Version3Point0

X-Mas is over

2011-12-26T00:03:00.003-06:00

And a great sigh of relief was exhaled by people worldwide.

Not because they all hate the holiday, although some do and others don't even celebrate it obviously, but because, for those that do, the stress and whatnot has come to a joyous ending this year.

Now the wretched souls can brave the stores and return the things they didn't want that they got, bitch and moan about what they did get, and other wretched things that wretched souls do on a daily basis.

Oh and Happy X-Mas!

Got that out of the way a year early. My shopping is done.

A Glimpse 12-14-11

2011-12-14T14:13:00.000-06:00

I've decided to use Hump Day to take a piece of my writing or something I particularly liked about someone else's writing and share it. Nothing new and exciting here, I've noticed a lot of bloggers and writers and readers do this sort of thing, and I like it so I shall as well. Just a brief glimpse.

“What's in a name?”

She looked a little perplexed as she pondered his question.

“Seriously,” he continued, “what's in a name?”

“Awful deep for post sex. Wouldn't you prefer a cigarette, a sandwich, and a short nap?”

He laughed. “I'm good. Well, I plan on the cigarette, but I'm good on the rest. In fact...”

He reached over her naked body and grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the night stand. He laid back down on his back and she nestled back into him. He lit his cigarette as she continued to ponder.

“According to Doctor Who a name is the most powerful weapon in the universe, and knowing someone's true name gives the user power of that person,” he said as he reached for the ashtray next.

“On this list of least romantic post sex conversation topics, Doctor Who ranks amongst the top three,” she said as she positioned the ashtray on his abdomen and watched it rise and fall as he breathed. “But I can and will counter with 'What's in a name that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet'.”

“Shakespeare doesn't count,” he said chuckling. “If Doctor Who doesn't count, Shakespeare doesn't.”

“Shakespeare always counts, Mister Writer. And to even suggest there is some level of correlation between The Bard and The Doctor is blasphemous.” She laughed too now. “Where's this coming from anyways? Because I asked you to say my name while you were in me? Because trust me, calling me any other name in that instance, not going to end with good results for you. So actually, yeah, fuck Shakespeare he was wrong.”

Have a great day.

I Am 40

2011-12-12T02:38:00.000-06:00

And not dead.

I Won't Write This Tomorrow

2011-12-11T14:27:00.000-06:00

In 10 hours I am turning 40. This is a major and significant thing/event/milestone in my life for a few reasons.

1. For as long as I can remember I always had the feeling and/or knowledge that I was going to die before I turned 40. In the last 3-5 years I have tried to ignore this, but it is always there. I just KNEW I was going to die before I turned 40. It looks like I might have been wrong. I mean I could still die, but it doesn't look like that is going to happen.

2. 40 is a big deal right? Like 16, 18, 21, and 30? Those are the typical milestone birthdays (at least in America) before you hit 40 and eventually 50. So I have hit the 5th most milestone birthday of my life. In ten hours.

3. In Japan I am 40 already, as an online friend posted on a board I sometimes frequent said when he posted me a Happy Birthday Old Man thread. So at least, in regards to one above, I have made it to 40 and not died.

4. I have accomplished very little with my life at "midlife".

I think that's it. At sometime shortly after midnight CST I may post something here to celebrate the fact that I am still alive and technically 40 years old where I am living. It will be a milestone.

Birthdays suck. I do not like December 12th. I also do not like December 24th, 25th, 31st, or January 1st, but I really do not like December 12th. I will explain by giving you a fictional example of a conversation I have had every year for as long as I can remember as well. it goes like this:

Me: I hate my birthday. I hate being all alone every year, getting older and stepping one year closer to death.
Random Friend: Next year will be better.
Me: I hear that every year. It doesn't cheer me up and it never changes.
RF: Next year WILL be better. I am sure of it.
Me: I hope so.
RF: I know so!

It never is. This year won't be better. I will wake up at noonish, get maybe one or two people having left me an e-mail or a text wishing me a happy birthday while I slept, drink my coffee and get a few happy birthday wishes on Facebook, get a call or two maybe, go to work at 4pm, have maybe one person there remember, get a few calls from family and close loved ones, and then it will be December 13th as I work and the day is over. Nothing super special will happen, I won't be able to share this milestone birthday with anyone I love or want to, and I will probably be upset when a few people forget to wish me a Happy Birthday. I won't say anything to these people, I never do, and I will stew in my own disappointment and pain and life will go on, until I turn 41 and repeat the process.

