Robison Christmas Letter 2016

Merry Christmas!

Love, Daniel, Shannon and Bruce Robison

P.S.

Just a quick update on the family.

Those of you to have been #blessed enough to have received our Christmas letter last year might remember how I (Daniel) had been excited to have started a new job in 2015. Well, times change, kid and we can’t all sell doors for the rest of our lives. One day I’m talking to Bob in Nebraska convincing him that his interior doors are certainly NOT warrantied to be used as exterior tornado grade cellar doors when Shannon mentions to me, in an off handed remark, that an IT position at Peoples Bank has opened up. It was a tough decision, but in the end the work was more enjoyable to me, the pay and benefits were better and the commute was five minutes instead of eight. So there you have it I’m now a professional password resetter. Shannon and I have all our eggs in one basket working for the same company.

Shannon, in the meantime, continues to excel at her position as a credit review specialist. I cannot begin to describe how smart she is. This is a fact that has been brought to my attention while she explains the “simple” aspects of her job and all I can do is pray that she doesn’t ask me if I understood what she’s talking about. But what’s really the best is seeing her excel even more as a mother. Our clothing budget has quadrupled in the last year and a half, largely due to the Bruce. It’s not all Shannon’s fault, we just enjoy buying the kid stuff. The interaction between Mom and son is absolutely the best. I am the first to see him after daycare. What this means is that I get to watch the elation in his face when Shannon says hi to him in the evening. Bruce is as lucky to be Shannon’s son as I am to be her husband.

Oh yes, specifics about the boy. When last I wrote he was a six month old infant that never slept. That went on for another six months. After a solid year of waking up every 2-3 hours  (one of the few non-exaggeration in this letter) I put my foot down, bought a video monitor and we tried the cry it out method for an agonizing week and a half. The three of us now enjoy sleeping through the night. Bruce has the best smile, the best personality. It’s pointless for me to describe how he makes us feel, but if you know what I’m talking about, you know what I’m talking about. He’s a tough little guy. Dealing with acid reflux, asthma, chronic ear infections and fevers, he’s finally on the upswing. He is always cheerful, loves to sword fight and will often refuse to eat anything but Caramel Superman Cereal (perhaps we should have named him Clark Kent Robison instead of Bruce Wayne).

Life lately has been a momentum that both terrifies and exhilarates me. This year we’ve seen new careers, new milestone, a new home. Oh yes, we’ve moved! We’re no longer in the condo, we purchased a house across town! Even if we had none of this, however, we would still be blessed beyond anything the Robison family could ever hope to deserve. We thank God for his many blessings, but most of all we thank him for his Son, Jesus Christ, who was sent to earth as a helpless infant to one day grow to be the only one capable of rescuing us from ourselves. It has and will continue to give us hope. We love you.

Robison Family Christmas Haikus!

Bruce finally sleeps!

But now this is the problem,

he coughs and then pukes.

Some assembly?

Daniel has been up all night,

building this toy stove!

Shannon, come here!

I need your Christmas list now...

This list is empty.

I Watched the Skies as the Oceans Churned

We said things like "Bully" and "Cheerio" to add authenticity.

My wife had to fend off praise from her co-workers on my behalf. When they heard that I was to spend the day at a middle school participating in an event that simulated politics in the midst of global crisis, they assumed I was assisting in a program aimed at students. They were wrong. I was spending another all day event at the Fairhaven Middle School because Bellingham MegaGames was hosting another round of Watch the Skies and there was no way I was going to miss it. 

Briefly, Watch the Skies consists of teams of people representing the nations of the earth. The teams are segmented into roles where each role plays a type of game with the other nations version of their role. Check out my last post for a more in depth description. 

Having tired of being left out of the thick of things last game, we traded in our giant robots and left Japan to become the United Kingdom. Ryan was our Prime Minister, Andy was our military leader, Cameron represented us in the UN, Shaun was our deputy head of state (a new role this time around that was capable of visiting any area of the game that they wished) and I took on the role of Chief Scientist.

Our goal going into this game was simple: Make an aircraft carrier into a spaceship. That was a responsibility that fell largely on my shoulders. Andy would need to shoot down them aliens to get me the resources, Cameron was in charge of smoothing over our actions in the UN and Ryan had to give me the money to conduct my research. I had to take what resources I could and figure out just what exactly needed to be done to get this space boat up and running. We started out with a bang, obtaining an intact alien space craft in round one. However, I approached the head scientist of the game and confessed that I would like to build the battleship... but I wanted to first create Iron Man suites for everyone of the scientists in the hopes of creating a peacekeeping task force that would police the world separate from the bureaucracy and politics of the rest of the game. Oh, and I wanted to have a remote self destruct system in place as well. Just in case.

My game long personal goal became all consuming. The turns rolled on by, I was aware that their were giant monsters emerging from the sea, but all that meant to me was the potential to harvest the next piece needed in my suit. I nearly forgot entirely about the battle ship my team insisted I build. They asked how it was going, I told them I needed red mercury. Which I DID need red mercury, just not for the battleship. Turn by turn I allowed my plan to seep out into the scientific community. Russia and Germany seemed concerned at first, but ultimately everyone got on board. I was aware that some were probably just using this new scientific alliance to push their own research to their end goal, but that was fine, I was getting all the resources necessary, and oddly enough most of our governments seemed unaware when we announced our worldwide scientific alliance. We stood for peace and anti-nuclear warfare almost simultaneously with London getting Nuked by America (something I found out after the game, as I assumed it was France. Seriously, this Iron Man thing gave me tunnel vision). Also I gave some phony tech to my government telling them to do something with it as it was useless to us. They sold it to Brazil, who in turn assassinated Ryan. Brazil then came within a hairs-length away from being nuked into oblivion.

