I fell in love with a photographer like I always knew I would.
And people will still ask me why.Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Superseded or Not
It was getting late and I was starting to run thin. Really thin. I had to get out, I had to go and see the only person who could make it feel even just a little better.
I was supposed to do some work with Chad the next day filming a play, so I needed to go back home anyway. Truth be told though, if I had wanted to stay he would have been able to manage without me. And again, truth be told, even though I went home he did manage without me. After a series of long winded nonsense I ended up borrowing my aunts car and driving backing home around 11. On the drive home I almost died, several times. Something hit me on the way back, maybe it was realizing my grandmother's mortality for the first time or.. something else, I don't know, but I couldn't stop crying, and at that point in time it was the most and the hardest I had ever cried. I couldn't see the road through the tears for most of the ride home. I was so incredibly scared, but not for fear of my own safety. No, that fear always comes later.
It was the last night I really felt like I was loved. I got home and the house smelled like cinnamon. Patrick wasn't at the house but told me he would be shortly. I went into my room and curled up on my bed and just stared blankly, so afraid. When he showed up he came in and laid beside me and held me while I cried into him and told him what was happening. He told me he was sorry and kept stroking my hair. The more I laid there the better I felt. He has a way, even now, of making me feel like there's hope, like everything will be okay. I told him I loved him so much and he squeezed me tight and said he loved me too. I told him how grateful I was to have him with me and how much it meant to me that he was there with me. In a way I felt so lame because I was crying so hard. He's one of the only people in my life I ever let see me cry, mostly because I feel so close to him. He doesn't judge me. It's okay to be myself. I was so tired though.. if I was smarter I would have asked him to stay with me until I had fallen asleep, but I'm stupid and didn't want to sound demanding, even though I think he would have understood. I told him I was going to sleep and he kissed me on the forehead and put a blanket over me and told me goodnight. It was the last night I really felt like I was loved.
The next morning I went back up to the city, though I really didn't want to go. I called Pats on my drive up and he talked to me and I really appreciated it. Once I had arrived though, things just got worse and worse. I no longer remember details, just a vague haze of bad news and slight hope. I ended up staying the night in the hospital and writing this, as opposed to sleeping. Around three or four I called Pats again, so incredibly broken, just grasping to the sound of his voice for comfort. He told me some story about his day shopping in the city with a friend, and I learned that he bought me a gift, which.. was very sweet. Then he told me about some innocent kiss that happened at the house. He said he wanted me to hear it from him first and not someone else and me get upset. Secretly, before he had finished explaining the entire story my stomach was turning quite a bit. Bad memories, bad times. But I believed him when he finished, even though that bad feeling didn't go away for about an hour. I've always trusted him. I always will. I told him I was coming back down the next day and we should hang out if he could. He said okay.
It was a Monday. I got home and I guess he was about to leave to go to the city with my roommate and a friend to look for Halloween costumes. He offered for me to go with, but I declined. We got in a fight. It was probably my fault. I fucked up. There's no worse feeling than letting the only person who can always cheer you up no matter what, down.
It went down-hill from there. I still don't know why. But it doesn't matter because I can't change it. I can't fix it.
I can't forgive myself for fucking up again.
I was supposed to do some work with Chad the next day filming a play, so I needed to go back home anyway. Truth be told though, if I had wanted to stay he would have been able to manage without me. And again, truth be told, even though I went home he did manage without me. After a series of long winded nonsense I ended up borrowing my aunts car and driving backing home around 11. On the drive home I almost died, several times. Something hit me on the way back, maybe it was realizing my grandmother's mortality for the first time or.. something else, I don't know, but I couldn't stop crying, and at that point in time it was the most and the hardest I had ever cried. I couldn't see the road through the tears for most of the ride home. I was so incredibly scared, but not for fear of my own safety. No, that fear always comes later.
It was the last night I really felt like I was loved. I got home and the house smelled like cinnamon. Patrick wasn't at the house but told me he would be shortly. I went into my room and curled up on my bed and just stared blankly, so afraid. When he showed up he came in and laid beside me and held me while I cried into him and told him what was happening. He told me he was sorry and kept stroking my hair. The more I laid there the better I felt. He has a way, even now, of making me feel like there's hope, like everything will be okay. I told him I loved him so much and he squeezed me tight and said he loved me too. I told him how grateful I was to have him with me and how much it meant to me that he was there with me. In a way I felt so lame because I was crying so hard. He's one of the only people in my life I ever let see me cry, mostly because I feel so close to him. He doesn't judge me. It's okay to be myself. I was so tired though.. if I was smarter I would have asked him to stay with me until I had fallen asleep, but I'm stupid and didn't want to sound demanding, even though I think he would have understood. I told him I was going to sleep and he kissed me on the forehead and put a blanket over me and told me goodnight. It was the last night I really felt like I was loved.
The next morning I went back up to the city, though I really didn't want to go. I called Pats on my drive up and he talked to me and I really appreciated it. Once I had arrived though, things just got worse and worse. I no longer remember details, just a vague haze of bad news and slight hope. I ended up staying the night in the hospital and writing this, as opposed to sleeping. Around three or four I called Pats again, so incredibly broken, just grasping to the sound of his voice for comfort. He told me some story about his day shopping in the city with a friend, and I learned that he bought me a gift, which.. was very sweet. Then he told me about some innocent kiss that happened at the house. He said he wanted me to hear it from him first and not someone else and me get upset. Secretly, before he had finished explaining the entire story my stomach was turning quite a bit. Bad memories, bad times. But I believed him when he finished, even though that bad feeling didn't go away for about an hour. I've always trusted him. I always will. I told him I was coming back down the next day and we should hang out if he could. He said okay.
