i don't know where i left my name

a farewell

2008-02-11T23:20:40Z

Hello everyone, I know I've been away for a while, and for that I apologize, but I'll try and be back as soon as possible. I already have some stuff lined up, and underway, but I had to post this first due to a passing of a person that was dear to me. It was a neighbour and friend of the family, a woman that took care of me for countless times when I was little.

So, today's post will be straight to the point. This is my small eulogy for her.
(first in its original Portuguese, and then in my best possible English translation)

Portuguese:
Que o caminho seja tranquilo,
Que a paisagem seja alegre,

Que o sol seja quente,
Que a luz seja suave,

Que o destino seja bom,
E a companhia a desejada.

English:
May the path be tranquil,
May the landscape be joyful,

May the sun be warm,
May the light be soft,

May the destination be good,
And the company the desired one.

Farewell and Rest in Peace

writers and dictators (but not of that kind)

2008-01-16T23:02:55Z

Some weeks ago I read an entertaining post on Wil Wheaton’s¹ blog, and the way he closed it up, with a definite "This is how I know I'm a writer", left me pondering...

Hum... What about me? Am I... a writer? Do I have what it takes in me?

How do I... how do I know? How can I find out?

That sentence hit a soft spot, as in those purpose-seeking moments, I often question myself if this writing thing isn't really much more than a simple case of hobby infatuation.

...and to be accurate the "some weeks ago" bit has turned, in reality, into a "about a month ago", as it effectively took me a couple of eternities to finish this post, mostly due to a myriad of kitchen-related problems that just seem dead set on not fading away...

The story recounts the epic tale of a power struggle² between himself and his brain, (way too) early in the morning, after being waken up by a "screaming, raging, howling party", some animals threw in his backyard.
After coldly squelching the poor animals' fun (boo hoo!), and getting back to the warmth of his bed, the brain started its speech, ceaselessly trying to persuade its "master" to put some dreaming inspired ideas into writing, for a script they were working on. Wil's will³, on the other hand, was more along the lines of doing-absolutely-zip and going-straight-back-to-sleep - which, in all truth, I easily relate to.
To cut a short story even shorter, the brain won (or Wil lost - whichever makes you happier), and he ended up getting out of bed and writing for 4 hours, thus leading to the "this is how I know I'm a writer" self-revelation.

Later that day, on my way back home from work, Wil's remark was still actively pulsing in my mind.

I made my typical five minute journey to the bus stop, thinking about my possibilities as a writer, and when finally there I stood against the publicity panel and waited. I waited, as destiny so often determines, patiently, for the bus I needed to come along.

Today, opposite to what happens most of the days, as I was turning the last corner before the stop - which is just a few meters away -, my desired bus was also arriving... And trust me, that is something of a rarity!

More frequently than not, I see the bus sprinting by me as I approach that fateful corner, and then, as I stare at him, I find him defyingly staring back at me, snorting, and highly amusedly whispering in my direction: "see ya tomorrow!... sucker!".

And then I wait for 15 to 25 minutes for the next chance to catch one...

The bus finally showed up, after some time, and I got on. It was half empty.

Timeout! Confession time:

Initially I was going to portray the bus as half full.

But as I reasoned about it, I came to face a shameful truth about myself: most of the times, when I get on a bus, I am so caught up on my own ideas, probably due to the preceding wait, that I... that I don't really see people... oh no!... what I see are empty seats!

It is true... as true as it is awful... and as awful as it makes me feel right now.

For what it is worth, I have been trying to improve on that account. And I feel I already did, at least a bit, as I don't feel so disconnected as I did, say, a few years back. Yet, it still happens...
But it's complicated! Public transportation is... cold and impersonal... people so often lose themselves in their own thoughts and machinations, hiding and shielding their fears and troubles, as I do, that you'll be hard-pressed to find anyone that is indeed... there!
I suppose that, in this sense at least, I have been fully assimilated by the herd.

Once, I jokingly commented about this behavior to a friend of mine... after completely failing to see him on the bus.
It was funny... then, but now that I finally put it in writing, now that I finally read it... it... it gained depth and took on a whole new perspective...
I think... I think I should do something about it.

So, and before we get back on track, as you see, half empty is a more accurate description of what I perceived.

I sat on an empty seat near the window. It was a cloudless dark night, and, as had become usual, the swinging movement of the driving bus nearly rocked me to sleep. In those moments I have the habit of dozing off to my imaginary, and in the afternoon in question I found myself there, scheming and searching for ways to improve my odds at the writing thing.

