When I was eleven, I was friends with a white girl in the neighborhood I grew up in; just friends, never anything more. We just enjoyed each other’s company. Her father had once been an accomplished martial artist, so naturally, I gravitated towards him as she told me stories about him. I wanted to meet him and hopefully, learn from him. This idea was shattered the first time she ever took me to her house to meet him.

Now, to be fair, he was completely polite, almost warm. He even showed me around his house and allowed me to hold the sword he was awarded when he achieved his ranking (or so he said). It was only at the end when he told me that he’d rather I not see his daughter ever again.
I didn’t understand the meaning at first; I blew it off, telling him that there wasn’t anything there between the two of us, just a mutual love of video games and competing. Still, he said, he’d rather I never hung out with her ever again. He didn’t want anyone else to get the wrong idea.

What wrong idea?! I contemplated that the entire walk home. I didn’t say anything to either of my parents; mom was always willing to lend an ear, but I never knew what kind of mood dad would be in. I was learning to lay low.

She called me a couple of nights later to apologize for what her father had done; apparently, she and her mother had no idea that her father felt that way. In the background, I heard him scream (not angrily); “I’m half-white, and half-Cherokee, so what am I? I don’t want my little girl to go through that!”

I had no idea how to answer that question then; it made no sense to me. What a silly thought. You’re you, of course.

I know how to answer the question now.

And I have news for people like that.

It doesn’t matter if you’ve never uttered a racial slur, out of hatred or otherwise. It doesn’t matter how many people of another color you have welcomed into your home. It doesn’t matter how many people of another color you call your ‘friends’. If you are against interracial relationships, the idea of two people of different ethnic backgrounds being together on the sole basis that they are of two different ethnic backgrounds, then that is a form of racism. And not only does that make you racist, it also makes you a hypocrite.

If I met the man today, and he posed the question “I’m half-white, and I’m half-Cherokee, what am I?” I would look him in the eye and reply; “You’re human. You’re also a fool, and you have failed your parents. That is who you are.”

Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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I wrote a post not too long ago about what low blood sugar feels like; glyberide was the cause. No, wait. That’s not fair. My refusal to take care of myself back in the day is why I’m diabetic now. About a year ago, my blood sugar rocketed to 330, prompting a trip to the Emergency Room. I was already on metformin, which is used to keep blood sugar level. To it from spiking again, I was prescribed glyberide (aka “suicide medicine”) which essentially acts like a trap door on blood sugar.

I took a (fairly) strict hold over my diet and exercise plan, and lost forty pounds for the trouble. Problem is, when you don’t have to be on something as drastic as glyberide anymore, it can cause real problems. Fatal problems, if you’re not careful.

So my A1C is normal and my average blood sugar (according to Track3, also available for $6.99 in the Android marketplace) is anywhere from about ninety-eight to one-fifteen. Glyberide nearly killed me on a couple of occasions (not being dramatic; I woke up with a reading of 46 once), so my doctor decided to take me off of it. One medication down, one to go. The goal is to “beat diabetes” which is my dramatic way of saying that I want to manage it without medication.

It’s a balancing act. I tend to eat healthy, big breakfasts that involve some kind of Cheerios, or a smoothie, with a bacon-and-cheese quesadilla. I’m gonna burn most of those calories off throughout the day anyway. I’m supposed to eat salads for lunch, and I do two or three times a week, but I’ve learned to take it easy (and not pig out) when I get fast-food. Which accounts for, you know, the other half of my weekday lunches. Yeah. I know. Stop scowling.

Around six or so, I quit eating. It’s a tip I picked up in a fitness magazine; stop taking in when you’re not going to be burning off. This was primarily how I shed forty pounds, but I started getting ravenous at night, so I started eating soup (two cans tomato with water and seasoning) just to tide me over.

In order to get off medication, I need to get my weight down to about two-twenty. That’s forty pounds. My goal is the end of the year. So here goes. Thanks for reading and please feel free to pass along any tips.