It was a Monday. I got home and I guess he was about to leave to go to the city with my roommate and a friend to look for Halloween costumes. He offered for me to go with, but I declined. We got in a fight. It was probably my fault. I fucked up. There's no worse feeling than letting the only person who can always cheer you up no matter what, down.
It went down-hill from there. I still don't know why. But it doesn't matter because I can't change it. I can't fix it.
I can't forgive myself for fucking up again.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Of Love
I saw my grandmother last Saturday. I was filming a wedding and the reception had taken me to the Frisco Center in Clinton. I wasn't feeling very well and was running a fever for awhile so I left a little early to get something to eat and rest up before I had to go to my job at the theatre. It wasn't until I pulled up to the drive-through at McDonalds that I realized I had left my debit card in a pair of pants that I wasn't wearing because I'm an idiot. Even still, I didn't have to be at work for about an hour or so, so I decided to go and see my two grandparents who lived in town.
My biological grandmother, who we call Nana, and her second husband, Papa Frankie. I don't go to see them as much as I should, especially since I only live 15 minutes away. I'd say in the entirety of my life I've gone to visit her on my own without any type of prompt maybe three times. We had a nice visit while I was there, and it turned out that I hadn't seen her in a good three or four months. For some reason, deep inside my completely fucked-up mind, I felt really proud of myself for actually going and seeing them. Almost as though it made up for not consistently going and seeing them (or even calling them) and was something that I could mark off my "list of things I need to do every six months". God I'm a fucking idiot.
Thursday my mother called me and said my grandmother was in the hospital and that I needed to call her or go see her. I told her I had to be at work in about an hour or so and that I would do my best to go and see her, though I really had no intention of doing so. I knew they needed me at work and that there was no real way I was going to be able to get off on such short notice unless someone had died, but I told myself I'd call her. Of course in brilliant dumbass fashion by the time I remembered to call her it was too late to do so. Instead I called my mother who said she was doing okay and they were going to let her leave the hospital. She also said that Nana had specifically asked when I was going to call her. I felt bad and decided that I would go see her that next day and piddled through the rest of my night, finally retreating for bed, exhausted, around 6am.
About 7am I got a call from my brother. It woke me up, I saw his name, but said "screw it" and just went back to bed. Around 7:30am my grandparents who live in town called me. Again, too tired to care. My mother called me at 9:00am, and again, I opted for slumber. And then again at 9:47am my other grandmother, Tana, called me. I finally answered, for whatever reason. She told me that my mother was going to pick me up and soon and we were going to see my grandmother. I asked what was going on, and she just said that things were bad and she was being moved to a hospital in the city. I really just wanted to go back to sleep and seriously debated just going to bed and not dealing with anything until my mother showed up, but decided just to take a shower instead.
I got dressed and my mother, in typical slow-ass fashion, showed up about an hour later (me being bitter the entire time that I could have been sleeping). I got to the point where I actually called her and asked her "where the hell she was" right as she was pulling up. She was driving my aunts car and I was told that my Aunt Vickie was going to be driving Frankie's car and following the ambulance up to the city. My mother didn't really know what was going on, just that her sister woke her up and told her to pack a bag because 'Nana isn't doing good'. I still didn't think much of it, my grandmother has been in the hospital a few times before, nothing real serious for quite awhile. I expected to be stuck in a hospital with her and have to try and make her feel better and just feel loved. Still, my mom was too shaky to drive so I offered.
Halfway to the city my brother, Jerad, finally called me back, groggy himself. He wanted to know if I had heard about Nana and I told him yeah. He didn't seem to realize she was being brought to the city though. He's been living with my aunt for a little while now, which isn't too far from the city, but since it was on the way I asked him if he wanted me to pick him up. He said nah, he'd shower and get orientated and then show up later. I didn't think much of that, either.
We got to the hospital and Frankie and Vickie where waiting for us in the lobby. Frankie looked really, really shaken up. Nana was in 783 so we all piled into the elevator. I told them I had talked to Jerad and that he said he'd be here shortly. We got to her room and opened the door, but I don't think anything could have properly prepared me for what was about to happen.
Nana was in a normal patient room, two beds, but she was the only one in the room. Frankie piled over to her and and grabbed her hand and started talking to her, asking her questions. She was sweaty and her hands were cold, and she kept looking up into the light and squinting like it hurt her, so we turned it off. Her eyes were wide and she looked around at us wildly as words continued to bounce off and at her, but she wasn't talking. She was jerky, and just kept looking at us with those eyes. They were so full of life, but it didn't feel like they understood. Frankie kept calling her baby and telling her that he loved her very much. My mother and Vickie and Frankie all spoke at her like she wasn't a person, and I didn't.. know why. It's not that they didn't consider her one, but when she didn't respond normally they started talking at her like you'd talk at a baby or a wild animal; and that's what she reminded me of. A deer in the headlights. But I couldn't take it, I couldn't see her like that with them talking at her in those voices. I left the room.
I was standing in the hallway doing my best to keep myself together. I called my brother and told him that he needed to get here as soon as he could. He asked what hospital it was and said he was on his way. My mom came out of the room and started crying into me and said that she just couldn't do it. We stood in the hall for a few minutes before going back in. I found myself a chair on the other end of a table, purposely obstructing my view of my grandmother. I could see Frankie's back as he leaned over and held her hand. He just kept calling her honey and telling her how much he loved her. Eventually a nurse came in and said a doctor would be in as soon as he could and she started taking a little bit of information. When the nurse left my aunt and mother were both on the phone talking to people and telling them things like 'It's not good'. It was around then that I decided I couldn't be in there anymore and stood up to go outside.
