Every journey begins with a step. Like this one:
The night was dark, and seared forever in Ian Elliot's mind. What had started as a beautiful evening with friends erupted into chaos and tragedy, as men, women and children rushed to escape Silent Mountain, the lavish estate of Chester Winfield.Three years later, life has returned to normal . . . or has it?
Strange new abilities and recurring visions slowly draw these same people back to Silent Mountain, in search of answers. But, the place that once brought them together threatens to divide them again as fear and paranoia set it in. Will life ever be the same for those changed by Silent Mountain?
I'm writing a novel on another blog. Check it out here ----> http://silentmountain.blogspot.com
Flaming Kiwifruit
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Sunday, April 09, 2006
The Coca-Cola Currency Exchange
Coke machines are more than just blatent commercialistic attempts to get our cold cash for a cold drink. They are also magical boxes of transformation for change.
I was going to do my laundry today. I dug through my change jar, sorting through loads of useless nickels and dimes, desperately seeking quarters for this endevour. Two loads, at $1 for washing and another for drying comes to 16 quarters total. I had nine.
So, I went and started washing with the 8 quarters I did have and plotted my next move. I would go down to the cafe in one corner of campus and take out some cash as I had none. Then I would go to the other corner of campus and turn that cash into change at Environmental Services, the location of the only coin changer on campus.
Now, granted, this all hinged upon the assumption that the coin changer was operational, which is a very big assumption. It never seems to be operational, when I need it. I've heard rumors that at times it does work, but they are as of yet unconfirmed.
The final leg of my journey would bring me back to the laundry room at the other corner of campus. So, I entered my room, grabbed my wallet and keys, and headed out, locking the door behind me. That's when I saw Ian, my roommate.
Ian, you see, always has loads of change in his drawer, so, I asked him if I could borrow some and give him cash in a little bit. He kindly obliged, but was low on change for a change. I told him I'd be fine but he insisted.
So, he gave me the last of his quarters and two dimes and a nickel.
"Just put these in the Coke machine and press the coin return," he said, "It'll give you back a quarter."
"Really?" I replied.
"Yeah, but don't use the Pepsi machine. It doesn't work. Confounded new-fangled technology."
I swiftly returned Ian's change and went back to the change jar. I counted out 8 sets of dimes and nickels, for good measure, and rushed down to the laundry room.
I arrived and shoved two dimes and nickel in. I pressed the coin return and like magic a quarter came out. I proceed with the rest of my change, transfixed with childlike awe on the process. It was amazing . . .
Flaming Kiwifruit.
I was going to do my laundry today. I dug through my change jar, sorting through loads of useless nickels and dimes, desperately seeking quarters for this endevour. Two loads, at $1 for washing and another for drying comes to 16 quarters total. I had nine.
So, I went and started washing with the 8 quarters I did have and plotted my next move. I would go down to the cafe in one corner of campus and take out some cash as I had none. Then I would go to the other corner of campus and turn that cash into change at Environmental Services, the location of the only coin changer on campus.
Now, granted, this all hinged upon the assumption that the coin changer was operational, which is a very big assumption. It never seems to be operational, when I need it. I've heard rumors that at times it does work, but they are as of yet unconfirmed.
The final leg of my journey would bring me back to the laundry room at the other corner of campus. So, I entered my room, grabbed my wallet and keys, and headed out, locking the door behind me. That's when I saw Ian, my roommate.
Ian, you see, always has loads of change in his drawer, so, I asked him if I could borrow some and give him cash in a little bit. He kindly obliged, but was low on change for a change. I told him I'd be fine but he insisted.
So, he gave me the last of his quarters and two dimes and a nickel.
"Just put these in the Coke machine and press the coin return," he said, "It'll give you back a quarter."
"Really?" I replied.
"Yeah, but don't use the Pepsi machine. It doesn't work. Confounded new-fangled technology."
I swiftly returned Ian's change and went back to the change jar. I counted out 8 sets of dimes and nickels, for good measure, and rushed down to the laundry room.
I arrived and shoved two dimes and nickel in. I pressed the coin return and like magic a quarter came out. I proceed with the rest of my change, transfixed with childlike awe on the process. It was amazing . . .
Flaming Kiwifruit.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
This Is Why I Can Never Take Snowboarding Seriously
Just because a sport is in the Olympics, doesn't mean you have to take it seriously.
Take snowboarding. It may be part of the Olympics but here's why I can never take it seriously.
1. Competitors who get points for completing moves such as the McTwisty.
2. Sound bites such as, "Yeah, the gold medal it's like heavy . . . Like, winning it . . . I mean, like, physically."
3. And finally, the gold medalist . . . The Flying Tomato!
I rest my case.
Take snowboarding. It may be part of the Olympics but here's why I can never take it seriously.
1. Competitors who get points for completing moves such as the McTwisty.
2. Sound bites such as, "Yeah, the gold medal it's like heavy . . . Like, winning it . . . I mean, like, physically."
3. And finally, the gold medalist . . . The Flying Tomato!
I rest my case.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
This Changes Things
Life is very unexpected. And I do mean very unexpected. In a good way.
