Saturday, October 14, 2006

It's a revival! Or not...

So, I got a laptop ... a month ago. And it's taken me that whole month to get back, find my login, find my password, change the look of the blog and formulate just exactly I wanted to write about for my latest blog entry. Well, let's see, what's happened...

Well, in the past eight months, I did my BMQ (Basic Military Qualification), which I graduated from in May. Then I did my SQ (Soldier Qualification), which I graduated from in August, then my CQC (Close Quarters Combat), which I finished up a whole week ago, and am now awaiting my BIQ (Basic Infantry Qualification), which is in a week. A lot of training, eh? So, I updated my blog, I updated my site, I started a new duel, I began writing again, I've read a few novels, I made a bunch of friends and I learned a fair amount about the profession I signed up for. Not all bad, right? Well...

There was some new guys added to my platoon at the start of CQC. When I graduated from SQ, I ended the course with 28 people, having started with 33. I knew these guys since basic. We grooved, knew each other and our own limits. We understood each other. Well, we added 12 new guys to round the number out to a nice even 40. Well, these new guys don't exactly groove with the rest of the platoon. Sure, some of us get along with the new guys better than others, these new guys have caused pretty much nothing but problems.

In the past week, we've: gotten in a fight, been marked by the MPs as shit-disturbers, toilet-papered a hallway, broke a cinder-block wall, broke the windows on two doors, smashed apart one closet locker, been marked as shit-disturbers by our course Warrent, been marked as shit-disturbers by the base RSM, have had our electronics confiscated during the week, and flipped several beds, frames, mattresses and all.

That's in a one week period. I hate to think about how things are going to go down for the next eight weeks of course. This is gonna suck. Hard.

Friday, October 06, 2006


So I changed the layout of SI and made it an exact duplicate of the new layout for Juryrigged. Not too bad a layout, I think. Hope you all like it and what not. I'm still working on coming up with some updates, although then again with my rather hectic schedule, that might not be likely. I've still got a lot of training to go through, so we'll just have to wait and see.


- W. Visarett

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Overused and Overdone

Ok, Waffles is back for awhile, and it seems with his return that My Spastic Inhibitions are also coming back. So, another post to breath some life into this blog;

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

In the world of Role Playing it is inevitable that ideas will used more than enough. It seems creative, original plots are faded into the past. You would think that clichés might be bad, but as Clovis taught me, even a horrid cliché can be turned into a wonderful masterpiece with enough innovation. This brings me to the topic at hand:

I see more and more of a flurry of overused ideas that are just crap. I know the value of said ideas depreciates over time, but these writers need to at least match the former glory, yet the quality falls well short of the bar. I really think this might be the reason the wars at Vets bore me. It’s the same old thing over and over again.

I was even nearing the annoyance point back in my hay day, so these wars that the Emperor gets dragged into these days are just overused and overdone. Maybe someone will pique my interests and actually make something somewhat original or at least up to par.


Tuesday, August 22, 2006


Did I ever intend to be gone this long? Probably not, and of course in my absense, the blog has kinda died, but I guess I partly expected that to happen. Maybe my returning somewhat can change that. We'll see.

- W. Visarett

Thursday, August 10, 2006

Simon Says

I always got nervous whenever a call came in. Don't know why, I just did. I'd wonder whether this flight would be my last, and whether or not anybody'd miss me, or remember me, when I was gone. Probably not, but I couldn't help the nervousness. I'd seen a shrink about it once, too, but he said it was all perfectly normal. I didn't much care for his pompous attitude, or his analysis of me, and told him to shove it after paying the man. I can't stand shrinks.

I was a pilot; ex-military. Used to fly combat missions at the wheel of a fighter out there among the stars. But that was then, when there was a government that stood for truth, liberty, justice and freedom for all, and did their damndest to guarantee those "freedoms." Then came the last war. It decimated the governments, or those that were left. None could finance themselves any longer, and people were downright pissed about being taxed to the point where they could no longer afford to buy groceries at a local store.