I only wish I could have seen the look on our collective faces when control informed us that we were now a new nation, taking over India. We were dumbfounded, this wasn't in the plan, we were supposed to keep peace from the comfort of our own nation. Instead I was instated as the president of this new scientific nation, I had to assign military leaders and UN representatives. The global scientific community had pretty much vanished. There was some heavy fallout. Russia's scientist had her flag ripped right off of her back as she was disavowed, Japan's Prime Minister showed up and demanded money from all the research we had "stolen". Other nations were forced to send their presidents to the labs to try to finish up research, while we had suddenly become the wealthiest and most technologically advanced power on the face of the earth. And once half the nations started surrendering their Nukes to us, we became the most heavily armed force on earth as well. At some point China jumped ship, which was fine and probably for the best. I had informed Control that I wanted to activate the kill switches on the suites and return all the tech to the UK. My plan was to murder the people I had spent the entire game gaining their trust. Luckily for them it didn't work out. I managed to sabotage our giant force field we had placed over India, which allowed a giant monster to attack and kill a few million people, but no real harm was done. The aliens, which had been on my back-burner all game showed up and told us to disarm our Nukes. "Ok" we agreed. After-which I almost immediately went to control and asked if I was able to activate the three we had for a full scale attack. I was not able to, as I was not in control of the military. 

Oh, and it just so happened that my line of research worked out to also build the UK the spaceship I was supposed to be working on all game. They got it just in time to do battle with some giant Kaijus and then took off into the stars... leaving a power vacuum in the UK that I gladly filled. I left India in the capable hands of my peers and was crowned the King of England. My people were happy, I had a massive amount of tech and a Nuclear wasteland to rule over.

This game was like a complete separatist mission for me. I didn't intend it to be that way originally, but ias things started moving in that direction my efforts became largely diplomatic. I didn't have the research I needed for my plan to come to fruition, so the more I bribed and buddied up with people the easier my goals were to accomplish. As a team, I think we did quite well. The UK managed to build their end game spaceship, I didn't accompany them to the stars, but they left my country in good shape, the Queen lived on (in the battleship) and aside from that little tiff with Brazil, I think our future was secured...as long as China's shady business stops.

This is just my side of what happened that day. For Ryan's take as the Prime Minister (and then as the deputy head of state after his assassination) click here. For Andy's take on being the military leader click here. And if you ever have a chance to play one of these MegaGames...Don't hesitate. They're an absolute blast. 

I Burned While I Watched The Skies

Left to Right
Foreign Minister, Head Scientist, Military Commander, Prime Minister

I am the ambassador to the cosmos. Or at least, I would have been had everything gone according to plan. Then again, one can never fully rely on plans when dealing with the political intrigue of the competing nations of earth, add to that three factions of Buddhist-like hivemind aliens working against you and really, everything is left to the roll of a dice, figuratively and literally.

This weekend I had the privilege of playing Bellingham MegaGame’s inaugural run with “Watch the Skies”. Essentially what this game boiled down to whas a simulation in which various nations were faced not only with the international tension of world politics, but with the impending threat of an alien presence descending from the skies. Practically what this meant is that teams of four (ideally) acted as The Prime Minister (or President), Military Commander, Head Scientist and Foreign Minister. Each team was assigned a nation to represent, and it was my pleasure to act as the Foreign Minister of Japan.

The turns consisted of two phases. In the first phase, teams would be separated into a series of mini-game sessions. The second phase had all the team members rush back to their countries (a table on the edge if a large room) to share information and ideas with the rest if the team. Scientists researched technology. Military Commanders allocated troops and resources to a large map where they duked it out with aliens or spied on other nations. The Prime Ministers divided up resources and directed the other members of their team. Finally, the Foreign Ministers dealt with a variety of world crises and tried to sway the actions of other nations to their cause within the security  council of the UN. My narrative takes place through this lens. For a glimpse into some of the other roles read the write ups from our Scientist and our Prime Minister.

As a team, Japan had gone into the game with the goal of creating giant mech robots. To what end we weren’t sure, and, granted, it was a little short sighted, but it was something. It’s absolutely vital to go into this type of game with an idea, and by, golly we had one. Accomplishing this goal was a matter of discussing our plan with one of the many, talented game controllers. This was really a story based game, and they did a fantastic job of facilitating every aspect of every hair-brained idea that was thrown at them.

So, some discussion began with almost no idea what to expect, and then I was off and running to my first UN session. Out of the six nations present I was one of two that did not have Veto power, Brazil being the other. From the get-go the other teams were coming in hot. We were presented with a famine in Uganda to deal with and the two pre-eminent ideas were from Russia and the UK. Russia said let them starve, and the UK said sell them food for alien tech. Ultimately we decided to set up a refugee camp, while Brazil and Japan opted to take refugees back to our respective countries. As we were about to head out the UK Representative also asked us each for a sample of blood… this was disconcerting to everyone, except for Brazil who was kind of freaked out by it, but didn’t want to cause any waves. The idea was that the UK was developing a test to find out who were aliens hidden amongst us. Still I thought it was coming on pretty strong, and I wasn't about to agree to something this bizarre this early on. So, heading back to our respective tables, we discussed. Our Prime Minister was delighted that we had received refugees, as we were wanting to find the best and brightest high school students in the world to pilot our “Project Gundam” (which was almost called “Project Pacific Rim II).