Eating Tip: Cheerios may be one of the best cold cereals you can put in your body. Not even Frosted Cheerios is all that high in sugar when compared to some of the other brands. Work it into your routine with 2% for better health.

Exercise Tip: First thing in the morning, scoot to a sitting position at the edge of the bed and put your feet on the floor. Lay flat on the bed and place your hands beside your head (not behind). Sit up to a fully seated position and lay back down. That’s one rep. Perform ten of those until you become comfortable with them each morning, and then increase reps gradually over time. Works wonders on the lower abs.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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Whoa. Talk about an eye-opener. I didn’t even know he read my facebook.
Earlier today, I was following up on a job interview I’d had last week and learned that one of the reasons why he’d been apprehensive about me was because I’d shut down when he asked me about my past. I had mentioned everything he’d find on background report—he had a right to know that—but I very rarely discuss details. As far as I’m concerned, the past begins five years ago when I left Michigan.

Problem is I’m also a writer aiming at bestseller status (or at least worldwide recognition); part of the reason why I don’t blog that much is because nothing really noteworthy happens to me anymore (Thank you GOD!). Sure, I can tell you how I sold five internets today and only one of them will post, or I can rant and rave about how my job drives me crazy, but in an economy where everyone is struggling for work, bitching about your job gets old quick. So I blog about my writing, and what little I can find around there that interests me (which is why you’ve seen so many film and game reviews lately). Hell, I’m just not that interesting anymore, and I enjoy it. I like my nice, normal, boring life.

Despite the considerable amount of time I spend social networking, I’m actually a very private person; for every detail I put on Facebook, there’s a hundred I’m keeping to myself. I do not like a world of people knowing the most intimate details of my life. Hell, I’m barely comfortable with some people knowing my middle name. Things like the past, what I did before I landed in Missouri, those are all but off-limits. I don’t think anyone needs to know that, and to be completely honest, I do worry how people would look at me if they knew everything.

What I encountered today made me wonder if it was just me. It’s not that I have something to hide; I just don’t feel that my past is anyone else’s business unless I choose to share it. Anyone who’s in promotion, or anyone who’s had to turn their lives completely around, how do you deal with it? How do you decide who to tell, what to tell them, and how much?

Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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The reason why I’m about to go off glyberide is because the medication causes blood sugar to plummet rapidly. Since my diet isn’t so bad anymore, it causes my blood sugar to drop to dangerously low levels (46 was the lowest I’ve ever seen). I’ve started to keep snacks on hand for when this happens.
The feeling is torturous and agonizing, that’s the only way I know how to describe it. I’ve only been dealing with it for a few months; I wanted to share what it felt like, perhaps as another warning to those with diabetes who aren’t taking care of themselves.

First, a hole opens in the center of my stomach, and quickly, within a matter of moments, becomes a vacuum at the center of my being that is impossible to ignore. It’s hunger, impossible, endless hunger; striking within seconds and making me feel as though I haven’t eaten in days.

My hands are next; they begin to shake. The vacuum within my stomach has spread into my chest. I can feel my heart beating at the base of my throat. My mouth is dry. I can’t stop my hands from shaking. Breathing doesn’t help; it makes the hunger worse. Concentrating is impossible; all I can feel is the hunger. I can’t stop my hands from shaking and it’s frightening; I’m losing control of my own body. My body no longer does what my mind tells it to do. The shaking hands is usually the threshold; the most I can take, when I must get something to eat, or I’ll pass out, or worse. At least, that’s how it used to be.

My mind is the final step. With my heart pounding like a bass drum in the center of my chest, my body feeling as though it’s on the verge of a seizure, my mouth dry and taking in each breath like it’s a chore, I begin a mental battle in my mind. I’m usually trying to finish whatever I’m doing; a sentence. A call. A conversation. Something that, for whatever reason, cannot be interrupted.

