Expatriate Games

Let me try and explain something. The point of “publishing” my own copy of past work is supposed to be fun. The fun of it. The enjoyment, if you will. And yet, last night, after finally reclosing the pages of a book I started when I was seventeen – after that in itself taking an unexpected turn for the cant-just-type-up-the-hardcopy-I-found – I found myself doing the strangest, longest, frustratingest labor ever.

So, the great thing about this site is that you can just upload your work, spend a few days figuring out how to do the covers to their liking, and bam, you’ve got your own hardback to file away under this-may-never-be-as-important-as-it-is-today-again, right? Oh, lambylamb. Nay. For you see, for whatever reason, they want you to embed the fonts if you upload as a pdf. Fine, I’ll just change the font (from what it’s been for nigh-on ten years) to Calibri since even when I use Times New Roman (which is on the list), you tell me I’d have to embed Times if I wanna use it. Which I’m not! Now (that the font is tiny and shut up because no it is not too small, I refuse to get sucked into a perfectionist battle that will keep me up until four am) I can upload the pdf and relish the joy of completion and wait for the girls to see that it’s done! Yes! No? Not working, huh. Okay.  Fine, I’ll just upload it as a word doc. What’s that? I used clipart for scrolls and chapter numbers (no, I can’t believe I wrote something in loose chapter form, either) and now you show all pages as blank or as wingdings?! Fine! (Please elapse an hour minimum between the past discovery and this one.) Okay. …. Okay. …. I’ll just capture each pdf page as an image, which they won’t try to edit or alter! Awesome, I happen to have a trial of a program that does just such a thing, so we’re golden. Okay, converting. (Please take off your wrist watch. It’s just getting depressing.) Okay! I’ve got a jpg of every page – thank God changing the font made it shorter, no? Now! Gotta…upload these individually? Hmm. That’s not, uh, gonna work for me. There must be another way! Oh, okay, there is! I’ll just download this FTP server thingy and upload them nearly simultaneously! Weird that I have to go through and double click each image from the folder instead of just choose the folder and thereby all its contents but whatever. So, that’s happening, let’s take a break – watch a cartoon – bring ourselves back to neutral. Wow, that went fast. Cool! Let’s go back to the site and get this thing ready for viewing! (Insert jumping on bed, in my mind. Teehee, I can’t wait to have this! And to show Jenny and Ana and Jordan and Serrana and everybody who was there the first time around! TeeheeTeeheeTeehee!) At this point, the tittering is forceably stopped when I realize I now have to go to My Files and import all the images I thought I just imported. Which means they’re here, but not associated with any project. Because that would’ve been too easy. So, what, I guess I have to go somewhere, click select all and then… no, when I change the page to the next group, the previous group gets unselected. Okay. Page…by page, then. What’s that? They’re in less than a particular order and I’ll have to upload them to the project and then arrange them myself? And I’m kinda tired and homicide-y? What’s that? I can’t go to sleep because I can’t put the laptop down because I’m not done? That’s what I thought! So, here we go uploading and arranging. Each page. (Please throw time into a black hole.) So, here we are. All of them are in order. Is the sun coming up?!? Okay, well at least I am 100% done. What? Which page is missing? Lemme now try to count with the pages (which are at least numbered) and make sure (because my mind is fresh as a daisy) that these pages are all there. Nope. Page 36.  Page *wipes tear* 36. Not here. (Mind flashes entire FTP process again.) NO! I can just upload this page individually! Calm down. Calm down. So there, we’ve uploaded it. Dropped it in the right order. Let’s convert this into a print-ready preview and call it a night. Morning. Wish those birds would simmer down. What the heck is taking so long?! Little orange line chugging across the screen. Chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga.

That’s about where I blacked out.

SEE IT AGAIN!

My album cover

..tell you that at four am, on USA (at least here in Cali), the finale of Law and Order: Criminal Intent is airing again.
I will be there.
So should you be.

We’ve got something of a crisis, here, people. (Tense pause.) Ezra has recently informed me that Lake, his imaginary brother, has turned Chin, his new imaginary brother, into… a lobster. This shocking news comes on the heels of Chin’s recent marriage to The Lady, with whom Ezra has shared numerous fake cellphone conversations. With huge, teary eyes, Ezra told me of Lake’s nefarious doings. We can only hope that this will soon be resolved. And that Chin will make a full recovery.

“And now, because the children are the future, here are the children, singing, ‘The Children…Are The Future’. Children?”

Now, while you may be wondering how there’s anything wrong with this family picture, rest assured. First. They’re British. Duh. I just wanna throw that out there so the next part isn’t so hard for you. Secondly, they’re not siblings. Yeah. The ogre-sized girl and the boy I maintain is six-and-a-quarter are the proud “parents” of the baby.  She’s 16 (which, in ogre years, is like … wait, do ogres age differently?) and he’s 13. Which, is my mind, based solely on his appearance is statutory. COME ON. Who the hell looks at that kid and thinks sexual thoughts?!? Unless you’re from some slummy suburb in England and the teen pregnancy rate is ridiculous. Now, I realize it is stupid to make statements like that when kids in America have sex and their parents stupidly consider it acceptable and where the rate of teen pregnancy is low(er) ostensibly because of the societal investment in abortion and not making said CHILD have their parent present to perform this perfectly legal “termination”.