One of my battling points was how could I possibly prevent some of those gleaming ideas, that sometimes surreptitiously pass by me, to vanish into thin air before I even have the time to grab and put them into actual writing.

Around that time I was dragged out of my phase, and into everybody else's. But I didn't stay long, just enough to notice we were waiting on a red sign - I assume it was its bright light that awakened me -, and to look to the side, and I hastily returned to my journeys elsewhere, this time to visualize my first potential solution.

I saw myself driving home in a car, a MacBook Air⁴ neatly placed beside the dashboard, and me waiting for the very same red sign we were stopped on at the time, to turn green. Then, suddenly, the animated Pedro started typing his ideas into form, consequently securing some slick ideas that were trying to sneak by unnoticed.
Initially, it felt like a good form to improve both my daily traveling time, and my idea retention efficiency, but it didn't take me long to come back to my senses and realize it wouldn't work all that well. By the time I got my ideas straight, after stopping, I'd probably just be left with a couple of more seconds before the lights turned green again. All in all, it would most likely do more to increase my stress than my ideas' retention.

It looked cool though! :D

In the meantime the light had turned green, and the bus resumed its route. The balancing movement did its trick and, once more, I dozed off. In this case I drifted to a replacement idea: the use of a recorder!

No eye-candy visualization this time around. Sorry!

What followed suit was a bit of mental insanity. I innocently started by thinking...

So... I would speak to the recorder!
I would dictate to my recorder to safeguard any ideas I'd have, and later play them back to put in writing.

I would become... a dictator!

And at that moment it all went a little over board.

Yes... why do they call them writers anyway?
Is it because the creative act happens the instant the pencil touches the paper and the hand begins to move?
Or, as it's more common nowadays, when the fingers touch the keys and the typing starts?

By that line of thought, it would be more than fair to assert that, if my creative act happened while dictating my ideas to a recorder, from that moment on I would be a dictator... regardless of the work being ultimately put in written form, and being in that form that it was presented to others.

Why didn't I think of this earlier!?

The nonsense seemed endless!... was it not for a spark of sanity dressed in uncertainty's clothes: I was unsure if the meaning I attributed to dictator was correct or if it was limited to the political kind. I mean, if it didn't add up, then I could just flush this whole craziness away... right?

So, when I finally got home, I figured, "what the heck, let's check it!".
I turned on the computer, fired up the browser, and surfed to dictionary.com in search of dictators...
And as I read the entries...

1.    a person exercising absolute power, esp. a ruler who has absolute, unrestricted control in a government without hereditary succession.
2.    (in ancient Rome) a person invested with supreme authority during a crisis, the regular magistracy being subordinated to him until the crisis was met.
3.    a person who authoritatively prescribes conduct, usage, etc.: a dictator of fashion.
from dictator in dictionary.com

... I started feeling disappointment seeping in... damn... sanity was going to succeed... but then I scrolled a bit more... and lo and behold! Insanity won its freedom!

4. a person who dictates, as to a secretary.

Yeah! That’d do it!

That was when I knew I could be a dictator!⁵
And all I needed was a recorder!

Anyway… does this make me a writer? a dictator? or none of the above?

By the way! This story was something that happened about a month ago, and which, at the time, seemed like a good story to introduce me and my still nameless blog to the digital ethos... It took a while, but it got here!

—

¹ Of Star Trek: The Next Generation fame - he was Wesley for those of you who recall it!

² Ok... it was just an argument... but it was epically... amusing!... Ok, I found it funny...

³ Pun intended! - although I'm pretty sure this one has already been beaten to death, ran around the square strapped to a ramping horse, and violently stomped by the said horse... over... and over... and over again...

⁴ I am not a fan-boy, but I am a fan-of-attention-to-detail.

⁵ Take that Wil! Muahaha!... Ok, I'll behave now...

achieving your childhood dreams (lecture)

2008-01-03T00:29:50Z

Following up on my little detour about teaching, I recalled an article I read on digg a few months ago (so we're hardly talking news here).

Digg note: it occasionally (not that often, unfortunately) throws some precious little gems - like this one - at its readers.

(and that almost makes up for the patience you need to skim over all the rest!...)

What started as a saddening story about a dying man, ended up as an inspiring journey through a well lived life of a man who achieved his childhood dreams.

How many of us will truly be able to say the same when our time comes?

It was heartening... captivating... humorous... It deserved to be shared.

