The Descent
Caught it yesterday. I was late, the date didn't show and hasn't returned calls (which, given we're more co-workers than dates, is bizarre), but still enjoyed the movie thoroughly. Except for the Texas Chainsaw Massacre - The Beginning trailer. Why Michael Bay thinks directing this sort of thing is a good career move is beyond me.
Anyway, The Descent. I first heard of the movie about a year ago and have been biding my time waiting for its US release, having heard very good things. I love horror but am quick to distinguish between true horror and everything else. In the past, Frankenstein and Dracula were enough to terrify audiences -- now you have to try a little harder. Neil Marshall tries and, for the most part, succeeds in joining the ranks of excellent horror such as The Exorcist, Alien, and The Ring. Epstein interviews Marshall here
Pre-spelunking events set the tone for protagonist Shauna MacDonald, who is having a bad couple of years. Once into the dark, Marshall's direction evokes tension and claustrophobia well before the things enter the picture. Ego, error, terror and separation take their toll on our adventurers at a heart pounding pace -- the action may slow, briefly, but the tension flows like copious quantities of gore delivered throughout the movie.
Other good points. The movie's protagonists are six females, but it isn't a Girl Power film. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but that sort of thing can be distracting, especially during a serious horror film. It's clear from the movie's start that these are tough, disciplined and adventurous women, but there's nothing gratuitous about it. Natalie Mendoza (Juno) reminds me a lot of Grace Park, from Battlestar Galactica -- definitely a positive thing. And while there are a few predictable shocks, Marshall's story avoids falling into yawn-inducing cliche. MacDonald's crawl up the "lighted path" toward the end was beautifully shot.
On the down side, I'd have been interested in knowing how such a diverse group of women (nationality-wise) had all come together. It's a minor quibble, but the more you're informed about the characters, the more likely you are to care for them. The only major issue I have is the very end point, which I'll spoil below.
Chemistry
Yeah, it's just 101, but having been out of school for...a very long time...I'm glad it's over with. Despite the absurdity of the final I aced it, and helped some others along the way. I'd like to thank this empty bottle of Diebolt-Vallois' green label champagne for assisting so ably in the celebration. The Fleur-de-Passion is much better, of course -- feel free to send me a bottle.
Descent Spoiler-ridden Ending Rewrite
Throughout the movie, Sarah (Shauna MacDonald) seemingly hears her daughter's laughter and, while unconscious, her image. Yet at the very end, after driving well away from the scene of her companions' slaughter, she sees...Juno, who certainly died. And the movie ends. That alone takes the movie from A- to B, and I can't make heads or tails of Marshall's choice here. So I've kindly rescripted the ending:
SARAH leans out of the car and vomits, then hangs her head out the window to take in the air. She hears her child's giggling, the same sound as heard several times in the cave. She turns back to see her slain daughter seated next to her.
JESSICA: Are you okay, mommy?
SARAH: Yes, honey, I'm okay. Everything is okay.
{Camera through SUV window as SARAH looks forward, smiling)
SARAH: Everything is going to be okay.
Sarah's traumatic experiences have driven her over the edge, and with the above everybody realizes it. In the movie...not so much. But still, a very good film in a genre that is all too often disappointing. Go see it.
-TTm
Caught it yesterday. I was late, the date didn't show and hasn't returned calls (which, given we're more co-workers than dates, is bizarre), but still enjoyed the movie thoroughly. Except for the Texas Chainsaw Massacre - The Beginning trailer. Why Michael Bay thinks directing this sort of thing is a good career move is beyond me.
