Life is a game. I have Improved Initiative.

Selling books is like a game, okay? There are rules. And you better learn those rules because it’s no game!

There are forums up at rpg.net that are literally filled with thousands of nerds of every variety. I usually don’t visit the forums because it’s overwhelming and I don’t have the time. But over the weekend, because of a new project I’m working on, I revisited the forums. While I was there I did a quick vanity search on Spaceship Zero and found a thread about TPKs (Total Party Kills for the uninitiated, in which no player character survives an encounter. This happens with John Dawes more than any other GM I know, but that’s a different story). Gamers were trading their stories about TPKs and one person added a post that made me smile.

“My SPACESHIP ZERO game… an incident with a shrink ray and a nearsighted robot lead to a total party kill.”

Anyway, my weekend was one of drawing, and walking downtown to Elfsar, and playing D&D. As a DM, running your players in a town is a lot harder than running them through a dungeon, so take note, future DMs. It was a good weekend, and I’ll miss it when it’s gone.

My work week was…I guess I would say better than usual, despite the fact that I have a cold. In one sense I could legitimately call in sick to work. This actually only led to me working the last 3 days of the week instead of my usual first 3. This week was inventory week at Brainghost Hooks, which meant a lot of empty, unfocussed pep talks from our boss (that’s fine) and lunches provided (that’s good!) and all of the upstairs office staff coming down for a 2 day taste of slogging away in what I affectionately call “The Pit.” Hopefully now the people upstairs will take pity on my charming, charismatic self and whisk me away from a fate worse than death.

On Friday there was a huge lull at the end of the day because we finished the first (of two, possibly three, recounts) earlier than expected, and we couldn’t start the next recount until the computer processed some information. This left we troglodytes idly sitting on our hands and basking in the glowers of our ‘superiors’ in doing so. Even the joyful revelation of finally getting 9 bucks an hour doing nothing wasn’t enough to staunch the boredom, however, so I put pen to packing paper and started drawing. One of the guys in receiving (P) asked me if I’d draw him, so I made an attempt. It ended up resembling what he might look like if a computer program projected he’d look like 10 years later, but P was very pleased with it nonetheless. One of his buddies however, kept saying throughout the drawing process “that doesn’t look like him!” and when it was finally done and in P’s hand, the dolt snatched the paper from P and ran down the warehouse like a bully in grade 10. I didn’t care about the drawing (and his criticisms about my drawing ability rolled off my back because a) I agreed with him to some extent and b) his opinion means s.d.a. to me) but I felt bad for poor P who said to him “why are you being so stupid?” But P got the drawing back and thanked me, and that was nice. While I was doing the drawing I became the center of attention, which is at once loathesome and embarrassing and exciting. I always try to shrug off that kind of attention, and sometimes it even bothers me, both of which are unfortunate because the artists who make the most money know how to draw (haha) attention, milk it, and spin it to further their careers, whereas I just want to make a living without too much of a fuss.

A+

Despite doing reasonably well in school (I never gave it my best, but came out with a B average) I hated it. I hated the structure, the antiseptic, impersonal approach of it, and the social environment. If I’m quoted for anything after I die, I hope it’s “the environment least suited for learning is public school.” What I learned in school is that individuality is punished by both authority and peers.

At work we have big cages, into which books that are to be destroyed are thrown. We destroy an alarming amount of Harry Potter and Lonely Planet books. Those books have their covers torn off. Other miscellaneous returns retain their cover. I don’t know why they destroy books. It seems a waste. Every day I make a point of rescuing as many books as I can carry home. Yesterday one of the books I grabbed was “Dumbing us Down: The Hidden Curriculum of Compulsory Schooling.” It’s written by a fellow who was a schoolteacher for 30 years, and who won awards for it in New York City. When I got home from Marlo’s this morning I sat down on the couch with Kodos and started to read it, since it was right in front of me. I have to stop now to get some work done, but I want to share this with you, because I think it’s important.

