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[May 8th, 2007|22:20] |
Jag lärde mig idag (från min lärare i algoritmer och datastrukturer, var annars) att det svenska alfabetet numera har tjugonio bokstäver. Detta kom som en överraskning för mig, så jag googlade frågan och hittade mycket riktigt ett antal referenser till det svenska alfabetets tjugonio bokstäver. Jag letade till och med fram den punkt där den svenska wikipediasidan över det latinska alfabetet övergick från att påstå att det svenska alfabetet har tjugoåtta bokstäver till att säga tjugonio (den 7 september 2006 kl. 22.05).
Vad jag däremot inte hittade var några referenser till själva förändringen. När då? På vems beslut? I vilket avseende? Varför? Åh nej nej, var inte löjlig. Det svenska alfabetet har tjugonio bokstäver. Det svenska alfabetet har alltid haft tjugonio bokstäver. Tro inte på Emmanuel Goldsteins lögner om tjugoåttabokstavsalfabetet.
Hmph. De kan inte tvinga mig. Jag tar ställning mot detta. Ner med tjugoniobokstavsalfabetet!
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| Daria |
[December 28th, 2006|20:19] |
Back in the late nineties, I used to occasionally lie on my bed watching TV. This was before I moved away from home, back when I had a TV. This was also back when MTV sometimes showed music videos, which I'm told they don't do anymore (though I wouldn't really know. However, despite my TV celibacy I pick up the odd pop culture meme).
MTV was not just music videos, though. MTV also offered (and presumably still offers) other content. In particular, original animated series. It was thus that I made acquaintance with an animated girl named Daria.
Daria began her existence as a minor character on the considerably more well known series Beavis and Butt-head, though I myself have only seen one episode in which she appears, and that was well after I first encountered her - I was never a big fan of Beavis and Butt-head.
Daria was eventually given her own spin-off series, the first episode of which aired in March of 1997. I don't remember if I caught it from the beginning, though I did see the first episode at some point, so I might have. Either way, I was hooked. This character, smart and lonely and hostile towards the world around her ("I don't have low self-esteem. I have low esteem of everyone else.") resonated powerfully with me.
A small aside: A while ago, I and ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) uistic had a discussion about identifying with fictional characters and the importance thereof to enjoying the works they belong to, and I claimed that I don't need to identify with characters in order to enjoy their works. I don't know the truth of that statement, but this is a fact: there are very, very few characters I have consciously identified with. And one of those is Daria.
The similarities in personality, intellect, demeanor, age, social situation caught me and held me fast, as did the fact that she was so cool - not, perhaps, by the standards of her or my peers, but by my own standards. There were dissimilarities as well, of course. Her family situation did not resemble mine in any way. She also had more friends than I did, though that certainly didn't hurt - wish fulfillment fantasies are seldom pretty, but they can be very enjoyable, especially when you're fifteen.
So I avidly watched episode after episode of Daria, until I stopped. I'm not sure why I stopped. Possibly I grew up a bit. I progressed to a different part of the school system, which entailed environs and peers that did not upset me nearly as much as the earlier ones had. I made a friend or four. These are things which might have made Daria resonate less with me. Whatever it was, I stopped watching.
But Daria remained at the back of my skull, a firm memory that occasionally popped up. And it was this memory of a character and series I loved like few others, that inspired me some months ago to find and acquire the entire series, and the two movies. I've been watching them, an episode or three at a time, over these past months, and earlier today I finally watched the end, the TV movie Is It College Yet?.
So was Daria all that? Did my memories of it match the reality? What did I learn?
One thing I noticed right from the start was that my original viewing of the series was considerably less disjointed than I expected. I thought I would recognize episodes here and there, with big gaps, but that was not the case. I recognized every single episode of season one, all episodes of season two except one late in the season, and the first episode of season three. No others. Clearly, I watched regularly and then stopped.
Some similarities I noticed back then were weaker from this vantage point. She's more intellectual than I was then, or am now, at least if one judges by reading material. She's also a few years older than I was then. I knew little of American views, expectations and treatment of children and youths at the time, and the portrayal of her and her peers' interaction with and relation to the adults around them gave me little reason to expect that they were older than I was. Still, I recognize plenty of myself in her, and more of how I was then.