He can't come in here, He'll see the big board!

Over the course of the next few rounds, we almost lost the entire continent of Africa. The famine spread, the warlords took over refugee camps and then Angola and South Africa pointed nukes at each other for good measure. Japan and Brazil swiftly disarmed the two countries while Russia, secured the oil fields in Uganda.

The greatest part about these sessions in the scope of the game was the nuggets of information that were dropped. Russia let loose that there were at least four factions of aliens, which, upon learning that tid-bit of information, took all the composure I had not to start hyperventilating. Sure we were dealing with things the “didn’t matter” (which actually really did, very much so) but it was like on big espionage room. Everyone’s phones were constantly buzzing with information being sent to them from teammates in other areas of the game. A particular highlight was when I learned of the assassination of the American President. I offered my condolences to the representative and he brushed it off, not knowing what I was talking about. As the turn progressed, other nations glanced at their phones and quickly turned their heads toward the American in the room. He was probably the last to find out.

Eventually after throwing enough resources at the problem, the famine and blight that plagued Africa subsided just in time for us to start dealing with the aliens directly. We invited a representative from each faction to visit us, three of the four accepted. The story went that the three factions that had shown up were peaceful while the fourth faction that did not show up was violent. Seemed pretty straightforward, except that Russia, our closest ally in the game was adamant about it being the other way around.

It wasn’t long until the UK Representative announced that he had stealthily stolen everyone's DNA and was going to test it to see who was an alien. No one was pleased with this development, so we leaked to the newspaper that they were working on a cloning program to thicken the distrust in the brits. This was unnecessary, no one trusted them. I still don’t know who actually nuked China, but the UK was certainly blamed, despite it most likely not actually being them. It was particularly delightful to watch the collective faces in the room as the UK announced in front of everyone a list of people the assumed were aliens. They were like mad geniuses at getting everyone to loathe their country. They even convinced one of the three “good” alien factions to call themselves the Elizabethans. It didn’t take much longer for me to convince some of the other nations to boot the UK from a permanent seat on the commity and replace the seat with Japan. Veto power at last!

What eventually became clear was this: there were,  two warring aliens (one consisted of three groups, but that’s confusing). One group was trying to eradicate the other from earth. They had come to earth with the sole purpose of destroying this other group that had landed and interbred thousands of years ago. Imagine my shock in turn 11 when I express my concern over which faction to back and our Scientists drops this: “Cards on the table, I’m an alien” Our military leader and myself stared at him. “I am...also an alien.” Our Prime Minister chimed in. We stood for a second, our Scientist wondering if we would attempt to kill him. “ok, we know which faction to back then.” That was that, we were going to try to help these other aliens escape earth before the Elizabethans and their motley bunch of human friends gunned them down.

They walk among us

This became hopeful when we successfully completed our Gundam program. We announced to the world that, although Japan was not a nuclear power, we had giant robots now that we had handed over to emotionally damaged teenagers to pilot. The idea was to use these bad boys to protect the mothership if it ran into any trouble as it left earth. Easy peasy. I went into the final UN meeting with the idea that we had our plan in the bag and I would use my newly acquired veto power to shoot everything down, just for fun. Then I got distracted by ideas of grandeur and things kind of went haywire. To hedge our bets, China suggested we send a man a woman and a DNA bank of all living things on earth with the ship that was attempting to escape. Should earth be destroyed by the Elizabethans for having not stopped “faction 4” from escaping, we would at least have a way for the human race to live on in the cosmos. If the ship was shot down, we lost two people. I was going to Veto the whole thing unless my condition was met “I want to be the man on the ship.” No one seemed to care all that much, so I climbed aboard their starship and headed for the skies. Unfortunately we didn’t get very far off the ground. We quickly voted on the plan, and one of the controllers ran in telling us that there was a large battle going on and we had better come witness it. I walked out to a large group of people surrounding the battle map. Our Prime Minister, who along with our Scientist had decided to stay on earth, stood there solemnly. Our Gundams had been sabotaged and were useless, almost every nation and alien faction was attacking the spaceship. “It doesn’t look good” he said. “I’m on that ship!” I exclaimed much to his surprise. Those of us aboard the ship were asked to step forward. It was myself, the American President (who had been cloned or something, I’m not really sure how she was back) and the Russian President, who was the only alien player that had opted to leave earth. We watched as our hope went up in flames. I was the ambassador of ash and fire, not the cosmos.

In the end, Japan did just fine. We had a strong economy, and were the most technologically advanced country in the world. But the real surprise was Brazil, who had been on everyone’s good side. They were playing the long con and spent their time stealing resources and uniting all of South America.

The game was an absolute blast, it was exhausting, fast paced and all day long. The enjoyment of the game really stems from the creativity of the players, and there was just so much going on that it never felt dull. Having constant contact with your team was incredible. I was receiving real time information about insane things that were happening all while arguing about sending troops into Uganda. While the scale of the game and the open-endedness might sound like a problem, the way everything was handled made for a smooth and thrilling ride that I would play again anytime, and hopefully will soon.