Reprinted without permission:

The Seven-Lesson Schoolteacher

This speech was given on the occasion of the author being named “New York State Teacher of the Year” for 1991.

Call me Mr. Gatto, please. Thirty years ago, having nothing better to do with myself at the time, I tried my hand at schoolteaching. The license I have certifies that I am an instructor of English language and English literature, but that isn’t what I do at all. I don’t teach English; I teach school – and I win awards doing it.

Teaching means different things in different places, but seven lessons are universally taught from Harlem to Hollywood Hills. They constitute a national curriculum you pay for in more ways than you can imagine, so you might as well know what it is. You are at liberty, of course, to regard these lessons any way you like, but believe me when I say I intend no irony in this presentations. These are the things I teach; these are the things you pay me to teach. Make of them what you will.

1. CONFUSION

A lady named Kathy wrote this to me from Dubois, Indiana, the other day:

What big ideas are important to little kids? Well, the biggest idea I think they need is that what they are learning isn’t idiosyncratic – that there is some system to it all and it’s not just raining down on them as they helplessly absorb. That’s the task, to understand, to make coherent.

Kathy has it wrong. The first lesson I teach is confusion. Everything I teach is out of context. I teach the un-relating of everything. I teach disconnections. I teach too much: the orbiting of planets, the law of large numbers, slavery, adjectives, architectural drawing, dance, gymnasium, choral singing, assemblies, surprise guests, fire drills, computer languages, parents’ nights, staff-development days, pull-out programs, guidance with strangers my students may never see again, standardized tests, age-segregation unlike anything seen in the outside world… What do any of these things have to do with each other?

Even in the best schools a close examination of curriculum and its sequences turns up a lack of coherence, a host of internal contradictions. Fortunately the children have no words to define the panic and anger they feel at constant violations of natural order and sequence fobbed off on them as quality in education. The logic of the school-mind is that it is better to leave school with a tool kit of superficial jargon derived from economics, sociology, natural science, and so on than with one genuine enthusiasm. But quality in education entails learning about something in depth. Confusion is thrust upon kids by too many strange adults, each working alone with only the thinnest relationship with each other,pretending, for the most part, to an expertise they do not possess.

Meaning, not disconnected facts is what sane human beings seek, and education is a set of codes for processing raw data into meaning. Behind the patchwork quilt of school sequences and the school obsession with facts and theories, the age old human search for meaning lies well concealed. This is harder to see in elementary school where the hierarchy of school experience seems to make better sense because the good-natured simple relationship between “let’s do this” and “let’s do that” is just assumed to mean something and the clientele has not yet consciously discerned how little substance is behind the play and pretense.

Think of the great natural sequences – like learning to walk and learning to talk; the progression of light from sunrise to sunset; the ancient procedures of a farmer, a smithy, or a shoemaker; or the preparation of a Thanksgiving feast. All of the parts are in perfect harmony with each other, each action justifying itself and illuminating the past and the future. School sequences aren’t like that, not inside a single class and not among the total menu of daily classes. School sequences are crazy. There is no particular reason for any of the, nothing that bears close scrutiny. Few teachers would dare to teach the tools whereby dogmas of a school or a teacher could be criticized, since everything must be accepted. School subjects are learned, if they can be learned, like children learn the catechism or memorize the Thirty-nine Articles of Anglicanism.

I teach the un-relating of everything, an infinite fragmentation the opposite of cohesion: what I do is more related to television programming than to making a scheme of order. In a world where home is only a ghost because both parents work, or because of too many moves or too many job changes or too much ambition, or because something else has left everybody too confused to maintain a family relation, I teach students how to accept confusion as their destiny. That’s the first lesson I teach.