One thing that pleased me is that my like of the series was not due to the foolishness of youth. It is a great story, with plenty of humour, but also plenty to offer beyond laughs. In fact, it is my opinion that the two seasons I watched the first time around were the weakest, with the last three seasons offering in the way of depth and character development. I find it interesting, though, that it is not Daria herself who displays the most development as a person, but perhaps it is not so surprising given that she started out as a relatively deep character, compared to her sister who was little more than a caricature.
My final thoughts as I watched the end credits roll was "Damn, I'm going to miss these characters." I guess that's how you know it was good. My earlier self missed out in dropping Daria, and I'm glad I took the opportunity to catch up with her, and find out what happened to her after I left.
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| Thinking and not saying |
[July 25th, 2006|8:43] |
I don't share every thought that pops into my head with others. No one with a basic grasp of how to act in society does, of course. But I'm not just talking about the sarcastic comments and perverted jokes we all have to suppress on occasion. I tend to... psychoanalyze people, I guess. I think about their actions and words and preferences and how they fit together with their politics and cultural backgrounds and taste in music and whatever else I can think of. I think about what goes on in people's heads, about why they are the way they are and act the way they do. I'm probably a bit vague in my descriptions here, but I'm trying to avoid being too specific, since that would be saying.
As I like having friends, I don't utter these thoughts out loud. Either I'm wrong, in which case I've essentially claimed to know someone better than they themself do and shown what an asshole I am... or I'm right, where the potential for making people upset is even greater. Any way you look at it, I lose.
I wonder how common this sort of thinking is. The nature of the beast makes it so that there's no real way of telling. Could be everyone, could be no one but me.
Well, I do know I'm not completely alone in this. A few years ago I had an internet friend who more or less stopped talking to me. Some months later another of her friends had a similar experience, and he contacted me wondering if I'd had any contact with her lately. We mailed back and forth some, during the course of which he shared his ideas about the situation (they involved her boyfriend being very jealous, for what it's worth). I got the impression he had shared these thoughts with her and that she had indeed not reacted favourably.
Even more I wonder if my friends and acquaintances think in this manner about me, and of course what they think about me. But that's one of those things you generally don't get to find out, isn't it?
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| Dada |
[May 27th, 2006|19:50] |
I recently read Ursula Vernon's essay about dadaism, and it inspired me to write about an... art movement, you may or may not decide to call it, that I've occasionally found myself contemplating.
( Read more... )
For my next update: Themes and symbolism in My Neighbour Totoro. Or maybe the development of the adventure game genre through the decades. Or a series of lacks of updates of different lengths, totaling four months and thirty-three days (given my past performance, this one seems pretty likely). Or maybe something completely different.
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| Spider attack! |
[October 9th, 2005|22:01] |
Earlier today I noticed a spider on my ceiling. It would have been impractical to get it down, and it wasn't really bothering me, so I let it be.
Some hours passed, and the spider and I coexisted peacefully. Its presence in my home was not at the forefront of my mind.
Until it landed on my thigh. My naked thigh. Which is rather close to my crotch, which was also enjoying the air.
Now, I'm not hostile to spider-kind, fully respecting their valuable contributions in the extermination of various bugs I am hostile to. However, it was disrespecting my boundaries in a major way, and getting intimate in a manner I was thoroughly uncomfortable with (and I think it tried to bite me when I resisted its advances). This was something I could no longer ignore.
I managed to resolve the situation in a non-violent manner though, and escorted the offending arthropod out of my home. I do hope it improves its manners, or it may yet end up a spot of crushed exoskeleton and arachnid guts on someone's floor.
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| I tend to work from the assumption that I'm the smartest person there ever was. |
[September 14th, 2005|20:13] |
Er, well, in some contexts I do. Specifically the context of deciding whether I am able to do something or not. What I do is, I ask myself if other people have done it before me. Yes? Well, then it can't be that difficult, and since I am the smartest person there ever was, I must be able to do it too.
It's an attitude that has yet to lead me wrong.
(It does not apply to tasks that have significant non-intellectual components, mind you. I can't draw worth shit, and I'm well aware of it.)
Most recently, I applied it to repairing my computer. See, my graphics card broke and needed to be replaced. I briefly considered hiring a professional to do this, but then I asked myself... well, you know what I asked myself.
So I ordered a new card. It was slow in coming, but eventually it arrived. And I attempted a card transplant.
Did I succeed?
But of course I did. I'm the smartest person there ever was.
...
