• The Patrician’s Oubliette

    A few months back, I killed my fetlife account, ceased being active in the community, and basically put that aspect of my life on the backburner, including dating.

    There were a few things that caused this, one factor was my continued discomfort with the toxic masculine behavior I kept seeing online.  The final straw though, was lack of reaction from the community to an act I considered to be unforgivably wrong by someone else in the community.

    Last weekend, a local promoter called me, because he thought he needed a last minute favor. I agreed, showed up, helped with things. Didn’t attend the event, just helped with the setup. I thought about, but decided against it.

    Later in the week, I helped with the load out, showing up with the van to move the gear. On the way back, we had a conversation about the event and various things. Some of it reminded me of what I’ve been missing about the community.

    So, I’m trying to figure out how to go about it. How to reactivate my account, how to reconnect with people, get myself out there again. In the meantime, I’m focusing on my health goals in the background.

    I’m still having the same issue with dating that I was having before. It’s hard to explain, but basically it boils down to this. There are plenty of aggressive and abrasive assholes out there, hitting on women, both within the community and in the general online community. It bothers me, though it’s hard for me to articulate exactly how and why, beyond the simple “Treat expletive-ing people with respect, they’re people, expletive for brains.”

    I don’t know how to stand out from that crowd, when I’m uncomfortable enough wading into that cesspool in the first place. Mostly what I do well, is writing. The problem is, writing isn’t really something people appreciate these days, as people tend to TL; DR most of it.

    My brain keeps bouncing off a brick wall when I try to figure out how to best express what I am. Especially since I keep feeling like I need to distance myself from the toxic ideals that I keep seeing. I don’t know how to explain that part, though perhaps by saying I’m not suffering from “Nice Guy Syndrome”, but at the same time, I’m generally a nice guy.

    Right! This is an issue of semiotics; specifically shorthand, expectations and frames of reference.

  • Skipped the party.

    I can move things, but I’ve no reason to try to be part of things. I’m not what belongs there anymore.

    I’ve grown off in a strange direction, somehow.

    I’m in a poorly tailored meatsuit, one that is falling apart from neglect.

    I’ve no desire to expose myself to my past. The regrets would likely carve a chunk from my chest.

    Disjointed and malformed thoughts. Hindsight forsaken for fear of clarity and painful truth.

    Friendships have felt strangely empty. I’m out of phase, so the handshake is fragmentary.

  • Went hiking

    So, I hiked up the TransCanada trail, from the base of SFU, over at Dalla Tina Ave, up and around to Cardiac Hill, and back down. It was about 9km, over the course of 2 hours. I went with a small group, a couple friends from work, some others who were in the area. I lagged a bit behind for most of it, the rest of them in better shape.

    Afterwards, I had intended to be social, but that didn’t work out. My legs were a little too sore, same with my feet. But I’ll probably do something similar next week.

  • Returns…

    So, tonight I’m headed back to Club 23. Now known as Hindenburg. It was a place I spent more than a few nights over the years. Some good times, some rough times.

    I’m going to be working it, moving furniture, helping with getting an event up and running. For a community that I’m not sure I’m part of anymore.

    I am fond of the people who have asked for my help, which is why I’m doing it. I’m just unclear if I’ll fit into things these days.

    I killed my fetlife account, after a promoter who used to work at this club posted a link to something I’d written and tagged my real name on the post.

    I’m wondering if I should bring back the account.

    I’m wondering quite a few things these days.

    I’m dealing with the diabetes, though I lack the equipment to really understand the effectiveness. Though that’ll change soon. Next month, I get my diabetes daycare classes.

     

  • Two weeks later.

    Well, I’ve been watching my diet and I’m back to walking around 30 minutes a day. I’ve dropped down to 345lbs, which is surprising progress. Surprising enough that I am doubting the scale currently.

    Other than that, the weekend was a bust again. Didn’t manage Shadowrun, which was expected, didn’t manage the backup plan either.

    Did play some video games. The new episodic Hitman is pretty decent. Though it seems like I’m having issues with getting up to the third floor on the Italy level.

    I need to be writing more, I think. But I’m often lacking in inspiration these days.

  • Back turning!

    Not a bad day. Spent some time playing with Andryoid and bluestack, found it runs the pathfinder adventure card games decently. Then I had a thirty minute walk. Partway through I was asked if I wanted to do some gaming. Picked up my copy of don’t turn your back, a deck building game by the evil hat guys, in the insomnia fueled nightmare city setting that they created for don’t rest your head. It’s interesting, I enjoyed it, though the card draw engine is unsuited for my preferred strategy of card cycling. Hopefully tonight I’ll get a chance to play millennium blades. It’s a meta tcg board game.
    But first, another thirty minute walk.