They call me mister literal

Good morning. One part good, one part morning. A few people say this to me at work: Pete, Cyril, Nicky, Taylor. Because I am Mr Literal, I choose to take it at face value — good morning. My response varies from “I’m with you on the ‘morning’ part” or “not really” to, if I’m feeling nice, “hello.” I almost never say “good morning” because if I had to get up at 7:22 to go somewhere I don’t want to be, then it’s decidedly not a good morning. I feel I have a right to be cranky under the circumstances. I certainly don’t expect anyone else to be chipper at the prospect of being on their feet for the next 7 hours.

Other people, the more “homey” types, say “what’s up?” instead of “good morning.” I don’t think it’s actually a question, but I answer it anyway. Usually with “books.”

Saint Valentine Died for your Sins

This time last year I was mentoring Liam, running Freeport D&D adventures, having a short stint at the gym in Coquitlam with Anghold, and going to Hell’s Kitchen. This according to last year’s calendar. Before my blog, the calendar was pretty much my diary, and each entry read “meet this person here at this time” or “played Power Enterprise with these people.”

This time this year, I visited Marlo for a special Valentine’s date. I got her some rosy quartz dice from Drexoll Games and they went over big. I also got her a Dragon Magazine and wrote her a special little true story. She got me Desert Sessions 9/10 and a big heart-shaped box full of chocolates (and some jelly beans a couple days ago). Easily my best Valentine’s Day in as long as I can remember. Yay for Torlo!

Short haired girls

Marlo asked me the other day why I prefer girls with short hair. I haven’t thought about this for a while, so here we go:

1. I can see the neck. I like the female neck. It’s one of my favourite bits.

2. This may be complete bullshit, but my observations over my adult life is that women with short hair are more independent, and I find that attractive.

3. Short hair is low-maintenance. Are girls with short hair also low-maintenance? The thought occurred to me. See note regarding bullshit (above).

4. Especially in the 80’s when I became less of a boy and more of a man, short hair was quite uncommon, and so I think I found it just a little exotic. Or at least, not mainstream. And that appeals to me too, what with me being a freak and an outcast.

5. Maybe I’m a dyke trapped in a man’s body?

I wanted to blog more, but this confounded mouse is making it really frustrating to work on the computer, so I’m just going to go make dinner. Hey, that’s a good name for a convention: Con-Founded

Sometimes it's fun to look back

Last year, on the first day of 2004, I found a ten dollar bill on the road. Perhaps a portent for a financially fruitful year? Not so. 2004 was the year of no money for Toren. So much so that I had to get a part time job. That’s the saddest part of all. But 2004 was also the year I got together with Marlo, which is fantastic. My nearly 2-year relationship with Tinessa seems like a different world now. And since then, I had been single for another 2 years. I’ve never really been satisfied as a single person. Every public event – parties and get-togethers – half of the reason was hanging out with friends. The other half (where applicable) was the hope that I might meet a girl. Not just a girl, but the girl. It’s such a relief that I don’t have to wonder and expend that energy now.

I did enjoy being single and spending more time with a varied amount of people, but I’ve been ready to spend more time with just one person for a good long while now, and I’m enjoying that too. I’m sorry if that took anyone by surprise. I worry that some people think they’ve fallen by the way side, and I recognize that in at least one of my previous relationships I actually was forced to give up friendships that I did not really want to give up as part of keeping things going with my girlfriend at the time. But the fact is that although I spend a lot of time with Marlo, very rarely do we set aside time that is just for the two of us. We still do all the things we used to do as friends, with other friends, with a few exceptions that cannot be helped. We play D&D, we have game nights, we hang around and watch movies with Stewie etc.

Last year at about this time I was getting tipsy on…I don’t even remember the drinks. Vodka coolers or something. I got my Cloney McStudent address labels in the mail. I was looking into mentoring. I was watching Return of the King at the Metrotown Mall. I got my flail in the mail.

I forgot armed robbery was illegal

I had a bunch of ideas of topics to blog about all this week, but I have forgotten about each one. So let’s talk about my memory.

