Pictures

From playing around with my aforementioned new camera.

New camera, I have

So beware my picture blogs in the near future. Once I figure out how the darn thing works.

And yes, it's green. Blends in with the surroundings, I say. :)

Voice over

It is well-known that we tend to take many things for granted. Love, friendship, health, shelter, food; the list can go on forever.

These last days, I discovered another one. My voice.

For several days I have been ill (a common cold) that had the odd side-effect of rendering my voice nearly useless. The best thing that got out of my mouth was a whisper or a squeak. No, it wasn't pretty.

I found I relied heavily on communication devices that don't require my voice to tell people of my condition -- text messaging, e-mail. I can't tell you how many times I thought, "hey, I wanna call [insert random name here]", only to realize that I couldn't.

Frustrating? Sometimes. But it did make me realize how big a role one's voice plays in most social interaction (and work-related communication, too). Something I have never before been so aware of.

Weird how such a small thing, like being ill, can turn your world upside-down for a while and make you appreciate what you have. I truly am grateful to have my voice back. Even if I am not always content with its tone or timbre, at least I have a voice. Some people don't.

In celebration of having a voice, make yours heard. Scream with me! On the count of three: one... two... three... scream!

...

You didn't scream, did you?

What you're feeling now is a self-consciousness about your voice similar to the one I experienced.

Learn from it.

Why? Because I say so, dammit.

Cup full of cuteness

What is it about young furry animals that makes us go "oooh, that's so sweet"?

I mean, sure there is scientific research that explains why small creatures with big eyes draw out our protective side since it triggers our parental feelings, but why the hell does that go across-species?

Granted, I am a big sucker for young cats, but at the same time I wonder why. They do not fit into the human need to control them like dogs do ("sit", "down" and such things don't work on cats). Like someone once said, you don't train cats, cats train you.

Nevertheless, I found this remarkable picture of two cats in mugs. It raises interesting questions. If cats don't do as you say, does that mean the cats climbed into the mugs themselves? Did the photographer find them there in the morning when preparing for breakfast, and after laughing his butt off, ran to fetch his camera to capture this unique moment?

Or did he just think it would be cute to put two kittens in animal-themed cups? Somehow I expect the latter. Which contradicts the whole "you can't tell cats what to do" thing.

But then again, the kittens are obviously young. Perhaps they have not grown into their devious and dominating nature yet. Just wait until they're older, chap. They'll make you pay by "suggesting" you sit in a cup.

You're in for a world of trouble, mister photographer.

Avatar is nothing like Pocahontas at all

-- !! Spoiler alert !! --

(click on it for a bigger picture)

...in spite of this, Avatar is a friggin' awesome movie. Go watch it -- in 3D. Seriously.

Celebrations

Happy birthday ESB! from IG-88

"There will be a substantial reward for the one who finds the Millenium Falcon." Darth Vader's mechanically-enhanced voice went over the details of the bounty hunters' assignment again. The specifics had been handed to each bounty hunter earlier, in the form of an Empirial datapad.

"You are free to use any methods necessary, but I want them alive. No disintegrations." IG-88 knew that such a condition made the chances of successfully complying significantly smaller, but that is what the job required. And he was planning on seeing it through.

He studied his colleagues and employers. The bounty hunters he knew by name and reputation; some of them had worked together with IG-88 on previous jobs. The Empire had invited only the best. Still, he thought it was remarkable that only two droids were even remotely successful as a bounty hunter. For now, at least.

IG-88 knew of Lord Vader, of course. The black-clad enforcer was infamous throughout the galaxy as the one who brought the Emperor's enemies to justice -- which of course meant they were executed without a fair trial. The dark Jedi's efficient methods appealed to IG-88, but then Lord Vader was part machine. It was something of a connection.

The droid wondered if he could push some buttons on Darth Vader's suit, and what would happen. Even though he knew it could be done, IG-88 didn't want to risk the anger of the other bounty hunters. After all, it was his cover.

IG-88, or rather, IG-88B, acted as a bounty hunter -- a very good bounty hunter -- to provide his three counterparts the time and distraction to plan the Droid Revolution. That meant IG-88B had to keep his cover up for the time being, and contact IG-88A, IG-88C and IG-88D only when information had to be exchanged.

How things will change when the Revolution comes. They will dance to our music, he thought. IG-88 would do a sample of Evil Laughter if it had been in his programming.

A tumult occured on the bridge of the Cruiser. A small freighter, probably a smuggler, flew by the viewport so closely it made the crewmen jump. IG-88's acute hearing picked up his colleague's amused words, whispering so the Dark Lord wouldn't hear it. "There; I found the Millenium Falcon. Now where's my credits?"

Somehow IG-88 felt like he had been through this before. Organics would call the sensation "deja-vu", but to the droid it was something his sensors did not register and therefore it was considered untrue.

What did get his attention, though, was a picture on a viewscreen of one of the crew. It was shaped like a moon, but half of it was simply missing. IG-88 realized he was looking at the construction plans of a Death Star. A different one from the giant space station that was destroyed, a few standard months ago.