  • Fiasco

    I’m thinking I’d like to play Fiasco. It’s an RPG-lite, with no GM, or an improv game with some dice and charts, depending on your perspective.

    Samples:

    Anyone interested in getting together for this? It would probably be on a weekend, though potentially on a weeknight with some preplanning.

  • Fitness tracking

    According to the tracker over at fit.google.com, I’ve gotten about 9 and a half hours of exercise in the last week. I’ve been making an effort to go for a walk during my lunch hour, on sunny days. I can get a good 3Km walk in, from Royal Oak Station to Edmonds station, then the train back to Royal Oak. that’s all I can manage over my lunch hour.

    After work, I’ve been heading home so I’m eating and taking the metforin at roughly the same time. I should be going for a walk after dinner, but I haven’t really been up for that for various reasons.

    Another alternative would be to get up a bit earlier and get some exercise before I shower for work. But I’m not sure how well that would work.

  • Sugar free

    The threat of type two diabetes has been looming over me for a decade or more, as a larger person. It has now ceased looming, and is now actively influencing my life: Metforin with my meals, minimize sugar, get more exercise.

    I’m not sure how to deal with it, emotionally. Nor how to deal with the extra 30 lbs I’ve picked up in the last year.

    I need to get my bike checked out, so I can ride it, see if that’ll help. I want to get an exercise bike for my room, since I spend all my time in there.

    I suspect if I were more like my sister,  I’d convert the garage into an exercise room. An old TV out there, a bike, etc. Unfortunately, with the existing swampy wiring problem, that’s not a reasonable plan.

    Logically, I should go to the gym, but for whatever reason, I’m not comfortable with that idea.

    In the mean time, I guess I’ll try walking more and seeing if that works. Though I probably need to pack my own water. It won’t be enough, but it is some activity. Start there, get some momentum.

  • The Ashlands Expedition

    Extract from Ashlands Expedition: 

    “I was told you know your business. I’m sending this call to more than I’m willing to hire so answer fast if you’re in. Solid pay: milk run if you can keep your head. Screw it up and I’ll slot you myself. Come prepared for a trip deep into Hell’s Kitchen. Meet me at the Magician’s Feast, back room. I’ll be waiting.”

    So, the crew met up in the back of a rather nice family style restaurant. The J wanted us to recover a package from the back of a bulldog that had been left out in the ashlands during a storm. The driver had crawled back, injuring himself in the process.

    For some reason the team had gotten kitted out and walked out through the restaurant, which would have been a problem, if not for Forked Tongue’s quick tongue and D-Cord’s tumbling skills. We were having a nice dinner before heading to a charity function, we probably didn’t need to have our costumes on quite yet.

    Driving into the ashlands in a storm, that’s a bad idea. Navigation was a problem. We had All-Starr, troll detective able to reach out and act as an astral tomtom, which helped a fair bit. One of the trucks went into the drift, and the troll and the dwarf helped to shove it out of the way.

    Fork’s spirit of air acted as an air filter, keeping the worst of the dust out of the engine. One of the trucks got bogged down in it.

    We were getting closer, following the breadcrumb trail of broadcasting beacons. And then, all the beacons were in the same spot. Initial fears were that something had collected the beacons in it’s belly, but this turns out to be the package boy, collecting up his markers on the way.

    The spirit Fork sent in to explore the crater got shot at by the defense systems on the truck. Which was quickly disabled by the code we received from the bar.

    Devil rats were munching on some corpses, another spirit led them away peacefully, so we could examine the corpses. On them, they had a compass. With the spirit’s last service, it searched out a camp to the south, aligning with one of the markers on the compass.

    Summoning a spirit of air again, we headed towards the camp. Plenty of people are waiting for us at a rebuilt community center. All-Starr manages to figure out how large the facility is and how populated it is.

    Forked walks up to the gates, asks if he can spend the night, perfectly happy to make new friends. They let the ground into the gates, after asking them some pointed questions.

    We managed to make a deal with the locals, we’ll trade them the gun from the truck for the package that was in the truck. Half the party will go recover it, and Fork will guard the vehicles while they manage that.

    Of course this plan assumes that they won’t run into danger out there, which is soon proven inaccurate. Something was out there in the ashes, buried. It stalked them, but didn’t get the jump on them, due to their vigilance. A couple of rounds and a grenade into the chest cavity and the ghoul is a salsa spread around the crater.

    We brought the gun back, bartered with the crew at the center, learned that they were known as the South-West Rat’s Nest.

    Package returned, job completed. We profited and didn’t kill anyone. Just one ghoul.