Anyway, The Descent. I first heard of the movie about a year ago and have been biding my time waiting for its US release, having heard very good things. I love horror but am quick to distinguish between true horror and everything else. In the past, Frankenstein and Dracula were enough to terrify audiences -- now you have to try a little harder. Neil Marshall tries and, for the most part, succeeds in joining the ranks of excellent horror such as The Exorcist, Alien, and The Ring. Epstein interviews Marshall here
Pre-spelunking events set the tone for protagonist Shauna MacDonald, who is having a bad couple of years. Once into the dark, Marshall's direction evokes tension and claustrophobia well before the things enter the picture. Ego, error, terror and separation take their toll on our adventurers at a heart pounding pace -- the action may slow, briefly, but the tension flows like copious quantities of gore delivered throughout the movie.
Other good points. The movie's protagonists are six females, but it isn't a Girl Power film. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but that sort of thing can be distracting, especially during a serious horror film. It's clear from the movie's start that these are tough, disciplined and adventurous women, but there's nothing gratuitous about it. Natalie Mendoza (Juno) reminds me a lot of Grace Park, from Battlestar Galactica -- definitely a positive thing. And while there are a few predictable shocks, Marshall's story avoids falling into yawn-inducing cliche. MacDonald's crawl up the "lighted path" toward the end was beautifully shot.
On the down side, I'd have been interested in knowing how such a diverse group of women (nationality-wise) had all come together. It's a minor quibble, but the more you're informed about the characters, the more likely you are to care for them. The only major issue I have is the very end point, which I'll spoil below.
Chemistry
Yeah, it's just 101, but having been out of school for...a very long time...I'm glad it's over with. Despite the absurdity of the final I aced it, and helped some others along the way. I'd like to thank this empty bottle of Diebolt-Vallois' green label champagne for assisting so ably in the celebration. The Fleur-de-Passion is much better, of course -- feel free to send me a bottle.
Descent Spoiler-ridden Ending Rewrite
Throughout the movie, Sarah (Shauna MacDonald) seemingly hears her daughter's laughter and, while unconscious, her image. Yet at the very end, after driving well away from the scene of her companions' slaughter, she sees...Juno, who certainly died. And the movie ends. That alone takes the movie from A- to B, and I can't make heads or tails of Marshall's choice here. So I've kindly rescripted the ending:
SARAH leans out of the car and vomits, then hangs her head out the window to take in the air. She hears her child's giggling, the same sound as heard several times in the cave. She turns back to see her slain daughter seated next to her.
JESSICA: Are you okay, mommy?
SARAH: Yes, honey, I'm okay. Everything is okay.
{Camera through SUV window as SARAH looks forward, smiling)
SARAH: Everything is going to be okay.
Sarah's traumatic experiences have driven her over the edge, and with the above everybody realizes it. In the movie...not so much. But still, a very good film in a genre that is all too often disappointing. Go see it.
-TTm
Back to School
I finally did it. A very long time after graduating from college, I'm back looking for more. The current career path is packed with dead ends, each notable for the zombie like, drooling gazes of those vainly attempting to claw their way up the wall. No thanks, need something new. Been stagnant too long, time to change. So I'm getting some classes under my belt, then off to do something medical. Maybe become an RN or PA or...something. Something else.
So right now I'm taking a summer class in chemistry. Because if I can handle that level of pace and subject, I can handle any damn thing. I won't go into the details, but so far work + school isn't so bad, mainly because I'm taking the school during the work (blowing some of my vacatation time to do so). The professor is decent, the lab TA's English is coming along pretty well, and the work isn't too bad. I'll deal.
Superman Returns was pretty good. I'm not inspired enough to write a full review, but suffice to say it was a good update/sequel/reimagining or however you want to think of it. Routh could have been a little bigger, but he really did look the part, and he followed in Reeve's shoes, with the addition of a level of vulnerability in place of Reeve's assertiveness. Very few minorities in Metropolis, oddly enough.
The Dreaming
I've been quite well-traveled of late on the other side; every night provides new amusements. And occasional horror, tho' I'm well used to that now. Still, if you've ever had sleep paralysis, you'll relate very well to the upcoming anecdote.