The piece was about a professor in Carnegie Mellon University, Randy Pausch, who's been diagnosed with incurable pancreatic cancer in the Summer of 2006, and a lecture he gave about achieving childhood dreams in September of 2007¹.

If the article was touching, the lecture was magnificent.

It is a little over an hour. A well spent hour, and so much that I have already seen it twice!
But then again, I'm a bit of a sucker for these kinds of things.

What does this one have in special? Well, it is simultaneously interesting, thought-provoking and it still manages to leave you with that feeling good sensation in your essence!

It really is a trip worth taking (in my opinion). It's not like I'm promising a life-changing experience², but it should at least provide some food for thought, and who knows, maybe even stir a teensy-weensy-bit the way you look at the world.

Anyway, I'm not going to stretch myself on this post³.
Link bag ahead!

If you need an appetizer you can find a small video-piece about the lecture here (you can think of it as a trailer).

If you are ready to take the red pill⁴, you can either go for the lower quality version (Google Video), or the higher quality one (you might have to manually change the format to QuickTime).

If you want more information about Randy or his condition, please head on to his home page.

Now, just in case you don't have the time (or will - slacker! :P) to see the piece in its entirety, here are a couple of quotes I took from it, for your neuronal pleasure.

An interesting and constructive way to look at brick walls:
(the ones that so often creep up in our path, over the course of our lives)
"The brick walls are there for a reason.
The brick walls are not there to keep us out.
The brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something...
Because the brick walls are there to stop people who don't want it badly enough.
They're there to stop the other people."

And an insight on achieving dreams:
"It's not about how to achieve your dreams, it's about how to lead your life,
if you lead your life the right way, the karma will take care of itself, the dreams will come to you"

To wrap it up, I have to say that one of the things that impressed me most, and one of the reasons for me tearing up⁵, was his positive attitude in face of a deadly illness, and his wish to leave a legacy for his kids, something for his 3 young children to remember their father by (in the end he says the lecture was really meant for them).

And then I have to admit that after spewing my bit about bad teachers, I think I would have loved to have taken his Building Virtual Worlds course...

—

¹ In a series called Journeys, but which was previously named Last Lecture: if you had one last lecture to give before you died, what would it be?

² For that, you should consider buying a mac! - I'm pretty sure I just made some mortal enemies with that one! ;)

³ It'll be a first!

⁴ And find out what's up in Wonderland this time of year!

⁵ Oh yeah!... I teared up alright!...

decisions decisions (now it's for real)

2007-12-30T00:06:01Z

I hope everyone has had a merry Christmas, with lots of love, gifts and sweets!

Of those, mine had mostly sweets... - at least that part hasn't changed considerably over the years, which, in a way, is a good sign on its own.

The gifts... those don't come around that much anymore, as the age-of-the-gifts is long gone....

And love... well... Christmas isn't what it used to be, is it?
The vacant moments, the complete antithesis of what this season should mean, seem, as time passes, ever more present, and I also found quite a good share of them this year.

But all in all, it wasn't that bad.

And now, after this little seasonal service announcement, I'll head on to where I've left off... decisions, decisions!

After failing to examine the questions that preceded the blog's genesis in my previous post¹, and how they fit in the grand scheme of things (being how my ultimate purpose is to force myself to write and practice writing), I'd like to put a lid on that subject right here and now, before following up to more interesting themes².

OK, so, all things considered and put into perspective, I had to sort out, well... 2 issues.

But they were rather significant! 'Mmmkay?
I couldn't create the blog without deciding on the first issue, and then I wouldn't be able to really start writing without doing the same to the second.

It was, it seemed, something of the inescapable kind.

One was whether I would write the blog under my name or do it anonymously, and the other was about the language of choice for the blog: should I do it in my native tongue, Portuguese, or should I go for a more universal English?

My options are evident by now, but neither one was an easy pick.

Opting to write an anonymous blog was initially an attractive idea. Without anyone really knowing who I was, I would have, I believe, more freedom to rage about mostly anything, without moral considerations and eventually in an irresponsible fashion. I'd probably even be tempted to paint the world in black and white, as it is so much easier, and forget about all the shades of gray that truly make it interesting (and, I have to hand it, on some calls, overly-complicated³).

Since I'm not after easy or immoral, but instead of a stable way to expand myself and my writing - this is, after all, simultaneously a personal and a writing project -, a sense of freedom, in the guise of a freeway to tread over everybody else's, is not what I'm effectively looking for. Make no mistake: I do want to achieve freedom, but of the creative kind, and not at the expense of moral responsibility. What I am looking for, and what writing on my behalf gives me, is an incentive to keep the quality up, and... well... some of the idiotic ramblings down⁴. I win, you win, everybody wins!

