Because.

~Paul

Got a job.

Well, some of you know this already, but I finally got a job. I'll be working as a circulation clerk at the Centerville and Farmington libraries. I start next Wednesday. I went to the Personnel office in Farmington to fill out paperwork and get my ID card today... it was raining when I went, so my hair is messed up on my photo. :P

I'm working for the government now. Me. And the government. Zaa?

Here's a tip: before heading onto the freeway, during a lot of rain, make sure you actually know how to set your car's air circulation devices such that it gets rid of the fog in the windows.

~Paul

Weirdar Alert

So. I was wasting time watching a cartoon tonight, as usual, and I found a scene over which I had to freak fully. Who can spot why I freaked?

~Paul

Pirates Trailer

http://movies.yahoo.com/feature/piratesofthecaribbeanatworldsend.html

I've sent this off to BOC42 already, with results that might involve a hostpital trip. Anyway. Behold and rejoice. Jack is Back.

~Paul

...and now a word from our sponsors

All my readers (both of you) know that I'm working on a big ol' Rescue Rangers fanfic, right? Well, I'm currently taking a short break from it so as to regain my sanity. Instead, I'll post this little scene from a story that's probably the sequel to the sequel of the story I'm actually working on. XD Man, that's just begging to be hit in the face by a trout.

Anyway, there's so much background context going on that neither of you will really know why the three characters are acting so... out of character. Well, Emmett won't know for a different reason, namely, he doesn't know what they'd act like in the first place. But yeah. Context.

Chip burst into the hut, slammed the door behind him, and stalked over to the couch. He threw his hat across the room, grabbed a pillow off the couch and growled as he punched it over and over.

"Well, something's got you riled up, Chipper."

He turned. Lawhinie stood in the kitchen doorway. He dropped the pillow onto the couch. "It's nothing. And don't call me Chipper."

"Oh, that's right." She smiled. "I forget. You can't share case details or familiarity with the bad mouse."

Chip collapsed onto the couch and stiffly folded his arms, determined to remain controlled in front of Lawhinie. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

Lawhinie crossed the room and sat on the couch next to Chip. "You push yourself so hard, Chip. Why do you overwork yourself like this?"

"It's part of my job, part of being a Rescue Ranger. You can't understand it."

"It's not just being a Rescue Ranger. The others don't stress as much as you do. You haven't taken a moment off for rest since you showed up. Monty and Zipper find time to enjoy the surf. Gadget somehow finds time for her own projects. And Dale, well, we both know how he is."

Chip narrowed his eyes slightly and tightened his jaw.

Lawhinie arched one eybrow. "Oh--so it's Dale that has you burning?"

Chip threw his hands in the air. "Isn't it always?" He glared at the wall across the room.

"I guess so." Lawhinie's hands twitched once, then moved slowly to Chip's arm and shoulder nearest her.

Chip turned at her touch. "What are you doing?" He was surprised, and felt an instinctive urge to shy away from her.

"Helping you relax, because you need it. If I'm stuck living with you Rangers, I might as well help you a little." She began gently kneading his muscles.

"Ow!" Chip started to move away. "That hurts."

Lawhinie grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "That's because you're so tense. I told you, relax." She started massaging again.

Chip squirmed. "Really, it'd be better if you didn't--"

"Golly, Chip," she interrupted. She looked him in the eye and smiled--warm and guileless. "Are you always this nervous? I won't hurt you."

The family resemblance hit Chip now as it never had. Lawhinie and Gadget looked almost identical, sure, but even when Lawhinie had been masquerading as Gadget, there was something different in their bearing, their faces, their eyes. Now, they were identical. Chip let himself fall back into the couch, silent.

"That's better. Now, relax." Lawhinie continued her massage, letting her paws range over Chip's arm and shoulder. "What's it like being a Rescue Ranger?"

"Huh?"

"Just... what's being a Rescue Ranger like?"

"Oh. Well... I'm not sure. I've never thought about it."

"So think about it." She gently pushed at him, turning him so his back was to her.

Chip, lost in thought, absently swung his hindpaws onto the couch as Lawhinie's paws began spreading a gentle warmth through his other side and his back as she worked out the knots in his muscles. "We're always moving. Always, even when we don't have a case. We're always looking for more cases, because there's always more work to do. Even when we do try to take a rest, something happens and we end up rushing into it."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It is." Chip unconsciously leaned into into Lawhinie's ministrations.

"What keeps you going?"

"At first? I needed to settle some debts to animials who had helped me and their fellow beasts... and to some animals who had hurt me. Later, because it was right, and I wanted to make a difference."

"Have you made difference, Chip?"

His shoulders slumped; Lawhinie's paws followed, still spreading a pleasant warmth as they worked. "I'm... not sure. If you'd asked me a few months ago, I'd have said yes. But now, I don't know."

"Chip, you're... golly, I wouldn't wish that kind of doubt on anyone." She pulled gently on his shoulders, and he found himself drifting backwards. His head sunk into Lawhinie's lap. "That was one of the worst times in my life."

Chip blinked, coming out of his reverie, and looked upward at Lawhinie's upside-down smiling face. "You went through that?"