Okay, so this is a utterly trivial procedure a moderately bright seven-year-old could perform with minor coaching. Nevertheless, speaking as someone who had not seen the inside of a computer until I opened mine up a few weeks ago to diagnose the problem, I'm still somewhat proud of myself. And happy to have my computer back - I've missed it.
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| Unexpected connection across time and space |
[August 14th, 2005|6:01] |
You ever had a moment where you felt an unexpected connection with someone you've never met?
I was playing a game called Saturday School recently (and if you're ever in the market for a free five-minute adventure game, I recommend it). The first thing I did after starting it was look through the GUI for a save button. But there was none.
I figured there was no save function since the game was so small (just a single screen and, like I wrote, it took me five minutes to finish). Partway through, I did something I regretted, and started over.
As I returned to the main menu, I noticed there was a Load option. And if you can load, presumably you can also save...
I started a new game and once again looked for a save button. Still no.
I pondered the mystery for a few seconds. And then I smiled and pressed a key on my keyboard, not expecting it to work. I just wanted to check.
And up popped the save menu.
What key? F5, of course.
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| The social importance of lunch |
[August 8th, 2005|8:33] |
I was involved in conversation a couple of weeks ago, as occasionally happens. The subject of social bonding with classmates, and the importance of lunch thereto, came up. And it is important, of course. During the lectures and lessons of the day a large amount of attention must (or should) be directed at such instructors as are present, and small talk (or any size talk that isn't connected to the subject at hand) is typically inappropriate. There are breaks, of course, but none as large as the hour-or-so that is dedicated to lunch, during which the students settle down together to eat and - of course - talk. It is during lunch acquaintances and friendships are formed. It is during lunch who sits next to whom is decided.
During most of my time as a student of one sort or another (sixteen years now), I did not generally have lunch, preferring instead to settle in what library was available and read. My social isolation was not unrelated to this, I don't think.
(Of course, my extreme introversion and general avoidance of social interaction with other humans was not unrelated to my repudiation of lunch, so there are more immediate factors to consider. But nevertheless, lunch is important.)
During this conversation I mentioned how I should make an effort to interact with and get to know my classmates, and how difficult I found this and how simply striking up a conversation with people is not something that comes naturally to me.
My friend gave me some helpful and practical advice on the subject, and I responded with more whining about how difficult it all was. Of course.
And I realised during that conversation how my problems stem from my own attitude, and how only I can do something about them. That I need to take a firm grip of my life and effect the changes I desire myself.
The first time I realised these things, years and years ago, it might have filled me with determination and purpose, with hope and steadfast intention of self-improvement. Maybe; I don't remember. This time around, the one hundred and forty seventh or so, armed with the knowledge that none of the earlier realisations seemed to help at all, it merely emphasized my despair and underlined my feelings of hopelessness*. I refrained from wailing and gnashing my teeth at the time, though, since it seemed impolite and really wouldn't have noticeably helped.
(I later wrote some angsty poetry inspired by it. I could post it here but... well, if I did, I would be posting angsty poetry to my livejournal, and then I might as well go ahead and dye my hair black and start wearing purple eyeshadow, or something. And hair dye is expensive, so I won't. And also, I'd be about as convincing a goth as Scrooge McDuck.)
That was then, though. For a few days following, I spent some time thinking about it, and for whatever reason things seemed a bit more rosy after a while. I dared think, even, that I could socialise with my new classmates come this fall. Talk with them. Perhaps, perhaps, I could even acquire a friend (it has happened in the past; logic dictates that it could happen again). In fact, I resolved to Have Lunch.
Some time passed, as it does.
Yesterday I started looking for extra courses to take this semester. This entailed studying my schedule, of course, to see what clashed and what didn't. And something struck me about my schedule.
Some days, I have lessons after lunch. Some days, I have lessons before lunch. And some days, I have lessons during the hours that would normally include lunch, but without an actual break for lunch.
There is no lunch.
Oh well.
*) And italicized my ennui and put my annoyance in 24 point bold red font, no doubt.
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| Well, that's not an appropriate thing to feel |
[December 10th, 2004|21:30] |
I am saddened when other people make friends.
This would be even more worrying than it is if I didn't know why, but fortunately I do. It's pretty obvious.
(I say obvious and that's not true. It's only obvious if you have a certain amount of insight into the workings of my brain, but I do. Which is good; I wouldn't want to think all those years I spent pondering the damn thing were wasted.)
It reminds me of my own lack of ability in that area. It's slightly more complex than that (isn't everything?) but that's the gist of it.
