life of trevor

People who knew I was steampunk without being told: 0

People who knew what steampunk was: 1

People who understood my attempted explanations: maybe 2

People who thought I was Hellboy: 3

I wrote a post about a week ago. It then got swallowed up in the interwebs and lost forever. So this is kind of a test, I guess. If this doesn’t post, I’ll have to figure out what’s wrong.

edit: I found the other post! I had accidentally published it as a page instead of a post. If you don’t know what that means, don’t worry about it. It’s a WordPress thing. Point is, it got published as something other than a blog post. Also, it exists now: A note to candidates.

I will not vote for you because of the party affiliation listed on the ballot.

I will not vote for you because you have three kids and a dog.

I will not vote for you because you have a doctorate.

I will not vote for you because there is a picture of you standing by a flag or holding a sign saying “God Bless America” or “Support Our Troops.”

Please just tell me where you stand. An “Issues” section on your website would be an excellent way of doing that. A note on the front page saying how much you care about veterans doesn’t come anywhere near close to telling me everything I would need to know before voting for you. And no matter how much you repeat that you care about family, that won’t let me know if you share my thoughts on… well… anything, really.

Just tell me where you stand.

I just went to an opening day showing of The Happening. Why? Because I trusted M. Night Shyamalan. Notice my use of the past tense.

After the movie, I found myself sitting in the theater thinking, “What just happened?” This was probably the fourth or of fifth worst movie I’ve ever seen; keep in mind that I’ve seen some pretty terrible movies, and I have loved all of M. Night Shyamalan’s previous movies. Anyway; about what happened. I have a couple of theories. Both may be considered a bit spoilery, so go away if you care about that, and read this later, when you too are wondering how this movie ever came about. If you’re ready to see my theories, click the “read more” link, or whatever it says. [Read more →]

If you’re selling donuts on the side of the road, I recommend advertising the price. If I see boxes of donuts and signs that say that the boxes do in fact contain donuts, and other signs that say that the donuts are for a wonderful cause, but with no indication of the cost, I’m probably going to assume that the donuts are exorbitantly priced and thus drive on without giving them a second thought. Except maybe to blog about the faulty marketing being employed.

On the other, it is a pretty smart move to sell them on the route to a music festival. People going there are probably planning on getting ripped off on food anyway. And I’d say there’s a decent chance they wouldn’t mind some donuts.

Recording is one of the more frustrating tasks I have attempted in my lifetime. First, I have no confidence regarding my own work. Second, I feel like I lack the mad production skills necessary to make anything sound half decent. Third, listening to my songs repeatedly makes me think that they sound really dumb.

And when people offer affirmation, I often can’t help but think that they are lying to be nice. That’s probably not very healthy of me.

I’ve heard it said that Frank Zappa said that recording is God’s way of telling us we suck. Google tells me that it was actually Bob Brozman. Whoever that is.

I was already sad enough that I could not spend St. Patrick’s Day with my friends. I rather like this particular holiday, and I happen to have several friends who share my affinity for greenness and Celticness.

Why has my sorrow increased? Well, you may think that today is St. Patrick’s Day. It is not. St. Patrick’s Day was on the 15th this year so as to avoid conflicting with Holy Week. I did not realize this until today, and so I missed one of my favorite holidays. I will celebrate today, late though it may be. But I will still miss my friends.

Don’t you hate it when you really need to do something, but your mind won’t stop running amuck so you can just do it? I have a paper due in seven hours. I’d kind of like to sleep, too.

On July 21st, the day of my sister’s wedding, I obtained two goldfish who had acted as a centerpiece at her reception. The first, Mr. Durley, lasted only a few days. The second, The White Lady, remained a faithful companion for many months.

At about 11:00 yesterday, March 4th, she began to show signs of illness. She passed away at 1:30 pm, and the funeral was held later that night. Matthew said some stuff, which was affirmed by Charlie and me.

Matthew suggested that I leave her bowl in its place for a few days as a temporary memorial. I keep going up to it to say hi to The White Lady. But she isn’t there.

If you should ever wish to make me feel like a complete fool, it is a rather simple undertaking. First, ask me to research a specific topic. Once that is accomplished, have me stand in front of a moderately-sized group of people. Finally, require that I disclose the fruits of my research to the aforementioned group of people. This method will succeed without fail.