So maybe it’s the fact that America is huge. And there are tons of people with differing opinions. There are tons of kids who aren’t strolling the high street at what I’m sure was a school hour, having what appeared to be dry sex in front of the Woolworth’s. In broad daylight. Comfortable because there seemed absolutely no respect for the presence of elders. Many of whom spent their days equally uselessly, living off council. And no, I’m not describing Tennessee, but only because I’ve never been there, I’m sure. Basically, there is just a distinctive feeling that I associate with being surrounded by these little monsters. Mostly because in America, I’ve never seen a pregnant thirteen year old get served in a pub. While asking for a cigarette.

The point is. Sadness. For trizzle. Because the latest news on this “couple” is that when she turns sixteen – oh, my bad, she’s still 15 – she can move into a free council-housing apartment and if he moves in, because of how young he is (and probably something to do with the fact that he can’t reach the counter) – she will become his legal guardian and get the same benefits as a single mother of two. Because this is the other thing that confounded me about these kids. They were completely encouraged by the system and had seemingly no repercussions for their actions and certainly no incentive to do anything differently. Let’s give them a free house, free income “assistance”… because when you can become the legal guardian of your lover, there’s nothing wrong with this picture. Aside from that it’s hideous and evil. O_O

I’m crying on the inside.

Okay, so since it was getting a little obvious that my “About” (renamed: “Hey, what happah??”) page was leaving some visitors wanting… well, actually that isn’t obvious. What’s obvious is that it has been repeatedly visited and based on the fact that it was formerly one line, I assume visitors would wonder why they’d bothered. So I updated it. And I mean really. There are paragraphs now. Suckle, my children. Suckle.

If you’re at all into indie sound… I think you’re really gonna enjoy this.

This is all day, people. Fo’ real. And I don’t know if it’s just me but when I hear this near-falsetto little voice swimming up the staircase to find me, the tiniest crystal echo accompanying its journey from the bathroom (where he’s going potty) or from his room (where he’s likely doing nothing but standing in the middle of the room singing)… I think of him kicking me from the inside. Oh, romance.

This is a throwback single from the same artist. I think this one is an instant classic because of the extreme emotionality.

I can’t wait for this album to drop. For real. Basically, it’s an amalgamation of “I know”, “You’re gonna see”, “The whole world”. But mostly. “I know”. Because he does.

But first. Things my son says:

“I can’t take this!” – usually when he is corrected during school work. O_O
“Why would you do such a thing!” – usually in jest when I force him to kiss me.
“This is really a problem.” – just now when he found a shell that had long since fallen off of my necklace.

O_O

I should just come clean. … As someone who has railed against (and thrown up over) the idea (and frequent examples) of self-publication, it might surprise you to know that I’ve been spending the last half week on Lulu.com. It shouldn’t. You know those photo albums and home movies-turned-dvd to which I dedicate days of my life… it’s basically that. Ah, records. Of things passed. That shall – for the most part – under no circumstances be conventionally published. The part I must confess is how long I’ve been working on the cover art. Le sigh. I’m … so proud of myself. HAH, didn’t see that comin’, didya? Well, I am. I cannot lie and say this entire process – which was initially for one long ago project whose unveiling was supposed to be a surprise but I GET TOO EXCITED – has been fun. For, you see, there are two little texts which are necessarily formatted, seeing as they are plays. But. The stupid process of them being integrated into the “print-ready” document means that my page breakers are not maintained. Though I said REPEATEDLY that I would not, I revised the original document of the one I worked on today… more than 22 times. That’s one fullscale overhaul for every single page of the document. And I’ve had to remember that – though I would sooner slit my wrists than show a less than perfect project – no one has to see it! It’s just for me! (Well, the two that are formatted, that is… well, aside from Jordan who inspired one of them.) While this presently makes me feel better…. I know it’s only a matter of time before I start trying again. And before you ask: no there is no rhyme or outline for how to sync up my efforts with their program. It’s been a guessing game. Blerg.

But the reason I’m so happy is because one of those plays had been given a “blah” name for like three years. And today. I renamed it. And the cover art came out of it. And both me and Josh fell in love with it. LE sigh. LE. Sigh. Happy, dopamine-inducing production. That has nothing to do with the real life progression towards publication. Which is a whole nother story.

Hilarity. Where, you ask? Here, I answer. No, here.

In other news…. who didn’t already know this guy was a douche-nugget?!

You heard me right.

I don’t care if you’re being paid. I don’t. You are a pansy, pouting, handsome-like-a-victorian-fop-or-dandy douche-nugget who I assume cries during coitus. There, I said it. I’m not just mad because of all three Star Wars prequels. I’m mad because he is. Oh, right and that’s the boring as hell looking girl from the show I dare not speak its name. I mean I don’t go around accusing people of being gay but if you don’t walk in on this guy and the pool boy, …. Dude, he still has on his make-up from the last performance of Madame Butterfly.

I…might be irrationally upset right now.

Anyway, I don’t think I have anything of use to say. So here’s another picture.

Make me the blue one.

…but it is threatening to shoot right up at any minute!

Okay I just flipped my ish. Because grown women are also afraid of thunderous…thunder rising to a crescendo that will leave someone deaf. Did I mention it was preceded by a flash of lightning? And that last year, the storm season left trees in roofs across the walkway from our powerless, dark home (which lasted two days)? Because that’s what happened, people. And apparently, it’s back for me, sprinkling these little doosies in every hour for good measure:

That’s the tail end of the hail shower that starts out pounding like Mike Tyson and then tapers off so you think the whole cycle’s done, except it’s followed by a bruising round of fat rain pellets. So. You know. Good tidings, we bring.

HEY! Member that time in college (at this … same place…in this same forest) when I got hit on the top of my head by a fat hail ball and was confused as to what happened and how it got through my umbrella, which had actually capsized already?! Yeah. I like it here.