As Steven Heller put it in his, What’s In A Name? post a few days ago, "a real name at the end of a blog post is an indication that the person who authored the statement is taking responsibility, indeed ownership of the words — it is a simple act of honesty". Personally, I'm not picky about it being a real name, as, as far as I'm concerned, a nickname would do just as well, so as long as it was directly relatable to a real face, to a consistent person, with the courage to stand by his/her own opinions and ideals.

Add it to the fact that, going anonymous, would prevent me from sharing it with the people I know - not, at least, without ruining the anonymous part of it -, and you have the key points for my choice.

As a side note, I already owned this domain, but never had actually put it to good use.
It was used mainly as a way to keep my e-mail address the same over time.

I have also been, for some time now, wanting to create my own personal web site. Talk a little bit about myself, link to my pictures in Flickr... You know, build my little corner on the rim of the web.

This was my chance to do that. So it all sort of fit into place nicely.

Now that I dip my cookie on this subject once again, there's really no running away from the fact that this is about my life, these are (and hopefully will be) my stories. So it seems only appropriate that I used my name.

One down, one to go!

The final pre-blog consideration, the whole English vs. Portuguese thing, was one that echoed in my mind for quite some time - I really don't like the way this makes my mind look... void! ;)⁵ -, and in the end there was no definite winner. I made my choice, yes, but the scale was even. In reality, I could very well be writing this in Portuguese right now...

Looking at this as a tool to help me practice my writing, and considering that one of my long term goals is to, someday, complete the book I have started writing 14 years ago in Portuguese - I believe I have one quarter of its story done ;) -, and then probably see if there is a career in it for me or not, the best path seemed quite clear.

Another thing that made the scale tilt in the direction of my native language, was that I found writing in it quite more complicated than doing it in English (even with the natural vocabulary hiatus of a second language). So, at least supposedly, I would have more to gain from practicing that which I found hard, instead of just taking the lighter alternative.

All was going well for the Portuguese side, until something occurred to me, a very important detail about myself and the way I write: my essential difficulty is not the language per se, but the mess that goes in my mind and in the flow of ideas. That is what I really have to overcome - and it doesn't matter which language I'm using.

And when I faced the huge advantage that English brought aboard, a broader audience appeal, the scale was decidedly rebalanced.

I was back to where I started. The scale pointed up again.

Once more, the crossroad stood before me. Two attractive destinations. One undecided traveller.

"Leave it to wind", I thought.
So I opened up my arms and closed my eyes... and waited... waited for the wind to push me one way or the other.

And eventually, it did.

One day, heading back home from work, I started throwing together some ideas that, at the time, I considered might make an excellent kick-off post (I already have some notes written down... I will, at some near point in time, properly write the thing up and publish it!). As it went on and I got excited with the idea of finally starting this project I noticed I was thinking... in English.

So that was what tipped the scale just enough for me to pass the decision through!

That was the day I chose. That was the day I created the blog.

—

¹ It seems I'm growing the habit of linking back to my previous post... I'm not sure if it is just a bad tendency, or if there is, somewhere in my subconscious, a belief that the sustaining threads of the (world wide) web are just too frail, and that these extra connections are what is helping keeping it all together⁶

² Ha! Now I've got you salivating in anticipation! (... I wish...)

³ Although I'm more of a believer on the "the world isn't complicated, it is the people that make it so" line of thought.

⁴ But no promises!

⁵ Mental note: get some pretty smileys!

⁶ I'm going to try really hard and avoid doing it on the next few posts. But heed my warning: if the web comes crumbling down, don't you lot come marching in, torch and pitchfork, ok? I'm always up for some stake burning, but not when it's me on the menu! :P

decisions decisions (the missing preface)

2007-12-23T16:04:47Z

I believe this post should be seen as a retroactive piece of writing.

Huh? Wha?! What?

Now, now, please relax! Here, take a deep breath and in return give me some benefit of the doubt. Fair trade, eh? Thanks!
There is (in my head, at least) a perfectly sane reason to put it that way!

You see, if my previous post was the beginning of the story, Chapter One, so to say, then this might as well be its preface... it just lost the train and is arriving a tad late.

And being late, no matter for what tiny amount of time it might have been, it has lost its pre status.
The outcome? I'm not sure what's the best term to describe it...

