Ramblings from that Luke Rawluk scamp:

*The underbrush baring your way into the website falls easily to the mighty swings of your trusty machete. The jungle that has clogged your path is dense and ominious, and soon darkness falls upon you. You press on, for reasons known perhaps only to yourself, and soon find an ill-kept clearing open up before you. In the centre sits, hunched and tired, the Webmaster. He looks up at you with sunken eyes and, gesturing in your direction with shaking hands, bids you approach. He coughs a gurgling cough and speaks.* A visitor! Oh, it has been so very long. Please, come closer, my poor useless eyes are long burned away by the harsh radiation of the monitors.

Please forgive the mess. Things have been a tad... oh, how to describe it... well, *useless* around here, I suppose. Yeah, I guess that about sums it up. Without use. Wholly without merit. I blame it all on lazyness, myself. People around here are more then a little starved of the Drive aspect, I can say that for certain! Darned ragamuffins!

Obviously, of course, that undependable Artist rapscallion has been, true to form, undependable. Not surprising... that one did always shy away from anything resembling *work* or *effort*. The Author is just plain incompetent, but that much has long been obvious. Building up any feelings of animosity towards that one is like kicking a three-legged puppy.

The Engineer hasn't been traveling much, but though his time has thus largely been his own, you can't exactly say he's been consequential in the grand scheme of things as a result. He's still paying the bills, at least. And he has acquired motorized transportation, which I suppose some people find to be a milestone of some sort. I personally think he's just wasting money in the service of facilitating lazyness, myself. But then again *I* don't exactly get out much.

Meh, to sum it all up. But enough with the interminable whining. *The webmaster ruffles his shirt angrily, dislodging a thick layer of swirling dust in the process. He reaches down past the computer, emerging with a heavy, suitably heftable hunk of wood. He pats it against his palm for effect.* Don't know if it'll help get something worthwhile going on 'round these parts, but it couldn't hurt. Me.

Off to do some violence. Have a good one. *The webmaster ducks into the shadows, his passing marked only by the rustling of the jungle around him.*

- Paladinian

*Your return to the website is hampered somewhat by having to clear a path through the thick cobwebs that bar the passage for any less mighty then yourself. A stray spider finds itself tossed around in the commotion, and glares at you with irritation from a dozen tiny eyes, but otherwise leaves you unmolested. Looking downright spectral, you silently emerge from the internet, covered in webs, and startle the webmaster.* AHHHH!

*The webmaster clutches his heart and stares at you wide-eyed, panting. He soon regains his composure (if not quite his dignity) and hastily runs a comb through his disheveled hair. He gives a meek wave of greeting.* Um... hi. *He grins unconvincingly.* Um... good to see you. It's been... um... darned near two months, I suppose.

Sorry?

Anyway... since you are here, and all that, perhaps you wish entertainment? Refreshments? Well, there is little enough of the first and until I perfect a way to have your CD Drive dispense ice, none of the other. I really have no excuses on this front.

What have I been up to, you ask? *He squints at you warningly, knowing full well you didn't make such a query, but the madness in his eyes hints that you had best play along for a little while, at least.* Well... a Nintendo Wii found itself somehow appearing in the apartment. Due to... well... it being bought and paid for and brought home. So perhaps not so mysterious a conflux of events, that. And... well... let it be said that Twilight Princess is a darned worthy game. A worthy game indeed.

It bears most hearty and enthusiastic mentioning that I am now an Uncle-unit! As far as a personal accomplishment, it isn't... really I contributed absolutely nothing to this circumstance at all... but still, awesome, eh? congrats to the Brother and Sister-In-Law Units!

I have also, if not finished, at least initally completed the friend's commission. I hope he enjoys it. Haven't heard back regarding the proof, but hopefully it didn't cause his eyes to explode from disgust. (You would be surprised how frequently that seems to occur!) *The webmaster looks up at the webcomic hanging from the top of his page. He looks back at you apologetically.* Um.. okay, maybe you aren't so surprised. On the plus side, it would appear that that teletype application of yours is working great!

