In which our protagonist attempts to summarize noteworthy events of the past several months.

I took improv classes for four months. Discovered I was funny without trying to be. Improv is hard because you’re not supposed to think about anything, and I’m, well, me. The improv scene is as cliquish and dramatic and jargony and strategic as the slam poetry scene. I don’t fit in to scenes.

I started a boardgames group called Boards and Brews which meets 2-4 times a month. I have a lot of games that I don’t get to play as much as I’d like, so starting this group seemed like a good way to accomplish that. The group’s been going for six months now. We’ve got a core of about 20 regulars with 1 or 2 new people showing up to each meeting. It feels like a good thing.

I’m co-writing a screenplay with my friend Scott. It was either Rian Johnson or Cory Doctorow who said “I like having written.” I don’t usually like writing. The process of it. Wading through tons of doubt and suckage and first drafts. But when I stop writing, it feels pretty amazing. We are both busy people and the process is taking a long time. When I get a scene done, I feel like a hero. I spend the rest of the time feeling guilty and lazy.

My friends and I created a short “bumper” for a Fantastic Fest contest. It was one of those rare projects I can say went off without a hitch. Everyone was great and we finished it and it looks super. I think we’re at least in the top 20 out of the 50+ submissions. I just want to see up on the big screen in the Alamo.

I’ve been watching a ton of shows: Kings, Leverage, the Wild Wild West, Ally McBeal, Star Trek, and Wolverine and the X-Men. Reading a lot of graphic novels. Playing some video games. My lists of various media I wish to consume are steadily dwindling. It seems possible that I will watch and play everything I want to within a year.

My sister is alive. I’ve talked with her since I visited her and she was coherent. She seemed “better.” But I don’t understand what is happening with her. My mom keeps saying that she is coming home soon. But that condition exists in a dream-like state, where she is always in the process of almost coming home and has been for a long time. I don’t know what it means anymore. The situation feels fragile to me. I feel like if I don’t think about it or prod it, it exists in a frozen bubble. Inquiring about or even looking at the bubble will cause it to burst.

Work is work. Mostly a lot of web sites and solving problems, broken up by interesting, creative projects. The steadiness is comforting to me. Work is currently the only place in my life where I am necessary.

I am working on two secret writing projects.

About a month ago I accidentally ripped off my left big toenail. Although there was a lot of blood and it caused a bit of a stir as we were in a public place, I was not too fazed by it. It is times like that when one can benefit from the ability to disassociate one’s mind from one’s body.

I went to GenCon last week.  While I had a good time overall, it was only two days before the estrangement set in. I still greatly dislike fan culture and there is no escaping it at a gaming convention. The dealer’s room reminded me of how many things there are in the world. I didn’t know what it all meant or what my role in it was, if any.

My dreams are rich and feel more important than anything happening in my waking life, so I look forward to sleeping more and more.

That’s all for now.