The second I stood up she looked at me. Her head faced me instantly, like a reaction, and she looked at me with those eyes and as I felt tears coming on all I could do was mouth at her "I love you. I love you.. I love you". As I was leaving my aunt told me to "Tell her where I was going". I looked at her like she was a goddamn idiot for not understanding that I couldn't talk to her, but she didn't get it. My mother said she was going with me, and my aunt looked at me and repeated, "Tell her where you're going. She can still hear you", as if that was the issue. My mom leaned over and said "We're going to wait on Jerad downstairs" in that goddamn voice. It's not that I don't understand it. I just. I don't know.
We waited for Jerad downstairs for a long time, calling him frequently. He was all kinds of lost and eventually I felt the need to go back up and check on Nana. The doctor just happened to show up the second we got there. He said her kidneys didn't seem to be working and that they were going to move her over to ICU and do what they could. He said she was very sick and she would probably die. Vickie, who is a nurse, said she thought Nana had had a seizure in the ambulance on the way up her because of how sweaty she was when we got there. She also said that her unresponsive neurological state was new as of about 5am that morning, although she was starting to act slightly confused a little before that. Apparently after getting off the phone with my mother earlier that day, she told everyone she had 'just been talking to the doctor on the phone'. My aunt finally started to cry at this point.
I left the room again with my mother, went downstairs and called my brother again. He was still lost, and I didn't quite know how to help him. I told him I'd get Vickie to call him as soon as she could since she is more familiar with the area than I am. I went back upstairs as they were moving her bed to the ICU unit. about halfway following the bed down the hall they pushed us off into a waiting area. Frankie was really crestfallen that he didn't get to go there with her the entire way. It was around then that I got Vickie to call Jerad, and he was set straight and finally really on his way. In the meantime my mother called my aunt on my father's side of the family and told her to bring my biological grandmother on my dad's side, Mary, down. Mary and Nana were fairly good friends and spent quite a bit of time together, so no one really questioned this judgment call. Kind of (My aunt sometimes has a problem of being a little super-judgmental all the time and can't remember remove herself from a situation long enough to realize the nature of events that don't involve her. She's wax-off when she get's that way though). They showed up about the same time my brother called me to tell me that he was a block away and had literally ran out of gas. I said "You're fucking with me, right?" which apparently upset Vickie, as she slapped my arm for dropping an F-bomb, but seriously, what the fuck do you say when someone runs out a gas a block away? Either way he ran across the freeway to get to the hospital.
Things poked by as we waited to figure out what was going on with Nana. Information was slow and Frankie was starting to get paler. It was me, Vickie, Frankie, my mom, my brother, Mary, my aunt on my father's side and her daughter. Eventually two doctors showed up and asked questions about Nana's health history. Difficult to recall it all for me but:
The doctors told her they were going to put her on dialysis and back on a breathing machine, even though she is breathing fine on her own, and gave us an eta on when we'd be able to see her. When we were finally able to go see her, it was two at a time. Frankie was really really shaken up. I didn't go in until last, and I went in with Frankie, who had been in several times with people.
As we were in there looking at her he turned to me and didn't say anything. I told him I really loved him, and that I hoped he knew that. He smiled and said that I had always been like a son to him and that he appreciated me being there with him. I told him, 'of course.' He told me that they asked how much he was willing to do to bring her back and he said "Everything". He told me that he didn't care if the insurance didn't cover it, he didn't care if they had to sell the house, he didn't care about anything except her. He said that as long as he could wake up every day and see her smiling face he would be okay, and it was at that moment that I realized how incredibly much he loves her. Words completely escape me. I had made it the entire day being strong, I hadn't cried at all even though I had gotten really close sometimes, but the second he told me that I just burst into tears.
It's strange to think, and don't take this the wrong way. I love my grandmother very much. But if she doesn't make it through this, I will feel more bad for Frankie's loss than I will for my own. He has said countless things about Nana over the course of the last few days that supersede my understanding of love and commitment. I have never met anyone who loves someone as much as he loves her. I have never heard someone say "I wish it would have been me instead" and truly believe them. He doesn't sleep. All he does is stay near her as much as he can and tell her that loves her with all his heart and I'm not going to let him have stay here doing that alone. No matter what I've got to make sure he doesn't lose hope. He needs her more than anyone has ever needed anyone else before, and I believe that with everything I am.
My biological grandmother, who we call Nana, and her second husband, Papa Frankie. I don't go to see them as much as I should, especially since I only live 15 minutes away. I'd say in the entirety of my life I've gone to visit her on my own without any type of prompt maybe three times. We had a nice visit while I was there, and it turned out that I hadn't seen her in a good three or four months. For some reason, deep inside my completely fucked-up mind, I felt really proud of myself for actually going and seeing them. Almost as though it made up for not consistently going and seeing them (or even calling them) and was something that I could mark off my "list of things I need to do every six months". God I'm a fucking idiot.
Thursday my mother called me and said my grandmother was in the hospital and that I needed to call her or go see her. I told her I had to be at work in about an hour or so and that I would do my best to go and see her, though I really had no intention of doing so. I knew they needed me at work and that there was no real way I was going to be able to get off on such short notice unless someone had died, but I told myself I'd call her. Of course in brilliant dumbass fashion by the time I remembered to call her it was too late to do so. Instead I called my mother who said she was doing okay and they were going to let her leave the hospital. She also said that Nana had specifically asked when I was going to call her. I felt bad and decided that I would go see her that next day and piddled through the rest of my night, finally retreating for bed, exhausted, around 6am.