If you haven't, then imagine what it might be like to awaken within your dream. Truly awaken, but unable to move, while experiencing the dream's effects, which often include other "presences" in the room with you. So I was asleep, but awoke as someone joined me. I could not move, nor make any sound greater than a low moan as I pushed air from my lungs. Even knowing, on some level, what was going on, I felt terror pushing at my consciousness, but the fun had just begun.
I felt a hand on my leg, just above the ankle, and felt it glide up to my knee in a loving caress. My eyes flickered in that direction but caught only the pale fabric of a wedding dress. In this dream, it was my wedding night, and my dear bride had come to join me to celebrate the occasion. I felt the bed shift as she slid beneath the covers and up against my skin. I felt her arms wrap around me and her ribs, bare ribs, pressed against my side. And as she crept up the bed to give me our first wedding night kiss I felt the bones move beneath soft wedding dress fabric over my flesh. As my skeleton bride pushed her skeletal lips against mine I tried to cry out, but could only achieve that dull, pained groan.
Finally I shook myself awake. This has happened enough that I could laugh it off and, gradually, get back to sleep, but I won't forget it any time soon.
Feel free to add your own, lovely ladies who pay me a visit (and anyone else of course). Ticktockman out.
-TTm
I finally did it. A very long time after graduating from college, I'm back looking for more. The current career path is packed with dead ends, each notable for the zombie like, drooling gazes of those vainly attempting to claw their way up the wall. No thanks, need something new. Been stagnant too long, time to change. So I'm getting some classes under my belt, then off to do something medical. Maybe become an RN or PA or...something. Something else.
So right now I'm taking a summer class in chemistry. Because if I can handle that level of pace and subject, I can handle any damn thing. I won't go into the details, but so far work + school isn't so bad, mainly because I'm taking the school during the work (blowing some of my vacatation time to do so). The professor is decent, the lab TA's English is coming along pretty well, and the work isn't too bad. I'll deal.
Superman Returns was pretty good. I'm not inspired enough to write a full review, but suffice to say it was a good update/sequel/reimagining or however you want to think of it. Routh could have been a little bigger, but he really did look the part, and he followed in Reeve's shoes, with the addition of a level of vulnerability in place of Reeve's assertiveness. Very few minorities in Metropolis, oddly enough.
The Dreaming
I've been quite well-traveled of late on the other side; every night provides new amusements. And occasional horror, tho' I'm well used to that now. Still, if you've ever had sleep paralysis, you'll relate very well to the upcoming anecdote.
If you haven't, then imagine what it might be like to awaken within your dream. Truly awaken, but unable to move, while experiencing the dream's effects, which often include other "presences" in the room with you. So I was asleep, but awoke as someone joined me. I could not move, nor make any sound greater than a low moan as I pushed air from my lungs. Even knowing, on some level, what was going on, I felt terror pushing at my consciousness, but the fun had just begun.
I felt a hand on my leg, just above the ankle, and felt it glide up to my knee in a loving caress. My eyes flickered in that direction but caught only the pale fabric of a wedding dress. In this dream, it was my wedding night, and my dear bride had come to join me to celebrate the occasion. I felt the bed shift as she slid beneath the covers and up against my skin. I felt her arms wrap around me and her ribs, bare ribs, pressed against my side. And as she crept up the bed to give me our first wedding night kiss I felt the bones move beneath soft wedding dress fabric over my flesh. As my skeleton bride pushed her skeletal lips against mine I tried to cry out, but could only achieve that dull, pained groan.
Finally I shook myself awake. This has happened enough that I could laugh it off and, gradually, get back to sleep, but I won't forget it any time soon.
Feel free to add your own, lovely ladies who pay me a visit (and anyone else of course). Ticktockman out.
-TTm
I've slept in a very great deal. I engaged in a lot of somnambulism as a kid, wandering about the house nocturnally like Moses trying to find the way out of the wilderness. If Moses was marking his territory by pissing on everything he could find, anyway. Sometimes my analogies aren't so good.
