Overlord Overview #2

It is the year 0079 of the Universal Century. A half-century has passed since I, Lord Veltha, last posted a blog entry about my epic struggles to gain control over my small little world. A new home for mankind where people are born, and raised, and actually try to make a point to accomplish something. Seven months ago the Velthan Empire declared war on Clark Community College's financial aid administration. Initial fighting lasted over three months and saw both sides lose half their respective populations. People were horrified by the indescribable atrocities that had been committed in the name of independence.

However, due to the long-lasting stalemate, treaties of peace have since been signed and now I am enrolled as part-time student. Though, hold on... I seem to have skipped ahead a bit.

Amidst the struggles for academic supremacy, I had been participating in secret on a reality television (read: YouTube) series while cleverly disguised as a dumbass. Each episode was filmed semi-weekly at Hazel Dell Lanes, and featured a variety of challenges for me to quite entirely suck at. While it can be assumed that having not bowled for three years prior to the filming of this show would mean a distinctive lack of skill, talent, and fabulousness in my play-style, the shifting challenges did nothing to help me gain the experience I needed to improve. Chronic insomnia is also a difficult adversity to overcome in bowling. As is clearly depicted in episode 3, the circumstances of going without sleep for three to four weeks affects a person in such a manner that when forced to bowl for a reality television competition, the person will alternately have a big pansy-ass baby breakdown right there in front of everyone and sing Tom Lehrer songs. Incidentally, I was also later voted the favorite contestant of the season, which just goes to show that the key to victory in television, as in life, is to openly show no sign of skill while being the biggest asshole you can possibly be. Hate is love. The upshot is, my overwhelming popularity (by vote of maybe six people out of the eleven who have watched the show) was enough to land me the position as host of season 2.

My hostly duties were self-summarized as follows:

- Say whatever the director tells you to say, but better

- Be yourself and say whatever the hell you want to say

- You have no overall impact on the show so don't try to usurp us. We are Legion.

- Don't suck as much as the last host (Ha! That... that was a joke... in case my boss is reading this.)

Four episodes have been filmed already, and I'm beginning to get in the groove. The key is to demand my own cameraman. After all, to be myself is to be amazing, and how can I be amazing without someone constantly watching me? If David Blaine seals himself in a block of ice for a year in the forest and no one is around to tell him he's stupid, does he get any real satisfaction from the frostbite? I am doing my best to go above and beyond the duties of sitting around waiting for the crappy bowling to end. I'm actually getting in people's faces and asking the questions people want to know, such as "Do you hate your grandma?" and "Have you ever peed in the shower?" I nominate myself for best host ever, and ride my landslide victory into a big steaming heap of your gratitude for the service I have done for entertainment. You're welcome.

I have missed most of one episode though. I've been sick, but I'm driven to achieve by the fine actors I hear about on DVD commentary who go to work hungover from Sudafed and with mild concussions. If Jon Hamm can get his head split open on the set of Mad Men by the most mortified rigger in the history of television and come back from the hospital to finish to gorram scene against everyone's advice, then the least I can do is show up at a parking lot in a seedy area of town with a cold to tell people to bowl in a very impractical manner. I only have a couple more days to get completely better though, because I cannot miss the next day of filming. It's the Halloween episode. Fear my white-trash costuming skills.

I'm still no closer to getting a job; or a car; I haven't written anything, drawn anything, edited TAD, or spoken to anyone about voice acting in months; and yet I feel more content than I have in quite a while. I have structure now and see my friends on an almost daily basis. Things are fine now, but I'm still concerned for my future. There's so much more that I want to accomplish and I've done nothing. I had intended to speak with the director of Rolloff about a series I wanted to pitch him, but got distracted away from that, and now I feel that opportunity has been lost.

On the bright side: I am Spider-Man.

Part of the bargain I struck with Clark College in order to get my mother off their backs about all of the shit they were putting us through was that they would allow me to attend an acting class. I have no desire to act on stage, and grow increasingly disillusioned with film, but if I can learn how to suck less as a voice actor then I will be academically satisfied.