Oh, and I suppose something of relevance on the topic is the following letter that just crossed my desk from yonder travelling engineer. *The webmaster pulls out a small pair of reading glasses, rests them on his nose, then realizes he is already wearing full sized spectacles so the "scholarly" effect isn't really being successfully pulled off. He sighs and puts the accessory away and passes you the crumpled-up note.*

And, well, that is that. His life is certainly an adventure.

His rambling does remind me of certain contemplations of my own, I'll confess. *He sees you slowly backing away in an effort to escape, but trusts that the spider webs will entangle you long enough that he'll be able to finish before you manage to get away.*

Was talking to the parents last weekend or so, and they relayed a story that I believe I did hear before, but didn't really *hear* until that time. They relayed, basically, that early in school I really didn't do too well. So, come Grade 2, at Parent-Teacher's conference, they ask how I'm doing. The teacher says "very well". Having been getting Cs and Bs, they understandably ask what that means... certainly I could be doing better? The teacher responds with "well, those grades are very well for *Luke*". Aka: Luke is slow.

The parents, bless them, didn't particularly like me being judged as such and set it upon themselves to see that I wasn't. I would like to think they were successfull here.

But this is actually what threw me for a bit of a loop... after the relevation, I didn't actually like to think that! I, as might be readily apparent, think of myself in rather self-important terms as a "gentleman and a scholar". I had this grand illusion of *always* being a reasonably bookishly intelligent individual. Dumb, yes, but not *stupid*. To learn that this was not, in fact, always the case, and that under different circumstances I'd likely be dragging my knuckles on the floor, is a distressing thought. Not just because it inspires worries that, in fact, my whole current existence is simply that of a stupid person *pretending* to be smart. That I'm all just a dull, rather uninteresting show.

Well, the uninteresting part fits. But lets not dwell on that. I console myself by reflecting on my own personal philosophy that pretending to be something you aren't is the surest way to walk the path towards *becoming* that ideal. I want to be smart. Even if I'm really, really not, it is more noble, I think, to try, at least, then simply accept it. But can one lose the path by forgetting where one really ends and the illusion begins?

Mostly, the retrospection about what "might have been" has been hooking me, much as that particularly large and hungry-looking spider has managed to web your ankles together. I look back at the past and wonder. If that whole stupid juvenile snow-ball event hadn't happened back in yonder Ile Des Chenes childhood, or I had adequately apologized for it, would I have kept in touch with Joelle? If I hadn't been as restless and obnoxious at the efforts to teach me piano at that self same youthfullness, would I perhaps have some musical skills right now?

I know one isn't supposed to dwell on lost opportunities... but mercy, there is suddenly so many I see, looking back! How many things I want to do now but can't find the time, but was too dumb to grasp when it was there for the taking, and I had nothing better to do!

*Sigh*. But whatch' ya goin' ta do. Well, besides try and escape the rapidly converging spiders. Actually, yeah, let me help you with that. *The webmaster grabs a handy vacuum cleaner, plugs it in, turns it on, and wreaks a tempest armageddon upon the cobwebs and spiders that ensnare you. You, no doubt, flee when able to do so. He calls after you as you escape back into the intertron.* You're welcome, eh?

- Paladinian

*Your return to the website is greeted by the simple sight of the webmaster tapping away at the keyboard. From the corner of his eye, he sees you approach, and gestures you forward.* Oh, hello again. Looks like we've got some correspondance from the engineer. *He points at his monitor for emphasis.* He, unlike that no-good artist lazabout, has been working for a living. He sends correspondance from his travels, which should be just about up, me thinks.

*The webmaster turns his monitor to give you a better look. You see, written in the emotionless script of the computron, an electronically mailed missive. You, perhaps, choose to read it.*

*The webmaster sees that you have finished the letter and thus turns his monitor to once more face himself.* Sounds like he's doing well, eh?