It especially hurts when someone with more friends than I have ever had claims to be bad at making and keeping friends. Maybe they have a different definition of 'friend' than I do. Or maybe I'm so bad at it that the word 'bad' is inadequate as description.
It's like the universe is telling me "Why, yes, you are going to spend most of the rest of your life in crushing loneliness," and I tend to not feel too good about that.
My reaction to these things bothers me. Not just because I am saddened by other people's happiness, but mainly because it's stupid.
It's stupid, because I shouldn't need other people. I shouldn't require others to make me happy. If I can't find happiness in myself, why should I expect to find it by going hunting for it in others? Given the fact that these people who have more friends than me nevertheless manage to be as unhappy as I am (or even more so), clearly that is not where the happiness lies.
And besides, I don't need friends. There have been several rather long periods in my life where I didn't have any, and if it didn't make me want to kill myself it can't have been that bad.
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| Well, this isn't working well at all. |
[November 3rd, 2004|19:29] |
Fuck.
I'm supposed to write 5000 words by today, I've written half that, and the problem isn't something that can be solved by just hunkering down and getting with the writing.
The problem, or rather one of the problems (I'll get to the other one in a moment), is that I don't have a beginning. My idea essentially starts at the middle and continues on to the end.
Now, there's nothing wrong with the end. The end is wonderful. I adore the end. In fact, I love the end, and would like to marry it. But the end won't work if I don't do the proper setup, and I can't do the proper setup since I don't have anything for the setup to happen in. The first third of the story is essentially for setting up the second third, but it still needs some sort of plot-goings-on, and I don't have a plot for it.
Now, I think I could come up with some sort of plot to fill the hole. It would require starting over, but that's not so bad. But that still leaves problem number two, and I'm not sure that one is solvable.
Problem number two centers on Isabel. She was originally supposed to be a fairly minor character, only there to provide a few plot points for the two main characters. But then I had a wonderful idea for the ending, which caused her to grow in importance quite a bit. Now, out of necessity, Isabel is barely involved in the last third of the story (other than the very ending). This is kind of bad, but not a killer, she gets her big point at the end. But. All I have for her is that she needs to be developed for the ending, and she needs to be there and react properly to it. She essentially exists to have things happen to her. And that's no good for a major character.
It wouldn't be so bad if I had an actual plot for her during the earlier parts of the book. But I don't. And, even if I came up with one, it would almost certainly feel tacked on, or have little relation to the rest of the story, or both. I need a plot for her that's integrated in the larger whole, and that's actually meaningful for her.
Shit.
I was hoping to end up with something publishable (or something that can be reworked into something publishable, rather) this year. Maybe I should give that idea up and write about the wacky adventures of a rogue accountant and her pet tapir instead. Or porn.
I do know what I'll do now, at least. I'm going to bed.
(For random passers-by: this entry is about NaNoWriMo.)
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| Stereotypes |
[November 3rd, 2004|8:02] |
I read a post recently, on a message board I frequent, on the subject of stereotypes. Quote, shortened a bit:I don't think all stereotypes are the same.
It's a stereotype (in that it's a generalization) that women are sensitive people. Compared to men, I'd say this stereotype is pretty darned accurate.
Another stereotype is that women are nagging harpies who swap malicious gossip all day long. Um...this isn't pretty darned accurate. What a coincidence it is, that the stereotype she believes in happens to be flattering to her, while the one she doesn't isn't.
Oh, wait, that's not a coincidence at all.
People don't have the stereotypes they believe in assigned to them at random, of course. In general, women are a lot more likely to believe in greater female sensitivity/intuition/earth-motherness/chocolatey goodness/whatever than in greater female tendency towards hysteria, and the average male is a lot more likely to connect their sex to practicality and logic than to brutishness or beer bellies. It's not so simple as people believing in stereotypes that are flattering to groups they identify with and non-flattering to groups they see themselves as opposed to (there are certainly men who think sexual promiscuity and lack of interest in the emotional aspects of romantic relationships are inherent to the penis-having experience (sometimes they include themselves in this, sometimes they see themselves as the rare exception), and I've encountered plenty of women who think women are more suited to tending the home and children than for leading positions (though that's not generally justified as a question of superiority/inferiority, but rather as The Male and The Female being different and complementary, and similar crap)), but on some level we believe in the stereotypes that appeal to us.