That was when the big corporations and companies took over. Government just up and left, selling off whatever they could to whomever they could. Those big corporations started buying up stuff faster 'an anything you ever saw, especially military firepower. Fact, once the government went down the tube, so too did the military. Didn't much matter to me, I'd gotten out two years earlier. Well, the corporations started buying up the armies, weapons, all sorts of things up to and including weapons projects and the scientists running 'em.

I picked up what I could, too. Got me an old gunship surplus style, cheap too. I spend my days fixing up the old bird, making her flight-worthy. Still have a long way to go. Need to find some proper engines. But, back to the corporations, they started their own little war amongst themselves. They even tried to pick me up, offering a good wage. I turned them down. Heard from a friend you could go merc, or something like that. Act as a charter pilot, make an awesome amount of money, especially if you're the best. And I was the best.

I'd act as a pilot in dangerous areas, ferrying the execs around like so much cargo. Problem is, other companies like to hire mercs to go after these execs. You're not the real target, but they shoot at you anyway, just to make you keep your head down. Fact that I've lived as long as I have says a lot about me. I'm just that damn good. The exec's pay good, and pay even more to have you wipe the information recorded about that flight, and whatever they may talk about from the little black box that records flight data, and all conversations aboard.

Sometimes I put a backup box in there, just for fun. Wipe one with info while keeping the other; I sell the other for a couple mil on the black market. It's a living, and a good one. Of course, when you're making that much money, the mercs feel obligated to try and get it off your back, along with clothes and anything else they can manage. So, if truth be told, I had to find me a partner, just someone to watch my back long enough to give me fair warning. That's when I found her, Jenna.

Cute girl, and I mean really cute. Tall, slim, brunette with the quickest hands you ever saw. Loves her hand-to-hand, a pretty good pilot, and an awesome shot, especially when you're in a tight fix. But, back to the call, some exec for Naigato Corp wants a ride from Bastion, world in the Vesix system, to the de la Pax asteroid belt over in the Natba system. He's offering a lot of money, and when I checked him out, turns out that he's offering only slightly more than his head is worth to the other big corporations. Sounds good to me, the money at least.

I thought I might as well take the job. I mean, I need he extra cash to finance my little hobby, that being the restoration of that little gunship of mine, or at least getting it flight-worthy enough to take for a spin on two. When I got the call, I had been at the "office," which is code for me working on that gunship out in the hangar amid all the scents and smells of hydraulics and lubricants and the sounds of power tools.

I had my head under a piece of engine cowling when Jenna walked in--well, more like stalked in with a face of predatory glee--this big smile on her lips that just made a man melt inside--and stiffen elsewhere.

"What is it, Jenna?" I asked glancing out from under the cowling, a tad annoyed that the installation of these engines I was trying to get in would be delayed further.

"Oh, nothing, Simon," she said effecting innocence, but I knew what it was. "Just a call..."


"Some exec, high guy with loads of power, wants a lift from Bastion to de la Pax."

"What company and how much?" I asked. If the company were a big one, they'd offer a bit more to keep that exec alive. I still wondered why they all just didn't get one of their big ships to take 'em, but why question it when I can make a good living off what they're doing already, eh?

"Naigato Corporation. Payment is three mil, a third at start of flight; rest given over once it's all complete. Exec's a short little Asian bastard by the name of Henry Fujikawa."

"Fujikawa? Isn't he the guy who perfected Slipspace travel?"

"Different guy, but does it really matter?"

"Nah, guess not."

"So, we taking the offer?" Jenna was almost jumping and she really wanted to add some more cash to her already overflowing accounts.

"Yeah, yeah. Just let me clean up a bit," I returned, pulling myself out from the innards of my toy and slamming the cowling shut. Someday I'd be able to get my little baby together, but it didn't look to be today.