Humiliation at the Hands of Musical Theater

Picture Unrelated

Musical theater is dead, continuing only to exists in order to haunt and mock the living art form that is musical cinema. Like the The Shining, Poltergeist and Beetlejuice, this shell of a an entertainment avenue serves to delude the minds of those that encounter it. While at first glance the theater is enticing, like a Jamaican lottery scam, it’s only after you offer yourself to it that you are rejected, mocked and given over to abject humiliation. Oh, certainly there are those that serve the cult of live drama. They feed off of the naivety of the general public, proclaiming that local theater is “good for the community” and a “perpetrator for the arts”. Their lies are sweet and their thieving ways steal not earthly valuables but dignity and precious time.

I’ll be the first to admit that my above hypothesis is ironic. For someone that claims to loathe the dramatic art of musical theater, I am over acting more than Brendan Fraser in *insert anything he’s ever been in here*. I, as the above may suggest, have been humiliated by false visions of grandeur stemming from a local musical production. There are exactly two musicals that are capable of causing me to forget myself. I love them so much, that if an opportunity were to present itself, I would consider the unfathomable: auditioning. And so it was, when I heard that Little Shop of Horrors was being produced at the small theater in town, the wheels began to turn. That evil voice began to whisper sweet lies into my ear “maybe you’re not tone deaf anymore”.

I first presented the idea of auditioning to my wife. She was supportive, but more honest about my singing ability than anyone else would be. Having survived a number of road trips with me either riding shot-gun or driving, she was the foremost authority on my singing abilities. “No” I thought. “Was she there at that Japanese Karaoke house when I sang Lola? She was not! She doesn’t know what I’m capable of”. If only I had listened, I would have realized she knew precisely what I was capable of. Yet, she stuck by me. My co-workers, however were worse. exclamations of what a good idea it was bombarded me from anyone that heard that there was even an inkling of possibility. When I was still hesitant the bribes started coming. All said and done, when I agreed that I would make a fantastic Seymour Krelborn, I had come out with 2 bags of hot cheetos and some australian soft licorice.

With my intentions set, I let Shannon know I meant business. The singing portion of the audition was to last 30 seconds. That didn’t sounds so bad. Sure it was 30 seconds without accompaniment. 30 seconds in front of people that lived for musical theater. 30 seconds on a stage, With the closest thing to a tune I had carried in my life being a small portion of a grand piano, and even that was difficult. So, I practiced. My wife listened to me sing 30 seconds of Build me up Buttercup dozens upon dozens of times. She was obviously concerned for my dignity, because normally she doesn’t take much interest when I get these hairbrained ideas. This time, however she critiqued and encouraged, she sat on the couch and listened to what could have easily been equated to a flock of bloated penguins playing frogger with a steam roller. That voice though, not mine, but the devious little liar. It kept on whispering to me. “You love Little Shop” it hissed, sounding famished, ravenous. “You need this. We need this. I NEED THIS. Feed me, Daniel!”. Was I sounding better? I was. I was finally getting it! I was Clem Curtis, lead singer of The Foundations re-incarnated. That is if Clem Curtis had died, of course. With a sigh, Shannon wished me luck as I stepped out our front door and into my destiny.

Arriving at the Claire VG Theater in Downtown Lynden, I had my picture taken and wrote down the roles I was auditioning for. No chorus line for me, no sir. I was going big or taking my talents elsewhere. First choice: “Seymour Krelborn”. As I entered the theater, I was instructed that first singing auditions would be held then we would need to stay for the remainder, that would have some read throughs and other activities. My heart was pounding. I have a hard time not panicking when standing in front of crowds let alone SINGING in front of them. And let me tell you, as someone that spent his entire K through High School career homeschooled, I was not socially accustomed to people that do theater all the time… for fun. I mean, good on these people for loving their craft so much, but it was apparent that I was outclassed and out of my element. And when I get outclassed or nervous, I start to find things funny. And people warming up their voices is funny. I soon found out there was a very good reasoning behind such exercises.

I shuffled in and said hello to the one person that I knew there. I sat down shortly before the first person was called up to sing their bit, and I honestly don’t know how they did because I was dreading getting on that stage, there were Phantoms in places like this that killed you if you were a bad enough singer and shamed their theater… aren’t there? It wasn’t until that moment that I truly realized what an egregious error I had made. That inner voice that boosted me with the intoxicating idea of stardom was now shrieking in laughter like some kind of sick, sentient hyena. Like Ariel, I had lost my voice and the villainous wretch was loving it. I calmed myself. I was one of the last people to show up to the audition so I would have time to mentally prepare myself. Even if it was done alphabetically by last name, Robison was a safe bet for later on. The first person sat down to enthusiastic claps and cheers. Good, ok, starting to calm down. “Daniel Robinson” close call, my name is-“no, sorry, Robison. No N in the middle”. I’ve never been smacked upside the face with a regulation slowpitch softball bat, but I imagine if I had I might see a brilliant, blinding flash of off-white before my vision returns to a small tunnel of it what it should be. That’s kind of what happened when I heard my name. I was called to go second. There was no logical reason for me to go second, it was against all reason. I later found out that a lack of reason and sense is a trait the theater folk pride themselves on.