Part of my success as an overlord with manic depression is that I avoid going on stage unless I have a teleprompter reminding me of the words to "A Boy Named Sue." A monologue, going up on stage in front of everyone and hallucinating that you're somewhere else talking to a person that doesn't exist, is the hardest thing an actor has to deal with aside from the very real possibility that you suck as an actor (which, as previously discussed, isn't that big of a deal if you're a sufficient enough asshole as most actors are.) Our teacher instructed us that our monologue selection should be something we relate to, connect with, and isn't Shakespeare. My first thought was Spider-Man. True, I look up to the greats such as Dr. Doom, Lex Luthor, The Shredder, and Gargamel, but when it comes to real emotional connection to story-telling, quite frankly that's what Spider-Man is known for. Most dedicated Spider-Man followers will tell you that the reason they read Spider-Man is because he's a loser like them. Spider-Man was my first instinct, and I should have gone with it.

Instead I chose a re-written monologue from a play called "Fishing" by Micheal Weller, who, thankfully, is a playwright from the 1970's who writes stories about youthful and energetic partakers of the magic cookie bush. The dialog is witty and often nonsensical. It's perfect for me. The particular monologue I chose was not.

I was having an infamously bad morning. My depression led me to believe that I would be ridiculed for picking a monologue out of Ultimate Spider-Man. I was terrified that I would be looked upon as lazy and uncaring. I decided to look through the teacher's books one more time. I stumbled over the monologue, about a guy who was on the brink of killing himself and decided he really wanted to live, and figured it sounded an awful lot like my morning. At the time it seemed like the perfect choice. If I was in a good mood it could be read with a sense of irony, and if I was in a bad mood it could be read well. I immediately went to Powell's to buy the play it was from, because I wanted to make the effort. I'm always to determined to prove how hard I can work. I hate hearing teachers give the class crap about how lazy they are and feeling like they're speaking to me too. I had to do everything I could to prove myself, and I pushed myself as hard as I could. The day I read it was the kind of morning where you wake up feeling alright, but then start mumbling "I want to carve my heart out with a knife" while you're scrambling eggs and suddenly everything goes downhill. After my monologue I ran out of the classroom screaming f-bombs and hid in the trees somewhere. The horrible thing about the Clark College campus is that there is no place to hide and be alone. By the time I got home I was fairly certain I was going to hurt myself. I kept screaming things about wanting to break off my fingers. This lasted a few hours and subsided.

This is an important thing to note, because a hero is not measured by his victories, but by his failures. (I say hero in the Campbellian sense of the term. You must also realize that with the original Greek concept of a hero, what made a deed heroic was the amazement factor, not whether or not the deed itself was good. If you could bring down a building with your bare hands and crush everyone inside you were called a hero. Greeks also believed throwing babies in the fire gave them immortality.) I also realize that Blogger doesn't have the nifty hiding feature that Live Journal has.

This failure taught me many things:

1) Manic depressives shouldn't spend so much time working on memorizing/feeling things about death.

2) Taquitos are magical wish-granting foods that can help you memorize things in the knick of time.*

3) THERE IS NO PLACE YOU CAN HIDE AT CLARK COLLEGE. Plan escape routes accordingly and hide in your girlfriend's car.

4) Orcas get off on rubbing against the smooth rocks along the shores of British Columbia. (Source missing.)

After that fiasco I decided it was in everyone's best interest that I read comic books. In issue 21 of Ultimate Spider-Man, after his second win out of six fights, Spidey is given a chance to explain to the press who he is and why he runs around in tights punching people with robot arms and reality television hosts. If you crop it up right, it becomes a very nice monologue. There are many monologues in Ultimate Spider-Man. Brian Michael Bendis really likes to hear himself write. There's one monologue that spans three issues during the Venom story arc. Three issues of Peter's dad talking about cancer, bureaucracy, and how he has no idea that he's going to die in a plane crash. However, I chose to do what I know: talk about how I just want to do my thing and not care about what people think.

When I delivered the monologue I was still sick. I also had to leave the class once because when I was critiquing another actor I forgot to lead in with what I liked and a girl sitting behind me smacked me with the script she was holding. Granted, if I wasn't already terrified and on edge about what happened last time I went on stage the playful thwap wouldn't have sent me reeling, but I am not master over circumstances. I was able to head back fairly soon, and it wasn't long before it was my turn. Even with little preparation time given my illness and other responsibilities I seemed to do very well.