In case anyone doesn't know I've recently entered a relationship with a beautiful, vibrant young woman (Oprahesque, I know). This was unexepected enough in itself. More unexpected is that this particular young woman, Katherine Widrick, lives in Upstate NY. I currently attend college in Florida.
And it gets crazier. You see, I've never met Katherine in person. She was friends with my cousin and we met through his message boards. Tomorrow is her birthday, and so I thought I would post and let everyone know that I'm in love with this girl.
Makes me understand this song better.
All things considered
We're both, certifiably insane
And I don't miss my mind
I don't miss the driving
And I'm always driving in my mind
And wearing out the road that gets me there
I may never find the sleep
I've lost all feeling in my hands and
Feet may touch the ground but
My mind's somewhere north of here
Happy Birthday Katherine!
In case anyone doesn't know I've recently entered a relationship with a beautiful, vibrant young woman (Oprahesque, I know). This was unexepected enough in itself. More unexpected is that this particular young woman, Katherine Widrick, lives in Upstate NY. I currently attend college in Florida.
And it gets crazier. You see, I've never met Katherine in person. She was friends with my cousin and we met through his message boards. Tomorrow is her birthday, and so I thought I would post and let everyone know that I'm in love with this girl.
Makes me understand this song better.
All things considered
We're both, certifiably insane
And I don't miss my mind
I don't miss the driving
And I'm always driving in my mind
And wearing out the road that gets me there
I may never find the sleep
I've lost all feeling in my hands and
Feet may touch the ground but
My mind's somewhere north of here
Happy Birthday Katherine!
Friday, January 13, 2006
Chicken Heads and Other Items
Severed chicken heads can be cute. Just trust me on that one.
I'm back at college, which means writing reports. Which means I don't like typing anymore. That's not true.
Anyway, since I've been here I've written a report, cleaned up on the "Weather" category on Jeopardy, implemented my "5-Color Diet," and done a lot of other things that I can't remember because of the cold/cold medicine.
And, just for the record, this Monday . . . VENGANCE WILL BE MINE!!!!! AND DAVID'S!!!!!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!! (Let's just say, it involves a certain board game known as Risk.)
Flaming Kiwifruit.
I'm back at college, which means writing reports. Which means I don't like typing anymore. That's not true.
Anyway, since I've been here I've written a report, cleaned up on the "Weather" category on Jeopardy, implemented my "5-Color Diet," and done a lot of other things that I can't remember because of the cold/cold medicine.
And, just for the record, this Monday . . . VENGANCE WILL BE MINE!!!!! AND DAVID'S!!!!!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!! (Let's just say, it involves a certain board game known as Risk.)
Flaming Kiwifruit.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Living Up to the Name
There's a reason they call them "Exhaustive Concordances." Try lugging one around for a while. Oh, well, it gets the job done.
Flaming Kiwifruit.
Flaming Kiwifruit.
Friday, January 06, 2006
You Will Be Assimilated
Sometimes, you just have to take matters into your own hands. Yes, freind there are times you must look in the mirror, and after admiring your good looks for a while, point at yourself and say, "It's up to you!"
I had one such moment. I have to do something. "About what," you say. World hunger? World Peace? Obnoxious TV personalities? No. None of the above. All are noble causes, which I would love to help with. Rather I am going to solve the problem of the dying forum.
You see, looking back on the glory days of the Djere forums, I remeber times when you would log on and there would be far too much activity for one to keep track. All of it led to mass amusement. Sort of an "I amuse you, you amuse me" deal. Now, I go on and get excited if there are 4 live threads. I revive threads. I start new ones. Everything dies.
So, I have decided what the forums need is an infusion of fresh blood. And, where will I get this blood? The blood bank! No, what I need is figuritive blood, and, sadly, there's a shortage of that at the blood bank.
No, that new blood is you! Yes, you. No, stop pointing at the person next to you. I'm talking to you.
Here's all you have to do.
1. Click Here
Wait, no! First, read the rest of the instructions.
2. Read. I can suggest some good points.
3. Sign up.
You don't even have to post, ever! There are plenty of people who have never posted. The key is you'll have the account in case you ever do want to post. Now, wouldn't you say that's worth it.
Flaming Kiwifruit.
I had one such moment. I have to do something. "About what," you say. World hunger? World Peace? Obnoxious TV personalities? No. None of the above. All are noble causes, which I would love to help with. Rather I am going to solve the problem of the dying forum.
You see, looking back on the glory days of the Djere forums, I remeber times when you would log on and there would be far too much activity for one to keep track. All of it led to mass amusement. Sort of an "I amuse you, you amuse me" deal. Now, I go on and get excited if there are 4 live threads. I revive threads. I start new ones. Everything dies.
So, I have decided what the forums need is an infusion of fresh blood. And, where will I get this blood? The blood bank! No, what I need is figuritive blood, and, sadly, there's a shortage of that at the blood bank.
No, that new blood is you! Yes, you. No, stop pointing at the person next to you. I'm talking to you.
Here's all you have to do.
1. Click Here
Wait, no! First, read the rest of the instructions.