About 7am I got a call from my brother. It woke me up, I saw his name, but said "screw it" and just went back to bed. Around 7:30am my grandparents who live in town called me. Again, too tired to care. My mother called me at 9:00am, and again, I opted for slumber. And then again at 9:47am my other grandmother, Tana, called me. I finally answered, for whatever reason. She told me that my mother was going to pick me up and soon and we were going to see my grandmother. I asked what was going on, and she just said that things were bad and she was being moved to a hospital in the city. I really just wanted to go back to sleep and seriously debated just going to bed and not dealing with anything until my mother showed up, but decided just to take a shower instead.
I got dressed and my mother, in typical slow-ass fashion, showed up about an hour later (me being bitter the entire time that I could have been sleeping). I got to the point where I actually called her and asked her "where the hell she was" right as she was pulling up. She was driving my aunts car and I was told that my Aunt Vickie was going to be driving Frankie's car and following the ambulance up to the city. My mother didn't really know what was going on, just that her sister woke her up and told her to pack a bag because 'Nana isn't doing good'. I still didn't think much of it, my grandmother has been in the hospital a few times before, nothing real serious for quite awhile. I expected to be stuck in a hospital with her and have to try and make her feel better and just feel loved. Still, my mom was too shaky to drive so I offered.
Halfway to the city my brother, Jerad, finally called me back, groggy himself. He wanted to know if I had heard about Nana and I told him yeah. He didn't seem to realize she was being brought to the city though. He's been living with my aunt for a little while now, which isn't too far from the city, but since it was on the way I asked him if he wanted me to pick him up. He said nah, he'd shower and get orientated and then show up later. I didn't think much of that, either.
We got to the hospital and Frankie and Vickie where waiting for us in the lobby. Frankie looked really, really shaken up. Nana was in 783 so we all piled into the elevator. I told them I had talked to Jerad and that he said he'd be here shortly. We got to her room and opened the door, but I don't think anything could have properly prepared me for what was about to happen.
Nana was in a normal patient room, two beds, but she was the only one in the room. Frankie piled over to her and and grabbed her hand and started talking to her, asking her questions. She was sweaty and her hands were cold, and she kept looking up into the light and squinting like it hurt her, so we turned it off. Her eyes were wide and she looked around at us wildly as words continued to bounce off and at her, but she wasn't talking. She was jerky, and just kept looking at us with those eyes. They were so full of life, but it didn't feel like they understood. Frankie kept calling her baby and telling her that he loved her very much. My mother and Vickie and Frankie all spoke at her like she wasn't a person, and I didn't.. know why. It's not that they didn't consider her one, but when she didn't respond normally they started talking at her like you'd talk at a baby or a wild animal; and that's what she reminded me of. A deer in the headlights. But I couldn't take it, I couldn't see her like that with them talking at her in those voices. I left the room.
I was standing in the hallway doing my best to keep myself together. I called my brother and told him that he needed to get here as soon as he could. He asked what hospital it was and said he was on his way. My mom came out of the room and started crying into me and said that she just couldn't do it. We stood in the hall for a few minutes before going back in. I found myself a chair on the other end of a table, purposely obstructing my view of my grandmother. I could see Frankie's back as he leaned over and held her hand. He just kept calling her honey and telling her how much he loved her. Eventually a nurse came in and said a doctor would be in as soon as he could and she started taking a little bit of information. When the nurse left my aunt and mother were both on the phone talking to people and telling them things like 'It's not good'. It was around then that I decided I couldn't be in there anymore and stood up to go outside.
The second I stood up she looked at me. Her head faced me instantly, like a reaction, and she looked at me with those eyes and as I felt tears coming on all I could do was mouth at her "I love you. I love you.. I love you". As I was leaving my aunt told me to "Tell her where I was going". I looked at her like she was a goddamn idiot for not understanding that I couldn't talk to her, but she didn't get it. My mother said she was going with me, and my aunt looked at me and repeated, "Tell her where you're going. She can still hear you", as if that was the issue. My mom leaned over and said "We're going to wait on Jerad downstairs" in that goddamn voice. It's not that I don't understand it. I just. I don't know.
We waited for Jerad downstairs for a long time, calling him frequently. He was all kinds of lost and eventually I felt the need to go back up and check on Nana. The doctor just happened to show up the second we got there. He said her kidneys didn't seem to be working and that they were going to move her over to ICU and do what they could. He said she was very sick and she would probably die. Vickie, who is a nurse, said she thought Nana had had a seizure in the ambulance on the way up her because of how sweaty she was when we got there. She also said that her unresponsive neurological state was new as of about 5am that morning, although she was starting to act slightly confused a little before that. Apparently after getting off the phone with my mother earlier that day, she told everyone she had 'just been talking to the doctor on the phone'. My aunt finally started to cry at this point.
I left the room again with my mother, went downstairs and called my brother again. He was still lost, and I didn't quite know how to help him. I told him I'd get Vickie to call him as soon as she could since she is more familiar with the area than I am. I went back upstairs as they were moving her bed to the ICU unit. about halfway following the bed down the hall they pushed us off into a waiting area. Frankie was really crestfallen that he didn't get to go there with her the entire way. It was around then that I got Vickie to call Jerad, and he was set straight and finally really on his way. In the meantime my mother called my aunt on my father's side of the family and told her to bring my biological grandmother on my dad's side, Mary, down. Mary and Nana were fairly good friends and spent quite a bit of time together, so no one really questioned this judgment call. Kind of (My aunt sometimes has a problem of being a little super-judgmental all the time and can't remember remove herself from a situation long enough to realize the nature of events that don't involve her. She's wax-off when she get's that way though). They showed up about the same time my brother called me to tell me that he was a block away and had literally ran out of gas. I said "You're fucking with me, right?" which apparently upset Vickie, as she slapped my arm for dropping an F-bomb, but seriously, what the fuck do you say when someone runs out a gas a block away? Either way he ran across the freeway to get to the hospital.