So at some point, as happens now and then, my alarm woke me. And, without missing a beat in dreamland, I turned it off. My brain must be at war with itself on some level, as I rarely fail to wake myself up somehow, usually through a dream that acts like a bucket of crushed ice tossed in my bed.
This time in dreamland, I was in my room watching what must have been a 60" plasma TV/computer monitor. 4 channels of regular programming and games, and a 5th channel of a pretty gal taking her clothes off (I don't know where I get these ideas!). And at that point, I'm focusing on the pretty gal.
In walks mom. Point of order, I don't live with my mother. In fact, I've long made it a habit of keeping a three state minimum between myself and any parents that may be living in the region. We all get along fine, it's just easier that way.
Web surfing at work has made me a pro alt-tabber. My reflexes aren't the best, but in the arena of work place internet roaming, they are honed to perfection. Mom does a double take and sees nothing more, chats about something then leaves. I alt-tab back. In walks mom, and she sees boob. I alt-tab away, and she, stuttering a bit, explains whatever bit of dream nonsense (or maybe it was RL nonsense, I don't recall) before leaving again.
I alt-tab back, and she returns again, "Just one more thing." No disguising it this time. I can't listen to her now, can only giggle capriciously. This goes on several more times before the brain short-circuits and I awaken.
Fortunately, my supervisor at work is a kindly imbecile. Talking to her is like gargling molasses and snorting saccharine -- it's almost painful. But it could be far far worse.
Well look at the time; now I'm even more tardy. Tragic, that. More tragic, SG hasn't updated. Minutes away from some sort of awesome, too. Well...I gotta go.
-TTm
So at some point, as happens now and then, my alarm woke me. And, without missing a beat in dreamland, I turned it off. My brain must be at war with itself on some level, as I rarely fail to wake myself up somehow, usually through a dream that acts like a bucket of crushed ice tossed in my bed.
This time in dreamland, I was in my room watching what must have been a 60" plasma TV/computer monitor. 4 channels of regular programming and games, and a 5th channel of a pretty gal taking her clothes off (I don't know where I get these ideas!). And at that point, I'm focusing on the pretty gal.
In walks mom. Point of order, I don't live with my mother. In fact, I've long made it a habit of keeping a three state minimum between myself and any parents that may be living in the region. We all get along fine, it's just easier that way.
Web surfing at work has made me a pro alt-tabber. My reflexes aren't the best, but in the arena of work place internet roaming, they are honed to perfection. Mom does a double take and sees nothing more, chats about something then leaves. I alt-tab back. In walks mom, and she sees boob. I alt-tab away, and she, stuttering a bit, explains whatever bit of dream nonsense (or maybe it was RL nonsense, I don't recall) before leaving again.
I alt-tab back, and she returns again, "Just one more thing." No disguising it this time. I can't listen to her now, can only giggle capriciously. This goes on several more times before the brain short-circuits and I awaken.
Fortunately, my supervisor at work is a kindly imbecile. Talking to her is like gargling molasses and snorting saccharine -- it's almost painful. But it could be far far worse.
Well look at the time; now I'm even more tardy. Tragic, that. More tragic, SG hasn't updated. Minutes away from some sort of awesome, too. Well...I gotta go.
-TTm
X3 thoughts, mostly spoiler free
X3 is a difficult film to appraise. I enjoyed it, didn't feel like I wasted my money seeing it on a Monday night, so in that respect it works. If it had a somewhat better script (tough to ask for given the genre) or, better yet, a good director (Joss W. or Bryan Singer, preferably), I'd be in love with it.
Through all the movies, only Stewart and McKellan ever seemed to really care about their characters -- a testament to their acting chops. Both are great, as always. Jackman was good as Wolverine, but that's a role I think he was born to play. Janssen was alright as Jean Grey, but was lacking the spark that good direction would have given her. As some very key scenes are entirely hers, the lack of that good direction hits the film hard.
