It was recently pointed out to me by a friend that Fallout: New Vegas does not have a healthy view on sexuality. She said this because we had just watched as my roommate agreed to have sex with a robot to test it out before giving it to its new owners. Thankfully, the screen went black and there were only the words “Sounds of Servos” to indicate anything had happened. But my roommate pointed out that there really isn’t any sex in the game – there’s that moment with the robot, and there are two prostitutes (one male, one female) you could have sex with, but that’s it. There’s no romance in the Fallout series, outside of occasional side quests you help people with.
I am not yet at the mission where I could potentially get freaky with a robot and its servos. I’ve been heavily distracted by side missions and the like, one of which I ran into yesterday that threw everything this friend had said into start relief. You’re asked by a Lieutenant in the armed forces to take out some local warlords for a bounty, because they’re proving too dangerous for the military, which is spread too thinly. Then they give you some back story on your targets – they’re evil, yadda yadda, one raped a soldier and now she hits on women.
Wait. What? Continue reading
As I mentioned in my last post, I began running. I’ve kept relatively quiet about it online until now, just because I didn’t particularly feel like going on and on about it. Even though it’s all from a particular set of Tweets where Belynda and I basically made a bet with each other (her writing ~40k words in a week meant I was going to run the Zombie 5k), the training and everything was something I figured no one really wanted to hear about.
So if you don’t want to hear about it, now’s your time to skip out.
I’m not going to complain about how tough working out after a decade of being a relatively friendly blob is. You can draw your own assumptions on that. What I will say, though, is that I feel fucking awesome. Yeah, my calves and shins kind of become sore. And sure, I’m wearing a brace on my left knee when I run. But seriously, I never realized just how euphoric this could be before. I mean, yes, I’ve worked out in the past. And yeah, occasionally I would feel pretty awesome, but usually I just felt dead. But right now? As I type this? Fucking. Awesome. Continue reading
I was recently asked by a good friend how to keep one’s self esteem up for projects. How do you keep on believing in yourself when you’re convinced you can’t pull off what you want to accomplish? There a million things this could be – from getting into grad school to just getting an A on a paper to losing weight to (my current demon) running a 5k to some other thing I haven’t mentioned here because it’s a nearly infinite list. Listen, there are a million things you could do, and a million reasons you shouldn’t do every single one.
But the only reason that matters is that you want to. So start there. If you want to do it, fucking do it. (Unless that’s getting addicted to drugs or becoming a prostitute or stabbing a guy or something. Don’t do that.) First, figure out your goal, and make sure it’s realistic. “I want to lose weight” is bullshit and you will fail. Andrea already wrote about it quite well, so I won’t go into too much detail here. But the short version is that you can’t be general, or you’re setting yourself up for failure. “I want to lose weight” may be bullshit, but “I am going to lose 20 lbs in 10 weeks” is both properly phrased and healthy (ie, 2 lbs a week). That is a real goal. Continue reading
Note from Tom: This was originally posted December 2010, after another successful NaNo run. Since the Blogenning theme this week is NaNo WriMo, and we’re only a couple of weeks away from Day 1, I thought it would be worthwhile to re-post it. Please silently adjust all tenses to make sense – for instance, it is currently October, not December, and people are preparing their writing holes, not leaving them. Feel free to add your thoughts in the comments!
As I write this, the National Novel Writing Month has been over for only a few days. Everyone, no matter how “well” they did, is coming out from their basements and their bedrooms and workrooms and blinking in the cold December light, making phone calls to loved ones to let them know they’re still alive and have a little free time again. They’re showering and shaving and generally coming back around again into becoming normal people.
Well, that’s the joke, anyway. The reality is a bit different. Very different, in fact. Because most of the participants in the event are not professional writers that hole themselves up all the time and just simply dedicated a month. The majority are people with very real lives to lead – parents, grandparents, high school and college students, full time professionals with a second job or a course load on top of work – that decide to dedicate a very real amount of time to themselves, to one of the greatest self-indulgent exercises society has to offer (that doesn’t involve extra calories or potential jail time): writing.
I love beer.