I will tell you right now that I have missed applause. I don't have the opportunity to receive genuine applause often. In a classroom environment like that applause is obligatory, and you can tell the difference between obligatory applause and genuine applause. For one thing, the teacher was reeling back in his seat laughing and asking me what my monologue was from. Here I was terrified I would be ridiculed for choosing something out of a comic book, and he was actually commending me fore it and was in awe of how creative I was in choosing such unusual material. Most of the class didn't catch on that it was Spider-Man until the end, if at all. People reacted most positively to how I wasn't trying to be a super hero, and that I was just some dorky guy, which was entirely the point of the monologue. The biggest complaint was my exit because I didn't jump up and pretend to swing away. Once people clicked that I was Spider-Man that's what they were expecting. And the teacher gave me the best compliment I have ever received. Even better than "[Veltha] you are the sanest person I know. Which is weird, because you're the only person I know who is certifiably IN-sane."

"I used to read Spider-Man when it first started. And that was a looong time ago. To me, you are how I imagine Peter Parker."

I've been fortunate lately. I finally have a daily routine. I get to see my friends almost every day. I may or may not be acquiring a skill I can use someday if I keep fighting for it. I'm on my way to becoming a local internet sensation. I have an amazing girlfriend. But it was in that moment on stage that I finally felt victory. That was the praise I've been struggling so hard for.

Anyway, there's that. At the time of this posting it is past noon, and I have yet to ingest any meals. I should have had three by now. My metabolism is a mighty force to be reckoned with. My failure to take care of my health will not go unpunished I'm sure. What I need is a warm bowl of soup, followed by a hot shower and a comfy couch. Then... THE WORLD!

Pathos and good will,

Lord Veltha

*Lord Veltha's Guide to Monologue Memorization (because there aren't enough lists in this post):

1) Re-write the monologue in your own handwriting, complete with the subtext of what the character is really thinking written in the margins with a different color of writing utensil.

2) Eat taquitos. LOTS of taquitos.

3) You know what, cook up some french fries while you're at it.

4) Spend a couple hours half-heartedly struggling in vein trying to memorize the lines. Read it until you really don't want to work anymore but really should because it's important. Then throw the guilt away and come to a complete stop.

5) Curl up with a cat on the couch and watch TV or DVDs.

6) Play video games until you fall asleep.

7) In the morning when you wake up you will know the monologue from top to bottom without any difficulty.

Yes, this is my method for memorization, and yes it worked. Twice.

Lord Veltha Versus Happiness

It has come to my attention that in principal such things as wealth, power, and fame are not goals people strive for, but the means to their goal. That goal of course is happiness.

Happiness is by definition, "a state of well-being and contentment." The dictionary as always is particularly vague when it comes to subjects of importance such as this, and it is best that people are left to define their own happiness. (The dictionary does however contain the long sought after meaning of "life." Why it has never occurred to people to look it up in the dictionary is beyond me.)

I do not feel as though my problem lies in un-happiness. I am by nature a happy person, but I am away from my natural habitat where I can be myself to the best of my ability. I am away from my natural habitat due to avoidant behavior. I avoid things due to the fear that somehow I will make things worse than they are. It is much safer for me to hide within the confines of my impregnable fortress.

Psychologically, even chronically miserable people have in some depraved way found happiness. Try to snap them out of it and watch how their mood goes from bad to worse. Humans are comforted by that which is familiar to them. Take away that comfort and latent survival instincts kick in. Fending for emotional survival isn't often considered a state of well-being. (This link is not even the least bit relevant.)

If happiness is the goal, then I fear I am going about it all wrong. No amount of therapy can MAKE me happy. Discussing pertinent issues such as relationships and economic ways to destroy the world is helpful without a doubt, but the whole point is to allow me to integrate myself into the world and become a productive member of society. That is the key. I'm learning how to cope with reality, not how to participate in it. I am about as well adjusted as I'm going to get, frightening though it may sound. Therapy will not bring me happiness, and I'm afraid more therapy will only not bring me happiness to a greater extent. It's time I learned how to do things on my own. Only then will I be fit to rule this world with an iron fist.

As such, there are only two things that will bring me happiness.

1) A positive social life

2) Purpose

Group gatherings occur when I am invited to or send invitations to planned events, yet my not-the-least-bit-creepy-or-stalkerish research suggests many shared activities are spontaneous. I'm simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Comrades frequently in close proximity to each other are more likely to ensue in mischief.

Plausible Solution: Discover a method for maintaining consistent social contact with friends in person, whether it be to arrange a meeting place or get over my anti-social pansy-assedness and call people once in a while. Phones aren't that scary.