Angel? Why bother having him in the movie at all. Juggs got a little time, but not much. Kitty Pryde and Beast were better used. There were some surprises, enough to make a 4th film seem unlikely. The bit after the credits was kinda cool, not expected (tho' in retrospect I should have seen it coming). There were enough nice touches and decent effects to keep the film alive; one of my friends even preferred it to the first two. In any case, it was worth seeing, and not a terrible note on which to end the franchise, if they so choose.
-TTm
X3 is a difficult film to appraise. I enjoyed it, didn't feel like I wasted my money seeing it on a Monday night, so in that respect it works. If it had a somewhat better script (tough to ask for given the genre) or, better yet, a good director (Joss W. or Bryan Singer, preferably), I'd be in love with it.
Through all the movies, only Stewart and McKellan ever seemed to really care about their characters -- a testament to their acting chops. Both are great, as always. Jackman was good as Wolverine, but that's a role I think he was born to play. Janssen was alright as Jean Grey, but was lacking the spark that good direction would have given her. As some very key scenes are entirely hers, the lack of that good direction hits the film hard.
Angel? Why bother having him in the movie at all. Juggs got a little time, but not much. Kitty Pryde and Beast were better used. There were some surprises, enough to make a 4th film seem unlikely. The bit after the credits was kinda cool, not expected (tho' in retrospect I should have seen it coming). There were enough nice touches and decent effects to keep the film alive; one of my friends even preferred it to the first two. In any case, it was worth seeing, and not a terrible note on which to end the franchise, if they so choose.
-TTm
They get letters
Voltaire, for those not in the know, is a charming entertainer across various media best known for sweet ballads about necrophilia, cannabilism, the undead, what ought to be done to ex-lovers' lovers and more serious topics (yes, even more serious than cannibalism). Here, he posts a response by an...unforgiving Christian soul to his song God Thinks. Voltaire apparently didn't understand his song's true meaning and needed to be informed. It's funny...in its way.
The Dreaming
Imagine taking an early evening nap -- incense lit, lights dimmed to a candle's luminance, and merciful silence all around. You awaken, languidly get to your feet and trod to the door. Then the room's light fades, its color drains into black and white and a gallows parade of soul-hungry spectres bursts through the window, claws and maws grasping for your very spirits!
Seems like a good time to awaken, and so I did. Got out of bed shaking off the dream and headed to the door. *Crash* The spectres, unappeased, were back for more, rushing me in howling fury before I could
wake up. Well, that never happened before. I got out of bed and reached for the light. And again, the room faded into chill monochrome and the banshee wails of wraiths refusing to be denied their living prize. ENOUGH!
I got out of the damn bed, flipped on the light and went out to dinner. The ghosts of my subconscious would just have to settle for Mexican.
-TTm
Voltaire, for those not in the know, is a charming entertainer across various media best known for sweet ballads about necrophilia, cannabilism, the undead, what ought to be done to ex-lovers' lovers and more serious topics (yes, even more serious than cannibalism). Here, he posts a response by an...unforgiving Christian soul to his song God Thinks. Voltaire apparently didn't understand his song's true meaning and needed to be informed. It's funny...in its way.
The Dreaming
Imagine taking an early evening nap -- incense lit, lights dimmed to a candle's luminance, and merciful silence all around. You awaken, languidly get to your feet and trod to the door. Then the room's light fades, its color drains into black and white and a gallows parade of soul-hungry spectres bursts through the window, claws and maws grasping for your very spirits!
Seems like a good time to awaken, and so I did. Got out of bed shaking off the dream and headed to the door. *Crash* The spectres, unappeased, were back for more, rushing me in howling fury before I could
wake up. Well, that never happened before. I got out of bed and reached for the light. And again, the room faded into chill monochrome and the banshee wails of wraiths refusing to be denied their living prize. ENOUGH!