Little things begin to slip. Words; I forget how to spell things. Typing has become an exercise in futility, as I spend about as much time on the backspace key as anywhere else. My mind has a hard time focusing on anything beyond this intense hunger. Without food, my body will shut down. I will die.

THAT’S NOT TRUE!!!

So begins the battle most often fought in my mind, much like the image I used in this blog. I’m strong, I’m powerful, and I can overcome anything, I know this…but against this, I have no chance. This enemy is beyond me, and I know it, and eventually, I will have to give in to it, but for whatever reason, I cannot do it now. I have to finish this thought or I’ll lose it. I have to finish this call or I will lose the sale. The person speaking to me needs to me listen and retain. For whatever reason, I have to keep this gluttonous monster that is ravaging my body from within at bay.

I have two children. Their names are Terry and Brandon. Terry was named for my childhood hero, a video game character. Brandon was named for Brandon Lee, the late son of another one of my heroes. I take hold of their names in my mind and I hold them, feeling like I’m hanging off a cliff in a windstorm. Buffeted, beaten in all directions, just hold on a little longer.

Eventually, I’m able to get something into my system, and the monster within recedes, although it usually takes about twenty minutes to feel normal again, and I feel as though I’ve just run a mile. Beaten, exhausted.

This happens on average of once a day, usually between breakfast and lunch. The medication that causes this is no longer necessary (obviously), so I should be going off of it within the next month or so.

This is what it feels like to have your blood sugar bottom out.

Thanks for reading.

Figure 1 Image Copyright DC Comics, taken from Superman/Batman: The Search For Red Kryptonite

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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That is my gift; accurately gauging people and determining the outcome of most interactions. It’s not as accurate as it used to be (because I don’t spend as much time around people as I used too), but it’s still there. I’m passionate, but not emotional (unless we’re discussing anger). So I’m good at reading people, situations, and then figuring out the best outcome. It’s usually the one that gets the job done but leaves a lot of people pissed off.

But this…with Samantha, I wanted this so badly, and that’s where I made my mistake. I try to never want anything so badly that it blinds me. Or this kind of shit happens. And that’s what happened. I allowed myself to be blinded. I feel as though I’ve come a long way in the past four years; no current legal troubles, still have the same job, my writing career is skyrocketing (and plodding), and I have a beautiful place to call home. Sure, I still have anger issues, but I’ve become a lot better at dealing with them. Samantha was the only girl I ever came close to marrying, and in my opinion I hadn’t been worthy of that the first time around because I was such a mess. I figured my being able to be with her again, the epitome of a good girl, symbolized that I was indeed ready for marriage. Because that’s what I want, probably more than I’m comfortable admitting.

So I allowed myself to be blinded by desire and paid the price. At least my life isn’t boring; a friend of mine told me that during the drama of my breakup, she followed me right alongside the Casey Anthony trial.

I’d been trying to figure out the reasoning for why everything had happened since I came home. Here, finally sitting down, slowing down, and reflecting on everything, I think I’ve begun to understand.
I’ve always believed that God brought me to the Midwest so I could calm down. I likened it to exile; there’s very little to do here that I’m interested in, I don’t have a car or a license, so I’m all but restricted to my job and what I can get to by foot. I’ve never really felt an inclination to legally redeem myself until recently. I know I could’ve gotten myself out of legal trouble a long time ago with the money I make. I’ve just been lazy about it.

And yet, now, for some reason, I can’t get the idea of getting my driver’s license back out of my head. I’ve often toyed with the idea of moving back to a larger city (it was either Seattle or Austin), but again, only recently have I found the motivation. It’s as if something in the back of my head has gone off, saying; “Now.”
I don’t get into trouble anymore, hell, I’m almost thirty-five years old. I have had the same job for more than to years, despite my issues with it. I’ve learned to buckle down and bear it. I think, I hope, that I have learned what I needed to learn…and now it’s time to go home.

There is an IGDA chapter in Seattle. It’s much closer to my kids. It’s the west coast. It’s consistently ranked as one of the best cities to live in the United States. Their newspaper actually has a business/technology section. I haven’t seen that in years. There are jobs. The cost of living is a little bit higher, but if I’m meant to be there, then He’ll provide a way for me to do it.