Alternative Solution: Kidnapping. It seems to work for most evil overlords. Besides, when does brain-washing go wrong?

Purpose is a little trickier. I can not simply slap a sticker on an activity or job and call it purpose. The key as always is to FEEL like it's my purpose. As it so happens there are two activities I feel a strong connection to, however I think I have described the pros and cons before. Writing is problematic as I'm inconsistent in my writing habits and abilities, and in order to move forward in my life I would need to complete a project. My voice box however is armed and cocked (...*cough*...), I just don't know where to take it.

Plausible Solution: Ask for help. I have resources I could exploit. I know people who know things about knowing things. I could ask for assistance from people connected to the field, and people may even give it to me without having to resort to mind-control.

Alternative Solution: Mind control

I must take charge of my life to ensure that I have a future. Perhaps I will get started on that tomorrow.

Pathos and goodwill

They called me "mad." I demand a second opinion.

Once again it has been some time since I last updated my conquest blog. This absence of activity can logically be attributed to a lack of recent accomplishments. One of my most valuable servants has recently sustained heavy injury at the hands of zombified bears, and I have been forced to focus my attention on the lair’s upkeep and insuring that my vassal recovers in a timely fashion so as not to further inconvenience me. (Yes, you may say it. I am a truly benevolent overlord.)

The undead ursine outbreak couldn’t have happened at a worse time as I have recently been, shall I say, “volunteering” at a local mental health clinic. I was mislead to believe that the facility would provide me with a fresh diagnosis for my particular genius. They were however unqualified to issue a professional diagnosis, but the word “psychotic” had escaped the lips of one of the employees (and was quickly followed by, “My god! No! Please stop! Please! I take it back! Please! No! NO! I beg you! AHHHHH!” which may or may not have been a psychological term describing Thanatophobia.)

While they were unhelpful in regards to defining for me what it is that makes me so great (I will settle for “rugged good-looks” if I can’t find a second opinion) they were able to provide me with some small matters of insight pertaining to the few barriers I still face on my way to global domination.

While I am in no way denying that my intellect stretches far beyond the veil of cognitive conscious… -itude… there was a time, believe it or not, when I was in many ways smarter than I am today (by a standardized academic definition at any rate.) My ability to learn and retain information has dwindled over the years. Memory, concentration, memory; have all suffered at the hands of some unquantifiable foe. I now believe I understand the culprit behind my not-smart-no-more-ness.

BRAIN POISONING!

Yes, my faithful followers. My brain has been poisoned… by MYSELF!

This isn’t any old metaphorical “brain poisoning” as suggested by advocates against video games, comic books, and Chevy Chase. Oh no, this poisoning is real.

As it turns out, hyperventilating in the case of extreme stress and anxiety causes a deregulation in oxygen or something something whatever. Carbon dioxide gets stored up in the brain along with the FDA approved oxygen it requires, and brain cells begin to suffocate and die horrible agonizing deaths. Brain cells that are lost are unable to grow back. While it isn’t exactly comforting to know that every time I become emotionally distraught my brain withers like an old piece of fruit, it is added incentive to bottle up my surplus of negative emotions (this way instead of a slow painful death while I watch everything I hold dear slip away from me and become obscured by dementia, I will continue along my present path unabated until the day I spontaneously combust in one big glorious ball of inner turmoil that could level a small country given twenty years of suppression. I am my own doomsday device.)

It seems like there was something else I learned, but I don’t remember it. Something about people and how I don’t have anyone other than my therapist to really confide in, which is unfortunate as it’s nearly impossible to reach her in a time of emotional crisis. They were probably just trying to get me to trust them so they could discover my weakness and exploit it. People can't be trusted. I’m much better off learning how to deal with my feelings without assistance. I’ve been doing a great job so far. (*cough*)