Me? Well, you see, I've had a very busy time of things... *The webmaster sees that you are avoiding making eye contact, and sizing up the nearest point of escape.* Oh. Yeah, I guess one rambling is enough for one day. I understand. I... don't really have anything to say anyway. So go on... on with you. See you later sometime.

*The webmaster turns his back to you and returns to whatever odd work he finds himself occupied with. Behind you, in the distance somewhere, you hear a door open, and a dusty, well-travelled goateed man walks in the door, an unrealistically large T-Square borne on a single shoulder, and a laptop case over the other. He creeps past the webmaster, who pays him no mind. You lose sight of him as he passes through a hallway. A soft rumbling sound is heard, as if a heavy burden were finally dropped to the ground, and then nothing... until a scamp madly clutching a waccom tablet, wearing a pretentious beret on his head comes bounding down the hall where the engineer had just turned a short time ago! Oh, what mischief could that loopy character be up to? What antics he plans for this time remains a mystery, as he, cackling madly all the while, turns a corner and leaves no more trace of his presence... save for his unhinged ramblings that echo undiminshed through the concrete halls.*

*The webmaster groans, and grabs his head as if he anticipates a head-ache coming on.*

- Paladinian

*You arrive at the website to find the webmaster looking sternly at the author. The author is gesturing at a half-finished document in his hand, but the webmaster appears to be having none of it. He points into the distance firmly. The author slumps his shoulders, grabs his luggage, and slouches into the shadows, looking back but once with a pitiable expression on his face.*

Oh, don't give me that. On with 'ya, you silly git. *The webmaster turns to find you observing him. He shrugs. Hey, don't look at me like that. The slacker knew he only had a couple days to finish his next page before he had to go back onto the airplane. He did not use his timely *wisely*, though, and so like the no-goodnik that he is, he came here wondering whether the rather shoddy half-finished thing he spawned would be adequate.

Considering the state of what he considers *done*, I shudder to think what he would have inflicted upon us all by putting up an "in-progress" version. *The webmaster shudders illustratively.* So I sent the rapscallion on his way. That'll learn him!

No doubt, when he gets back he'll finish up that latest page of his, and find some way to show it to you poor souls. He's... sneaky... that way. But for the moment... rejoice! You have been granted a reprieve!

So go! Go! Go read a *real* webcomic! If you need some suggestions, Order of the Stick is always good! Erfworld, found on the same site, is one I grow increasingly fond of!

The troublemaker who haunts this locale is banished for... well... I don't know, truth be told. He'll be gone for as long as he needs to be, I suppose.

"Oooh... how very mysterious!" you might think! But no, strike fantastical imaginings of Lukey adventure and excitement from your mind. There is no "saving the world from horrors no one must know about" going on. Likewise, alien fugitives from an alternate galaxy have not, to my knowledge, enlisted him for some epic space opera adventure.

No, rather, he is just going to work, only instead of going to work here, he's going to work... over in the yonder distance somewhere.

Exciting stuff. *cough* Such is his life. Pulse-pounding excitement, it's not.

Anyway, enough about that. I hope your June has started most agreeably.

Let it be known that Shrek 3 and The-Pirate-Johnny-Depp-Show-3 were both, in my opinion, disappointing. I shalt not bother to review them for others have done so most adequately, and anything I say is unlikely to sway your opinion. But my disappointment exists, and is now registered for posterity.

I suppose that means my work is done, here.

*The webmaster throws down a smoke bomb to cover his escape. He quickly realizes that due to the fact that smoke does not actually pass through network lines you are still able to see him perfectly well. He sighs, coughing slightly from the smoke, and walks off-stage with as much tattered dignity as he can muster.

- Paladinian

*The author, looking dusty and travel-worn, emerges from the shadows, unobserved by the webmaster. He scurries up to the top of the site, and pastes a new offense upon good sense over his previous one.*

*His work done, he skulks back into the shadows, likely to resume what mysterious travels he finds himself caught up in.*

*The webmaster feels your gaze upon his back, sighs, and turns around.* Do I even have to look? The freak's gone and done it again, hasn't he?