* * * *

I got myself cleaned up and suited up in proper order, putting on my old olive colored flight suit. Thing had seen some wear and tear over the years but it was still functional enough. Jenna came walking up wearing her own immaculate black flightsuit, something that clung to her body to reveal as many curves as it could while still remaining functional. She had the zipper pulled down enough to give a fair view of her cleavage, too. Not too badly shaped up top despite her not being so large, or so was my opinion of Jenna.

"Nice hair," Jenna said, appreciating my form.

I was tall, a good six feet three inches with broad shoulders. Was slim, built, and had the prettiest blue eyes you ever saw. Course, that's what the last woman I was with said. Although, she was also a bit obsessive, said something about wanting to rip the things from my sockets and keep them as a keepsake. That's when I ended it with her. I don't need women being too clingy. My hair, which Jenna had commented on, was a brown and rather messy. I never combed it; never saw a point in it. She liked to make remarks, but I shrugged 'em off. Best thing to do is just not anything get to you and you'll get by fine.

We walked toward the 'Wayward Epitome,' my little charter ship. She was based on a gunship herself with some sleek lines, big engines and a whole lot of firepower to back me up. I had her custom built on credit once I got out of the military. She was a sleek ship, her only wings being a set of four stabilizer fins put at ninety degree angles from one another and bent at forty-five degrees. Her cockpit was near the fore, and just below the cockpit was a double barreled laser turret, what I referred to as insurance in case things got bad.

She had a singular engine in back, big thing that gave a hell of a lot of thrust, gave you a punch in the gut feeling when you put the accelerator to full. Was a nice thing, got me out of more jams than I could remember. I walked up to the side, patting the hull a moment before swinging under the ships belly and moving toward the gantry set underneath in the middle. My footfalls rang hollowly against the metal, echoed by Jenna as she followed me up.

I turned once at the top and moved down the narrow corridor toward the cockpit leaving Jenna to seal the ship up tight. I heard the whir of hydraulics, the gantry swinging closed as I slotted myself into the pilot's chair. I flipped several toggles and the cockpit viewport spanning HUD shook into life. I felt the vibrations as the engines began to warm up and the generators came fully online. Power surged through the ship and I felt a profound feeling of power run through my veins. It was all for the flying.

Jenna sat herself down to my right in the co-pilots seat, a sinuous smile transfixed on her face.

"Engines warming up, running pre-flight checks," she said.

She loved her work, mostly because she had an overly violent tendency. She loved to cause pain to others that weren't classed under her belief as a 'good person.' I was one of those 'good persons,' at least according to her I was.

I made some last minute checks before beginning to bring the engines fully online. A purr ran through the ship as they rumbled into mechanical life.

"All weapons charged and ready. Shields on standby, fully charged. Everything's set. Lets roll."

"Yeah," I said gripping the antigrav controls and slowly bringing them online.

The Wayward lifted up off her struts and I could feel the power from her generators pulsing through the ship causing the decking to vibrate. The motion was smooth, and I had to admit, I was a damn good pilot. Most newb's to the whole thing made takeoff's jerky, so much so that some people would vomit because it'd set all their internal organs off-kilter, mess up their balance to the point where they couldn't hold in their nausea.

I, on the other hand, was a seasoned pilot. Fully capable, and the Wayward performed beautifully under my control. She lifted up and exited the hanger. I brought her nose about in a fluid motion, pointing it skyward and hit the thrusters. There was the faintest feeling of being pushed back in my seat, but the artificial gravities compensated so I only felt the mildest of g's, and then even those g's were gone.

Into the wild blue yonder and beyond the scope of atmosphere up into the reaches of space. We pulled into a semi orbit before breaking off, Jenna imputing coordinates for us to meet up with this Henry Fujikawa and hopefully collect pay. I wanted my money and fast.

In the next several moments the Wayward Epitome slashed into slipspace, leaving no sign she had ever been in the system except for a few drive emissions.

