Pointing Out Problems, part 1?

If I were a man of few words, this would be easy as pie, but instead I spit out words because I stuff myself to the brim. My problem is as follows: I am not aware.

That's right, dear readers, I, yours truly, the man of this blog, ruler of all that is a[muse]ing, am completely utterly and hopelessly unaware of things. Progressing forward in life I shall attempt to document that of which I am not aware and hopelessly I will document my struggles to overcome this most massive of hurdles/cliffs/mountains(/planets?).

Let's commence at the beginning. My problem today is this: I am unaware of the metaphors behind great writing. I want to believe that things are as they seem, and I am fighting to read between the lines. I just love text! And I love seeing it! Unfortunately, the spaces between the lines are invisible, that point where we're supposed to be unconscious, sleeping. That third of our life of silence and blank existence. Sadly I don't often sleep all that much and I have been missing that thing called silence and sleep so I am no longer conscious of sleep and space and reading between the lines. Perhaps tonight I'll sleep. At least for a few hours. No! Seven hours! I must. (Haha, I can dream. [No, you cannot!])

Thoughts and prayers to my professor

How easily we brush away words. Words contain so little weight with us, and indeed we're taught to learn to ignore and to heed them at the same time. Where does sarcasm melt into sincerity?

I'm writing this because I do not know the state of health of my Spanish professor and I believe it to be poor. All last week I was in San Francisco enjoying the Game Developer's Conference, enjoying life and networking and my career, and completely ignoring my Spanish homework. Which is fine, because it was my choice to do so.

Here to Boston I return and find that my professor has been gone all of last week and again today he isn't teaching. Two months ago when I first began my GDC planning I told my professor that I would be gone. Remind me in a month, he said, he could be dead by then. A sarcastic comment from a professor who we've known to throw as much humor into his teaching as he could muster.

But it seems those words were not so hollow and light as they appeared to me. I am praying for you professor.

The grifters and the peddlers

Tonight I was approached by a man who has approached me on at least two other occasions. I saw him coming from a mile away as he crossed an intersection at a very odd angle just to catch me. And of course not a single person nearby for me to hide behind. As expected, he needed a dollar. He had four quarters. Well I told him I had no dollars. So then he asked if I had a five, because he had a few dollars and needed a fiver. Strange. I thought he had no dollars.

I do not carry much money with me these days, especially on campus where my student card gets me my meals. But it must be a hard time for small-time grifters these days. What I mean by that is that I am guessing the average guy asking for a buck today is about half as likely as someone asking thirty years ago because everyone uses debit cards these days. We all love to keep digital transactions of every time we spend money. We like to carry around a piece of plastic to pay for things. And most of all, we don't have change when the people who may or may not need it ask for some.

So to all you non-helpless people out there asking me for some change or a dollar for four quarters (I still don't get that one), I apologize that we do not carry change around to help you make a living. I am sure somewhere someone has got a modern trick up their sleeve that will sweep the nations of their debit cards and PIN numbers.

Hoppin at the AvoCondos has entered the kongregation

That's right, yours truly is now a kongregate game. Support me with a half cent or perhaps a .1 cent by visiting http://www.kongregate.com/games/upriser/hoppin-at-the-avocado-condos

I don't think you'll be disappointed.