I got out of the damn bed, flipped on the light and went out to dinner. The ghosts of my subconscious would just have to settle for Mexican.
-TTm
Here's an entry for the worst date ever.
Thankfully, I wasn't a participant. She's a friend from work, so we'll just call her WorkingGirl -- a convenient, neutral term. WorkingGirl enjoyed a 6 week romance with one of the many damn fools who have no idea what the hell they want in relationships. He finally decided -- after successfully demanding she remove her nipple rings and gods know what else -- that he might maybe pretty sure wanted to be back with his ex-something. E-mails ensued in which he made clear he didn't want to see her again, so on and so forth.
WorkingGirl claims not to be vengeful, but she routed an mp3 destroying virus his way anyhow, lightening his hard drive by a gig or two.
Then the pregnancy test turned up positive. I'll skip to the present except to say that much amusement arose from two of WorkingGirl's friends work with (and in one case *over*) the confused erstwhile loverboy.
WorkingGirl plays the match.com dating game, with some success (if success means a stream of relentlessly dull or unclean men in uniform that keep her in free dinners over the course of a week). One such date, having just lost a friend to a work-related accident which he supervised, was considerably shit-faced. WorkingGirl drove the pair from dinner when...the bleeding began.
He sobered up pretty quickly at that point.
So, into the annals of dating disasters, add: post-meal miscarriage.
WorkingGirl is suffering from a confusing mix of hormones right now, but we still managed a good laugh over it.
The Dreaming
I dream, often. Recent dreams include being a refugee from Battlestar Galactica under attack by a tsunami, having to teach a class on role-playing, and various bizarre images too jumbled to relay.
My favorite dream of recent years involved the Greek Muses. In this vignette, I was at a house party with faceless others. Through a third person view, I saw the Muses rise from the earth, and they were pissed. Pissed at the world for its abuse of art, history, music, science, drama and so on. And so they came to hurt the world, starting with those of us at the party. Melpominee in particular was beautifully psychotic, ready to splash the walls with blood and knives.
The dream was too brief, but proved inspirational. I wrote some dialogue, used it in a game of Mage: the Ascension, and think it would make entertaining Sci-Fi Channel series fare. Pissed off Grecian goddesses of arts and letters adapting to modern life and passing ruthless judgment on talentless hacks warping the fruits of their dominions? Fun!
More dreaming adventures later.
-TTm
Thankfully, I wasn't a participant. She's a friend from work, so we'll just call her WorkingGirl -- a convenient, neutral term. WorkingGirl enjoyed a 6 week romance with one of the many damn fools who have no idea what the hell they want in relationships. He finally decided -- after successfully demanding she remove her nipple rings and gods know what else -- that he might maybe pretty sure wanted to be back with his ex-something. E-mails ensued in which he made clear he didn't want to see her again, so on and so forth.
WorkingGirl claims not to be vengeful, but she routed an mp3 destroying virus his way anyhow, lightening his hard drive by a gig or two.
Then the pregnancy test turned up positive. I'll skip to the present except to say that much amusement arose from two of WorkingGirl's friends work with (and in one case *over*) the confused erstwhile loverboy.
WorkingGirl plays the match.com dating game, with some success (if success means a stream of relentlessly dull or unclean men in uniform that keep her in free dinners over the course of a week). One such date, having just lost a friend to a work-related accident which he supervised, was considerably shit-faced. WorkingGirl drove the pair from dinner when...the bleeding began.
He sobered up pretty quickly at that point.
So, into the annals of dating disasters, add: post-meal miscarriage.
WorkingGirl is suffering from a confusing mix of hormones right now, but we still managed a good laugh over it.
The Dreaming
I dream, often. Recent dreams include being a refugee from Battlestar Galactica under attack by a tsunami, having to teach a class on role-playing, and various bizarre images too jumbled to relay.
