she wanted me for had a lucrative promise. Perhaps too lucrative, even for my taste.

I left the place when the shadows where long enough to provide some cover. I had a long trip to the spaceport and beyond to make.