2. Read. I can suggest some good points.
3. Sign up.
You don't even have to post, ever! There are plenty of people who have never posted. The key is you'll have the account in case you ever do want to post. Now, wouldn't you say that's worth it.
Flaming Kiwifruit.
Contractions: They're Dangerous
Words are tricky. They are dangerous little things that just try to get you in trouble. For instance, I'm writing this script the other day and I want a character to say, "Who are you?" Well, logically, this would be the perfect place for a contraction. They are = They're. We are = We're. Who are = . . . Well, you see the problem. Okay, maybe you don't. Just finish the equation on your own. Then delete it before anybody walks by and sees it. Don't want anyone getting the wrong idea, you know.
And contractions aren't the only offenders. Take the word "assistant." A perfectly innocuous, innocent-looking word, if taken on its own. Then, you try to abbreviate it, and WHAM! You hit a wall. This is why you don't abbreviate while your driving. Current reports suggest that if the current "Abbreviation Driving" trend continues, there will still be no reports of such an accident, but you can never be to careful.
No, no, a more common problem when abbreviating "assistant" is the "three-letter problem." You see, the easiest way to abbreviate a word is to grab the first three letters. Colonel = Col. December = Dec. May = May. Ralph Nader, President in Exile = Ral. Assistant = . . . Again, you get the point. Again, if you don't do what I said before. Clearly this will not work as a viable option. Unless of course your assistant has displeased you and you wish to wreak vengeance upon him or her <----- (See Borghy, I'm not a sexist jerk. I'm learning!) in a subtle, yet not so subtle way. I wouldn't suggest this.
Also, gender relative terms can be troublesome. I'm not refering to aunt/uncle, mom/pop, Sonny/Cher, fishherder/fishherdress type words. Nope, this is about his and hers or him and her or he and she, well, you get the point. The man problem is that the English language has not gender nuetral pronoun. Well, there's it, but use of it in regards to a human being tend to be somewhat offensive to the target. Trust me, I know.
So, thanks to this oversight, by the crafters of the English language, poor innocent males, completely oblivious to the complexities of gender relations in our modern world, say phrases such as, "If you have an employee who won't work, you should discipline him." When the correct phrase should be, "If you have an employee who won't work, you should pummel him mercilessly with frozen peacocks."
No, no, that not right. I in no way condone violence with or against frozen poultry. The correct phrase would be, "If you have an employee who won't work, you should discipline him or her." The poor, unwitting men, who say such phrases, are then pummel with frozen peacocks, by all of the women, and more "sensitive" men in the room. (No there is not a story in this, and if there were I would not tell you about. It's just a coincidence that I get all jumpy when I walk through the poultry department when I walk through the grocery store.)
Well, as Mark said in the most recent script I wrote:
And contractions aren't the only offenders. Take the word "assistant." A perfectly innocuous, innocent-looking word, if taken on its own. Then, you try to abbreviate it, and WHAM! You hit a wall. This is why you don't abbreviate while your driving. Current reports suggest that if the current "Abbreviation Driving" trend continues, there will still be no reports of such an accident, but you can never be to careful.
No, no, a more common problem when abbreviating "assistant" is the "three-letter problem." You see, the easiest way to abbreviate a word is to grab the first three letters. Colonel = Col. December = Dec. May = May. Ralph Nader, President in Exile = Ral. Assistant = . . . Again, you get the point. Again, if you don't do what I said before. Clearly this will not work as a viable option. Unless of course your assistant has displeased you and you wish to wreak vengeance upon him or her <----- (See Borghy, I'm not a sexist jerk. I'm learning!) in a subtle, yet not so subtle way. I wouldn't suggest this.
Also, gender relative terms can be troublesome. I'm not refering to aunt/uncle, mom/pop, Sonny/Cher, fishherder/fishherdress type words. Nope, this is about his and hers or him and her or he and she, well, you get the point. The man problem is that the English language has not gender nuetral pronoun. Well, there's it, but use of it in regards to a human being tend to be somewhat offensive to the target. Trust me, I know.
So, thanks to this oversight, by the crafters of the English language, poor innocent males, completely oblivious to the complexities of gender relations in our modern world, say phrases such as, "If you have an employee who won't work, you should discipline him." When the correct phrase should be, "If you have an employee who won't work, you should pummel him mercilessly with frozen peacocks."
No, no, that not right. I in no way condone violence with or against frozen poultry. The correct phrase would be, "If you have an employee who won't work, you should discipline him or her." The poor, unwitting men, who say such phrases, are then pummel with frozen peacocks, by all of the women, and more "sensitive" men in the room. (No there is not a story in this, and if there were I would not tell you about. It's just a coincidence that I get all jumpy when I walk through the poultry department when I walk through the grocery store.)
Well, as Mark said in the most recent script I wrote:
Look, I ain't wanna hurt ya' . . . Well, maybe I did, but I ain't gonna,
now. So, just come on out and I'll be all nice.
Actually, that has nothing to do with anything, but I just loved the line. Talk about grammar infractions. Somebody, get that guy a dictionary, for crying out loud! I'm tired. I had to write this twice because my finger slipped and I delete this whole post the first time. Good night, or morning, or whatever it is when you read this.
Flaming Kiwifruit
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