* * * *

I walked down the gantry, Jenna at my side doing her own little provocative strut that got a good number of the men around staring at her. Couldn't help it, seeing a woman moving like that. Her motions were a kind of hypnotic ululation that kept every eye on her, male and female alike. To me, though, I'd become accustomed to it so paid little mind to it. I couldn't help but wonder just how much some of those men would give just to be me right now, walking confidently next to this brimming beauty.

We got only so far down the gangplank before we were stopped by a short, stocky Asian man. He eyed us for a moment, then in accented English said:

"Mr. Fujikawa will arrive shortly. Please wait here."

I nodded as the little balding Asian eyed Jenna. She smiled and I saw his eyes bug out for a moment. He flushed red and turned away, taking a kerchief from his pocket and moping at his now sweat-beaded brow.

I looked about a bit at all the other Naigato Corp vessels spread around the hanger, cataloging the private army this guy had and shook my head. With that kind of firepower you'd think he'd just take his own ship and head from one end to the other, but I guess it was just cheaper to use us charters. And who's complaining, really? What with the kind of money I'm getting, I should quit yapping about it and just grin wider.

Another Asian showed up, a tall, slim sprout of a man with the closely cropped black hair that the Asian populace seemed to favor these days. He wore a black business suit as though it were a badge of honor or a uniform of some type. His brown, almond shaped eyes had the beady look to them that gave me the creeps, and I'd soon find out just how justifiable that premonition would be.

He looked at me with a hardened stare, but Jenna he showed a kind of warmth, but that could be expected. She was female, gorgeous, and seemed the kind to put out. I thought rather wryly to myself that this Henry Fujikawa could bark up that tree all he wanted, he wouldn't get nothing, and I should personally know, I've been working with Jenna for years now.

"Is your ship ready?" Fujikawa asked in his accented English. I nodded, and he smiled at least somewhat pleasantly. "Then we have only to get my small cargo and myself aboard then we can leave."

I nodded again. I oversaw the small workforce assigned to putting the three crates in my cargo hold while Jenna "helped" Fujikawa strap himself in. I went to the cockpit shortly after, joining the two and smiled pleasantly at Fujikawa only to obtain a sort of menacing look in return.

"Oh-kay," I said raising my eyebrows and rolling my eyes at the same time as I slipped into the pilots' seat. Jenna knew the voice and shot me a look.

We began cycling through the preflight check when Fujikawa asked, "Isn't this a Gribalt Nalhx?"

He was referring to the ship. "Yeah," I responded, "Custom. Been retrofitted from what I do." "Ah, so everything is state of the art, is it?" "Yeah. She's my baby. Take real good care of her. Most of the money I get goes into making her better." "Yeah, and the other half to those slutty girls out on Vuurn Kral five," Jenna said rolling her eyes. Now it was my turn to shoot her a look amidst a slight snicker from Fujikawa. I didn't need the kind of backlash Jenna was giving me, not now with a bloody Asian bastard behind me and just waiting for a moment to pounce. These Asians, they hate any kind of weakness--it's why their companies are so damn powerful. You show any kind of weakness, and bam! They take you out, assimilate you like some super-organism. Sometimes I even wonder if they're truly hive-minded. I ran my hands along switches, bringing everything online as quickly as possible while Jenna ran off a checklist, aloud, telling me that all systems were green and go. When the word came through the radio that we were cleared, I threw antigrav coils to their fullest, bouncing the craft into the air almost violently. The ship just jerked up real fast. "Show off," Jenna said as I channeled power from the antigrav's to the engines and rocketed the thing forward out of the hangar bay and straight into space. Had to pass through the twilight, purplish sky of Bastian while I was at it, and if I'd ever been the kind to be a tourist, this might've been a nice little world. Too bad I wasn't, just meant I didn't care jack all for the world, just the money. Five minutes later, we were space-borne, the big engine glowing insanely in the depths of space as I ran the ship around in a quick orbit of Bastian toward the exit vector Jenna was busily putting together with the aid of the nav comp. "Flight path checks. Punch it," she said. So I did, opening up the slipspace drives and launching us full tilt. This would be the last time I had simply a routine run.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

It's Quiet...Too Quiet

Alright, well I'm still here but I'm not sure about my cohorts. I know Waffles is still in the Canadian forces doing who knows what, Tier is busy in RL with other things, and I'm not sure about Lach at all. I haven't really had an inhibitions involving dueling other than a bit of a question on Vets today. I figured I'd post it at least so I could remember it for later...