She nodded; a strand of hair slipped and dangled over Chip. She giggled shortly and tucked it behind her ear again. She lowered a paw to Chip's head and began running it through the short fur of his scalp. "Right after I met you last time. It's not easy to look back on your life and realize everything that was wrong with it, but that's what happened to me--and here I am with my new life. Live and let live. I guess sometimes this sort of doubt is necessary to get to something new."

He let his eyes slip half closed and nodded slightly, relaxing further as he did so. "Yeah... I guess so."

The hut door opened again. "Okay Chip, Monty finally got Dale to calm down and--Chip?" Chip sat up sharply and saw Gadget standing in the doorway, looking thunderstruck. "Chip, what's going on here?"

"Erm, nothing, Gadget." He glanced back at Lawhinie and--now realizing the full extent of what had just happened--scooted to the other side of the couch. He wasn't exactly sure why he was so embarassed--after all, it wasn't as if he and Gadget were an item. Nevertheless, he knew he was in trouble.

Gadget's ears went back and she crossed her arms. "Nothing? I came in here to see if you're alright after that fight and I find you enjoying yourself like nothing happened!"

Lawhinie smirked at Gadget--no longer the warm, pleasant smile that made her look her sister, but the calculating and shrewd one that separated them. "I was just helping him relax a little, sis, that's all."

"If Chip needs to deal with stress, then I'll help him." She stalked over to the couch and decisively put herself where Lawhinie quickly vacated. "He's *my* teammate, Lawhinie. Chip, give me your back."

"Um--Gadget--"

"Just be quiet, Chip." Gadget began digging ferociously into his back muscles.

"Ow! That hurts!"

She kept at him. "That's because you're tense. Be quiet and relax."

Lawhinie--now standing--crossed the room to the doorway she'd entered from. "I leave him in your capable hands, Gadget." She bent down and picked up Chip's hat from where it had landed when he threw it. She flipped it onto her own head and winked at Chip. She then slipped through the door, leaving a very frustrated mouse and a very distraught chipmunk in her wake.

Yeah, I got nothin' else.

~Paul

And again!

From the Me files, first drafts:

“They’ll need four or five more changes of formal wear,” she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin and examining her new dolls, “two of those’ll be tuxedoes, another tailcoat getup, and a few simpler suits. Let’s go from there.”

“Certainly. C’mere Chip my lad, we’ll start with you.” Clarice on one side and Jimmy on the other, Chip was effectively dragged to the formal section and relieved of his brown shirt. “Hey—I can take it off myself, you know.” They didn’t seem to hear him, as they were rifling through the clothing available. Dale winked at Chip and disappeared into the maze of cloth to entertain himself. Chip smacked his forehead and hoped everything was still standing when Jimmy and Clarice were ready to start on Dale.

Over the next hour, Chip got to stretch his arms every which way, hold very still as Jimmy took all sorts of measurements, and put on everything one captor or the other shoved at him. Through this, he listened to Clarice and Jimmy talk of the particulars of how to balance a group’s wardrobe, how Chip and Dale should have one of each type of formal outfit identical to the other’s, for when they together were backing up Clarice, and one or more that spoke to their own style for when they were meant to stand out, either Chip against Dale or Chip against Dale against Clarice. They talked of color, whether Chip would look better with the lighter or darker shades as the dominant color, whether green suited him or not.

“Don’t I get to make any decisions here?” he asked at one point.

“Chip, dear,” Clarice looked at him very seriously. “Brown shirt.”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?”

He got no answer, of course, because Clarice had gone back to designing his wardrobe.

And, finally, Clarice announced that Chip was done picking a wardrobe for the moment, and allowed him to don his brown shirt again. Until it was time to pick some casual wear, anyway. “Now, be a dear and find Dale, will you?”

I'm somewhat proud of that bit. Of course, I'm even more proud of what comes next in my story. It is ultra fun, if I may say so myself.

Yeesh. It's depressing how slowly the text and plot gathers together when writing. Even when I really want to do it and am starting to be obsessed with it, it's still like walking upstream in a mud slide. It just doesn't happen. But when I found out I'd be walking up a mudslide, I cheated and borrowed the Hook Shot from Link, so it's okay, and it will get done.

And now, stuff. If I have my information straight, the term "blog" is a blend of "web" and "log." I've read that the early blogs that first went by the name were not only logs on the web, but logs about the web and all the content available therein. The second sentence in this paragraph is infinitely more uncertain than the first, but I'll go with the the log-about-the-web claim for a part of this post. Since my webcomic choices went over well last time, I'll point all two of you to Gunnerkrigg Court.
Gunnerkrigg Court is about a not-so-normal British boarding school and the students who attend there, most notably the protagonist Antimony Carver. Gunnerkrigg Court has a very nice mood, gets a very distinctive art style as it progresses, and anything with that many mythologies bouncing around has my approval. The only consistent complaint is that the cartoonist has an extreme aversion to actually explaining what's happening in his story... although, he somehow manages to use this to make Gunnerkrigg that much more appealing. Curse him.

~Paul

If You Must Ask, You Will Never Understand

I command all within the sight of my post to go enjoy this site. You may peruse the more in-depth version here. What's that you say, I've been reading too many science fiction/mad science webcomics? Me? Never! (Rock on!)

~Paul