So that’s what I’ve come too; a feeling that closure is near, that it’s about time for me to head back to the culture I know best. Just a little bit more work, and I can go home.

The goal is may of next year, right around the three-year mark with CenturyLink. I already know it’s going to be difficult. Life is difficult. Make it a game. Have fun with it. You only get to play once.

Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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No more lessons to be learned. Students are now soldiers. Hogwarts is briefly a fortress before becoming a battleground. Voldemort is thrust from menacing presence to visible antagonist. It really does all end here.

Deathly Hallows 2, the epic conclusion to J.K. Rowling’s world-renowned Harry Potter franchise, picks up immediately following the conclusion of the first Deathly Hallows. Time runs out on Harry, Ron, and Hermoine in their quest to locate and destroy the legendary horcruxes of Lord Voldemort, thus rendering him mortal. Seems old Snakeface has felt the burn of his soul being destroyed and chooses to take the fight to Harry Potter and company, setting the stage for an awesome final confrontation between characters we’ve grown to love (or hate) over the past ten years.

There is little doubt that fans of the book series will take umbrage with David Yates dark, dramatic direction of the film. Some details are glossed over while others are omitted entirely, giving the production a rushed feeling, like homework done on the bus. Still, this is the darkest, most action-oriented incarnation of the series, and a lot of blood is left on the floor. To keep the film accessible to all fans (this did begin as a children’s series, after all), more brutal scenes from the film have been left out, although we do get to see the aftermath. Mr. Yates spends a good portion of time ramping up to the inevitable battle and a little too much time on one character’s introspective, but this is hardly enough to take away from how good the movie is.

For fans of the film alone (and I am) this is what we’ve been waiting for. Virtually every character reaches a satisfying conclusion (although I still would’ve liked to see one get what was coming to him) and almost every open plotline is sealed up nicely. Watching Harry and Voldemort finally go toe-to-toe, after years of building up to it, is the film’s highlight in my opinion. Their final battle is everything we’ve been waiting for, and David Yates directs it masterfully. It’s a battle between good and evil fought on all levels. They throw spells at each other, and they even get their hands dirty in a brief, physical confrontation.

This is a very fitting, satisfying conclusion to a stellar series, worth seeing twice for those of us who have waited forever for it to get to this point. Great film, worthy conclusion.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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So we won. Now what?

Let me first state that I don’t think kids should be playing games like Call of Duty and Resident Evil. I think the rating system exists for a reason, and as the first generation of gamers approaches middle-age, we can sometimes take for granted that not everyone knows what we do about our favorite pastime.

I don’t like the idea of the government (or anyone else) telling me what I can or cannot do. If we had lost this battle at the Supreme Court, I was afraid of our government overriding the ESRB and dictating what we could or could not publish as developers. Think about it. If a law states that violent video games cannot be sold to children, and the powers that be decide your title is too violent to be sold to children, how does that affect your bottom line? Or even worse, your ability to create?

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again; WE NEED TO ENFORCE THE RATING SYSTEM. We need to take responsibility ourselves for what our kids are playing.

Figure 2 Super Smash Brothers, by Nintendo, is a great family title.

Figure 3 Ninja Gaiden 2, by Team Ninja, most definitely not fit for children.

I don’t believe, nor have I ever believed, that violent video games are at the root of our children’s problems. I could believe that violent video games create more aggressive tendencies, and again, I’ll scream it from the mountaintop; IT’S A PARENT’S RESPONSIBILITY TO ENSURE WHAT THEIR CHILDREN ARE EXPOSED TOO.

Before we go running, screaming into the street to celebrate this victory, we need to realize that an opportunity, maybe our last opportunity, has presented itself. We need to show the government that can police ourselves when it comes to our gaming, and our kids. The ESRB serves no purpose if no one is paying attention to it. The ratings exist for a reason. Now the Supreme Court has decided to stay out of the sale and development of our content, we should now prove we were worthy of the decision.

Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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When you take into account that this movie has essentially failed at the box office, and it has been horribly panned by critics and fans alike, I was leery of seeing it. I might have passed it up altogether if a friend of mine hadn’t extended a last-minute invitation. I had multiple reservations about this film from the moment it was announced; foremost was Ryan Reynold’s ability to play a convincing Hal Jordan. Discussing the movie with a friend, and my hesitation to see it (he was in favor), we started discussing Ryan Reynold’s range. I asked him to give me a case where Ryan Reynold’s played the bad guy.

Being a fan of Green Lantern, it wasn’t just this story I was interested in. Of course, this movie is an origin story, telling the story of cocky pilot Hal Jordan’s acceptance of the ring of power from the dying Abin Sur, the reluctance of the long-established Green Lantern Corps accepting a human, and the inevitable first conflict that would establish Hal Jordan not only as a capable Green Lantern, but the one who would rise to become the greatest of them. Yes, most of us know that story.

A lot of us don’t know that Sinestro, once their finest warrior, would become their greatest nemesis. A lot of us don’t know that Hal Jordan would eventually be driven mad (check out the Death of Superman to see how it starts) and nearly destroy the entire corps while becoming one of the DC universe’s most tragic characters. Whoever played Hal Jordan didn’t just have to sell me on the cocky pilot; I wanted to see the seeds planted of what he would become in this film as well. I wanted to see Sinestro’s infallible arrogance.

For the most part, I wasn’t disappointed. The movie is far from perfect, in fact, it’s not even great, but it’s still a good time.

Hollywood has to walk a fine line with films like these; paying close attention to the fans, who will eviscerate something if they feel it’s done wrong, while being accessible to newcomers. Despite heavy doses of fan service, Green Lantern falls off the line occassionally. While stalwarts will recognize the hand of Geoff Johns, so much canon is ignored that it’s nearly offensive. This is especially true in the case of Parallax’s origin, which will surely cause a few “WTF?!” from fans.

Casting in this film is both hit-and-miss. I was blown away by Ryan Reynold’s portrayal of Hal Jordan, who transitions from arrogant pilot humble hero-in-training. Like most aspects of this film, his character development is often hurried, but he took the role seriously and you can tell in his performance. One can believe Ryan Reynold’s Hal Jordan will one day go nuts, if Hollywood chooses to go that route (are you reading, Hollywood? Go that route, please). Another pleasant surprise was Michael Clarke Duncan as Kilowog, drill instructor to the Green Lantern Corps. Again, when I heard this, I rolled my eyes. Big black guy playing big bad drill instructor? Seriously?

Instead, Michael Clarke Duncan brings a lot of heart to the character, turning what could’ve been a cliché performance into a role we would’ve liked to see more of. Mark Strong is another surprise as Sinestro, although there’s more talking than action from him. Sure, he can rouse the troops, but we never really get to see why he’s revered as the greatest Green Lantern. No shortage of arrogance on his part, and it’s in the lines he doesn’t speak. It’s in his eyes as he addresses the Guardians and meets Hal Jordan. The only real miss here is Tim Robbins as a Senator Hammond, a complete throw-away character, and I think he knew that.

The special effects are what they should be, but nothing jaw-dropping. A chief complaint I have with the film is that they did not use Parallax’s true form, which I think would’ve been a lot scarier than the thing they dredged up.

Top: The True Form Of Parallax

Bottom: The Film Form Of Parallax

Overall, Green Lantern isn’t nearly as bad as what you’ve been led to believe. I thoroughly enjoyed it, as both a fan of the series and a filmgoer. Most performances are surprises and the special effects are plausible, if nothing special. This is good Saturday afternoon fun, and if you don’t expect strict adherence to the canon, you’ll have a good time.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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When I was eleven, I was friends with a white girl in the neighborhood I grew up in; just friends, never anything more. We just enjoyed each other’s company. Her father had once been an accomplished martial artist, so naturally, I gravitated towards him as she told me stories about him. I wanted to meet him and hopefully, learn from him. This idea was shattered the first time she ever took me to her house to meet him.