I am trying to re-formulate my strategy for success. Impatience has been known to foil 99.99% of evil overlords, but I need an empire and I need it yesterday! (Yes, I’m getting desperate enough that time-travel is being taken into consideration, and I HATE time-travel.) My literary works aren’t going to be completed within a reasonable period of time, and there are too many downsides to sitting around locked in my chamber alone to risk focusing my efforts on them. Voice acting seems to be the most viable use of my talents. Unfortunately I know nothing of “the business.” There is one thing I’ve been noticing by following the exploits of my heroes (most recently M. Bison of Shadowloo): they all have a complex network of connections, but it’s never established how they were… established. I am at a severe disadvantage as I am unable to sustain my polite, energetic, intelligent behavior. There are any number of circumstances that cause me to cease functioning in an ideal manner. If I am able to be myself in the presence of someone who could potentially influence my chosen profession then I can almost guarantee that they will at the least like me enough to thrown in a good word to a guy who knows a guy. Many people do not get the opportunity to be graced by my true glorious self however, and instead see a quiet simpering fool struggling to hold back his screams of fear and hopelessness. This is what must be remedied, but the best remedy is a purposeful life of accomplishment. I fear I cannot achieve my goals until I have become the master of my mind and body, and in order to do that I must my goals. The endless cycle known as “Catch-22” rolls on as I am left behind wondering, as the kids say (out loud), “WTF?”

Some day my dreams will come true. In the meantime I have a cat box to clean.

Pathos and goodwill,
Lord Veltha

PS: Press a links for the great prize!

Accomplishment? Lord Veltha VS KOUG Radio

Today was completely and utterly overwhelming. I'm really not sure what happened. My head isn't throbbing as much since I took those pain killers. This is the result of me trying to push past my limits. I need to stick to merely reaching my limit for a while. This pushing crap is too much. This is like playing Final Fantasy IX and saying, "Okay, I'm gonna fight a Grand Dragon, and then go heal, and then fight another one, since I will be near death after fighting the first." And then getting attacked by a second dragon before you have time to recover... and then you die. It's pretty much like that. To offer a less geeky description, my day pretty much went as depicted in this doodle I was working on in order to focus and maintain a hold on my ever receding sanity.

Phase 1: I got to the WSU conference room plenty early, like an hour or so before the meeting started. I had stumbled around most of the morning: reading magazines, playing video games, etc. I was impatient to get there, so right after my early lunch I procured a shuttle and traversed the cosmos to reach the college. There I found a "Free Speech" board and was tempted to post a message of my own, but decided against it. Now I wish I had gone through with it. Perhaps next time.

Phase 2: After the meeting began and everyone was handed a type of application and "How To" checklist the station manager pulled out her digital recorder and interviewed everyone in the room, asking what they wanted to do for the station and what they wanted the station to do for them. I think I may have mentioned this somewhere else, but when I am in a new environment around new people I do not function properly. My mind cannot fully process everything that is going on. There is a stimulation overload. I simply freeze and observe the situation, determining whether I should run away or bust heads. Complete reptilian brain mode. As has been described in many a scholarly journal: reptiles suck at interviews. It was amazing. It sounded like everyone was reading from a script. Everyone knew exactly what they wanted. I began asking myself why I was there and by the time the microphone came before my face I had completely forgotten about my plans for a radio theater production. I managed to mention something about global domination, and that was that.

Phase 3. During most of the discussion I pretty much zoned out. I tried to pay attention, but most of it consisted of things I really could not follow. I have no idea how a radio station is run, so I suppose it was okay that I had no input. I was able to talk to a man sitting next to me who was also interested in having a radio drama on the station. He mentioned some kind of theater thing... I can't remember what it was... some kind of... reading theater. It's pretty much a live radio show, with no recording. It sounded interesting. I may have to attend and observe as I did with open mic poetry night. I followed along as best I could, but as I said, I had no input.

Phase 4. It was at this point where things made a turn for the worse. After sitting like a deer in headlights for a couple hours my emotions were running high. I wasn't really doing anything, and yet I was having lots of trouble with not screaming. Those who required training were asked to head to the station. I am not a student at WSU, and am not familiar with the campus. I followed some people who I thought were heading in that direction, but were instead going to the student commons. I tried to wait for someone to show me where to go, but after a few minutes I was unable to remain in the building. I scurried off to a bench by the water and engaged in a very un-overlordly display of emotions. I formed a plan in my head regarding locating the station and decided to wait until I calmed down to begin my investigations. The girl I had been waiting for then found me, concerned that I had wandered off, as I am prone to doing, and then lead me to the station. She kept me distracted and focused, but then she, and the station manager, began giving me tips on overcoming nervousness.

I did like the the expression the manager used; something along the line of, "Nervousness is just morbid excitement." but it's funny how someone trying to be helpful can also be insulting though. It is strange how angry I get when people try to help me cope with my anxiety. I feel misunderstood, like they really don't know what's going on with me. It's just something to be observant of. I'm trying to pay attention to what things affect me in what ways and how (That makes sense, right?) There was nothing to be offended about, and yet I was. It's just odd. It's like they were treating it like it wasn't a big deal. But then, why is it I make such a big deal about my anxiety? I thought about this more later. "I am not under attack. My life is not being threatened. Yet I am completely and utterly terrified."