No, I won't even bother looking this time. I value my eyesight and all. Can't imagine what garbage he's presented to you poor souls this time. *Shakes head* At least you all got an extra week's reprieve... that traveling I told you about? Well, had him away for a good *two* weeks, not one. What can I say? A darned unreliable character, that.

*The webmaster notices a note stuck to his elbow. He picks it off and reads it.* Hmm... 'Say what you will about me, at least *I* didn't leave an HTML tag unclosed, leaving the whole site pretty much unreadable in Internet Explorer!'

*The webmaster shakes his fist at the shadows.* You aren't even the one who noticed that! *The webmaster looks back at you.* Sorry about that. Just a little on edge, I suppose.

It should be noted, though, that if any of you are using Internet Explorer rather then, say, Firefox... what is wrong with you people?

Anyway, nice guy that I am, I've gone ahead and fixed the tag. IE can now view this site sanely. What can I say... I'm no craftsman, but even *I* have my pride.

Well... um... what else. That scamp, you may be happy to know, is not done his traveling *quite* yet! So, no comic for a while, once again! Hmm... oh yeah, and my bike got another flat yesterday! (Interest to you: Minimal!) And you know what that means?

I shall concern myself with air filled tires no longer! The bike is out, and it will NOT be welcome back home until it shapes up and gets some new-fangled solid foam/rubber tire-like implements of transportation.

It shall be... oh, what do the kids say these days... 'pimp', I suppose. I gather that this is supposed to be a... good thing?

- Paladinian

*The author looks around a bit, sneakily.*

*The author sees the Paladinian's back is turned. The author chuckles and pulls a new page out of his jacket and pastes it to the top of the website.*

"Yoink!"

*The Paladinian turns around in surprise. The author scampers off while laughing idiotically.* Hey! Hey you, get back here! You rotten kids, get off my lawn!

*Looks up. Sees the comic. Sighs.* Well, looks like the goal of having another page ready within a week was met. Go ahead, have a look at the thing, I suppose. That'll just encourage him, I suspect, but eh, I ain't the boss of you.

*Looks up again, shakes head.* At least I know that rapscallion will be too busy working for a living next week to pull another of these stunts. Small mercy to the rest of us, I suppose.

*Turns back to his work momentarily, before looking back at you and shrugging.* What more do you want? I got nothin'. On your way with ya'!

- Paladinian

Huh. Looks like a webcomic somehow latched itself to the top of my website.

How... peculiar. Just... sitting there... invitingly. As if beckoning passers by to... click it... and see what horrors and wonders it contains.

Curious indeed. It shall remain to be seen how long it stays there, I suppose. Or, even, whether it will... *shudder*... breed. Spawn. Display chronological progression.

I have a suspicion that some nefarious and no doubt highly suspect author intends to sully this space with its ilk, oh, once a week or so.

I don't think he can pull it off, particularly if he happens to be travelling in the not-at-all-distant future, but we shall see.

If the whole thing becomes a habit, I'll probably need to actually together a half-way decent archival system for it. Bother, bother, bother.

*Luke looks back up above the news post, feeling vaguely ill-at-ease. He mutters to himself.* ... damn thing's going to fall on my darned head... that isn't exactly a load bearing graphic its hanging from there...

- Paladinian

Aaaaaand, I'm back in Winnipeg. For a bit.

Head off for a bit next week, but for comparatively less time, probably... just a couple days. Unless the stay is extended again, I guess.

Looking back at the trip, with a day's rest behind me, I am of uncertain temperment.

The rest and relaxation of today has helped overcome some of the fatique-based... flakyness... of this localized individual. The centre holds a bit tighter then it did yesterday.

I still carry with me a pronounced feeling of personal disatisfaction about the whole past week, though. It comes down to what is essentially the story of my life, repeated over, and over, and over again. "Almost, but not quite."