Now, to be fair, he was completely polite, almost warm. He even showed me around his house and allowed me to hold the sword he was awarded when he achieved his ranking (or so he said). It was only at the end when he told me that he’d rather I not see his daughter ever again.
I didn’t understand the meaning at first; I blew it off, telling him that there wasn’t anything there between the two of us, just a mutual love of video games and competing. Still, he said, he’d rather I never hung out with her ever again. He didn’t want anyone else to get the wrong idea.

What wrong idea?! I contemplated that the entire walk home. I didn’t say anything to either of my parents; mom was always willing to lend an ear, but I never knew what kind of mood dad would be in. I was learning to lay low.

She called me a couple of nights later to apologize for what her father had done; apparently, she and her mother had no idea that her father felt that way. In the background, I heard him scream (not angrily); “I’m half-white, and half-Cherokee, so what am I? I don’t want my little girl to go through that!”

I had no idea how to answer that question then; it made no sense to me. What a silly thought. You’re you, of course.

I know how to answer the question now.

And I have news for people like that.

It doesn’t matter if you’ve never uttered a racial slur, out of hatred or otherwise. It doesn’t matter how many people of another color you have welcomed into your home. It doesn’t matter how many people of another color you call your ‘friends’. If you are against interracial relationships, the idea of two people of different ethnic backgrounds being together on the sole basis that they are of two different ethnic backgrounds, then that is a form of racism. And not only does that make you racist, it also makes you a hypocrite.

If I met the man today, and he posed the question “I’m half-white, and I’m half-Cherokee, what am I?” I would look him in the eye and reply; “You’re human. You’re also a fool, and you have failed your parents. That is who you are.”

Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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When I was eleven, I was friends with a white girl in the neighborhood I grew up in; just friends, never anything more. We just enjoyed each other’s company. Her father had once been an accomplished martial artist, so naturally, I gravitated towards him as she told me stories about him. I wanted to meet him and hopefully, learn from him. This idea was shattered the first time she ever took me to her house to meet him.

Now, to be fair, he was completely polite, almost warm. He even showed me around his house and allowed me to hold the sword he was awarded when he achieved his ranking (or so he said). It was only at the end when he told me that he’d rather I not see his daughter ever again.
I didn’t understand the meaning at first; I blew it off, telling him that there wasn’t anything there between the two of us, just a mutual love of video games and competing. Still, he said, he’d rather I never hung out with her ever again. He didn’t want anyone else to get the wrong idea.

What wrong idea?! I contemplated that the entire walk home. I didn’t say anything to either of my parents; mom was always willing to lend an ear, but I never knew what kind of mood dad would be in. I was learning to lay low.

She called me a couple of nights later to apologize for what her father had done; apparently, she and her mother had no idea that her father felt that way. In the background, I heard him scream (not angrily); “I’m half-white, and half-Cherokee, so what am I? I don’t want my little girl to go through that!”

I had no idea how to answer that question then; it made no sense to me. What a silly thought. You’re you, of course.

I know how to answer the question now.

And I have news for people like that.

It doesn’t matter if you’ve never uttered a racial slur, out of hatred or otherwise. It doesn’t matter how many people of another color you have welcomed into your home. It doesn’t matter how many people of another color you call your ‘friends’. If you are against interracial relationships, the idea of two people of different ethnic backgrounds being together on the sole basis that they are of two different ethnic backgrounds, then that is a form of racism. And not only does that make you racist, it also makes you a hypocrite.

If I met the man today, and he posed the question “I’m half-white, and I’m half-Cherokee, what am I?” I would look him in the eye and reply; “You’re human. You’re also a fool, and you have failed your parents. That is who you are.”

Thanks for reading.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Akting Out LLC

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