Physically, I’ve learned to mask the majority of my emotions. The exceptions being grief, fear, pain, joy and disgust. Vocally, however, I quickly learned I have little control. As I ascended to the stage, it felt as if I had been munching on a bag of dry cement dust just moments before. I could barely breath, let alone sing. Yet, I prevailed, knowing that if I didn’t complete what I had set out to do that I may very well lose the package of licorice sitting in a drawer at work. I wasn’t about to risk that. So I sang. Or rather, I began to until the warbles kicked in. It was like I was a cartoon character trying to vocalize while underwater and the sound comes out popping like bubbles. But that wasn’t nearly as bad as when my voice just said “screw it, I’m out” and left the stage before I did. That’s right, after what felt to be about seven hours into my 30 seconds, my voice and all the air in my lungs took off. I stood there, mouth opening and closing like a dying fish sitting at the bottom of a boat waiting to be clunked over the head so as to be easier to filet before being smoked for dinner. And then, when I finally surrendered myself to the fact that the sound wasn’t coming back on and no one was going to unmute me, I stopped moving my mouth and stood there. I composed myself and said something I’ll never forgive myself for. “I’ve uh…. never sung in front of a crowd.” I made an excuse for myself, and it was an abysmal one. But that wasn’t the worst of it. After I whimpered out my pathetic apology for what was about as good a performance as my 1st grade church Christmas Pageant with less cute little kids and more awkward grown man; they began to clap. Loudly. Each slap of their palm was like a strike to my face. Every clap caused my cheeks to flush a little more crimson. I’m certain no mal-intent was present, but boy, when you screw up it’s not like Cool Runnings where you feel good for finishing. I returned to my seat, laughing in embarrassment, realizing I had better just buckle down and enjoy the rest of the audition because they asked us not to leave.

Thankfully, after many auditions I felt I could relax a little. I was called to read some lines and that was actually quite enjoyable. Mostly because it had nothing to do with music. But then, sitting down again I heard something that indicated the audition was not quite over yet. “Alright, we’re going to do some choreography now”. Despite what three, maybe four people at my brothers wedding this summer will tell you, I have no sense of rhythm. That’s putting it mildly, I hardly have control over my body, let alone enough control to make it react appropriately to music. But I danced, or rather flailed. I spun the wrong way, I was stiff as a board and I just about fell off the stage. I was laughing all the way out the door, but it wasn’t like the good kind of laughing. It was the kind of laughing when you’re being tickled just slightly more than you’re being hurt and you’re really quite uncomfortable. I learned many valuable lessons that evening. First I was never to audition for a musical again. Second was that musical theater was not thriving, it wasn’t even dying, in my mind it was absolutely dead. NIt had not perished due to the lack of talent for those involved with the production, on the contrary they were all quite impressive. It is deceased in my mind due to my own personal vendetta against it for luring me in, deceiving me and spitting in my eye. It will not happen again… Unless my greatest fear comes to fruition and an open casting call for The Pirates of Penzance is announced.  

Everything's Free at the Library!

A credit card you never have to pay off. 

They were right! They were all right! The library is absolutely fantastic! Before this starts sounding like a min-90s PSA for the benefits provided to the community by the library and the cultural and sentimental value it provides, I want to just emphasize this one fact: everything is free at the library. Probably the single biggest physical media cache in your area is offering everything it has for you to borrow, for free. If it isn't at your particular library, you can go online and literally have other libraries send you what you want. Sure it's not going to satisfy the instant gratification offered by internet services, and maybe it won't be as quick as ordering a movie or book off of Amazon prime. BUT IT'S FREE!

My local library has an online catalog that allows me to log into my account and search for items at any library in the county. I can reserve items and when they're available I get an e-mail saying it is available for me to pick up at my local branch. Look into doing this for yourself. I have consumed thousands of dollars worth of books and movies over the last few years of rediscovering the library. Here are examples of what the library has to offer.

Cascades of books!

Books: Kind of a no brainier, but when I moved up to Washington, I decided to spice up my evenings by reading this author I had heard about by the name of H.P Lovecraft. At this point in my life I was living in a trailer on my future in-laws driveway. Needless to say, my discovery of the father of modern horror was a fun re-introduction to the free bookstore.

It's like reading, but with more pictures.

Comic Books: Back in the day, my library card was solely used to rent absence amounts of Garfield comic collections. I spent hours, reading funnies in the library, and when it was time to go checking them out by the dozens. That has remained largely the same, with the addition of graphic novels and larger more "serious" comic collections. Lately I've started the Sandman, Astonishing X-men, and Bone series. Anytime a new Marvel film approaches theaters, I tend to rent a few comics in the series, most of which are in the system.

E-ink is your grandma's technology. 

E-books: I literally don't even have to leave my house to access the most convenient form of reading there is. I own a Kindle Fire HD and am capable of borrowing library books for free in the Kindle format. I download the book and it stays on all my devices for 2 weeks (after which I can renew or request to borrow it again at the soonest time possible). I then can access it on my kindle, phone and any web browser I have access to. 

Fine cinematic art is at your disposal.

Movies: This method takes far more patience than is culturally customary. It's not Netflix, VOD or Hulu or any other service that equates to instant gratification. It's not even Redbox, but it's cheaper than all of those options. What I've found to be effective is to keep a running list of movies that I want to watch eventually on my library account. Right now I have Saving Mr. Banks, Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure and Apocalypto sitting at home. I only watch about 3/4 of the movies I check out from the library, but my options are always there, and sometimes I can find DVD's that aren't available for streaming at all. 

It's like a physical iTunes.

Music and Audio Books: Seemingly the biggest loophole in the RIAA's ongoing war against illegal music downloads seems to be sanctioned by the US government. Libraries offer a huge collection of music on CD, again you can request any album in the system across multiple libraries in the area. Even more attractive to me as a commuter is the vast array of audio books available over multiple formats. These things sell for large chunks of money and you're probably only going to listen to them once. Or you can just borrow one and call it good.

