Journal

Where I post about the things that happened in my life. Sometimes they’re diary entries, sometimes works of non-fiction, sometime just random photographs.

Top Ten Posts on Man vs. Bear in 2013

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Last year, when accurate visitor data was still a shiny new concept around these parts, I went and looked at the posts that had achieved the most visitors over 2012. It proved to be an interesting exercise, so this year I’m expanding it to look at the top ten.

In order of visits, the most popular parts of the archive were:

1. Why I Have Problems with the Big Bang Theory

2. 13 Things Learned About Superhero Games After Running 30 Sessions of Mutants and Masterminds

3. Why Stephen King’s ‘On Writing’ Can Be Dangerous to New Writers

4. What Writers Ought to Know About Die Hard, Part Two

5. What Writers Oughtt to Know About Die Hard, Part One

6. Seven Notes on a Lover’s Discourse While Halfway Through the Book

7. Sri Lankan Love Cake FTW

8. 10 Thoughts on Shame and Writing

9. Running a Villain Audit

10. GenreCon 2013: The Aftermath

It’s interesting to note that both the first two spots are consistent with last year, but not a huge surprise. For one thing, a crazy amount of traffic comes to this site following searches for Big Bang Theory and related terms. For another thing, the post about superhero gaming got a lot of eyeballs when it first got posted, and people still link to it occasionally (we’re coming up on the 60th session of our Mutants and Masterminds campaign in a few weeks, which probably means I’ll do another post in this line to celebrate it).

The weird part about doing this is seeing exactly what it is that gains traction. The Die Hard posts I pretty much expected to get a bunch of links, and they did, even though I ended up getting distracted by other things halfway through the series (part three is still waiting for me to go and re-watch the film so I can enter time codes); the response to the Steven King rant wasn’t entirely unexpected either, but seeing the Writing and Shame post on the list is a pleasant surprise given that I went back-and-forth on both writing and posting that one.

Number 7 is just a reminder that I owe the internet a long overdue dance video. I’ve got no excuse for this one, beyond 2013 being way busier than expected and my original plan for recording things wasn’t altogether feasible. I think my coworkers have set up plans to ensure that it happens over the coming weeks, which will mean we can get a slightly better quality video of my embarrassment due to their superior equipment.

And with that, it’s time to start looking forward, and thinking about what I’ll be blogging about in 2014.

Help Wanted: Writing and Travelling

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This time next week, I’ll be on flight to England, wending my way towards the World Fantasy Convention in Brighton. There’s a lot of Australian folks doing that at the moment. I’d wonder how Brighton is going to cope, if it weren’t for the fact that England seems to be overrun by Australians as a matter of course, so they’re probably used to it.

Right now, I’m on a lunch break, trailing the not-quite-a-computer set-up that I’m planning to use as a trasnportable word-processor/blogging platform while I’m overseas. That consists of the Samsung Galaxy 2 tab I acquired earlier this year, plus a battery-operated Ligitech bluetooth keyboard that works way, way better than the peice of crap I gold sold when I first picked up the tab (the lag on the first keyboard was bad, and I tend to type really fast). The Logitech is working out pretty well. It doesn’t quite cope with my typing speed, but it catches up pretty quickly, and I’m a short-burst writer at the best of times, so catching up is a workable solution.

It’s been pointed out that not-writing was also an option for this trip. These people have been dealt with. I’ve done enough not-writing in the lead-up to my own con. I’d rather not let that become an ingrained habit while I’m at someone elses event. Plus, you know, there’s the epic pile of stuff that needs to be done. I really should get on that.

So if anyone’s got any tips for doing the writing thing while travelling, let me know.

Pints

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Three Empty Pint GlassesThe text message hits after ten PM, but I answer it ’cause I’m still awake and ’cause that’s what I do. It says, pub?, and I’m all, hell yes, but instead I text back about putting on clothes, ’cause I’m in bed, in my pajamas, just futzing around on the internet, and the possibility of hitting the pub at this hour seems more attractive than continuing to write emails I don’t feel like writing anymore.

The pub isn’t really a pub at this hour of the evening. They’ve shut down the public bar, the outside areas. Reduced the venue down to the gambling lounge full of pokies, open ’til late for the folks who can’t stay away, but we ignore the rows of brightly coloured machines and make our beeline for the bar, ordering pints and taking them outside so you can smoke and I can sit there, watching the empty car-park that’s only really empty when we show up at this time of night.

It’s been, god, how long since the last time we hung out? I’ve been buried under an avalanche of work grief, my stress levels rising day by day, hour by fucking hour. I’ve hit the point where I get cranky when people ask for simple things. I’ve hit the point where I have a temper tantrum at work, and my boss takes me aside to have a chat about the way I’m choosing to cope.

We drink a pint of beer. We start to catch up.

And I think about the way I stopped drinking a few years back. Not really by intent, just by circumstance and poverty. I stopped hanging out with people for whom the pub felt like a good time, and I ceased to have the income to afford a night on the town. It occurs to me how much I missed, sitting at home like a hermit. How much I enjoy the rituals: Pints. Conversation. Cigarettes on the balcony. Going for another round, ’cause the alternatives going home and that’s really not that fun.

In a week…a month…where other people shit me, where I think I’m going to scream if one more person wants something from me, it feels good to hang out and bitch about the world. To drink beer and catch up on things and remember, shit, I still have friends. There are still people out there where I can be something close to myself.

There’s a woman working the graveyard shift who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. When I go in to order a second pint, she asks me how my day has been.

“Yeah,” I tell her, “alright, I guess.”

For once, this isnt a complete goddamn lie. This realisation catches me a little unawares.

She pours me a beer. A pint of Carlton Draught. It’s coming up on midnight and I’ll pay for this tomorrow, trudging into work with far to little sleep under my belt, but right now I just don’t care because tonight is mine. It’s the one night, in a very long time, when I’ve shrugged off my work and claimed space for myself.

The gambling lounge is dim, except for the gold-coloured light from the machines. When we leave, the sound of bells and chimes follows us into the night.