Things poked by as we waited to figure out what was going on with Nana. Information was slow and Frankie was starting to get paler. It was me, Vickie, Frankie, my mom, my brother, Mary, my aunt on my father's side and her daughter. Eventually two doctors showed up and asked questions about Nana's health history. Difficult to recall it all for me but:
- She used to smoke chronically and almost died 13 years ago from it. She was on a breathing machine and scared everyone really bad. Frankie, who had smoked since the age of 12 quit the day she got admitted to the hospital, cold turkey, at 60 years old. There is seriously no fucking around with him. Everyone thought she had quit smoking, but Mary and my mother (and admittedly, myself) knew that every now and then when she went to a friends house she'd smoke one.
- She is chronically addicted to pain killers, and always has been. She'll go to doctors who really shouldn't be practicing just to get a prescription for what is formally known as "The Good Shit". How much pain she's actually in, I don't really know, but I'm sure it's not enough to merit that.
- She had cancer in her leg at one point in time and has a piece of it actually removed. Like a little dent, but I don't know specifics, only that as a kid I used to touch it and think it was neat.
The doctors told her they were going to put her on dialysis and back on a breathing machine, even though she is breathing fine on her own, and gave us an eta on when we'd be able to see her. When we were finally able to go see her, it was two at a time. Frankie was really really shaken up. I didn't go in until last, and I went in with Frankie, who had been in several times with people.
As we were in there looking at her he turned to me and didn't say anything. I told him I really loved him, and that I hoped he knew that. He smiled and said that I had always been like a son to him and that he appreciated me being there with him. I told him, 'of course.' He told me that they asked how much he was willing to do to bring her back and he said "Everything". He told me that he didn't care if the insurance didn't cover it, he didn't care if they had to sell the house, he didn't care about anything except her. He said that as long as he could wake up every day and see her smiling face he would be okay, and it was at that moment that I realized how incredibly much he loves her. Words completely escape me. I had made it the entire day being strong, I hadn't cried at all even though I had gotten really close sometimes, but the second he told me that I just burst into tears.
It's strange to think, and don't take this the wrong way. I love my grandmother very much. But if she doesn't make it through this, I will feel more bad for Frankie's loss than I will for my own. He has said countless things about Nana over the course of the last few days that supersede my understanding of love and commitment. I have never met anyone who loves someone as much as he loves her. I have never heard someone say "I wish it would have been me instead" and truly believe them. He doesn't sleep. All he does is stay near her as much as he can and tell her that loves her with all his heart and I'm not going to let him have stay here doing that alone. No matter what I've got to make sure he doesn't lose hope. He needs her more than anyone has ever needed anyone else before, and I believe that with everything I am.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
The Beatles, Basterds, and Scribblenautz
Let's keep this concise.
The Beatles were very arguably the last cool thing to happen to the planet, hands down. I've made my stance on this issue no secret for many years, so naturally when I saw this I couldn't help by share my excitement with the world. But isn't The Beatles Rockband just another rhythm game?
Yes and no. While the core of the game is very obviously the same as previous titles in the series, it has a few special things that set it apart. I mean, for starters it's the fucking Beatles. That aside though, as the trailer for the game may suggest, it is a beautifully artsy game. I'm constantly amazed by the lovely design of every aspect of the game, from character models to cut-scenes. What really gets me is that through the creators affectionate love of the Beatles, you really feel like you're a part of the band's experience right from the beginning. It's touching to watch them age with their music and relive an experience that I was sadly born just a little too late to catch the first time around. Only one problem though..
No Elenore Rigby. Maybe someday.
Inglourious Basterds was simply fantastic. I've waited about a month since seeing it for the first time to fully decide that is my favorite film. It gets a lot flack from certain critics for having parts that are 'too slow', like the opening or the bar scene, but my attitude is that if you can't slow yourself down for a minute to try and relate with the characters on screen, then you've got bigger issues. There really isn't anything to say except that you should definitely watch it, as Christoph Waltz is the most amazing villain you are ever going to meet. Ever.
Scribblenauts is the type of game that is just as fun as you make it. If you have an imagination and a knack for words you'll probably love the shit out of it, I know I did. However you can obviously find ways to make the levels easy for yourself, but if you're an honest fellow you'll want to be constantly using different words, meaning never the same word twice. Take that, rocketboot aficionados. With an upwards of two thousand, five hundred words (2500, people) you should never have to use the same word twice. (Now, granted some of those words give you the same object and some objects are useless, but that's kind of what makes it great. I mean, in life certain objects are useless, why should this be any different?)
But yeah. Another game really worth playing, if you have the creativity for it.
Be posting some more art in the next day or so. So look forward to that.
The Beatles were very arguably the last cool thing to happen to the planet, hands down. I've made my stance on this issue no secret for many years, so naturally when I saw this I couldn't help by share my excitement with the world. But isn't The Beatles Rockband just another rhythm game?
Yes and no. While the core of the game is very obviously the same as previous titles in the series, it has a few special things that set it apart. I mean, for starters it's the fucking Beatles. That aside though, as the trailer for the game may suggest, it is a beautifully artsy game. I'm constantly amazed by the lovely design of every aspect of the game, from character models to cut-scenes. What really gets me is that through the creators affectionate love of the Beatles, you really feel like you're a part of the band's experience right from the beginning. It's touching to watch them age with their music and relive an experience that I was sadly born just a little too late to catch the first time around. Only one problem though..