You can get even more from your local library, everything from community events, free usage of the latest consumer reports and a number of other programs. It's one big free bookstore, and there are tons of them all over the country. Utilize them, they are fantastic. 

I Present to You: The Yellowhead Jawfish

Shannon, my wife, and I have made it a little tradition to visit a Zoo or Aquarium and an Ikea on our wedding anniversary. We do this because it is a refining process for our relationship. The trip tests the metal of our union because every minute that I spend in Ikea is a minute I am not spending in the Zoo, and every minute we spend in the Zoo is a minute that Shannon isn't in Ikea. While the impressive array of flat crate furniture at discount prices is fun for the first hour, no amount of Swedish meatballs and lingonberry juice can equate to the sheer joy I experience whilst gazing at lazy walruses.

 We switched things up a little this year and hit up Ikea first. The most disappointing part of that trip was realizing I couldn't afford the doll beds that seamlessly turn into adorable cat beds. The highlight was that I bought a second long handled shoe-horn, which is one of the greatest inventions known to man, because it saves your fingers from turning into flesh jam when you try to squeeze your heel into a shoe that already has it's laces tied. Also, we bought a hedgehog.

15 meatballs and a new entry bench later we were on our way to The Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium. The Zoo/Aquarium combo was pretty neat, neither one was very large, but I did get to pet a Millipede, which was alright. The real treat came while I was perusing the small aquarium (alone, I might add. My lovely wife has a crippling fear of being under water and of sharks.) and I came across a small tank containing a fish that looked like it was strait out of Spongebob. The thing looked like it was standing upright when it held still and used it's mouth as shovel to dig holes in the sand. It would swim over to a mound of sand, take a large mouthful, swim a ways away and seemingly belch it out. It was fantastic. I took a little video and turned it into a gif for you guys!...You're welcome.

Anyway, this little guy stems from the Caribbean and- you know, you can just check out the wikipedia page if you're actually interested, I'm not going to sit here and type the article to you, I just wanted to show you a fish that eats sand and then throws it up! 

*Side note: Shannon is the greatest woman in the world, and I don't mind going to Ikea with her; It's just that sometimes it takes a long time, and you can only look at shelving brackets for so long before you snap. 

Masks of Nyarlathotep Session 1

I've been particularly fond of Pen and Paper Role Playing Games (RPG) for a little while now, and we recently started up a new game. We're playing the Call of Cthulhu system, which is a horror based Role Playing game set in the 1920s. We threw together a crew mixed with some of the regular guys I game with as well as some completely new to the style of gaming, and I decided to try out my new "Blue Snowball USB Microphone" and recorded our first session. The game play clocked in at nearly five hours in one evening. So if any of you were interested in just how these types of games are played, you might give it a listen!

Thug Life.

I pride myself with having very few run ins with the law. To date I have never been pulled over while driving, I've never even been given a parking ticket. What I'm getting at is simply this: Despite my bragging, I have not lived the thug life. I can think of two specific run ins with the police that I would consider even remotely exciting, and one of those times I hadn't seen them, they were just called to deal with us ( a big misunderstanding that perhaps I'll write about some day.) The instance I will re-iterate to you today happened while I was in school at the Master's College in Santa Clarita California. I won't use any names, but I'm sure those of you reading this that were involved will know who you are.

I graduated from college with a degree in Communications with and emphasis in Electronic Media. As such I was required to take classes in which I had the opportunity to work on and lead various video production projects. The class I had taken this semester was Video Production II, which required a group of students, as well as myself to work under the direction of another student in bringing together one ambitious project. Our director (We'll call her Stacy) knew a gentleman (Whom we'll call Sam) that played the guitar and sang songs. It was Stacy that decided we should make a music video for Sam. I have no problem with music videos, as a matter of fact I quite like a few music videos (I'm particularly keen on the music video for Twisted Sister's "We're Not Going to Take It".)

The Master's College has no Film major. I break away from the story to tell you this because it's important to know that about half of the people involved with electronic media minors at the school fancied themselves "Film" Majors. They were not, I was not, there was simply a Communication Major with and emphasis in Electronic Media. In my experience, Film majors (and those that fancy themselves as such) are a bit more artsy than myself. Certainly I learned to appreciate artistic expression more than before, but that didn't mean I intended to paint myself red and film an abstract video showcasing the horrors of American consumerism in a completely abstract way. There were a lot of very talented people at Master's that considered themselves part of the Film Major, Stacy was in that camp.

The music video, it was clear from the get-go was going to be artsy. I was given the task of creating a junk yard scene in which two young children would dance and then fall down amidst a cloud of billowing smoke and die... or something. Anyway, when all was said and done I was quite proud of the set I had helped create. The entire video was shot inside a warehouse, each wall had a particular set and we simply created numerous sets and moved the camera as necessary. Needless to say, we made a huge mess in that warehouse. So, when shooting was just about done, we started to throw all the junk we had accumulated away. Cleanup was the most fun part about the entire class. I was commissioned to break down some set pieces so they would fit in the back of the pickup truck better. I was allowed to destroy couches, cabinets and numerous other pieces of furniture by kicking it. it was bliss.

