The last few weeks have seen some major changes:
I went to advanced officer training last week. In past years, AO has stunk like BO. This year was a vast improvement, with useful classes taught well.
I did very well in FATS (FireArms Training Simulation). I found it interesting that I was among the best at it; not the shooting, necessarily, though I did well enough at that. No, I was able to regurgitate, with a greater degree of detail than anyone else in the squad, exactly what had gone on in each scenario. I'm not sure why. It certainly isn't being more used to computer screens and the like, as many of the squad were in their twenties, and surely played more games than I. It might have been the roleplaying games, or the fiction writing, or it might simply be the ADD that shoves part of my brain into record mode as I game everything out in my head; one part interacting with folks, another analyzing their responses and attempting to predict and push toward the desired outcome. As I write this, I think it must be the ADD.
The week of AO ended on Thursday, beginning my vacation. Plans for said vacation include: playing some Star Wars Old Republic, some roleplaying, and generally goofin' off.
My writing is no longer represented. Things just turned out that way. My agent was unable to represent me in the way we both wanted. I say that without rancor or upset. I am saddened, but look forward to the future. So much so that I sent The Last Captain off to Baen books on Friday night. Work on the Fantasy project continues apace, and I think I am doing well at it. As in all things, we shall see.
Today was the first of the scrimmages that precede the regular season for the coed adult soccer league the Coolness and I are in. I made sure not to over do it and end up with another brutal hamstring tear like last year. As it is I played half the game and did well enough, pulling some pretty saves. I need to work on my punts and goal kicks, however. I shanked quite a few off course. Isabelle sat behind me in goal and gave encouragement, even when I blew it. The Coolness had a good game as well, though both of us need some serious conditioning.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
Last night I was on the couch writing while my daughter watched ye olde Charlie's Angels. Now, she has watched a bit of TV over her eight years, and she reads a great deal, so I do expect her to occasionally see where simple plots are headed. What happened last night was a bit different, and rather stunning.
The scene had the Angels are chasing a hood on foot. The bad boy with large perm runs up to a bike stand and steals a bicycle, Angels and Boz in close pursuit.
"Watch," my daughters says, "There'll be just enough bikes for all of them."
Sure enough, there were four bikes remaining for the Angels and The Boz to mount.
Now I know the writers for Charlie's Angels weren't writing high drama, and there were a lot of bouncing boobs and short shorts to conceal plot holes a grown-up man (oxymoron, anyone?) might fall for, but still!
She's only eight, and picked it up so fast and uttered her observation so easily I barely heard her.
I despair of when she's old enough to read my profanity-riddled work and tells me, with a roll of her eyes, "Dad, did you have to? It was soooo obvious where you were going with that!"