The training was simple enough, though I can't remember how to run the Simian. Everything else I'm pretty sure I remember, but I can't remember how to operate the computer where all the music and play lists are stored. That's kind of a big deal in radio. It was then the manager remembered some kind of appointment she had and left the girl and I to keep things going in her absence.

Phase 5. I should never under any circumstance make a phone call when I'm agitated. Never! It's one thing to call someone because I'm freaked out, but I must have a certain amount of composure so that I may properly communicate. Communication is my biggest challenge. Even when I am able to talk and explain things I am rarely understood. Awareness of my faults is key. If I know there is a problem then I may be able to find a solution. Maybe next time things will go better. In this case I called to say that I was gonna be on the radio. I was so freaked out and hurried that I didn't explain how to listen to the station (which can be streamed at www.kougradio.com) and that I didn't actually need anything, I was just calling to relay information.

So when it all began, I sat and watched. This was easy enough. During the music the girl asked me to tell her something about myself. I will not enjoy job interviews, if ever I am given the opportunity to actually engage in one. I must come up with a response to this query. It is absolutely vital in regards to all social engagements that I am able to talk about myself. When I get started talking about things I am passionate about, I can't shut up. When I am given a broad topic though, such as myself, then I am at a complete loss. Then she asked me questions I really don't like answering because they greatly reduce my self-esteem. "Do you work?" "Do you go to school?" "Why don't you go to school?" "Do you drive?" "Do you have a girlfriend?" "Have you ever had a girlfriend?" I'm glad "Have you ever considered killing yourself?" didn't come up. That's always an awkward question in an interview... and one I will be sure to ask when interviewing prospective henchmen. I couldn't even answer what I do for fun. That's such an easy question! I have no obligations, so everything I do is something I do for fun! I read, I write, I play video games, I study comic books, I doodle, I take pictures of my stuffed animals in public... but none of this came to mind. I was still trapped in the headlights. She even asked me if I had ever gotten drunk. I explained that I had no intention of ever drinking. I am something of a control freak, but I understand that there is absolutely nothing in this world that is under my control. The only thing I can at least try to maintain is my perception of reality, and even that will be lost to me some day.

Eventually my courage came back. Now, this is an important thing for me to remember. This is a fundamental part of who I am, and how I interact with the world around me: I cannot multi task.
I. Can. Not.
I can search for music to play. I can provide useless banter between songs. I can not do both at once. When I have a play list ready to go and all I have to do is flip the mic on and off, and flip the source on and off, then I will be at ease. I know this. Since I could not, I did not, and I failed. After that stammering embarrassment I had to leave. It's a good thing that when I do my show it will be pre-recorded, and won't involve DJing.

Phase 6. There was much screaming and crying at the bus stop. There was also some physical abuse to inanimate objects and I would like to take the time to apologize to that poor trash can. You did not deserve such treatment. I paced and sang and talked out loud. The more I talk the less I think, and the less I think the better I feel... so... eat beans for every meal? I decided to reward my efforts by going to WalMart and playing the XBox 360 demo of Sonic Unleashed. I can easily go on for another few paragraphs about my opinion of that game, but now is not the time. Then I walked home.

I'm completely exhausted. I couldn't maintain my focus long enough to tell Mom about what happened today. I also knew if I tried that I would completely lose it. Every few minutes I remember something about the day and start freaking out, but I'm able to calm myself down. It may take a few days to recover. I don't know whether to classify today as a success or a failure. I did many things today that I certainly would not have done a year ago, or even a few months ago. I was able to stick with something... virtually all the way through. I said "Yes" when I could easily have said "No" and spared myself the pain, and experience. I feel like crap, and probably shortened my lifespan a little more from all the stress, but any battle you can walk away from is a victory... and here I am.

Maybe today was a good day after all.

Lord Veltha's First First Friday

The soon to be infamous Lord Veltha has had a grand and eventful day indeed. And what do we do afterwards? Why, we come home and blog about it for the benefit of all those poor souls who were unable to experience our uber keenness first hand! (Where is the umlaut button on the keyboard? When I take over the world...)