(All my examples are gender-related because that is what I tend to notice the most, probably due to the whole gender thing being my main pet issue. When I think about it, I can come up with a fair amount racially related examples, mainly directed towards middle easterners, but they don't stick with me the way the gender-related ones do.)
What I don't get is why it seems to be so damn difficult for people to treat their fellow human beings as individuals, rather than as instances of some group or other, but apparently it is, since everyone does it.
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| My life is a null pointer exception |
[October 8th, 2004|4:43] |
Yesterday I was struck by the absolute futility and pointlessness of my life. I felt utterly alone despite being in a room full of people, and my heart felt like an infinite void.
I wish that sort of thing wouldn't happen during lectures. I mean, I've had worse distractions, but it doesn't exactly help you pay attention to the splitting fields, you know?
The last few weeks I've been very... pointless. I haven't achieved anything. I haven't really gotten any further in my computer game project, and despite having a very light course load, I am behind in my schoolwork.
I'm not sure why. Maybe just because. But it makes me wonder whether my choice of studies (and entire direction of life) is the right path to travel, which isn't a lot of fun, as I sure can't think of anything better...
I'm hoping NaNoWriMo will be an improvement on the achievement front. Hoping very hard, actually, since if November turns out to be more of the same I'll fail completely, having written less than five thousand words by the end of November, causing me to hate myself and want to die. And we wouldn't want that, now would we?
At least, I don't.
But I think it'll all work out.
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| Demon in the night |
[September 17th, 2004|3:50] |
It was after eleven at night. I was sleeping peacefully in my bed, having gone to bed early in preparation for getting up early. But my quiet slumber was not to be, for suddenly a shadow detached from the blackness of the night outside my window. This dark Shadow-demon announced its presence in the manner of its kind, and clawed and pushed at my window in order to force its way in. The window could resist it only for moments before yielding, and soon the night-spawn planted its sharply clawed paws on my floor.
So I got dressed, went and knocked on my neighbour's door, and asked her if it was her kitten. It was.
I don't know, I seem to be attracting cats lately.
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[September 14th, 2004|21:22] |
Ever feel the desire to sink your teeth into the fat thigh of the universe and bite, hard, until it screams?
No?
I guess that's just me, then.
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| I just had the opportunity to play with a cat... |
[September 1st, 2004|22:54] |
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...and that is something that makes me happy. Damnit, I've been cat-deprived for far too long. One goal I have set for myself, that I do not intend to fail at, is to procure a cat before I get too much older. I shall not go to my grave catless!
(...er, not to imply I intend to be buried with my cats. That would be cruel, if they're still alive. And if they're already dead, they've probably already been buried. If they die at the same time as I do, I suppose it's alright, though. Except I don't actually wish to be buried.
But, you know, it was metaphorical.)
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| Decisions |
[August 30th, 2004|3:55] |
| [ |
music |
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The Clash is playing on my internal soundtrack... |
] |
I'm starting an introductory course in Latin a week from now. But that's not really why I'm writing this. Due to me starting said introductory course, the Uppsala Humanities Association ("Uppsala Humanistförening") has sent me an invitation to their Welcoming Week. So I'm trying to decide if I'll go.
Should be simple, right? Just see if the events sound interesting, go if they are, don't if they're not. But, that's not really the level my internal discourse is at.
On the one hand, it would probably be good for me to get out and, you know, talk to people. On the other hand, I know myself, and the actual result of me showing up would be me staying of to one side, not exchanging a word with anyone. On the third hand (I'm feeling a bit Hindu today), you never know, I might meet some nice girl, fall in love, and have a scorching romance the equal of any described by the great works of literature. On the fourth hand, that's not too fucking likely.
Decisions, decisions.
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| Rhetoric |
[August 22nd, 2004|4:06] |
Now that I've finished my course in rhetoric (well, almost; there's still the exam, but I think I'll skip it), I thought I'd share a few thoughts on the subject.
I find it helps to think like a villain. The point, after all, is to manipulate your audience into thinking what you want them to think.
This doesn't mean you should treat your audience as simpletons. Being condescending is a good way of failing to convince. No, you should think like a smart villain. One who's read the Evil Overlord list (though the list is a bit short on rhetorical advice).
A question that was briefly touched upon during the course (though mentioned a bit more in the literature) was the ethics of rhetoric. I.e. is it right to use rhetoric on people, to control thoughts and actions.