It is my own sad little running theme, I'm sorry to say.

The problem they sent me to down to solve is solved, thankfully, though it wasn't me to do it... I just showed that the way they wanted me to do it couldn't be done. Woo... big accomplishment there. My associates built the final, effective solution.

The other app, the one I was trying to speed up to acceptable cycle time? Well, I cut, and cut, and cut some more, shaving milliseconds off in chunks large and small, and got the application running *screaming fast*, as far as Visual Basic programs go.

Still not enough, though! Still not always responding in time! And if I can't get it the rest of the way, then that means more work for my fellow, already over-worked engineers, so that they can *compensate* for me!

Yeah, its hard not to feel down about that. Worked, and worked, and worked, but still couldn't walk away with a victory.

*Luke sighs, exhaling slowly and sadly.*

Moving on. Back in the apartment. Played on the computer some. checked web-comics. Had Canada Post knock on my door, and for probably the first time ever was able to sign for a package on first visit. *Luke chuckles bemusedly*. When I made mention of this, the kindly mailman gave me a warning that it sounded like I was getting dangerously close to complaining. I laughed and relayed my personal policy of only ever getting Canada Post shipments when possible, and how much I think UPS, Purolator, and Fed Ex suck. I then gave him an impish-but-not-insincere salute and said to keep up the good work.

He really, really, *really* seemed to appreciate that. It was all very endearing. *Luke grins.*

The consequence of this is that, on top of the rest of day's activities, I got to watch some freshly delivered Anime. *Excellent*.

Oh yes, there is one more story of interest, from my trip back. Alright, the scene: I arrive at the Windsor Airport a bit less then hour before my flight is set to depart. Whereupon I find that it has been *cancelled*. (Dum de duh!!!) The clerk at the Air Canada desk waves me forward impatiently though, and says that the earlier one is delayed and I should *HURRY!* to get there. Which I do! And I get on! I think, man, how lucky is this!

I then find out that... umm... they were holding the plane for me. (And another very, very nice old lady who I sat next to, actually.) So... I was to blame. Um... I'm not sure what to make of that. Th.... thanks?

The flight attendant on the flight to Toronto (who was, as well, very nice) did have the unfortunate experience of having the Coke (or Pepsi, I don't recall) *explode* in her hand, getting no small amount of it on my pants. I found this *hilarious*. No, really, I'm not being sarcastic here... I just could not shake the thought that there was some man at the back of the plane, holding a trembling hand to his temple, *livid* about the delay, and through sheer *force of will* and eyes of liquid burning rage, exploded the can in her hand. I figured... hey... good one, dude. Very well done. I had that coming, and bear you and your psychic powers no ill will. ^_^

On the scales of karma, I think I got off easy.

I shall take a moment to make reference to the aforementioned nice old lady beside me, if you will bear with me this indulgence. Though she was living in BC, it turns out that she actually lived in Winnipeg for a time (which was commendable), worked for revenue Canada (which led to many stories comparing her experiences with my own dear sweet mother's) and, and this was the oddest part, actually lived in the same apartment complex as I did, when she lived in Winnipeg.

So, that really was one of the *oddest* hours in my life yet. It was *neat*.

- Paladinian

Mid-Trip Greetings from Ypsilanti!

Greetings and Salutations to you. 'Tis the one known as Luke, communicating with you through the Aether to bridge the gap between time and space that seperates our chrono-spatial states.

How's it goin', eh?

*Luke listens intently*

*Luke waits for you to finish speaking.*

*Luke cups his hand to his ear, having not heard a whit of what you said.*

*Luke tries to turn the volume up on his speakers, but to no avail.*

*Luke shrugs and continues on.*

Anyway, Ypsi progresses. The trip out was alright. The following provides a... cough... quick summary:

******** Tuesday Evening **********

Arrived in Windsor at about a quarter to midnight. Air Canada didn't do anything to bother me with, and having actual luggage to check means that Airport Security didn't rob me of anything this time. Glee!

