Lots of Monkeys

My life is filled with boxes.  Banker sized places to put things that I forget about for months at a time.  I go through them, individually, grudgingly.  It’s so much work to slough off bits and pieces of your life that were important at one point.  There are receipts from years ago, archives of purchases that are long gone, either digested or donated to charity.

There are outdated pieces of technology, joysticks that no longer have supported interfaces or computer components that are no longer functioning.  Why they are around is a mystery, but I’m slowly solving it.  There are DVDs, stacks and piles of them, bought before the digital availability of them negated their usefulness.  And then there is the not easily classified, “stuff.”

Bits and pieces that were important at some point but have lost their usefulness as I have moved on, but their singular purpose has not.

Wall mountable speaker stands, cargo pants, reference books for car repair, bluetooth headsets that take batteries, persistence of vision messagers and of course, unrecognizable power adapters.  There are always power adapters.

There’s always a fear of course, fear that I’ll need them, but in the six years that I’ve lived here, they have taken space and given nothing back.  So it’s time to just get rid of them.

New camera equipment that I have acquired:

• 55-200mm VR Nikkor DX lens which rounds out my kit.
• SB-900 Flash which acts as a commander for my two SB-600s, which also rounds out my kit.

The funny thing is, I’m shooting with the 35mm and the SB-400 and it’s just fine.

I really want to like Heavy Rain.  No, I really want Heavy Rain to be so good that I can’t help but enjoy Heavy Rain.

I know what I don’t want.  I don’t want it to be a compelling human drama and then suddenly turn into something completely ridiculous that I cared nothing for, but ended up having to finish simply because I had come too far not to.  Indigo Prophecy’s story had a lot of potential about a man committing a murder but being completely innocent at the same time.

But then it became something else entirely.  I would have been okay with it slowly turning into something with magical realism.  But it turned into this blathering seething mass of a story that didn’t seem to know what it was about.  It was as if they ran out of story budget and then everyone turned into orange goo.

I know only snippets about Heavy Rain’s storyline, little bits and pieces that I’ve gleaned from here and there.  There are four characters.  One of them is a special agent of some sort with super crime fighting sunglasses.  That’s about all I know so far, and I’m okay with that.  I really want to know more, but I want to experience it.  I want that wonder and awe I felt from playing the first half of Indigo Prophecy.

I just hope that it lives up to that promise.

Going through the journals I found this line.

She told me, “I love you,” but I felt there was a “no matter what happens,” after it.

So.  Emo.  And that’s in 1995.

It’s entirely too late to be doing groceries, but I’m doing them anyway.  The snow has mostly melted away, and the ground is overall wet.  It’s not cold enough to freeze, which is good, but it’s cold enough for me to be walking briskly.   Not because I want to be out of the cold, but because I know that it will allow me to get just warm enough.

I’ve always preferred the cold to the heat.  I appreciate a lot of lower temperatures, from the moist cloying cold of an ocean sunset, to the dry bitter chill of a winter wind.  I’ve never enjoyed the heat in any form.

Which is really surprising from a nature versus nurture point of view because my heritage is mostly from a tropical island nation.