Maybe postface?... "it's a postface post!"... hum... no.... or! or! "in your face post!"... uh... yeah... no.
Postpreface... This one would certainly be more accurate... because it's a preface that has came post... post... err... no.

See!? That's why I preferred the retroactive idea. It was less confusing! It said:

"It's like a preface, that shows up late (because it had a bad day at work), and then takes effect from before a certain moment that is a key event to all of this - the beginning -, prior to which it should have shown up."

Oh yes... the pills... where did I left my pills...

(so, it's rather out-of-order, but that's exactly how my mind works anyway...)

As far as the purpose of this preface (or retroactive piece of writing, take your pick) is concerned, I was hoping to delve on a bit about the reasons that led me to start this blog project, and about some of the first choices¹ I was faced with regarding it.

And I think a bit of a background info is in order at this point:

I love to write.
Some friends tell me I'm quite good at it, but then again, they're my friends... So it might be that they're only being nice².
At any rate, it's something I really, really, really like to do. It's a hobby, but one that I unfortunately don't seem to dedicate much time to.

The idea to create the blog came up this past summer. I had gone to lunch with a friend of mine, and the topic of conversation wound up being our professional present and future (I vaguely recall starting to complain³ about my whole field of work, and we went on from there).
At a certain point in the discussion, he brought up a pertinent issue:

"OK. Then, what would you like to do for a job?"

And I was like:

"Hum... Yes... That is the question, isn't it? And in it lies the real problem... I honestly don't know."

But he wasn't taken aback and retorted:

"Let's see then... how about teaching?"

And we talked about it for a bit. It is a prospect that captivates me... but then I can't seem to be able to picture myself as a teacher. I believe I lack the necessary skills to be a good pedagogue. And since I already had my good share of lousy teachers⁴ in my student days, I don't think it'd be fair to others to now go and become that exact same thing I so much disdained.
A good teacher, in my opinion, must be a responsible person, and so, even before considering the possibility of coming to be one, he or she should perform a deep introspection to check if the will and skill to teach is really there. And then, of course, that responsibility must extend throughout the career, in the form of care and dedication, from preparing classes, to searching for ways to make them more interesting, and to listening to the students' needs and opinions.

It's my conviction that it is not enough to want to be teacher. You must be good at it. Or you'll just be wasting your students' time (not to mention your own - but if you are indeed a bad teacher then you deserve it anyway).
I'm not saying it's easy, but the hardship is something that comes with the territory. Should you accept the mission, you might as well be prepared to pay the price!

But then again, a bad teacher won't worry about any of these considerations... and that is what originates the whole problem to begin with...

In sum: scratch the teaching idea off my list!

We proceeded with alternatives, and at some point I confided that one of my passions was writing.
I told him I'd like to try it out, and perhaps turn that dream into a full-time job... but first I had to find out if I'd be any good at it! What felt I needed was time to try it out. Later, and on the inertia of that thought, I even considered taking a break from work to make that time. But that is not a decision anyone can take lightly (despite the fact that in my case it shouldn't actually be that complicated, as I am still young⁵, and don't yet feel the weight of an overwhelming pile of responsibilities resting on my shoulders).

After that, he simply suggested:

"Then why don't you make a blog? You could write some stories and then see people's response to them."

My first reaction? Severe disbelief:

"A blog? I don't think that's my kind of thing"

Well, I stand corrected right about now, wouldn't you say? :D

To be honest, and wrap up this post - the 'decisions decisions' part will be left for a future one, as this is getting too big, and I can already see people back there falling asleep... -, one of the main reasons for me to give the mental go to the blog was that I needed some kind of driving force, to ensure I would write and practice my writing - because unfortunately, I seem unable to do it on my own, though whenever I do warm up and start, the ideas seem to flow quite easily and keep me busy for hours at end.

I do like the strolls, but the first steps always seem so hard...

And that is what I'm trying to change.

—

¹ Hence the title

² I'm not complaining!

³ Though it is somewhat possible that in his head he reminds it more like me whining

⁴ People that might have indeed possessed vasts amount of knowledge, but who lacked even the bare-minimum ability or will to transmit it

⁵ OK! OK! Reasonably young!... I'm 28 right now!

every story has a beginning

2007-12-20T02:45:49Z

Starting a story is never an easy thing to do.

Granted, you can always take the quick way out on that one: just pick the traditional (tried and tested!) path of the fairy-tale stories, and go head-in with the "Once upon a time" approach... never looking back!

