Zel-kun’s Words

I’ve been sick the last few days.  Not very sick, but enough to make working not the most pleasant of experiences.  I took NyQuil, which I found out not only knocks me out, but makes me drowsy for the entirety of the following day.  So while it FEELS like a restful sleep, it really isn’t.

Strange.

Been playing WoW more lately, not really much to note on that.

It’s officially Christmas season now, which means the radio is loaded with Christmas commercials, which bastardize every once-respectable Christmas carole out there.  Truly, the world is better off without advertizers inserting their products into songs.  It was never funny, and never original.

The exception to this is Taco Bell, that had a commercial with a man singing along to the Bonanza theme song.  I thought it was one of the funniest things ever when I first saw.  And that only works because the original song has no lyrics.  I could probably find it on youtube if I looked.

Not going to, though.

At work.

Yep.

Zel-kun out.

Fun fact:  My ‘Mexican Thanksgiving’ post from last year gets more spam than any other post.

This year, I spent Thanksgiving at my father’s house, out in Indiana.  I find myself having a lot more fun at my father’s these days, we talk and have a lot of laughs.  I’m sure if he were to open a blog about his life experiences, you’d never stop laughing.  So we get along very well these days, and he reads this blog, so: Bonus!

The spread was good and the company was great.  It was traditional fare: Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and broccoli-rice casserole, but it’s all good stuff.

The day afterwards, I volunteered to work a half-shift.  Even though the corporate office was closed, the call-center was still open, so they needed a person there to watch the queue just in case something happened.  I worked the afternoon shift, so nothing did.  I spent the time fixing up a few desktops that had been sitting under my desk.

Zai came with me that day, saw my desk and said, “Wow, it’s just like in a movie!”  I guess she had never seen an office before.  But I suppose if I saw a factory up close I’d have the same reaction, sometimes an occupation can be a whole other world.

After showing her around, she left to go to the large mall nearby.  So, I got to take her to a mall without actually GOING to the mall: Bonus!

We stopped by my mother’s and raided her for leftovers.  She dropped [Banana Pudding] and [Cream Cheese Dip].  It was a successful raid.

Saturday Zai went out shopping again, and I stayed home and attempted to relax.  Then, like a man possessed, I cleaned the whole apartment.  Ehen the heck did I become Felix Ungar?

Sunday we went to Zai’s mother’s house for leftovers, and to do laundry.  The food was all right.  Mainly, I was there for the membrio, this crazy mexican fruit.  It’s delicous.

There aren’t too many times in my life where I shake with rage, but I must say, Sunday was one of those days…

As any reader of this site knows, Zai has a brother.  This brother, despite my best efforts, has either ignored me outright, or pointed potentially harmful objects at me in an effort to ward me off like some sort of beast.

Though, as I know he refers to me as a beast behind my back to his family… so I guess that makes sense.

When I arrived, he went to hide in the basement.  Fair enough, don’t have to look at him then.  Eventually though, he snuck past the kitchen where I was to watch TV in the living room.  And even though I tried to get a picture to PROVE to the world what I saw, by the time I got my camera phone out, it was too late.

Ladies and gentlemen, picture this.  A twenty-something year old boy, who has a MASTER’S DEGREE from a reputable university, sitting on the couch, holding a camcorder TRIPOD defensively, wearing a Wolverine mask.  That’s right.  Wolverine, as in the X-man.  I go into the kitchen and relay this to Zai and her parents, who kinda laugh nervously.  Zai’s father, though I don’t understand Spanish, can see exactly what he’s thinking in his eyes, “Oh goddammit, my son’s retarded…”

Well, I wasn’t about to let the superhero prevent me from going into the living room, as I had borrowed Zai’s laptop, and Zai borrowed her sister’s, and we were going to do a little Warcraft while we waited for the laundry.  Zai’s brother stood a foot in front of the television, tripod in hand and mask on his face, watching whatever movie he was watching, blocking my view entirely.  From the back, I could see that the mask was held on by paperclips, as the band wouldn’t stretch around his fat head.  I roll my eyes and open the laptop.  Then it happens…

He turns to Zai and says something.  It sounded a little like German (which is normally the only language I hear him speak, broken and bad German), but being as Zai understood what he said, I can only assume it was Spanish.  She translates for me:

“In his culture, people he doesn’t know aren’t invited into his house.”

Excuse me?  If you can imagine that scene from any of a hundred movies, where a guy is about to beat the piss out of someone, only to be held back by a couple of his friends, that was me, though you can replace the friends with the restraint of knowing that that WAS Zai’s brother that insulted me, and that beating her brother to a pulp in her parent’s living room was probably not the best course of action to take.