Having little in the way of reading material, during the stopover in Toronto I hit one of the shops to see what I might find. Nothing much, as it turns out, though I did see a book by Leonard Cohen. "Hey, he's something of a Canadian Icon, isn't he? Maybe I should give that a shot." I flip through it, discover that it is a book of poetry, and decide "Hey, if I claim to like words, (and I do) then maybe I should try giving this poetry reading thing another shot, rather then maintain the faux-opposition to the literary form bred into me by public High School." So I picked it up.

It turns out that Leonard Cohen is actually quite the horn-dog.

I suspect someone reading this is laughing at me right now for not having known this fact already.

... yes, get it out of your system. We good? Yes? Okay.

Moving on. Actually, the writing *is* actually very engaging. Oddly familiar, as well... the hour or so I've been able to spend reading it was very well spent.

The rental car is kinda spiffy... the dashboard in particular was obviously designed by a kindred spirit... it is so GLOWY! So much light! So much... display! The RPM gauge in particular has this funky blue, glowing gradient... I just KNOW the designer wanted it to pulsate, or pallette-rotate.. but some higher-up whose heart is *sand* must have turned him (or her!) down. Regardless, it is officially funky-town.

The one issue with the car is that there is no trunk release on the key, and for the life of me I couldn't find it on the dash anywhere. As the border always wants you to pop the trunk, this concerned me a bit as they likewise don't appreciate people getting out of their vehicles at the gate. So while waiting behind some other motorists, I turned on the inside light and scrounged around for this bloody button or lever. For the life of me, I couldn't find it. I am fairly certain, though, that such suspicious activity had a direct correlation upon subsequent events wherein, upon my presentation at the gate, I was directed me to pull over to the side where a small team of guards tore through the vehicle looking for contraband.

On the plus side, they did find the trunk release for me! It was where the parking brake normally is! *Luke gives an impish, appreciative salute.*

******* Wednesday, Thursday, Friday **********

Worked along with my most esteemed and honurable associates. Da' Boss was there too, but doing "Supervisor" stuff, as fits his position. Not a lot to say here, really... came in between 8-9am, left around 8-9pm. Go for supper at whatever place is still open. Head back to hotel, sleep, start again.

Da Boss, it should be noted, has made the following official decree:

Anyone laughing at the obviousness and necessity of all this hasn't experienced life alongside Kamloopsian Engineers before. *Luke grins*

So, thankfully, I have been getting at least 7 hours of sleep while out here. It's not 8, but at least its not 6, by and large.

As for the work... well... there is a lot of it.

The first project they had me working on involved doing Machine Vision stuff (aka, Computers and Cameras). It took me about a day and a half to, in the end, mathematically prove the impossibility of what they wanted me to do. I would consider this something of a failure on my part except for the fact that, again, the whole affair was not possible as laid out. I was able to help in the brain storming for an actually feasible method, at least... it should work much better. It is yet another thing for the Kamloopsians to do, though. This saddens me.

Learned a bunch, at least!

With that off my specific plate, I had a brief flicker of hope that I might *actually* fly out on time on Friday. Such did not last, though, with the Ypsi hordes soon stopping by my temporary desk and asking whether I might stay longer to continue to help out. So, Friday, I spent a rather tedious hour with the Travel Agent getting my flight / hotel / car shuffled around. I now fly out Thursday evening. So I'm back in Winnipeg on Friday. I am pretty sure Da Boss will let me *not* go in to work that day.

So I'm back on the app that I've been building, passing off to someone else, then taking back for some time now. The thing is running alright now, but there is still the desire to crank up the performance as much as possible. ("More Power" is the operative word of the moment, I figure. My laptop can process a test picture in 50ms. The fantastically powerful, but Video Card inadequate 1U Case they've got out there can do it in 75ms. The new box I had put together with the PCI-Express card can do it in 33ms. So yes, I think I'll be pushing for the PCs to be changed over.)