Shining Light asks: "My question is this: How exactly do you manage to duel without feeling cheated out by your opponent? How is it that, if your attack misses, you take it in stride? Is trust and honour a huge part in dueling?"

And in reply I had this to say: "RPing can be somewhat like your *comparison if you come upon people such as those at the RE4 boards. Most of the time in this agethose little offsprings aren't as experienced and thus lower to arguing as such whereas places like here, LTU, RP/FF, Spork, RI, and The Duel have somewhat of an understanding between each other and allow damage as earned. If my opponent writes out two word attacks with no emotion, no feeling, I don't even give him the honor of touching me, but if my rival writes out a flawless, beautiful attack I will of course let it hit my character and make it hit hard.

Also, if one feels that their opponent cheezed their way out of an attack a good, experienced duelist will take it in stride because they know that everyone will see the cheeze. It's not about just you and your opponent, but also about the people who read it, and in cases such as tournaments, judge it. The judge and audience will see the cheeze just as clearly as you, so there is really no need to get out of line if you feel you have been wronged, and if by chance no one else feels that you were cheezed, more times than not you probably weren't and you were just overreacting."

*The comparison was that the duels seemed like a styled version of kids with action figures.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Interwebs...Serious Business.

Seems a good time to write this blog as I haven’t written one in awhile, and the mayhem on GameFAQs relates to what it is about. I was given the idea of “Self Control” from Clovis about a week back, and told to comment on how people take the internet too seriously—how they need to exhibit a little self control. So, on a Role Playing note I’ll comment on Chimed’s World Cup Tournament. I’ve noticed the many different styles, not of writing, but of how each writer goes about their writing. Some are very adamant about their posts; getting them up just hours after their opponent makes his move. Others, like myself, find that we are racing the time limit to get in an attack. Some even sacrifice quality to get one in, and others just say, “I’ll post when I feel like it damn it! Stop rushing me!”

Another big issue is the level of seriousness taken in the duels. Coming together in a site-wide tournament involving so many boards—so many styles, is bound to bring up issues involving a character’s acceptability, if their attacks fall under the category of cheeze, or if he is too godly to be fighting. Sometimes I can understand where the complaints are coming from; if an attack involves a bottle of lube, a supernova, and your ass, it is probably cheezing, but in some cases duelists confuse unorthodox with overpowering. Maybe they can’t accept the change of styles from the days when the dueled…or maybe they just aren’t sure how to change.

This leads me into my next point; Ceej, better known as CJayC, updated the boards about a week ago. He gave them a sleek new look and switched around the home page a bit. He even gave the boards a pHp template instead of having tons of html documents. Doesn’t sound like a very big deal, right? Maybe even sounds helpful, right? Well, if you visit the boards you would think the world was ending. Some of the users are just being unreasonable. I’ve encountered multiple threats to actually leave GameFAQs. Keep in mind, all we have is a new style, but no loss of content, no blockage of boards; basically the same face with some new make-up, and yet these people are so attached to the past that they would rather not come at all than to get used to a new look…



You people are going to get ulcers. Control thy selves!


Thursday, March 09, 2006

Delving Deeper

Unraveling The Web

That’s right, after so long I’ve finally churned one out. It’s a bit off the wall, but hey, it’s better than nothing right?