So, I say to him, as calmly as I could muster, though in retrospect I’m sure that a good amount of my anger shined through, “Well, I happen to know your sister, and your parents, and it is through your OWN doing that you don’t know me.  I have given you every opportunity to be friendly, but you have repeatedly ignored me.  Which, in MY culture, is extremely rude.”

I think it finally got through his thick skull, as he stood silent for several moments in his plastic mask, then moved away from the TV.  So maybe that’ll lead to him changing his ways a little… but then, probably not.

In any case, Happy belated Thanksgiving!  May your family be healthy and your bellies be full.

Zel-kun out.

I’ve been trying to get back into the habit of reading.  For the longest time, books have sat on my shelf collecting dust and my memories of great literature slowly fading with time.  So, when I saw Gunpowder Empire sitting on a stack of books at this tiny privately-owned bookstore in Merrillville, I decided to pick it up.  It looked unique, incredibly interesting, and the little green sticker told me it was three dollars.

Looks interesting, doesn’t it?  There’s what looks like ancient Rome, but there’s cannons and explosions and all sorts of exciting-looking things going on.  My mind began asking questions, “Is this Rome?  Why are there cannons?  Did they make cannons?  Did people from the future give them cannons?  How did this war start?  Surely this is an action-packed adventure that you must pick up?”

So, I bought it, and like many books before it, it sat on my shelf.  I’m not sure what finally led me to pick it up from the shelf, but I did.  And it was an interesting read.

I want to begin by saying that Gunpowder Empire is not a bad book.  It is engaging, and the characters are interesting.  Harry Turtledove is a good writer, and does an excellent job at characterization and making the reader feel like they’re actually in the story.

Unfortunately, my praises end there.  And for those of you who plan on reading the book, you may want to skip the rest of this post, as it will contain some spoilers.

Not too late.

So, the book is set in the future, which was the first shock after seeing the cover, and centers around the Solters family, who are ‘Crosstime Traders.’  Basically, in the future, they have discovered how to visit alternate timelines, and make a living trading goods there, as natural resources are almost gone in the Earth of tomorrow.

So far, so good.  The writer did a good job of getting the reader in to the daily routine of the future.  His way of telling you about the alternate timelines (a school lecture) was a little cliche, but it gets the point across.  Summer vacation comes, and the family packs up and heads to an alternate where the Roman Empire never fell.  One of the most powerful empires in the world, though technology hasn’t progressed beyond the late medieval/early renaissance period, meaning, the only real difference between our ancient Rome and this one is that there’s some cannons and muskets.

Once again, the writer does a good job in explaining this new world, and getting the reader into the daily routine of life in Rome.  It was a good exposition to the adventure that was sure to follow.  And finally, something happened to break the routine, the children of the Solter’s family (17 years old, not REALLY children) get trapped in the alternate without their parents.

It’s getting good, then war breaks out in Rome when another empire attacks.  They’re at the gates, shooting cannonballs into the city, then, after a hundred pages or so of this, they leave.  That’s it, the attacking army leaves, their parents come to take their kids back to modern Earth, and the story ends happily.

It wasn’t bad, but when I looked at that cover, I expected a lot of action.  I expected to be in the streets with those soldiers, riding into battle.  I expected to be running through town, dodging collapsing buildings and taking down the enemy.  There was none of that, the Solters children were barely involved at all, and the amount of action in the book could barely fit a couple pages.

I won’t discourage others from reading it, just know that when you pick this book up, you’re not reading a tale of war, intrigue and action.  You’re reading a story of two kids living in Rome, going on with their lives, despite the occasional cannonball flying through the air.

Zel-kun out.

Saturday there was a benefit for my cousin’s wife.  You may remember her from my Funeral post awhile back.  It was actually pretty fun.  There was a live rock band, good food, and free drinks.  The whole family was there.

From the turnout, it seems plenty of money was raised for both the Lupus foundation and my cousin who is now raising a child by himself.  There was also a raffle with many different prizes, including a football signed by Dan Marino, who, as I understand it, played that there foozball.  I tried to win it for my father, but I lost.  Ah well.

In other news, our kitten is still very energetic, spending days and nights leaping around and biting us.  Though she’s calming down a little, actually laying down when we watch TV.  This is preferrable to when she used to attack my arm, I still have a large cut running across my arm from last time.

Zel-kun out.

I’m always amazed by the laws they have here in Chicago.  When I moved to Illinois, I had never gotten a parking ticket in my life.  Since moving, I think I’m at around half a dozen or more.  I can understand a parking violation for parking in a no-parking zone, parking in front of a driveway, or double-parking, but I tend to get tickets for reasons I didn’t know existed.

The very day I had my first interview for my first IT job, I was ticketed for parking in front of my house.

Yep, in that particular suburb, it is illegal to park on the streets at night.  Where was this marked?  Three blocks away.  Forgive me for not reading every parking sign I pass.  If you’re going to have a parking law, you should make it visible in the areas it affects.

