When Life Gets in the Way

This weekend, I worked on my novel for the first time in about three weeks. Sometimes school and life and everything else gets in the way and I can barely sit and think about where the story must go. After reading Seanachi's post about why she writes this morning, I went to our study room. An outline for the next section of the book followed with absolutely lovely results.

One of my characters and the culture of her clan has grown delightfully sinister. I did not expect this darker side to be so fascinating. The new version of this character makes decisions in an instant, forcing the rest of the characters to react. Apparently, this formula puts my plot on steroids and speeds things up - just a tad.

Over the past few days, I have grown increasingly dissatisfied with my job. I'm not even sure why. I just walk through the door and feel tired and sort of on edge and look forward to the time I get to come back to the dorm. We're going to hope that this will pass.

So say we all.
Bri

The Difference Between Obsession and Passion

My coworkers informed me today that I am obsessed. At first, I let it go. I shook it off. But it followed me through the day and I can't get away from it. I shouldn't feel the need to defend myself, to justify what I do. But I do.

I adore my novel and develop it scene by scene, chapter by chapter every single day. I'm submitting short stories to magazine and designing artwork for a class I'm taking next semester. I adore playing HALO 3 and the community of players who game with me. I adore my work at the university where I tutor students and create workshops to build up a writing scene on campus. I've carried 18 hours for my junior and senior years. I've kept a near perfect GPA while working +15 hours a week.

I don't discuss these things that I love with my coworkers or my suitemates. Generally, I'm afraid I'll bore them. So I mostly keep it all to myself and geek about it all on my blog. So am I obsessed? Hardly. Am I driven? Most definitely. The difference? A value judgment against my lifestyle.

Do my co-workers make this value judgment against something they can't understand? Against someone else's ability to be passionate about something? Or is this a form of elitism, which allows the few to determine what is useful-legitimate or base-entertainment?

Either way, I don't really have time to figure that out. This post took up enough time. I'm off to write another chapter, to play through the last two campaign missions on HALO: CE and then to eat dinner with the guys. What are you doing this weekend?

So say we all.
Bri

Snapshots of Downtown and the Rock

Signs from Downtown: Pentacostal Waka-Waka

Our Transient Art and a Painted Door

Beautiful Butterflies, Bathing in the Street and Keeping Watch

Building Pressure, Lady Liberty in a Bar, Lovely Food and Jugglers

Superheroes and StormtroopersSo say we all.

Bri

Super Sunday: Stories, Scenes, Sergeant

This past week was horrifically stressful: projects piled up, meals passed unnoticed and sleep drifted by as a figment of my imagination. But then the weekend came. The Weekend of the Miracles.

Swallowing Stories

I drafted out the last half of my novel and got two or three scenes written before I was overwhelmed with loads of tired on Friday night. Saturday, I brainstormed about the other books in the series (a rare and pleasant vice I entertain briefly every few months or so). Every single time I think about what comes next in the story, I sort of want to dance around and tell every single person on earth that they have no idea how much more awesome I can pack into a plot. But I don't. I hold it in. I sit on it. I swallow it whole and it holds through the next three months until I need to think about it again.

At the Writing Center I am helping a wonderful woman work on her novel. We get along fabulously, with her novel progressing with each week. But she told me something on Friday that has bothered me all weekend. She said her family pushes her to finish the book, to hurry.

My response? I told her to make some space, to gently distance her family from her project, so that she might write in peace. Writers should be able to swallow their stories, to accumulate ideas as long as is necessary, until they are ready to write. Not before. You can't rush these things.

Come Back With Your Shield Or On It.

This Saturday, I gained the rank of Spartan Sergeant for HALO 3. I was pleased. We celebrated accordingly (wink) and decided to name our clan Holt Otter. We knew we shouldn't take our name seriously, because while we aren't lousy by any means, we don't really see ourselves as a badass clan. We're friendly. We like to play, to watch out for our own and to work as a team. Otters fit the bill. The other benefit of being Clan Otter is that as we go out in teams of 2-8, we can adjust our name according to team size: Otter Squad/Platoon/ Battalion /Legion.

You can see few of us below, each member photoshopped in from various snapshots. We're a pretty well-rounded team: snipers, shotgunners, along with lite and heavy assault-explosives guys. We may not always crush our opposition, but I always thoroughly enjoy myself. A few of us didn't get into the picture, but I'll try to get a full team roster up in the next few weeks.

From the Rock

V and I went into the Rock on Saturday to the river market. Photos are due from my last trip down there, so Wednesday will be a photo post. Hope you look forward to it! And thanks so much for your suggestions for our clan name, BTW!


So say we all.
Bri

The Good, the Nameless and the Faceless

This past Tuesday, I turned 22. I actually forgot about it until Sunday night and then suddenly remembered. Bear bought a cake on Tuesday night and we're still munching on it as the week goes on. This weekend the plan is to write, have a HALO 3 LAN party, (maybe) get some homework done and sleep. Also, Vespacian carved Master Chief's face and my HALO 3 insignia into a pumpkin for Halloween. It's absolutely adorable. Pictures will ensue.

The Good, The Faceless and The Nameless

I have various reasons for adoring the faceless, nameless hero.

When a hero is faceless or nameless he is more emotionally accessible to the audience. We love him because he are unknown to us. We fill in the gaps of his past, his childhood, his psyche. Most of the time, we add our own experiences in those gaps and envision a hero more and more like us - maybe to the point of actually being us.

We love him because he is cool and collected. Eastwood's Man with No Name endures as a pop culture icons precisely because of his detachment and his grace in times of crisis. The Master Chief from HALO and Samus Aran from Metroid also share this characteristic. Neither are overly emotional or talkative.

We love them because, at the end of the world, when the lead starts to fly, they stay low and frosty.

Update on Research

As I have previously mentioned, I'm conducting a research project to see if someone could accurately judge a player's gender in the anonymity of HALO 3. I'm focusing on game play, appearance, choice of weapons, player profiles and stats. So far, the only area I'm getting any sort of determining factor is in team vs. solo play.

Apparently, most females enjoy tactical, strategic object-based games, instead of random slayer matches. I'm gathering film and photos for this project and will probably post them here as I go.

I think a "Nameless-Faceless" hero story is due.

So say we all.
Bri