Times have changed, people have changed, but the ideals have stayed the same. Perhaps this is why writing can be so tough at times; it’s been done before and you just keep on getting inspiration from the Hall of Clichés. But then again, isn’t it human nature to emulate what he knows and is familiar with? Such is the reason that personal traits of the author always seem to seep through to a character in their writings. No matter how hard a writer tries, their innermost feelings and deep desires may slip into the framework at any given point.

Sometimes, you will find a character in a story that is a complete opposite from the writer’s own persona, but even then traits about the author can still be just as easily discerned. When reading a piece of work I like to try and dig into the writer’s brain. I want to feel what they felt, see how they saw, and think what they thought. Such is the method I use when wading through the millions of pieces of literature and finding one I actually like. It helps me to understand perspectives of other authors about their writing, characters, and storylines.

Here is an example of how I decipher a personality trait in an author; after getting a good idea of who the characters are and the general story of the book I can get to work breaking down each individual character. With each description and action throughout the carefully spun tale I file away notes about traits, thoughts, and feelings I think may be important to piecing the puzzle together later on. More often than not I find characters overlapping into the same feelings or views of the world shaped around them. This is where the puzzle begins to take shape; by taking into account the most overlaps I can theorize about what the author was trying to portray; unconsciously or not. Say a set of characters has a certain ideal involving an event in the story, you can then guess that either the author intended for this to occur or his own morals slipped silently into each of these characters.

In my own experience I have to look deeper into what kind of affect this standpoint has on the story. Do this character’s feelings contribute to how the storyline unfolds, or is it just a description that the author gave us to give a better idea of where that character stands?

More than likely the main character is going to be who the author is based off of or at least who he wants to be. In most writing the secondary characters carry traits of friends the author knows on a more intimate basis; maybe even an annoying habit of a family member he has. The side characters might be based off of acquaintances, co-workers, or other people not affecting the writer’s life in any significant way.

However, there are always exceptions to this viewpoint. A phenomenal writer is sometimes able to create a character meshed so well with a myriad of facts and details that they seem completely unique, but a writer does have to get his ideas from somewhere…


You may be asking yourself, “What does this have to do with my writing?” Well, I’ll tell you; this gives you a bit more insight to how some of your readers may view your work, thus letting you understand how to improve.

All in all, this is just a perspective from a single reader and writer. Some people have other means of dissecting your work; your job is just to figure out how to please them all.


Tuesday, February 14, 2006

I Died

Not really, but with the lack of updates to my blog, you may as well have thought me dead, gone, and other words of a similar meaning to which my absence can be described as.

So, last week on Wednesday I finally got my drivers license. Took the road test exam, did well on it. Only one problem with my driving, I don't shoulder-check when turning right or left at a stop sign, otherwise my driving is good. So, I've finally gotten rid of my 'N' -- can't say I'll miss it, either.

Another thing that happened on Wednesday last week was that I got to fly for the first time in my life. A short hour long flight down to Vancouver. Did I get a window seat? Nope, I got an aisle seat, so I didn't get to see anything. Which is probably for the better, since I fell asleep once the plane was in the air. Just out like a light. I guess you could say I wasn't entirely excited about flying for the first time, or anxious, or even nervous. Just another thing that's happened to me in my rather rushed pace as I head off for Basic.

Oh, yes, and I'm not army, Canadian Forces. I was sworn-in last Thursday at CFRC Vancouver, which was why I flew down there in the first place. A lot of paperwork, but in the end, I think it was well worth it. And then on Sunday, just a couple days ago, I got Baptized. About time I did that -- been a Christian for well over sixteen years now. And lastly, I leave for Basic this Friday.

So much happening in such a short time, who knew?


- W. Visarett

Saturday, January 28, 2006

I'm In

Two days ago my life took another change. This one I consider of course for the better. At 8 AM Wednesday morning, the recruitment center told me that I was in and had a job waiting for me if I still wanted it. Of course I said yes. I will be leaving soon to report in for training Feb 20, 2006. Suffice to say, I can't wait. I'm anxious, but still, it'll be a new experience and something I should look forward to since I've been mulling it over for so long and wanting it for the past couple months. Wish me luck, I'll need it.