There is also a lot of other software stuff to do down here as well, and I imagine I'll be trying to get on it shortly.

The Kamgineers are entertaining as normal, and the Ypsilantians friendly as ever. Which is good, considering that I'm with them, again, 14 hours a day.

********* Friday Night *************

So, I'm in my new room at the Mariott, having not been able to keep my old room at the Mariott when doing the trip extension.

Sigh.

Anyway, the room's nice enough... King-size bed, all good. But it is one of those rooms that have the doors between rooms, and those things aren't sound-proofed worth a damn.

There is an NCAA Gymnastics Tournament going on, so the Hotel is rather filled up with those sort.

You might think you know how what destination these "thin walls" and "nubile young women" points may be leading to, in the story.

You'd be wrong.

What I actually got to experience was a set of four or five of them in the next room having some sort of Prayer Meeting.

Loudly.

Until 1am.

Of the "PRAISE JESUS!!!1!!" variety.

Enthusiastically and angrily arguing Scripture.

Complaining about the words in Hymns. "Come in, Holy Spirt, and have a Seat"? "Have a seat?!? You are going to tell the HOLY SPIRIT TO SIT DOWN?! WHO DO THEY THINK WE ARE TO TELL THE HOLY SPIRIT TO 'HAVE A SEAT!?'!"

The whole thing entered some rather distrubing lines of conversatin near the end, and I will confess I eventually called the front desk to ask them to quiet my neighbours down a bit.

The whole thing kinda breaks my heart in an odd sort of way. These women were debating enthusiastically, applying the full powers of their Reasoning to the topics at hand, to justify *Scripture*. Operating entirely on assumptions that since A implies B, where A is the Bible, that means B *must* be true. Proving, or questioning A was completely foreign, at least from what it sounded like.

Scary, and more then a little sad.

I am aware I am being condescending here, to some degree or other. "Who am I to judge them... who am I to judge Faith?", that sort of thing. The answer is of course that I am nobody, just some guy. But I can't shake the *personal* feeling of tradgedy that minds so sharp have been so thoroughly... I don't know... *conditioned*.

Sigh.

Anywho, thank you for slogging through this long, rambling, likely unnecessary correspondance. Hopefully you can forgive me its indulgences.

- Paladinian

Salutations!

Let it be known that Wednesday's "Luke Time"... also known as "Precious-Not-At-Work Time"... was comprised AND composed completely and utterly out of mundanity. Curse you, vile domesticity! Curse your laundry-doing, grocery-shopping, apartment-vacuuming, floor-mopping, dish-washing, Xmas-tree-disassembling atrociousness!

It was impressive in its oppressiveness simply by virtue of its domestic completeness. Now, of course, a sane person might counter such statements by postulating statements akin to the following...

"You know, treating residence upkeep as a batch process rather then an on-going resident background activity *might well* be a contributing factor to the incidence of such events."

"That, in fact, it might be prudent to point out that any such occurance is completely and utterly your fault and by your design."

"So perhaps you shouldn't complain about the metaphorical bed-that-you-made?"

"Also, you are a very silly person. Though not in the, you know, *entertaining* way."

To this aforementioned hypothetical person, I say but one thing: "Meh."

And now we move on. I hope an enjoyable holiday season was had my all. Mine, for what it is worth, was agreeable. Huzzah!

Of greatest import, me thinks, is the recent addition of an iMac & Waccom Tablet to my apartment of solitude. (Side note: Rocksome!) And with such, the dread beast known as 'Photoshop' shall be tamed by my hand! Or I shall perish, trying!

Or, at least, such shall take place... soon! All three of you might want, I don't know, a Flash game before that! Or maybe not! But suffice it to say, I shall endeavor to have something "meaty" for the next update, rather then the self-involved irrelevant rambling which chains this pseudo-blog with stereotypiciality!

And with such, I am off!

- Paladinian