I didn’t used to love beer. In fact, I didn’t even like it when I first moved to Boston. But you learn. You learn that in a city like Boston, (good) beer is ubiquitous. You pretty much have to be at a college party to not find it. You learn that it’s also cheaper – a Sam Adams on tap in most places in the city generally costs around $5-$6, whereas a mixed drink can start at $8.50 or so and is always both smaller and loaded up with ice. You learn that there is little that is quite as affirming as a good burger, a side of fries and a tasty beer. And you learn that unlike mixed drinks, the same beer should taste about the same across town (a mixed drink, however, requires the bartender to make it, so who knows what you’ll get). So, I learned to like beer. Continue reading
Normally, I like to try to keep a pretty positive attitude around here. Time with me should be a fun, joyful experience. Or perhaps a thoughtful, introspective one. I’m also willing to accept an experience that amounts to “look at the pretty colors!” But in general I prefer positivity to negativity in what I do. That said, this week’s theme for the Blogenning appears to be “Things I Hate.” Everyone is approaching this in slightly different manners. Here are some of mine.
I might as well warn you now, I’m probably going to end up using much stronger language than I usually do. Well, stronger than I usually use on here, anyway. So if your kid is next to you at the computer, skip this post over. Go look at my pictures from Chihuly or the Arnold Arboretum. Or one of my many fireworks based posts. Just go look at the pretty pictures, and then when your child is gone, continue onward. Continue reading
This week, Belynda wrote about obsession, touching off the theme for the week for the lot of us. Brandon, Ian and Andrea all have wonderful posts talking about obsessions of theirs and how they handle them. Since they began posting, I’ve spent most of my waking hours trying to think of what to write about. There are so many options, really.
I mean, I’m obsessed with finding new music for every subtle version of every mood I could have (and for the different situations I find myself in). I started that with an obsession with classic rock back when I was a teenager, and it sort of just ballooned out from there. I guess you could say I’m obsessed with eating good (tasting) foods, or drinking and knowing about delicious beers, but I don’t know if that quite goes far enough to be obsession. I certainly seemed obsessed with writing or photography when it’s November or I have my camera on hand (respectively), but beyond those I don’t really worry too much – I write when I write, I photograph when I photograph. It could absolutely be said I am obsessed with reading, and the speaker wouldn’t even need to defend their statement. They could just say it, and everyone around would look at me and nod knowingly, and I would simply have to agree. But I’m not really obsessed with reading, any more than I am with walking or breathing. Continue reading
I am fairly certain procrastination is the bane of my existence.
I enjoy being lazy. I really do. It’s fun. It involves lounging around, doing things for pleasure, and just not really having to work at anything. Other times, it means doing things like cleaning my room just to avoid, say, writing (just to, you know, toss a random example out there. One with absolutely no basis in reality. Probably). That latter example is actually one of the weirder things I’ve gone through – a bout of productivity in order to involve something else that would probably come to less work in the end. Continue reading
I bet it would really cool to own a pig. Specifically, a Teacup Pig. I realize that the name sounds absolutely ridiculous in the same way that chihuahuas are ridiculous, but the “teacup” nonsense only lasts for a week or two. Apparently by two years old they’ve reached their full size of 65 lbs. They’re apparently very friendly animals that are big on affection and cuddling, you can litter train them, you can feed them just about anything, they’re clean, and since pigs are covered in hair (not fur) they’re essentially hypoallergenic. You’re supposed to take them for a walk once a day, and have a good spot for them to dig, since they’re natural diggers.
Basically, a pig would be like a dog that can’t bark. One that’s very intelligent (allegedly, pigs are rated 4th after humans, apes/primates, and dolphins on the animal intelligence scale). And of course, you can get away with naming it things like Porkchop and Bacon. That said, they’re like a grand, so that’s not happening any time soon. Continue reading
I think one of the things thrown most into a stark light for me this birthday season has been the idea of what I want out of a celebration. It used to be I wanted a big party, loaded up with friends. We would have tons of drinks, music, pictures, and ridiculous stories to share after we had all sobered up and got around to talking about it again. But I don’t think that’s what I’m so interested in anymore.
On my actual birthday this year, I went out with Brandon and Grace to dinner at a rather awesome bar with 100 different beers on tap. Our conversations varied between the goofy and the serious, from dreamy and huge to simple and realistic. We started at the restaurant, had great food with our beers of varying levels of taste, and then ended the night at a local dive bar (which we closed). I went home feeling lighthearted and happy, a general sense of all being right with the world about me. I had a cigar on my stoop, just letting my mind wander and touch on things, and then I went to bed. There was a general sense of “oh god the sun exists and is horrible” among us the next day, but it was completely worth it.
Then, there was my official birthday party. Continue reading