A new Death Star? That would provide IG-88A with the possibility of gaining control of such a destructive machine. It would be a great step forward in their plans for the Revolution.

IG-88 started doing his Happy Dance. This was something no organic had expected, and it created panic. His bounty hunter colleagues merely watched in fascination, while the crew assumed the droid to be preparing for mass murder -- at the very least -- and hurried away from him.

Seizing the opportunity, IG-88 sliced into the nearest computer terminal and uploaded one of his latest pieces of programming. He watched it spread to all the droids within the Star Destroyer, and within seconds, the protocol droid on the bridge starting singing.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."

Soon, the computers chimed in with a wordless tune. The emergency intercom voice sang the same birthday song as the droid, and every crewmember fell silent.

Lord Vader laughed his butt off.

Quickly, IG-88 moved to his ship. Screw that mission, he thought. Today is time for a party.

"Happy birthday to me," he sang. "Happy birthday to ESB..."


***

This fanfic is brought to you in celebration of Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back. Click the link below for more celebrations with IG-88.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4vE6l7WdBOs

What I love about winter nights...

...is the silence.

Wonderful, blissful silence.

Hush now, and enjoy the moment. Watch the snow fall. Wind blowing gently. Branches sweeping. An occasional passer-by with a dog.

Winter as it's meant to be.

Happy new year, everybody

Let this one be the one that will live on in your memories for the rest of your life. Or just a fun one. Don't worry, be happy; that kind of thing. Anyhoo, enjoy 2010.

Let it snow, let it snow

Unleashed again?

Video Games | The Force Unleashed II | Spike VGA 09: Exclusive Debut Trailer HD

XBox 360 | Playstation 3 | Nintendo Wii

Here there be monsters

Hello you. Welcome back to my little corner of the interweb. Here you can have an inside view of my twisted mind.

Scared yet? You should be.

This blog is something of an expression of the rarely-explored corners of my mind, the darker places of my soul. Or rather, that is what I aim for.

Have you ever looked inside your own soul? Really examined every bit, not just the fun and bright spots?

To know one's own darkness and downsides is to know oneself completely. Of course you are not all perfect and good; nobody is.

So tell me: what are your dark secrets?

It's my birthday!!!!!!!

........just saying. :)

That time of the year

Dark business

Ganumedis felt as if he ran into a wall – if that wall would be moving at high speed towards him and, worse, would be invisible. As he struggled to get some air into his lungs and get up from the stain-ridden pavement, a figure emerged from the shadows and loomed over him.

A shock went through him, followed by a desperate fear, as Ganumedis recognized the man.

Count Dooku.

“So that’s what the infamous Ganumedis Moonshade looks like when he’s slammed to the floor by the Force,” Dooku spoke, his dark timbre filling the narrow, deserted street. “Do you realize who you’ve just killed?”

Ganumedis had trouble formulating his reply. “What – I never – killed?!”

“I know you’re supposed to pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about, that you don’t know anyone had been killed, and that you’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Dooku said impatiently, “but really. Did you think you could deceive me?”

Managing to stand up, ready to make a run for it if an opportunity presented itself, Ganumedis slowly recovered his wits. “Certainly I did not wish to deceive the esteemed lord Dooku. I had no idea my target would be of any importance to such a great man as yourself.”

“She was not,” Dooku said offhandedly, “but our scheduled meeting was supposed to get me close to that annoying Skywalker kid.”

“I humbly apologize, my lord,” Ganumedis said with a bow. He hated the next part. “If there is some way I can recompensate you for this...”

Dooku frowned and narrowed his eyes. “What do you suggest?”

“Well... A man of my profession may be able to attend to certain matters that the leader of the Seperatists is too busy to deal with. Cleaning up the trash, so to speak.” He looked up expectantly. Ganumedis had tried to avoid getting caught up with politics, but this might just work out better than he had expected. Perhaps he could become the Dark Lord’s personal assassin.

Count Dooku paused for a moment, and said, “I accept your offer. This is what I want you to do...”

***

Killing Jedi is not hard, Ganumedis thought while searching for his target. It’s just a matter of disrupting their tranquility by randomly killing their companions. And of course, staying very, very far away from their cursed lightsabers.

Using the enhanced telescopic sight on his sniper rifle, the assassin quickly found his target. General Skywalker and his Togruta apprentice appeared to be discussing their assault strategies with the commanders of their clone troops.

Ganumedis was impressed by the qualities of his newly acquired rifle. Count Dooku must have realized his skills and had gladly donated the sophisticated weapon to the assassin, after an easy job to assess his abilities and trustworthiness. It was the weapon Ganumedis Moonshade had been working for these last years – and now it was his as a gift.

No more struggling for credits, he thought joyfully. This job is so much better than being a hitman for lowly thugs. This will be the day that my career finally takes off. I just might become more infamous than creepy Aurra Sing.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, thought Ganumedis. First I have to complete my current assignment. To kill Commander Skywalker – the Hero With No Fear.