No Elenore Rigby. Maybe someday.
Inglourious Basterds was simply fantastic. I've waited about a month since seeing it for the first time to fully decide that is my favorite film. It gets a lot flack from certain critics for having parts that are 'too slow', like the opening or the bar scene, but my attitude is that if you can't slow yourself down for a minute to try and relate with the characters on screen, then you've got bigger issues. There really isn't anything to say except that you should definitely watch it, as Christoph Waltz is the most amazing villain you are ever going to meet. Ever.
Scribblenauts is the type of game that is just as fun as you make it. If you have an imagination and a knack for words you'll probably love the shit out of it, I know I did. However you can obviously find ways to make the levels easy for yourself, but if you're an honest fellow you'll want to be constantly using different words, meaning never the same word twice. Take that, rocketboot aficionados. With an upwards of two thousand, five hundred words (2500, people) you should never have to use the same word twice. (Now, granted some of those words give you the same object and some objects are useless, but that's kind of what makes it great. I mean, in life certain objects are useless, why should this be any different?)
But yeah. Another game really worth playing, if you have the creativity for it.
Be posting some more art in the next day or so. So look forward to that.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Splattered Homes
Splatter House. Where do I begin?
My very first experience with these games was Splatter House 3 on the Sega Genesis. My memory of it was kind of hazy; I remembered getting lost in a house and punching a lot of weird shit.
After recently replaying it, I can say that it's exactly the same, only worse. The key difference being that I'm of the mind now that I should be able to figure out how the house works, and that there isn't any reason for someone of comparable intelligence to get lost in this fucking house. It feels more like a joke than anything. I can still at this point tell you very little about this game. I can't tell if enemies really respawn or not. I don't know. I don't know what rooms I've been in, ever. I assume sometimes when I've gone through six empty rooms that that means I'm covering the same ground again, but no, don't be fooled by that type of naive logic. Enemies will spawn where and when they want to.
I very clearly remember this advertisement in some now-obscure gaming magazine I had picked up. At the time I didn't know what 'non-linear game play' meant, and after playing it I could only assume it meant "You will always be fucking lost, but that's okay, just punch more shit". One thing I did enjoy about this game though, is that you can pick up lots of weapons: strange pieces of wood or cinder blocks, etc. Bashing enemies with them is fun, but my real joy comes from what happens if you drop them. If for any reason you lose the object you're holding a skull will come from the wall and pick it up and carry it away to another room. Sometimes you're lucky enough to grab your object back before the ghostly skull manages to, quite literally, sink his teeth into it, but more often than not you fall just a little short. I found myself getting a great kick out of this. I'd lose my object then have a goal for myself-- find the fucking room where the skull faces (who you can't kill, by the way) were hiding my shit. Even right now I find my mind racing with what they were planning on doing with my whoop-ass objects.
And despite all of that, the game is actually really easy. I know, right? There's a time limit per-floor, and even though I'm constantly lost I always managed to make it to the boss before the time limit was up (kind of), and progress to the next level. Sure, my wife got killed because I ran out of time in the boss fight, and my son was also viciously slaughtered, but it's all in good fun. I'm told the time limit only affect 'things that happen' and doesn't make you actually lose the game.
Good call.
After my run-in with Splatter House 3, I didn't hear of any of them for many, many years. It's funny to think that even as a child after playing 3 I was so uninterested in where it came from that I didn't even assume 1 or 2 existed. Splatter House re-entered my life via the Wii Virtual Console when a (sadly) old friend purchased it. It was the Turbo Grafx-16 version and it was awful. For as bad as 3 is, this is just so much worse. It's only redeeming quality in my eyes is that I love hitting things randomly with planks of wood and watching them explode on the back of the screen. Oh, and guy with chainsaw hands is pretty cool.
I beat this game too, despite it all. I think I just love beating awful games to say that I have, but this felt different. Maybe it's a mix of the fact it's pretty easy and appeals to my love of horror, or something else, but whatever it is, this game managed to pull me all the way through it. So kudos to it and a lost wasted weekend.
After that, I swore off Splattering Houses. I wasn't interested in 2 at all. There was nothing it could do to save this in my eyes.
Randomly one day while running through my arcade box I stumbled on a game called "Splatter House - Wanpaku Graffiti". I was so taken aback that a Splatter House game existed for the NES that I couldn't help myself but take a look. Right from the beginning the game is interesting. It starts with a pretty girl kneeling by a grave crying as lightning crashes in the background. A second later the grave opens up and a man in a hockey mask bearing a striking resemblance to a masked killer we all love (which I have neglected to mention until this point) emerges. The girl looks all kinds of happy, but sadly the grave next to our Jason wanna-be opens up revealing a floating pumpkin! Scary! It picks her up and flies away with her. The presumably heartbroken man (Rick) starts after her and the game begins.
This game is good in a way and for reasons that I just can't describe correctly. For starters, it's much better platformer than the other games in this series by far. But where this game really shines for me is it's abundant horror-culture references, and that's even excusing the obvious Friday the 13th one. For example, the first 'boss' you fight in this game is a vampire who, literally, dances Thriller right in front of you. I am dead serious.
Look at it. Look at it. I couldn't make that shit up; I'm not clever enough. Every second of this game is brought to a new level of enjoyment for these references alone. It pays respects to Aliens, The Excorsist, The Fly, Evil Dead, Friday the 13th, House on Haunted Hill, Jaws, and a fuck ton more than I don't even remember. And I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm just having some fan-boygasm because this game is referencing awesome things. Well, while you may not be completely off-base, this game really is a lot of fun from start to finish. I am forced to strongly recommend it, especially if you only play one Splatter House game.