First and foremost, we got out of the house and had a great conversation about things we are most passionate about... which amounts to mostly nonsense from an outside observer's perspective. I enjoy conversations with people who understand the great things about the fictional world. I like sticking to what makes sense to me. I'm uncomfortable when I feel stupid, and as an overlord it is imperative that I maintain an air of superiority. I am, as the hip kids say, "All that and a bag of chips." (When is the last time you've ever heard anyone say that? Where does crap like that come from, and more importantly where does it go? I'm sure there's a huge refuse repository devoted to defunct slang and expressions. It's probably on the internet where the rest of the trash goes (present blog excluded... and all the blogs I'm following 'cause you're all cool too, I promise.)) I think there are more promising adventures to be had on the horizon, and I am certainly looking forward to them.

I also had a conversation later about the wonders of hemp. When I take over the world I will find a way for it to be legalized. There's so much it's good for. Ethanol fuel, clothing, construction materials; and it grows like a friggin' weed, unlike trees, which grow like... trees. Besides, people don't really need and excuse to be lazy and hungry all the time as it is, so I see no harm. There was some other political banter that I have completely forgotten, and I apologize for that. I don't relate to "reality" and "important issues" as much as someone who corporeally belongs to the physical universe should. That's why I will hire people to care for me. I'm usually good at listening and either agreeing or disagreeing with what people say, but I can never for the life of me remember what we were talking about or why I agreed/disagreed in the first place. I'd make a great politician.

I also went to pretty much the best toy store ever. I want to work at Kazoodles. Since they're full up at the moment I may have to check back in after the summer when college kids go back to school. I'm so enthusiastic about their products though that I would be perfect. I love that they're trusting enough that they will allow me to ride around on one of their little wiggly scooter things... whatever they're called. They're wiggle powered! Granted, it takes more effort to power that than walking at half-speed, but that's probably because they didn't have the special attachment that allows my knees to not be in my ears. Steering will take experience.

I have also discovered that the first Friday of every month, starting this very day, is the First Friday Art Walk. Walking and art are two of my favorite things, and they have found a way to combine the two using some secret alchemical bonding process. It was also here that I used my influence as an overlord to assist in aiding a talented young singer in getting over her stage fright. I probably wasn't necessary. She had all the support in the world from her accompaniment. It was definitely something to see. Other unique attractions included witnessing my very first duprass (I may have seen several in my life time, but only now do I know the word for it. Knowing something exists makes it much easier to recognize.) and what may or may not have been a doppelganger. I have heard reports of someone toting my impressive visage, but I have been fortunate enough to have never laid eyes on my shadow-self. I've also never mistaken someone for someone else either. Then again, I'm usually too embarrassed to ask. Ha! I am embarrassed no more! Lord Veltha has complete confidence in himself (unless I'm around people who are taller, smarter, or prettier than I. Certain smartness and prettiness I can handle, but some is too much to bare. Tall people are pretty much universally uncomfortable to be around since I'm not used to having to look up at people... or even be eye level. Teachers and authority figures are an exception.)

So... that's it. It was actually a much longer and more exciting day than it sounds.

Accomplishments

• Successfully completed arranged conversation.
• Successfully completed impromptu conversation
• Rode around on awesome stuff at a toy store
• Attended super keen art walk thing
• Purchased Mother's Day gift (which I mustn't forget about.)
• Encouraged awesome musicians
• Made a stupid list of things I think I maybe accomplished in a vain attempt to make life sound more impressive

So, there's that. I had intended to attend the Portland Saturday Market water front grand opening tomorrow, but it's supposed to rain. I will not go to Portland in the rain. It'll be hard enough trying to make my way to and through the city as it is. I will not be haunted by that wet dog smell. My past is best forgotten. *Mysterious Angst* Besides, tomorrow is FREE COMIC BOOK DAY! I'm gonna get me my very own copy of Mirage Studios Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #1! It's so terrifically satirical of the comics from that period. Nothing like the campy (but still eerily wonderful) cartoon series from the 80's. Tomorrow is also the writer's mixer at Cover To Cover Books. They haven't updated their website, so I don't know what the topic will be this week. I know there's one coming up about writing compelling villains. I'm very interested in what they have to say.

I need a sandwich. I haven't eaten anything today save for a granola bar and some antacids.

Post Script: I have a hold on "How To Win Friends and Influence People" at the library, and it just came in. I should have picked it up and walked around reading it. What was I thinking?