These are simply another morning pages, so don't expect much content beyond the usual mad ramblings, and stream of consciousness writing that you have come to expect from me. I got to go for a walk this morning and found how while I knew that Olde West became some other road, I did not realize that I already knew the other end of that road- that other end being one that has looped around over to Shrader near Longford. I keep searching for a mythical passage to Broad other than going to Hungary Springs to get there. I see a road off of Broad that would logically seem to connect, but as of yet I have not tried to get here from there. I believe someone has told me that there is no connection, but it seems foolish for there not to be one. I guess like so many other things in this world doing the logical thing just doesn't make sense. Now I'm not entirely known for doing things the logical way, but even I have my limits. In my work environment for example, there's just far too many things that just don't make sense. Rules are supposed to solve problems, not make more. As my manager Tanya put it "We just have to get creative." Someone else put it, "Don't work harder, work smarter." Either way I don't seem up to the task and it's utterly frustrating. This might explain my desires to open up a game shop, but I still have to get through the moving process before I can even begin that... not that that's going to stop me, but it will slow me down. I know that I am going to have to find a backer, and that could prove difficult. I still have yet to go by the Department of the Economy for Chesterfield Co., but I have to call lenders first and get the ball rolling on finding a new place to live. It had been Erin's and my intention to use the money Pop-Pop gave us as a wedding present to move into a new place, but I've had to steadily wheedle that down just to pay off bills. Erin had a job interview this past week, but they only wanted her for evenings and weekends, which is exactly the opposite of daycare center hours. I.e. that just wouldn't work.
Brandon's coming today. I'm looking forward to it because I've missed him the past two visits he's made because I had to go to work. I saw him briefly at the door and then I was gone. I could use some catching up on what's been going on, esp. since I don't have access to my e-mail right now. I'm aching for a game of pirates too. Of course sitting in front of the TV and watching the NFL might be what he has in mind. I haven't been able to keep track of that as well since our subscription to the Richmond Times Dispatch ran out. It's a rather Republican rag, but at least I could keep tabs on the NFL, the comics, and I enjoyed the Channels section for looking up what I wanted to watch next. Erin prefers the Guide on the remote, but I think the section is faster. I can scan down a page faster than I can hit the down button and read just about five or six stations at a time.
I miss being able to game. I'm planning on running D&D again Saturday. It'll be the first time in a while that I've been able to run.

Joshua Banks: age 13...

A lonely kid walks home from the bus-stop after school. He's being followed by a pack of five boys who for the most part have a puffed up sense of their own self-worth. It starts with catcalls, jibes, and Lunch Money's style of play. Joshua tries to ignore it and them, hoping they'll become bored and go away. It's naive wishful thinking of course. And then one of them makes the mistake of touching him. It's not much, but it's enough to sift through and find the right painful moment in the boy's emotional memory. Joshua grabs onto it, holds on for dear life, breaking into a sweat.
"Look guys! He's so scared he's sweating! Do we make ya nervous, Banks? Hahahahaha!"
"Don't do it," Joshua simply says.
"Do what? This?" The punch is thrown even as he utters the last word. Joshua bleeds and reels, but manages to stay on his feet if just barely. The surprize comes to the other boys when the pugilist grabs his own head and explodes in tears of heart-wrenched pain.
"No. No. No," is all Joshua can mutter. He stands almost in a fetal position. The pugilist is almost a mirror of him. Does he understand how much it hurt himself to do what he did to him. It's more than just an Excedrin headache. The would-be bully is in shock. Three of the boys run in fear. The last was a kid Joshua thought was someone he could be friends with, until he joined the other bullys in school. He's the smallest of them and maybe he thought it was better to be at the devil's side than in his path. Now he just stares in horror as he realizes they weren't the devil he needed to fear.

It's HOT! thought agent Joshua Banks. I'm not used to this tropical desert climate. Let this case be over so I can go back to investigating haunted houses in wonderfully temperate America. This wandering around the desert outside Timbuktu is for the vultures. First there was the magic mad antique Nazi who wired his head into a tank, then there was the puzzle of just how to get into this bloomin' City of Brass, and now a fairy?!?! The juxtoposition of cultural myths along on this case is enough to drive one batty. I've always attracted stange phenomenon around me, but when they all come together like this is just gives me another one of my wretched headaches. I don't trust Aurelie. Being a fairy is cause enough. I've read the B.P.R.D case files on them, and how rare and capricious they are. Something about feeding on magic so I'll have to be careful about trying too many rituals around her. There's something else about how dodgy she's been that just won't let me trust her. Still, if she were four feet taller she might make an enjoyable roll in the hay. What am I thinking. Sun and lack of female companionship out here must be gettin' to me. This is distracting. I need to figure out how to get this damn djinni back in it's so-called bottle...