Soon after that, I got another parking ticket for parking in a space and then walking in the wrong direction.  That parking space was for people going to the shops east of the spot, not west.  This one is my fault for not reading the sign properly, but it’s still silly.  I was actually gone for about a minute, and I came back to see a guy finishing putting the boot on my car.  I had to pay that one on the spot, else I wasn’t going anywhere.

Another time I parked downtown near a sign that said, “No Parking: Carriage Loading Zone Mon-Sat.”  Being that it was Sunday, I took the sign to mean that I couldn’t park on those days.  I was wrong.  I came back to a nice orange ticket on my windshield.

So, given all that, the ticket I found on my windshield yesterday didn’t surprise me that much.

I tend to hold off on doing anything the government requires me to do.  I tend to ship out my income taxes on April 15, one year I even filed for an extension, then did them on the last day of that.  Since I got my first car, I tend to drive around on expired plates for a few months before renewing.  When an emissions test notice comes in the mail, I put it off to the last day.  I am not a punctual guy.

This year, when I got my registration renewal, I actually sent it in.  I updated my address and everything, and got that little plate sticker before the current one expired.  One thing I didn’t get, however, is a Chicago City Sticker.

You see, as someone told me and I blew off because I was busy then forgot because I’m absent-minded, along with emissions testing and a $200 registration, you have to buy this little sticker to go on your windshield.  From what I hear, the sticker costs about $75.  It’s odd that the one year I renew my plates on time (for the record, I never got fined for that), I get cited for something else.

One interesting thing I noticed, however, is that no one official told me to get a sticker.  It wasn’t mentioned in the registration papers, ‘Oh, by the way, since you changed your address to Chicago, you need to get this sticker…’ nor did the post office mention it when they sent me about fifty pages of Chicago-area coupons when I filled out my change of address form.  It seems silly to have a law that is only spread by word of mouth.

Another interesting thing I noticed was the fine, at a modest $120.  This is the most expensive ticket I’ve gotten.  And as I’m looking on this citation, I’m looking at the various other fines, and the only thing more expensive is parking in a handicapped spot.

Parking in front of someone’s driveway? $75

Parking in a no-parking zone? $50

No license plates? $50

In front of a hydrant? $100

Parking on the SIDEWALK? $50

Here’s all these offenses that I would deem as far worse than simply failing to adhere to an unnecessary bureaucratic law, and most of them are less than half the fine.

I have seven days to pay this, which is no big deal, I am more than financially secure enough to handle that.  But if I were still working at Wal-Mart… that could destroy my financial state.  I shudder to think what stupid laws like this are doing to less fortunate people.

Zel-kun out.

Friday night was pleasant for the most part.  I left work and headed for Downer’s Grove, a town not far from where I used to live.  I don’t drive straight home on Fridays, mainly because with the traffic, it’s been known to take three or more hours.

So, I was to meet Zai and her sister at the train station there, and we were going to eat at this interesting little restaurant called Cebu.  I parked in downtown Downer’s Gove, which has a nice olde towne feel and walked around while I was waiting, stumbling on a nice little bookstore where I picked up a hardcover collection of Edgar Allen Poe stories for only $12.

After that, I sat at the trainstation, took the book out of the bag, and began reading.  I didn’t get very far before a train came, and the plastic bag was caught in the wind created.  I guess a lot of people would have just let it go, just another piece of trash blowing in the wind.

I guess there’s also some freak in an knit hat and a camera that would think it’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Anyhow, I stood up and followed the bag, catching it up to it in the parking lot.  I picked the bag up and put the book back in it, resolving to read it some other time.  When I returned to the platform, I noticed other random discarded bags and papers whirling in the wind.  I had nothing better to do other than wait, so I stooped down and picked them up.  There was a large trashcan right there, it’s not like it would have killed the other people to dispose of their garbage properly.

Eventually Zai’s train arrived, and we went to dinner.  Cebu is the most interesting place I’ve ever eaten.  It is a Philipino-Spanish restaurant, a ‘Euro-Asian Adventure’ its sign states.  The food seems to consist of cuts of meat in rich sauces, and rice.  It also touts a very diverse menu of homemade desserts, from coconut pudding to tiramisu.

I must say that I’ve eaten tiramisu from dozens of places all over the place, from expensive restaurants to various homemade versions, and this little Euro-Asian joint blew them all out of the water.  I told the waitress it was the best I’ve ever had, and she replied that she’d relay that sentiment to her mother, who made it.

I love family-owned places.  so if you’re ever in Bolingbrook, Illinois, maybe you should consider stopping by.