My memory’s for shit. I’d like to say that it’s all the drugs I’ve done, but in fact the only drugs I’ve done besides the 4-5 times I’ve been drunk and the 3 cigarettes I’ve done plus over the counter or prescription drugs has been one joint that I smoked in 1992.

I’ve been given the old “I guess I’m not that important to you” because I’ve forgotten about dates I’ve had with people. That’s not a fair thing to say, as I forget about things that are extremely important to me. Including taping cartoons!

Speaking of cartoons: another year means another annual Saturday morning cartoon party! Here’s last year’s entry for those who are not familiar with this phenomenon: http://www.thickets.net/toren/archives/2004/02/21/
I’m not sure what the theme will be this year, but the first thing that comes to mind is “homages.” Actually the first thing that comes to mind is polar bears, because my Greenpeace calendar has a photo of them on it. In which case, I can think of the Jonny Quest episode “Arctic Splashdown.” I might have this year’s cartoon party on the 19th of February.

Poor Greenpeace. They think that because I sent them some cash a few years ago, I’m going to do so every year. So they keep sending me calendars and address labels.

I had a McDonald's "sandwich" today. Don't waste your money.

Isn’t it interesting how as you get older, the age difference between people you associate with – even are friendly with – becomes wider and wider. Most teens won’t have anything to do with others outside a few years difference in age, but when you’re thirty, you can have friends who are twenty and forty, or more. And when you’re 10, you want nothing to do with those filthy 8-year-olds. And when you’re 1, you won’t even talk to an embryo.

In Defense of Cheapness

Cheap
Stingy; miserly. chintzy, closefisted, illiberal, mean, miserly, narrow, niggardly, parsimonious, penny-pinching, penurious, skimpy, skinflint, tight, tight-fisted, ungenerous
Antonyms: extravagant, free-spending, generous, liberal

I was talking to Marlo today about my spending habits. I think I am known to some as being cheap. Currently, I don’t deny that. What some people don’t know is that my spending habits are directly in proportion to my financial situation. I think that is true for most people. But for the past 2 years, my savings have been in decline, and I now find myself as poverty-stricken as when I lived in Chilliwack. Some of my Chilliwack friends call me cheap. They knew me at a time when I was on welfare for a couple years. Before I saved up enough money to move out of Chilliwack, I was working at The Book Man for 2 hours a day (except on Sunday), and then was supplemented by welfare, insofar as I was making exactly the same amount of money working as I was when my only income was from welfare, because I was still below the poverty level.

At the high mark in my bank account, I had over $7000. That was when I was working at Macneill Library Service/National Book Service and drawing professionally at the same time. And that was when I went out to eat every night; and that was when I bought my deluxe 32″ tv to replace the crappy small b&w one; and that was when I took a trip to New York. That was when I didn’t need to pinch my pennies.

Now it’s come full circle and I am po’ again. For the first time in my life, I am in debt. (One of the reasons I didn’t go to university was because I never wanted to be in debt.) So once again I must be spendthrift. I cannot afford nice things. If it wasn’t for the 40% discount at Raincoast I’m pretty sure all this year’s Christmas gifts would be as they were last year – handmade or scrounged.

In summary, I do feel some shame about being known as ‘cheap,’ but the sad fact is until the crazy rich uncle I didn’t know about dies and leaves me his estate, my climb back into the world of faberge eggs and mink stoles will be a slow and ponderous one. Note that once I am there I will crush you all.

Friends I saw this week:
Marlo, Stewie, Paul, Kelly, Michelle, Ken, Warren, Slater, Kathryn, Jon, Jeff, Darcy, Taylor.

Friends I hope to see next week:
The usuals plus: Yvonne, Sheri & Stephane, Ursy, Janet & Brian, if we can get this BIG KAHUNA movie night organized (anyone else interested?); Michelle, Kelly, Paul.

Friends I won’t see this week because Fudge Zombies is cancelled (in part because I’ll be drawing):
Lisa, Palle, Mike J, Don, Pauline