We took multiple trips to a large dumpster within the industrial complex that we were filming in. The trips meant that three people sat in the cab of the pickup truck while Sam and myself sat in the bed of the truck amongst the garbage. I want to emphasize that with all previous trips to the dumpster never required us to drive on a main road. I'm no thug life I don't ride in the back of pickups on main roads. So imagine my shock when, instead of turning left, we turn right, directly on to a main road and directly in front of two Sheriff cars.

My immediate reaction to seeing two squad cars with a total of four officers within was completely idiotic. In an attempt to avert the justice of the law, I had decided to duck in the bottom of the bed of the pick up. A bed that was piled about three feet high with junk. What was supposed to be a stealthy maneuver turned into me smashing myself against pieces of broken chairs and book shelves unable to hide anything, especially my guilt.

As we were pulled over into the middle of a parking lot of a gas station, I understand from the others in the cab that the driver, Stacy, had decided to fill up on gas. I was, irritated at the situation, to say the least. The officers took Stacy across the street (as she was the driver) and lined the rest of us up on a curb. They questioned everyone, one at a time. When they got to me the officer asked what I was trying to do when I attempted to duck into the bed of the truck. Knowing from TV that police officers can spot a lie a mile away, I gave him the most truthful answer I could. "I was being an idiot, officer" I said with an embarrassed grin.

We were told that Stacy did not have her driver's license on her, despite the fact that she was driving. This sounded bad. We were asked to show our driver's licenses, I immediately complied. The funny thing was, I was the only one out of a group of five people that complied, because I was the only one that had the foresight to have brought it with me. Not that it did me any good, because the officer asked if I could drive stick since someone needed to move the offending vehicle to an actual parking spot. Legally, I was the only one allowed to drive it. I offered my services to push the vehicle if he would be kind enough to steer. Instead of take me up on my offer he asked permission to drive it himself. I allowed him.

As Stacy was separated from the rest of us, we wondered what was happening. All the officers had joined our little group and were talking to us, when we noticed something funny. Namely that Stacy had completely collapsed, very nearly hitting her head on the curb in the process. The officers ran to revive her, which they did easily. She had fainted from the ordeal.

Amazingly, we were let off with a warning. All of us. I don't know if they found the situation amusing, if they felt bad for us or what. We had to call a friend that actually could drive stick shift to come and drive the car (I had to drive his back to the warehouse since I WAS THE ONLY ONE LICENSED TO DO SO.) Stacy was distraught. In tears she profusely apologized to all of us, especially me. In her reasoning the police now had my name on a list, since I was the only one that could be identified.

Everyone came out alive, certainly a little flustered, but alive. The music video was completed in all it's artistic glory. Stacy was had minimal harm done after her fainting spell. The end result of the whole ordeal left us in exactly the same situation we would have been in if we hadn't broken the law. Well, almost exactly. My name is almost certainly on a list of people to watch out for. Thug life.

Penpal

Penpal, the novel by Dathan Auerbach was originally written in a series of posts to reddit ( you can read the stories here but I would suggest you purchase a copy of the book. It became increasingly popular due to it's realism and eery, yet familiar imagery that was all too relate-able to almost anyone. It began as a series of posts that detailed creepy events from the "authors childhood". As the stories progress you learn that these spooky incidents are not at all unrelated. After reading the first three stories in one night I found something happen that hadn't happened to me in years: I couldn't sleep. It was too scary. As someone that relishes fear through literature and movies, this was a blast.

     Though not as scary the second time through (partially because I read the entire series only at nights the first time through) the novel is one of the finest examples of horror I've ever read. It isn't supernatural, it isn't overly gory or explicitly violent, however it is too familiar. The story centers around a boy as he grows up. The descriptions, the locations and the events are very familiar to anyone that grew up in North America. The author relates things that we've taken for granted such as hearing the pulse in our ears or the noises one might hear when exploring the woods. He takes these things and gives them a completely rational explanation that is more horrifying than you might expect.
   
     After encouragement from the online community, Auerback posted a proposal on Kickstarter to turn his series of terrifying short stories into a novel. His goal was met and surpassed almost immediately. The stories change very little, mostly in formatting from the web to the novel version. However there are some juicy alterations and extra tidbits in the book that were later additions. Self publishing has come a long way, and this book is a prime example of how someone's hard work can certainly pay off. This is a story that people love and voiced their desire to see it turn into something that they could support. If this sounds like something that interests you I highly recommend reading the original reddit thread (linked at the top of the post) and then buying it off amazon by clicking here. It is available as both a paperback and a kindle version.

Popcorn and Peril

Just wanted to give a quick announcement about a new blog I started. This will probably come off as redundant, considering my readership base is about seven people and I'm sure of those seven maybe one is unaware of this second blog I've started. However, I would like to formerly introduce Popcorn and Peril where I talk about movies. I would love for you guys to take a look and maybe leave a comment. I hope it can become a place where some of us can discuss movies. If you get a chance, take a look.

My Training To Be A Kirby Vacuum Salesman

This post is about the time I was, briefly, hired by the Kirby Vacuum company.

I'm fairly certain that in previous posts I have mentioned the fact that upon migrating to Washington in the fall of 2010, I spent a few months unemployed and living in a trailer on the driveway of my future in laws home. During this time, I followed any job lead I could find. This consisted of turning in countless applications, souring job posting websites, newspaper listings, and shopping centers for the possibility of finding work. I even bought 15 dollar paper to print my short, but impressively formatted, resume on.