It actually has a really clever ending too. I really enjoyed this game from front to back. It's more than a novelty.
My very first experience with these games was Splatter House 3 on the Sega Genesis. My memory of it was kind of hazy; I remembered getting lost in a house and punching a lot of weird shit.
After recently replaying it, I can say that it's exactly the same, only worse. The key difference being that I'm of the mind now that I should be able to figure out how the house works, and that there isn't any reason for someone of comparable intelligence to get lost in this fucking house. It feels more like a joke than anything. I can still at this point tell you very little about this game. I can't tell if enemies really respawn or not. I don't know. I don't know what rooms I've been in, ever. I assume sometimes when I've gone through six empty rooms that that means I'm covering the same ground again, but no, don't be fooled by that type of naive logic. Enemies will spawn where and when they want to.
I very clearly remember this advertisement in some now-obscure gaming magazine I had picked up. At the time I didn't know what 'non-linear game play' meant, and after playing it I could only assume it meant "You will always be fucking lost, but that's okay, just punch more shit". One thing I did enjoy about this game though, is that you can pick up lots of weapons: strange pieces of wood or cinder blocks, etc. Bashing enemies with them is fun, but my real joy comes from what happens if you drop them. If for any reason you lose the object you're holding a skull will come from the wall and pick it up and carry it away to another room. Sometimes you're lucky enough to grab your object back before the ghostly skull manages to, quite literally, sink his teeth into it, but more often than not you fall just a little short. I found myself getting a great kick out of this. I'd lose my object then have a goal for myself-- find the fucking room where the skull faces (who you can't kill, by the way) were hiding my shit. Even right now I find my mind racing with what they were planning on doing with my whoop-ass objects.
And despite all of that, the game is actually really easy. I know, right? There's a time limit per-floor, and even though I'm constantly lost I always managed to make it to the boss before the time limit was up (kind of), and progress to the next level. Sure, my wife got killed because I ran out of time in the boss fight, and my son was also viciously slaughtered, but it's all in good fun. I'm told the time limit only affect 'things that happen' and doesn't make you actually lose the game.
Good call.
After my run-in with Splatter House 3, I didn't hear of any of them for many, many years. It's funny to think that even as a child after playing 3 I was so uninterested in where it came from that I didn't even assume 1 or 2 existed. Splatter House re-entered my life via the Wii Virtual Console when a (sadly) old friend purchased it. It was the Turbo Grafx-16 version and it was awful. For as bad as 3 is, this is just so much worse. It's only redeeming quality in my eyes is that I love hitting things randomly with planks of wood and watching them explode on the back of the screen. Oh, and guy with chainsaw hands is pretty cool.
I beat this game too, despite it all. I think I just love beating awful games to say that I have, but this felt different. Maybe it's a mix of the fact it's pretty easy and appeals to my love of horror, or something else, but whatever it is, this game managed to pull me all the way through it. So kudos to it and a lost wasted weekend.
After that, I swore off Splattering Houses. I wasn't interested in 2 at all. There was nothing it could do to save this in my eyes.
Randomly one day while running through my arcade box I stumbled on a game called "Splatter House - Wanpaku Graffiti". I was so taken aback that a Splatter House game existed for the NES that I couldn't help myself but take a look. Right from the beginning the game is interesting. It starts with a pretty girl kneeling by a grave crying as lightning crashes in the background. A second later the grave opens up and a man in a hockey mask bearing a striking resemblance to a masked killer we all love (which I have neglected to mention until this point) emerges. The girl looks all kinds of happy, but sadly the grave next to our Jason wanna-be opens up revealing a floating pumpkin! Scary! It picks her up and flies away with her. The presumably heartbroken man (Rick) starts after her and the game begins.
This game is good in a way and for reasons that I just can't describe correctly. For starters, it's much better platformer than the other games in this series by far. But where this game really shines for me is it's abundant horror-culture references, and that's even excusing the obvious Friday the 13th one. For example, the first 'boss' you fight in this game is a vampire who, literally, dances Thriller right in front of you. I am dead serious.
Look at it. Look at it. I couldn't make that shit up; I'm not clever enough. Every second of this game is brought to a new level of enjoyment for these references alone. It pays respects to Aliens, The Excorsist, The Fly, Evil Dead, Friday the 13th, House on Haunted Hill, Jaws, and a fuck ton more than I don't even remember. And I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm just having some fan-boygasm because this game is referencing awesome things. Well, while you may not be completely off-base, this game really is a lot of fun from start to finish. I am forced to strongly recommend it, especially if you only play one Splatter House game.
It actually has a really clever ending too. I really enjoyed this game from front to back. It's more than a novelty.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Pinball
Something I've been meaning to upload for a long time: photos of my pinball machine. Decent photos. Sadly I find myself completely inept with a camera, but I'm lucky enough to be friends with a photographer I really admire, and, while he lacks my deficiency for pinball, he shares my amazement with flashing lights and bright colors.
(This one is secretly my favorite ^)
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Wet boi
More gay stuff, sorry. It's like, who I am and stuff. (But don't tell my mom)
This is the kind of piece I would have normally painted, but since I'm still fighting the Cintiq for decent color I was stuck with the "Pen on Napkin" look. Fairly pleased with this one, actually. Becoming more and more acquainted with teeth in a semi-realistic setting recently. Fun times.
This is the kind of piece I would have normally painted, but since I'm still fighting the Cintiq for decent color I was stuck with the "Pen on Napkin" look. Fairly pleased with this one, actually. Becoming more and more acquainted with teeth in a semi-realistic setting recently. Fun times.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Fire 'N Ice
I get lost in puzzle games quite a bit, but I haven't been so smitten in quite a long time. To be frank, I really thought that I had played and beaten the best of them.