This is an excerpt of thought from my character in the GURPS Hellboy campaign that Laurel Oien is running for Erin and I. The story actually started previously with other players involved, but fizzled. When I asked her to run a game so Erin and I could play side-by-side instead of me running over her Laurie recontinued this story. Aurelie is Erin's character.

This is the eulogy I gave for my father on July 30,'05. He died the preceding Tuesday, July 26. The bibliography for the Mark Twain reference can be found in Huckleberry Finn. The song is traditional.

"When I was a boy there was a song I'm sure that most of you know:"John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt: his name is my name too...".Obviously, it wasn't much of a stretch to change the lyrics in my head to "John Jacob Robert Sterling Schmid..." As far as I knew John Jacob could have been a distant ancestor. However, Robert Sterling Schmid, well, his name is my name, too.
As I've listened to people talk about my father since this fateful Tuesday morning two topics always seem to crop up: how much people depended upon him and the smile he always seemed to have to give.
When I was younger the idea of having people depend on me seemed like such a burden, a sort of shackle imprisoning from the freedom of the outside world. Now that I'm older I know that having people depend on you can give you the feeling the you've done something good for the world, that you have something to contribulte, something to offer, a way to change the world for the better.I've heard this as an argument for why true altrusim doesn't exist, because you do get something back. Perhaps that's why my father had so many people depend on him, because he got something out of it inside.
Then, of course was his smile; that which he had to offer seemingly everyone all the time, his co-workers, his friends, those with whom he attended church, the people he met on the other side of the cash register, his waitor or waitress, pretty much the whole world. Of course, beiund his son I had the privilege of seeing him when he was angry too- I was even the cause of it my fair share of the time. ;) But it was a privilege, because that means that I knew him just a little better than most people, and I am fortunate to have had such a man for a father.
I was fortunate enough to grow up in a traditional nuclear family with both parents and even a full set of grandparents to nurture me. Even a strong nuclear family such as ours experiences it's times of strain. When my adolescence began so did our growing pains and there were times Ifelt that having a family could be a pain in the posterior. I'm wiser now of course, but it's only really been in the past year or so as Anne has found a husband, and I have found that woman I will marry and start a family of my own with that I've really felt that I was still a part of the family that I frew up with again. I know that Dad felt joy seeing us find the ones for which Anne and I could add to his family.
Have you ever heard the story of the Emperor of America? He was someone Mark Twain claimed to have met once. Now the Emperor of America obviously held no official office. He simply claimed that that was who he was. He might as well have claimed to be Napolean, right? But beyond that he was a harmless fellow, even helpful as he went about fulfilling his so-called duties as Emperor. And do you knw that when he died people came from all across the United States to attend his funeral. Look around you today. Not exactly a small funderal service is it?" [Note: while I wrote this before the service the church was indeed packed beyond capacity. They set up extra chairs because the pews were full!] "Now it's been said that I can get along with most anyone, my best friend says I even have his sense of humour, but I still haven't mastered his smile, I could only hope to have even half as large a funderal as my father.
My father: Robert Sterling Schmid.
Whenever we go out the people always shout..."

Mood: mildly frustrated
Music: Danny Boy

Morning pages entry: Just start typing Bert. Something will come out. This is just an exercise, kind of like the walk you just took and picking up the viola for the first time in months. Something to keep you in practice. Can you manage that. of course I can. Ooh! Multiple personality demonstration. What fun! And now the baby has come to play. What shall we do today, Little One? Are you feeling better? No more throw-up? I know dry heaves are such playtime- NOT! Hey! You've finally eaten some of your toast. When I came in all you'd done was lick the butter off, and I gave it to you before I went on my walk. Mom's in the shower so it's all me at the moment. As usual she's discovering things on the floor to play with. Why she can't play with her own toys I don't understand. She seems to get bored so easily. Mood swing city. Well, now she's discovered my change purse again. She's managed to open it. I'll stop her when she starts to get inside, but as long as she's just fiddling with the thong it should be all right. Thong- as in leather cord used to close the pouch. Get your mind out of the gutter blockhead! Oh! Excuse me, gentle reader. Guess I let my frustration for not being able to find any of my music supplies get to me. I don't know that I've brought that stuff over from my folks yet though. Something to pick up next trip. Of course, Caitlyn won't do something unless she thinks it's her idea. I tried to show her something to make both our lives more agreeable and she refused to play along. I really do need a new cord for this pouch. It's seen better days, but that's when you know it's well used, well loved. It used to get lots of looks, now it's just mundane. Everyone's seen me with it for years now. Mom and Dad have their issues with it of course, but I found a woman that doesn't mind in the slightest. So many reasons to marry her- *sigh*Okay, enough of the sappy stuff. How much have I written? Erin's getting out of the shower. This should be enough. Just more peek at the life of Bert. Tata!