Finally, it was time to take Zai’s sister home.  About a block away from her house is a large church.  It’s at least a hundred years old, built in stone, brick, and bronze, truly a beautiful building.  Next to it is a nice little garden.  I see a man walking by the church, drinking something from a bottle.  He takes one last swig, and without even looking, hurls it nonchalantly into the church garden.

Most of the time, I’m very slow to anger.  But I was fuming when I saw that.  Sometimes, the dis-respectfulness of people really gets to me.  In a church garden no less… I guess nothing is sacred anymore.

Zel-kun out.

Sophomore year began on a low note.  My grandmother had passed away, and my grandfather wasn’t far behind.  I had spent the summer drowning myself in console RPG’s, and didn’t take too kindly to reality reasserting itself.

When school began, I picked up The Gunslinger, the first book of the Dark Tower, an epic by Stephen King.  I ended up spending every free moment reading it, even in class.  This didn’t seem to detract from my grades, so I continued to read.  Now and again a teacher would ask me a question while my nose was buried in a book, and I’d be able to answer it.  After a few times, they stopped bothering me.

My lunch hour did not coincide with that of any of my lunch companions from the previous year, so I took to spending the lunch hour in the library, where I enjoyed the quiet a lot more than I ever enjoyed the long lines and the unhealthy food.

I didn’t have any friends my Sophomore year, but I also didn’t have any enemies.  I kept to myself, and the world kept to itself.  It was like a ceasefire agreement that I was perfectly happy about.  In early Fall, I finally cut ties with Jason.  After trying to throw me in a freezing pool on a 40 degree day to impress some girls, I decided that maybe it would be best that I threw him to the ground and left.  I never spoke to him again.

At some point during the year, I began writing.  I can’t really say what inspired me to pick up the pen, just that it felt like the right thing to do.  The work produced during this time is too horrible to mention.  I had the misfortune of finding a bit of it in my files when I was getting ready to move to Chicago, and had to throw it out.

Some writing is meant to never be read.

Also, at some point during this year, I was flipping through the channels, and stopped on the Sci-Fi channel, seeing a cartoon.  It was strangely animated, and full of violence and despair.  I had never seen anything like it.  When it was over, I did not know what I had seen, but knew I wanted to watch more like it.  And so, I was exposed to anime.

For awhile it was limited to catching an old anime movie at 2:00 in the morning on the Sci-Fi Channel.  It wasn’t until I met Craig that I really started to get into it.

But that’s a story for another chapter.

Yesterday was Halloween.  Halloween was always a fun time for me when I was a kid.  I used to start trick or treating as early as I could, and go as late as my parents would alllow.  We never trick or treated in our own neighborhood, though.  We weren’t in the richest part of town, and pennies and tootsie rolls were perhaps the best we could have hoped for.

Luckily, my mother was friends with a woman who lived in a wealthy suburb full of doctors and lawyers.  When one out of three houses is giving away full-size candy bars, you know you’ve hit the jackpot.  Even back then, I organized and rationed my candy.  I had a desk in my room, and I neatly stacked the candy bars in the top drawer, put the hard candies in the second drawer, and the chewy candies and gum in the third drawer.  I easily had enough to last me well into the next year.  By the time the next Halloween rolled around, I still had one or two Blow Pops sitting in that drawer.

Our costumes were never store-bought, they were always made up of objects found around the house.  We didn’t have a lot of money, but we did have a big family, and as consequence, could find what we needed for a costume idea.

One year, an old karate gi was my Karate Kid costume.  Another, a pair of overalls, tool belt, and hard hat were my construction worker.  An old smock, beret,  and palette made of cardboard made my artist costume.  In the end, maybe they weren’t the most creative costumes, but definitely looked better than the plastic superman and spiderman costumes out there.

I haven’t trick or treated since I was fourteen, and haven’t even SEEN a trick or treater in three years.  The suburbs have approved trick or treating hours, which end before I get home.  The city, as I found out last night, was much different.

I pulled off of the freeway at about 7:00pm, making pretty good time as most people left work early to take their children out.  And when I did, I was shocked to see the normally empty streets covered in costumed people.  They were everywhere.  When I finally parked, I had to wade through the crowds of children just to get to my apartment, then had to motion them aside so I could open the door.  I could hear them outside for several hours afterwards.

I think I mentioned it before, but the city seems much more alive than the suburbs, for better or worse.

We also managed to blow a fuse last night.  Zai was cooking dinner and had some green beans in the microwave, which proved to be a bit much for the circuit.  Apparently the entire apartment save for my study is on the same circuit.  So at least my computer stayed on.  The circuit box is in the basement, so only the store owner downstairs had the key.  We ended up eating what was cooked of our dinner by candlelight.

I could think of worse things to do.  And once the neighbors got back from taking their kids trick or treating, they flipped the circuit breakers and we had power again.

All in all, a pretty good evening.

Zel-kun out.