My favorite dream of recent years involved the Greek Muses. In this vignette, I was at a house party with faceless others. Through a third person view, I saw the Muses rise from the earth, and they were pissed. Pissed at the world for its abuse of art, history, music, science, drama and so on. And so they came to hurt the world, starting with those of us at the party. Melpominee in particular was beautifully psychotic, ready to splash the walls with blood and knives.
The dream was too brief, but proved inspirational. I wrote some dialogue, used it in a game of Mage: the Ascension, and think it would make entertaining Sci-Fi Channel series fare. Pissed off Grecian goddesses of arts and letters adapting to modern life and passing ruthless judgment on talentless hacks warping the fruits of their dominions? Fun!
More dreaming adventures later.
-TTm
So here I am. This is All About Me time, so if an autobiographical spinning of the wheels doesn't fit your mood, best move on.
The basis stats: 37 and single, engaged once but never married. I have a BS in psych which I immediately put to good use removing things from dead people (more on that in a minute). I've known about SG for years and stopped by now and then, but I tend not to join anything ever. Finally, good sense and an affinity for the naked and the naughty overwhelmed my reluctance, and here I am.
I live in Raleigh, NC, an unassuming town with as much nightlife as skyline (at least the sort of nightlife I enjoy). I come here by way of New York (twice), Florida and Alaska. I much prefer cities to the rural world. Something security inspiring about enormous pillars of concrete and glass.
So, best job ever. After school, while deciding what to do with myself I hired on with the Red Cross. They have an organ & tissue harvesting program -- taking hearts, skin, various bones, lumbar vertebrae and connective tissue from donor cadavers. I took the class and spent the next 5 years as a tech (later, as trainer and lead). Anecdotes another time.
Things you should know:
I tend to sound way more formal in text than I am in person. All part of the Ticktockman persona, cultivated over many years on the internets. People often err on the source of my nom de plume -- shall you be one of the elite who get it right?
I trend left politically, especially on social matters. The current administration wakes me up at night, teeth on edge. I'll doubtless have more to say on all this as time goes by and each new scandal unfolds.
I am an atheist. I've read the bible (including a fair amount of apocrypha), studied the arguments and find that theism doesn't hold up -- much less Christianity. Interesting subject, but purely academic.
I dream. Vividly. More of that to come.
If you've read this far, buy yourself a cookie. A damn big cookie. Time to go.
-TTm
The basis stats: 37 and single, engaged once but never married. I have a BS in psych which I immediately put to good use removing things from dead people (more on that in a minute). I've known about SG for years and stopped by now and then, but I tend not to join anything ever. Finally, good sense and an affinity for the naked and the naughty overwhelmed my reluctance, and here I am.
I live in Raleigh, NC, an unassuming town with as much nightlife as skyline (at least the sort of nightlife I enjoy). I come here by way of New York (twice), Florida and Alaska. I much prefer cities to the rural world. Something security inspiring about enormous pillars of concrete and glass.
So, best job ever. After school, while deciding what to do with myself I hired on with the Red Cross. They have an organ & tissue harvesting program -- taking hearts, skin, various bones, lumbar vertebrae and connective tissue from donor cadavers. I took the class and spent the next 5 years as a tech (later, as trainer and lead). Anecdotes another time.
Things you should know:
I tend to sound way more formal in text than I am in person. All part of the Ticktockman persona, cultivated over many years on the internets. People often err on the source of my nom de plume -- shall you be one of the elite who get it right?
I trend left politically, especially on social matters. The current administration wakes me up at night, teeth on edge. I'll doubtless have more to say on all this as time goes by and each new scandal unfolds.
I am an atheist. I've read the bible (including a fair amount of apocrypha), studied the arguments and find that theism doesn't hold up -- much less Christianity. Interesting subject, but purely academic.
I dream. Vividly. More of that to come.
If you've read this far, buy yourself a cookie. A damn big cookie. Time to go.
-TTm