- W. Visarett

Saturday, January 21, 2006

The Invincibles

In the vein of going ultimately fast without reason, we run ourselves into a completely different wall with this other estranged fact. This little brick and mortar construct that impedes us when we role play is our over-attachment to our characters. We develop such a connection with our characters that often, we don't want to see them get hurt, especially were, or if, we spend hours upon hours or days upon days crafting those characters.

This is somewhat understandable, however, since the characters themselves are supposed to be extensions of ourselves. As we wish to avoid pain, so too do our characters, and this avoidance to pain and suffering can also be detrimental. In dueling, as with real life, the fact is, we feel pain. While we might wish to save our characters from feeling those same pains, whether physical or emotional, it is better that we don't. Pain teaches experience, after all; a lack of pain means a lack of feeling.

The character, especially in dueling, is supposed to take a hit, supposed to become hurt. A fantasy world we may be playing in, but some semblance of reality is still there, or leaks through, and thus it can only be expected that the character would become hurt. We don't like it when our characters get hurt, when they experience physical pain. In dueling, the characters are supposed to get hit, take a hit every so often. When you evade everything thrown at you, you are in turn God Modding.

There are guides out there that say how to determine damage done, but here's a thought--instead of just taking damage based on how powerful you percieve the attack to be, take damage based on how you think a person would take damage based on the reality of getting hit by such. Of course, if you can evade within reason, do so, but always remember that sooner or later, you're going to tire and fatigued people make mistakes.

Then again, some attacks are so outstandingly overpowered that were you to take the damage based on how powerful the attack was, the character would die. It comes down to descretion, as always, on how much damage should be taken. Some people have a habit of taking too much damage, even from simple attacks, while others take too little. Again, always searching for that happy medium where everything fits.


- W. Visarett

Thursday, January 12, 2006


As you can see, this hasn't been updated in a long while. Fear not, I have two articles in the works. Unfortunately, they're on my computer, and my computer now lacks Internet access, thus they haven't been posted as yet. Also, I discovered this thing called a life, so the already sporadic posts are going to be few and far between (as if they weren't already).

Thanks to the other contributors, of course, for being here when I'm not, and the reader base, for actually reading the shit I happen to spew now and again.

- W. Visarett

Collision Report

I had a car. It was a nice car...a navy Toyota Tercel, four door, '98; I liked it--it was a good car to drive. Will I be driving it again? Well, I suppose that's if or when it gets fixed, since, well, I totaled it on Monday. Now, of course when I say total, I mean crashed, and by crashed, I mean flew the vehicle off the road down a seventy foot embankment whereupon the only thing that kept me from flipping the car onto the roof and sliding into a small creek followed promptly by splashing into a river were a pair of trees, which I might add also caused the front fender to totally implode inward. Almost something you'd see in a movie.

So, yeah, I had my first car accident. It matters not that I had brand new snow tires, or that I was maintaining a speed well below the limit--black ice plus slush plus snow/rain combo destroys any hope of obtaining traction. So, of course, sliding off the road is a very real threat. And that, folks, is exactly what happened. The car is a write off since there was that much damage to it. Not so much damage to the exterior--just damage to the underside, the rad, and various other underbelly parts that met with low-lying shrubs and saplings. Poor saplings.

Of course, I wasn't alone when I went over the embankment at seventy kilometers per hour. A friend was with me. If you're wondering, there were no injuries. We walked away from it. The worst "injury" was slight whiplash for me, which only set in for about a day. Other than that, both I and my friend are fine.

In other news, I've starting going to the gym with another friend of mine. I'm sore, and bitchy. Is this a good thing? Possibly. Oh, yes, and I'm never online anymore. Go cry for the loss of me now.

[UPDATE Feb 14, 2006]

The car is a complete write-off and not being fixed. Should've said that a while ago, but I didn't. Oh well.