Christ, did I ever miss one.
Fire 'N Ice takes place on COOLMINT Island, which just may be the coolest (and mintiest) fucking place I've ever been. You play as Dana, who I thought I was led to believe the entire game was a girl. I was not alone in this assumption, as everyone else in the room cheered at the idea of a female lead. Of course, hours after everyone drifted to their respective rooms for sleep, I neared the end of the game almost alone, save for one other person. The game became incredibly amazing in those last moments as Dana starting making out with a princess super hard. We were beside ourselves with incredible amazement. Then, of course, the old lady who had so kindly been telling the story informed us that Dana was actually a dude, so it became a little less cool, though retainted it's minty after effects.
The game itself is rather simple though; all you're doing is putting out fires with blocks of ice. There are 9 worlds, moreorless, via a SMB3-esque mapscreen, with 9 levels per world plus a "boss" fight. The bosses are either A) Kill all the enemies on the screen (which is no different from every other level, except that the enemies move) or B) Put out all the static fire on a screen that slowly moves upwards and loops, which can be a pretty daunting task later on. The only thing you have to aid you is a wand that will create or remove a block of ice to your lower left, or lower right. No where else. It can be quite the bitch.
I think one of my favorite things about this game is the way the fire changes from world to world. It never gets any harder to put out, meaning it's always just one block of ice to remove, but the fire gets cooler. In the first world it's just fire. In the ninth world it's fire with a smile and a pair of shades on, as if to say "Yeah, Fuck you Dana". It's absolutely fantastic.
Another interesting thing is that the story of the game is being told by a grandmother to her two grandchildren. It reminds me a lot of 100 World Story, except at the same time it makes you kind of sad thinking that your character is probably already dead, kind of similar to FFX, except in this game there's more to care about. Coolmint Island > Zanarkand.
After beating this lovely game I went to get myself something to drink. Upon returning to the living room I noticed a lady's face on the TV telling me that my quest wasn't over yet! All I have to is hold select and press B ten times to play levels 101-150. ..Which I may do, tomorrow.
The funny thing about me and puzzle games, is that I usually only find myself playing them when I'm depressed or feeling kind of bad. I use them as a distraction that I have to focus on. Anything that's bothering me won't come back into my mind until I'm done, where as with a game that's more action based may have a lull in it that makes me remember I'm still just a worthless bum. Fire 'N Ice did the job of distraction perfectly, second only to a rousing game of Go.
So yeah, go try it.
Christ, did I ever miss one.
Someone is in a great deal of trouble with me for never even mentioning this games existence. It is apparently a prequel to Solomon's Key, which makes me even more upset about my nescience, although I have to say this game gave me more of a run for my money than Solomon ever did.
Fire 'N Ice takes place on COOLMINT Island, which just may be the coolest (and mintiest) fucking place I've ever been. You play as Dana, who I thought I was led to believe the entire game was a girl. I was not alone in this assumption, as everyone else in the room cheered at the idea of a female lead. Of course, hours after everyone drifted to their respective rooms for sleep, I neared the end of the game almost alone, save for one other person. The game became incredibly amazing in those last moments as Dana starting making out with a princess super hard. We were beside ourselves with incredible amazement. Then, of course, the old lady who had so kindly been telling the story informed us that Dana was actually a dude, so it became a little less cool, though retainted it's minty after effects.
The game itself is rather simple though; all you're doing is putting out fires with blocks of ice. There are 9 worlds, moreorless, via a SMB3-esque mapscreen, with 9 levels per world plus a "boss" fight. The bosses are either A) Kill all the enemies on the screen (which is no different from every other level, except that the enemies move) or B) Put out all the static fire on a screen that slowly moves upwards and loops, which can be a pretty daunting task later on. The only thing you have to aid you is a wand that will create or remove a block of ice to your lower left, or lower right. No where else. It can be quite the bitch.
I think one of my favorite things about this game is the way the fire changes from world to world. It never gets any harder to put out, meaning it's always just one block of ice to remove, but the fire gets cooler. In the first world it's just fire. In the ninth world it's fire with a smile and a pair of shades on, as if to say "Yeah, Fuck you Dana". It's absolutely fantastic.
Another interesting thing is that the story of the game is being told by a grandmother to her two grandchildren. It reminds me a lot of 100 World Story, except at the same time it makes you kind of sad thinking that your character is probably already dead, kind of similar to FFX, except in this game there's more to care about. Coolmint Island > Zanarkand.
After beating this lovely game I went to get myself something to drink. Upon returning to the living room I noticed a lady's face on the TV telling me that my quest wasn't over yet! All I have to is hold select and press B ten times to play levels 101-150. ..Which I may do, tomorrow.
The funny thing about me and puzzle games, is that I usually only find myself playing them when I'm depressed or feeling kind of bad. I use them as a distraction that I have to focus on. Anything that's bothering me won't come back into my mind until I'm done, where as with a game that's more action based may have a lull in it that makes me remember I'm still just a worthless bum. Fire 'N Ice did the job of distraction perfectly, second only to a rousing game of Go.
So yeah, go try it.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Nibbles
Me and my Cintiq seem to be having a constant color-balance fight, which I'm really losing. I need to take a large chunk out of my day and try and get it fixed once and for all. I feel like my color work is really suffering from the difference of what I see color wise on-screen, and what I get color wise everywhere else.
Bleh.
Bleh.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Eats Honey
I promised to get to designing a new bearhat, one that would serve a little easier to actually fabricate.
And I still promise to eventually get to that.. Just a quick sketch.
And I still promise to eventually get to that.. Just a quick sketch.
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