I was desperate. While browsing the job listing section of craigslist I would write down numbers and addresses, then head out with a book full of references, and a folder full of resumes and apply to any place that was hiring. While in the parking lot of the local Ross, I called up one of the listings I had seen on craigslist that was labelled as a “sales position” A few rings later a man answered the phone, I informed him that I was interested in the position. He, without hesitation, informed me that he would see me in an hour for an interview. As I said, I was parked in front of Ross, so I hopped out, bought a white shirt and red tie, and proceeded to drive to the per-determined location.

I struggled to locate the building that seemed to accessible only through narrow back alleys. As I parked my black 86 Audi I was borrowing from my future father in law, I was certain that this had to be the wrong place. The building was two stories and looked very rundown. Very few cars adorned the lot and the inside looked fairly dark. But I was determined to get this job. I verified the address with the one I had written down. With all the confidence I could muster, I strolled through the door, my new shirt with the standard fold lines that come with a garment worn fresh out of it's packaging.

The inside was grungy and not well lit. I asked if this was where the job interview was, to which the answer was an old clipboard with an application attached to it thrust into my chest. I filled out the application and sat waited. After some time, I small man entered the room, he held a very bloody paper towel around his left thumb. He greeted me and shrugged off the, what appeared to be mortal, injury as a paper cut.

He was the interviewer, and he filled me in with how great a company this was, and how, in dollar amounts, the man who owned the company was just bellow Bill Gates in worth. An interesting fact, considering the current state of this building. He went on to inform me that I could become fabulously wealthy. The interview commenced and he inquired about my scholastic and professional background, taking notes on my resumes that appeared to be squiggly doodles to my untrained eye, the whole time he applied pressure to his oozing thumb.

After ten minutes, I realized I had been given the job, a job that I still knew very little about. I was to report for training in a few days.

What passed the next couple of days was little less than elation. I had found a job, and I was going to be trained that same week as a member of the elite sales force of the Kirby Vacuum cleaner company. However that joy turned to cautious skepticism. After reading online testimonials about the same position I was applying for, I found it was not going to be as easy as the little man (seriously, he had to have been about 100 pounds) had let on. Namely the reports were of having been left in strange neighborhoods, not being paid until spending at least two hours demonstrating the product to a house, various things like that. But I was not in despair yet.

The day of training arrived, and I had no idea what to expect. I put on a nice shirt and some slacks and headed to the shabby building. I was in store for an eight hour training session (without pay, I later found out) that consisted of two points 1. This vacuum cleaner is the best thing in any of the infinite number of parallel universes, and 2. The company we were going to be working for was awesome and would make you extremely rich, and give you lots of free vacations, and cure cancer and stuff (paraphrasing).

Upon entering the building I was told to go into the next room. On the other side of the door sat five other individuals, all eager for work. The room itself was small and the carpet dirty and dank, a foreboding sign for this line of work. A raised area about 10x6 feet and 4 inches off the ground was directly in front of the six seats that had been set up in an awkward square in the center of the room. Blaring directly in front of us on the wall was a DVD that looped Michael Jackson music videos while we waited. To my right were a series of vacuum cleaners, all worn and old, except for the one immaculate Kirby that sat at the head of the line.

Before I could even comprehend what was going on, the man that had interviewed me was on the small, raised platform and dancing along to “Beat It” He introduced himself and basically spent the entire introduction telling us not to make fun of his size. He failed to acknowledge his laugh, which throughout the course of 8 hours became far more noticeable and irritating than his stature. He rambled on about the awesomeness of the company and how other vacuum cleaners sucked (or didn't suck, I guess). I think what struck me most was how unprofessional the entire presentation was. The perks of the job mostly consisted of being invited to parties where everyone got drunk on the companies dime.

Everything else aside, forget unprofessionalism, dingy building, and the nail-on-chalkboard laugh, the product itself was solid. The Kirby vacuum was designed to last, it did a variety of jobs and it did them all well. The best part of the demonstration was when the other man running the presentation (it was a tag team ordeal) put two pieces of gun in between two filters, vacuumed up some dirt, and then pulled that gum out of the machine and chew on it, then he made one of the guys in the front chew the other one.

Then came the price. This thing cost over $1,300. It sucked up a lot of dust, but at the end of the day, that's all it did, and they expected me to go hawk these things door to door, every day with that price tag on. On top of that, at the end of the session they wanted me to write down eight appointments to demonstrate, and try to sell the product to, friends and family.

In the end, I came to the realization that I was not cut out for this type of work. I called that night and informed them and never looked back.

Teacup Candles

For Christmas I made my mother and aunts candles made of thrift store teacups. I bought microwavable soy wax, Pomegranate scent and wicks. Using Shannon's good Tupperware, I proceeded to melt the wax in the microwave. I poured the wax into my teacups and let it sit overnight. Here is the result.

Pumpkin Prop

As Halloween approached this past year, I spent quite a bit of time developing characters for and writing a mystery party. Themed in the 1920s, and was heavily based on the works of H.P. Lovecraft. Among the various errands I had to attend to, perhaps the most difficult was "prop maker" I spent much time attempting to create an object that could reconcile both my imagination and my real world "crafting" ability (which, in comparison to my overambitious imagination was severely lacking.)

The prop in question was to be an alien beacon that would serve as the focal point of the evening. Should evil prevail, the beacon would be completed by inserting the necessary gems. I settled on a design consisting of paint, a hot glue gun, a decorative jar lid, and a foam pumpkin.

Shannon made me plan everything out before I started