But you see, that, is where the problem kicks in for me. Why? Because I do look back.

On a side-note, had I embraced that little whim of fate, and you would probably be reading this instead:

"Once upon a time, in a land deprived of heroes and where magic had all but died out, there was a boy that was not small with a problem that was not simple: he had a thing about starting his stories..."

Ultimately, I'd end up in the same place, no matter what road I took!

One of the things I hope to see in my own writings, is the trail of those little pieces that make me... Me.
Every time I finish writing something, when I slide back through the words to re-read what I have just produced, what I have just conjured out of my mind, I seek (and expect to find) myself in-between the lines, in-between the words, hidden in the white-spaces, and even softly whispering back through the void the ellipsis¹ conveys.

Now, I am not saying that the fairy-tale approach would be without merit. You could weave as much (or even more) of sparkling creativity in it as you could with any other kind of approach... but it would just seem too easy - and lets face it, it's a bit of an overused phrase - making its value, at least in my eyes, close to nothing. And that is definitely not the way I'd like to start this (or anything else, at that).

What bugs me most about "beginnings" in general (and in this particular case of starting my blog), is that the first impression, that first picture of something, be it in a thousand words - in a book, or post, or mail -, or in a simple tenuous smile - when you meet someone whose own simple tenuous smile makes you feel brilliantly alive - can effectively make or break all that follows suit.

It's one of those kind of moments that define, where you subject yourself, in the form of your persona or that of your work, to the judgement of others. A judgement that is, most of the times, hasty and without a solid understanding of the circumstances, serving only to, for the lack of a better way to put it, tag others.

... and I say others because, as we all know, self (which, naturally, is not part of the others set), is an excellent judge of character (and everything else), and as such, its resulting opinions are "most obviously accurate"! Even when self doesn't know shit about what it is talking about.
(yes, I also believe I'm an excellent judge of character ;))

There's really not much of a safe-ground in this. So it's best to tread carefully.

In that first contact, you can either build a terrible image which makes other people's minds snort "yuck!", thereby sealing a not-so-noble fate, where you just get tagged with a nasty label that means you are, almost certainly forever, well... screwed².
Or, on the other hand, you can raise expectations far too much, transmitting a self-made image of something you are not, and which you cannot, no matter how much you try, keep up indefinitely (and even if you can, you'll most probably do so at the expense of feeling miserable). The only certain outcome is eventual disappointment (and possibly rupture).

Truth be told, it is possible to start a journey in turbulent waters and still somehow find a way to safe grounds. Possible, yes, but not probable, as people, in general (yes, I include my self in that lot!... yay!), are kind of lousy at giving others second chances (even though they will naturally expect them back, whenever it's their turn to screw up - only to then be confronted in shock with the "complete unfairness" of not being given one).
But still, what annoys me the most in all of this, is that people fail to provide those second opportunities to those others they know deserve them (most of times because they just let pride get the best of it), and then as if to compensate for that seemingly apparent inability to (for)give, they seem blindly compelled to grant endless chances to those they very well know they should not.

Oh well, people³!...

Alas, I was digressing!
What I think I was trying to say is, I was eager to start this the right way. I wanted to make an interesting and captivating post (the lot of you that fell asleep halfway should really be ashamed of yourselves! - but, hum... if you did find it boring I suppose you won't even reach this part anyway... damn... oh well...), something that had a little bit of me in it, and all without running the risk of having it end up severely over-worked.

And now that I look at it, I think I might have just successfully done that! I'm happy! :D

I think a little celebration music is in order:

from the ending credits of Half-Life 2: Portal by Valve,
'Still Alive' by Jonathan Coulton: http://www.jonathancoulton.com

"This was a triumph.
I'm making a note here: HUGE SUCCESS.
It's hard to overstate my satisfaction.
(...)"
(find it on YouTube - it's quite catchy, really!)

—

¹ Which really does seem to be something of a trademark in my writing - even though I'm trying to avoid them right now, as I find I usually do abuse the poor things far too much - well you can say that I am on a ellipsis-controlled-mode now... really!... (I'm not sure how much more I can keep at it, though!)

² I was actually thinking of using fucked, as I am quite the fan of expletives, but I thought that one shit was quite enough for a first post

³ Here I was considering using the term humans instead. Then I realized that would kind of blow the cover up and really make me look like an alien... and I wasn't sure you earthlings were ready for that yet! So people will serve its purpose for now - and perhaps be served, one day...