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I'm feeling sort of embarrassed that I've had this ginormous poster of Rosie the Riveter on the top of my blog for a week and a half. (Yes, ginormous is a word. How dare you question me!!) It's not that I have some obsession with women in overalls. See, it was Memorial Day, and I felt I should do something more to commemorate that... my maternal grandmother was a Rosie the Riveter during WWII, working in an aircraft factory while my maternal grandfather was in the Army, serving over in Italy, the nation her parents had emigrated from. Grammie Eva died around Memorial Day, some 19 years ago. My mother said I would remember Grammie Eva on Memorial Day, and for most of those 19 instances, she's been right. So I applied some poetic license to join the personal mourning with the national mourning, and another cliche'd fictional Soldier's Letter Home was born. It's not that I don't understand the importance of the national mourning, but it's not personal to me the way my grandmother was. As we progress through to Flag Day and Fourth of July, yes, by all means, honor our soldiers... but never, ever forget that wars are only fought for a purpose. We go, we accomplish that purpose, then we get our collective national posterior out of there before anybody gets killed who didn't need to be. The day that war becomes the cause rather the effect is the day the real America dies. Of course, that's just my opinion. Maybe you like a strong police state.
Effective January 2006, White Wolf expects that all persons charging money (or paying money more than once) of any amount for attendance at White Wolf system/setting-based games must also be paying members of the White Wolf corporate fan club, the Camarilla. This sort of thing always comes down from suits in Marketing that we've never heard of, who never actually wrote a bloody game in their life. *sigh*
News: Studies in Hope & Faith
Jun. 27th, 2005 01:53 amTuesday, June 21st was the Summer Solistice-- by definition, literally the longest day of the year. It felt it. That night, Cricket responded to my second letter (the one clarifying that I don't really suck blood) with a phone number. We talked for two hours on the phone, about everything: death, religion, love...I'd say it went well. Cricket is vivacious, full of life, inquisitive and straightforward. Cricket is nearly the opposite of me in every way. She's from a Catholic family but has become an atheist. She has commitment issues and loves her sexual freedom. Cricket called me tonight. Cricket explained how we have nothing in common and she just doesn't feel anything for me. She doesn't see how we could even be friends. Have a nice life, Miss Cricket. May the God you no longer see any need for nonetheless watch over you and keep you safe.