Super downer for sure.

And the worst part is, people will avoid me and pretend they are busy or what not because dealing with me will be a chore for them that they can't and won't want to deal with. And they will be right. I am not a super happy happy person on December 12th, mainly because I know how the day will go before it goes that way, and that will be that. Oh I will pretend that I am okay, I will laugh and joke and smile, but I won't be okay.

I've already gotten a few presents, and I love them, but to me birthdays are not about what you receive, just as to me X-Mas is not about what you get nor is Father's Day, but about who you are with. So I have come to the conclusion in my life and my world that December 12th is just another day like any other, albeit a day where I am sadder than most days.

But on a brighter note, after all this doom and gloom and sadness, I have double digits on the three books I am writing. All three of them have at least 15 pages apiece written, so that is good. I have written over 45 pages since October 1st on the three novels I am writing, which is (sadly but in a good way) more than I have written and kept in any other year that started with a 2.

I'm not sure why I wrote any of this today, other than because for once I felt the need to get it all out and try to deal with it.

On a side note, I woke up this afternoon with a single thought in my head. That being if I had wishes I now know what I would do with them, at least until tomorrow is over. I laughed, wondering if I had dreamed about this conversation I had had 15 hours prior, and thinking how ridiculous it was that I now knew my three wishes.

Version3Point0

2011-12-09T15:48:00.000-06:00

I will call this version 3.0

(People who know me might understand, but I think only one might read this.)

Over a decade ago I created myself an online name and persona. Originally it was thegodcomplex (the meaning behind it came from three different places, all of them happening rather simultaneously, but all rather boring), but as ppl (you will get that joke in a second) often do, especially on the internet, over time the lazy bastards shortened it. thegodcomplex became TGC became in some cases by very lazy bastards T. For the most part it is TGC, but every so often I try to amuse myself and use TGC in conjunction with other words or phrases to create a new version of it. TGCVersion2Point0, TGCVersionIHateAlecBaldwin, and my current and most often used one, TGCVersion3Point0. And thus, as this is the third incarnation of this blog, and a version I won't be deleting (sorry) it is now Version3Point0.

There, long boring explanation concluded.

I'm a writer. I write. That's as simple as I know how to say it. I am not published (aside from having a short story and a few horrid poems I wrote in 7th or 8th grade published in some local little book in the early to mid 80's), and chances are and logic dictates I never will be, but I am a writer. I used to tell ppl (reference previous joke to keep it going) that I was "a wannabe writer" or I was "kinda a writer, but unpublished", but the fact is that I am a writer. I don't write everyday, sadly, but I am always "mind writing" something. I like to say I have an overactive imagination, but truth be told when I am alone in my kitchen making something to eat and creating dialogue for something, often aloud, I am "mind writing". Even if it never sees the light of day on a page or a screen, I am always writing. So I am a writer.

This blog is about me, about getting those things out that I need to get out (sorry), and about my attempts to get something completed that I do not hate. Being a writer, I have written probably thousands of pages of stuff, some of it novels, some fanfic bullshit, some of it horrid poetry, but on this day, December 9th, 2011, none of the stuff I have written really still exists. I finished a novel (FINISHED ONE) many many moons ago that I lost, and I damn near finished one (first draft), that I went back and reread and hated so much I deleted it, which in retrospect was such a terrible decsion, even if it did suck as bad as I thought it did. So this blog, about me and things I need to get out of my crazy head and about my attempts to write something I don't hate, is a tool I have decided to use.

For real this time.

Remember, Version3Point0.

Read it, feel free to comment, or not, on it, laugh at me, understand me, don't understand me, whatever, this is something I need to do for me (sorry). I promise with all my heart to anyone who reads this, unless I state your name this is not about you in any way shape or form, this is about me. I won't be using this to post secret messages or bash anyone, I will be using this for one reason and one reason only, I am going to actually write something everyday, even if it is worthless meandering blog posts like this one.