And I thought it was a rather silly question. It's a tool. Much like a hammer, or a gun, rhetoric does not have any ethical value in and of itself. Ethics enters the picture only in how you use it.
Not that you can really compare rhetoric to guns. Rhetoric is far more dangerous.
And really, without ethical reservations is the way to approach something if you want to understand it, I think. And I do believe the author of the main piece of course literature agrees with me on that - it was quite fascinating to read his analysis of a speech by Joseph Goebbels, the Nazi Minister of Propaganda and National Enlightenment (his actual title, I swear to Insert Deity. I suspect the word "propaganda" had somewhat different connotations back then). Throughout the entire analysis I did not detect so much as a hint of disapproval. In fact, I think there was a certain amount of admiration there. Which is quite natural, actually. The Nazi propaganda machine must reasonably be considered a successful application of rhetoric, after all (the whole genocide+war thing is really besides the point).
And, you know, I rather like rhetoric that way. It's so... deliciously amoral.
Of course, you can restrict your rhetoric in various ways, to conform to one ethical standard or another (not lying is an obvious example). But all that is completely external to rhetoric, in much the same way that choosing not to kill innocent children is external to using a gun.
Now, pretty much everyone does restrict their rhetoric in one way or another; I doubt too many approach the question of how to convince as a self-contained issue without larger implications.
My own restrictions do not derive from concerns of right and wrong as such (right and wrong is more of an influence on what I try to convince people of, than it is on how I do it), but rather from concerns over my larger, long term goals. For instance, I might think up an argument that I think would be very convincing on some subject of minor importance. Let's say this argument functions by playing on the audience's gender stereotypes. Problem: one of my goals is to influence society to cut all that bullshit out. Using the argument in question strengthens what I oppose. So I don't use it, and make do with arguments that are weaker, but which aren't detrimental to my strategic goals.
And so it goes.
---
In other news, the idea for my computer game is taking shape (replaying Ultima IV and Ultima V was inspirational). I don't know the actual plot, but I do have a general idea of how it's all supposed to function (and, I need to write something on the subject of How To Make A Good RPG sometime). So that's happy.
I'm also planning a bit of a writing project, but more on that later.
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| My best friend, the computer |
[July 1st, 2004|22:01] |
I've been programming, lately.
That's a bit of an understatement, really. "Lately, all I've been doing is programming" is not too far from the truth. School's over for the summer, and I haven't been hanging out with Sanna, and of course I'm not doing any of the things I should be doing (really, what would that look like?), so there hasn't been much else to keep me occupied.
And so I turn to programming. For fun.
(I am reminded of an event at the rhetoric course I'm currently taking. On the first lesson, we were all supposed to get up in front of the class and present ourselves and tell the class something about ourselves. One of the people mentioned that he studies theoretical physics. "I think it's... fun." Everyone laughed.
But it wasn't because of what he said. It was because of how he said it. Hell, I laughed too, and I certainly don't think there's anything strange about being interested in theoretical physics. It's a fascinating subject.
I wondered then (and still) if he was trying to elicit that response, and if so, if he was aware of it.
Psychology is another fascinating subject.)
One of the reasons I enjoy programming is the power it gives me. Yes, power. As the subject line implies, I spend a lot of time with my computer (certainly more than I spend with human beings).
Often, when interacting with computers, they refuse to do what you want them to do, and provide no obvious way of accomplishing your task. But, with programming, I can decide what I want the computer to do, describe it at some length, and tell the computer: Make It So. And it does.
Sometimes, this makes me break out into megalomaniacal laughter.
Heh.
Me-heh.
Mwa-ha-hah-hah-HAH-HAH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Delusions of grandeur aside, I also appear to be fairly good at it. Analyzing a problem, breaking it down into its component parts, forming it into an algorithm. It seems to come fairly naturally to me.
("Delusions of grandeur aside". Hah.)
So, my current project is a game. Right now I'm working on making a roguelike game, but I have the notion that once I've got the general framework handled, I'll make something a bit more plotful. The final product I'm envisioning is as inspired by Ultima IV as it is by The Pits of Angband or Ancient Domains Of Mystery (well, certainly more by Angband than ADOM, as I've barely played the latter - though I intend to).
But that's some time into the future. I'll probably give it up before I get that far. But we'll see.
It's nice to have a creative outlet. Well, you know, one I actually use. Writing would be better, but I can't seem to actually get around to doing any. And this is far better than nothing.
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