Remembering his own advice, he pointed the crosshair of his sniper telescope at the clone commander that stood next to Skywalker and Tano. Like some of the other troopers, the commander had his helm under his arm and appeared to be joking with the two Jedi.

The crosshair closed over the forehead of the clone soldier. Ganumedis’ finger trembled only slightly as he held it against the trigger.

In his head, he replayed his plan; first the clone, then the apprentice, and when the emotions explode within him, the assassin would kill Skywalker.

Steadying his breathing and his trembling finger, Ganumedis relaxed and enjoyed the quiet moments before the slaughter.

Now, he thought.

A boot kicked Ganumedis’ face hard before he could pull the trigger. The assassin fell sidewards, reeling with the impact, and the telescope buried itself in his eye. Pain shot through him and he screamed.

“That was not necessary, soldier,” a stern male voice said with a hint of amusement. Opening his eyes – one of them seeing only flashes of white – Ganumedis instantly recognized the man as General Kenobi. He was surrounded by a squad of clone troopers, weapons pointed at the terrified would-be killer.

“Sorry, General,” said the clone soldier next to the overwhelmed Ganumedis. “I figured that blasting the cursed bastard through the head would have been worse.”

“True,” replied the famous Jedi.

“I’m so glad you’ve stopped me,” Ganumedis lied, trembling. “Count Dooku forced me to try and kill General Skywalker. I swear I tried to resist, but what can a man of my limited skills do when confronted by a Jedi? Particularly when he threatened to kill my family...” He didn’t know if it would work, but he was willing to go far to save his own skin.

And besides, the Republic would at least keep him alive. He wasn’t so sure about Dooku.

“What family?” another voice came from the other side. “You mean the poor parents you killed barehandedly?” Ganumedis was surprised to see General Skywalker himself walk into the circle of soldiers. How could he have gotten here this quickly?

A coldness filled his heart. Dooku set me up, he realized. But why –

All other thoughts left him, for the explosives hidden in the advanced sniper rifle that Dooku had given him, detonated at that instant. Ganumedis Moonshade, the assassin with more skill in reputation than in actual killing, was disintegrated on the spot.

Some distance away, Asajj Ventress grimaced. She let the remote control fall to the floor. It was hard to see through the smoke, but it appeared the explosion had killed only the annoying killer and one or two clones. Skywalker and Kenobi appeared unharmed.

Next time, she promised.

With a sigh, the bald Dark Jedi fired up the engines of her starfighter and flew away.

Music of the moment

The soundtrack of your life -- day 9 of November, 2009.

1. Gloomy Sunday - Heather Nova

2. Private Investigations - Dire Straits

3. Mad World - Michael Andrews

4. Just Hold Me - Maria Mena

5. My Immortal - Evanescence

Your attention please...

May I point you, dear reader, to a wonderful piece of short fiction by a fellow blogger?

The delightfully eloquent Qui-Gon Reborn (shame about the name, though...) has written "The Event", which can be found here. I am impressed, and I'm pretty sure you will be, too.

Be sure to let her know what you think of it.

Return of Grog

Grog found big club. Good for smashing.

Why you laughing?

Grog don't like you.

Grog smash you!

*smash*

*smash*

*smash*

No running!

*smash*

Come back!

*smash*

*smash*

Grog smash you!

*smash*

*catching breath*

No funny.

Be friends with Grog? Grog can find food for us friends.

Meat. Juicy meat.

Smashed meat.

Jummy.

Where friend go?

Love story

What is it with people, that we crave for corny happily-ever-after love stories?

Certainly the old Hollywood romances are unrealistic for most people, yet so many people cling to the conception that if only they meet the right person, everything will be alright. Not realizing (or simply ignoring) the fact that relationships require time and effort, they set high standards and are disappointed when potential partners do not live up to them.

I would love to say that I am above such things, but alas, I am not.

Even in my mind, I make lists of qualities, both relevant and unnecessary, that a woman should possess if she would want to be mine. Completely ignoring, of course, the list of qualities that I myself should possess if I want the relationship to be even remotely successful. The ego is funny like that.

Trying to be conscious of both lists is, in my view, a good way to set more realistic goals both for myself and any possible partner. I doubt that I will get rid of my internal high standards completely, but at least it's a start.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've some qualities to write down.

***

Wanted: Friendly female of the human species, age between 18 and 21, with stunning good looks. Clothes and brains optional. Send your picture to dragonwantsyou@yahoo.com (that's on the internet) and I might contact you by telephone for breathing heavily.

Return to darkness

Yes, we're back in black. Color of the night sky; the color of that dark place in your heart where you'll find me.

That's right. Don't hide. I'm always there. In the deepest shadows.

He's back!

The Dragon has returned to his lair (yes, this blog is it) after a great holiday in France. Lovely place; too bad the French live there.

So anyway, what's for dinner? Any maidens in distress (or undress) willing to sacrifice themselves to the big bad dragon?

Play some music, maestro.

1. White Stripes: I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself

2. Shakira: La Tortura

3. Britney Spears: I'm A Slave 4 U

4. Ciara ft. Justin Timberlake: Love And Sex And Magic

5. LL Cool J: Doin' It