[Hania's Scrapbook] The Speakeasy

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The player scrapbooks forum is literally a place for writers to warm-up, brainstorm, keep little scraps of notes, or just post things to encourage themselves and each other. Each player can feel free to create their own thread - one per account - and use them accordingly.

[Hania's Scrapbook] The Speakeasy

Postby Hania on August 28th, 2010, 7:10 am

Barback's Log; Stardate 312344.9353
Acting Barback: This Joe, right here

Month and a half of working doubles with no days off and I still haven't found my breaking point. The staff at both jobs are beginning to think I don't have one; but I know the secret. All you have to do is enjoy the tiny moments.

Like the other night, it was about 1:30am and the bar was just about closed. I'm doing the usual rounds when I see this older couple sitting in the corner, and realize they'd been there all night. I walk over to let them know it's last call but they've been nursing the same beer and glass of wine for three hours. Somehow, I don't really know how, we got to talking. Nothing complicated, nothing political, or deep...but just...simple talk. A lot of people don't know what simple talk is and I guess you kinda have to be brought up around "Roots" to really get it.

I'm an eastern shore boy, my super great grand parents were some of the few that tried to settle Assateague, and their kids owned a farm. They used to take all the crop up and down the east coast in sloops, they actually named a place "Watermelon Hill" after one of my family members because he always had two full boats of watermelon. Then my grandfather was Frank Perdue's right hand man. Yep, the Frank Perdue of Perdue chicken, so he was around the farms a LOT. That means my mom was too. Anyway, all that boils down to the fact that I picked up more than a fair share of redneckness. (Seriously, guys, you HAVE to try cow-tipping just once).

Anyway I fell into conversation with these two elderly people and you know what? I had a damn good time. The man was at the third baseball world series! The THIRD one. And she was a flapper on the military bases in WWII, one of those real classy pin-up type girls in her prime. I looked at them when they were laughing between themselves. He still had a full head of hair, mostly black with stripes of gray. His knuckles were swollen and callused, and his fingers were stained with engine grease. But he took a lot of pride in how he dressed, banana republic clothes, and the jewelry he wore sparkled like he'd just polished it. She was obviously past that glitzy prime she adored in her past. Her hair was thinning, and she took great pains to try and conceal that fact. Indents in the bridge of her nose told of glasses she'd left at home so they wouldn't take away from her looks any more. Denchers as well, she probably smoked when she was younger; a glance at the two yellower spots on her first and second finger confirm that.

They really and truly enjoyed each others company which is something you don't see too often these days. I found them fun and fascinating to listen to, they had so many stories. Lol, I probably looked like a little five year old kid with big goopy brown eyes and that enthralled look on my face. I wound up driving them back to their apartment so they didn't have to drive at night. In return they promised they'd come have breakfast at my other job, we talked then too. But on the way back I played my 40's swing music I love so much. They had so much fun singing and rocking in the back seat of my car. It was great to find something a guy my age and people their age could both connect to. Of course old blue eyes was everyone's favorite, but who doesn't like him anyway?

I dunno. Maybe I don't have a breaking point like everyone says. But you know what? Enjoy the tiniest moments in your life and you'll never break down. Enjoy the sunset, or laugh at the way the dumb ass seagulls fight over a crab; that's trying to pinch the shit out of everything that touches it.

You get out, what you put into life. Go 100% all of the time and you'll get it all back, I can vouch for that.
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[Hania's Scrapbook] The Speakeasy

Postby Hania on October 2nd, 2010, 6:45 pm

I wake up, make one cup of tea and put it in the fridge.
Walk to work, clock in
Work in 105 degrees F from 7 to 3
Clock out, walk home
Sleep for forty minutes, get a three minute shower
Walk to work, clock in
Work from 5 to 3am bar tending/food running up and down two sets of 20 stairs every five minutes for my entire shift.
Grab some food (Fish) if I can
Clock out, walk home
Drink my tea and try to shake off the second wind I get around 1:20 am so I can sleep.
Sleep for 2-4 hours baring bad dreams and not being able to sleep at all


I wake up, and repeat.


Seriously...I'm getting tired of not having time to do anything. I've gone a few days on zero sleep just so I could do laundry. Food is...omg, food sounds so good e_e Thank god my morning job has me on call today so I might be able to get some rack and a little food. This feels like survival and not just having two jobs, which bothers me becuase it's addicting. Going from one rush to another, catching that third or fourth energy burst in one day...damn it's addicting. It's like a tribal bonding thing when you get to work and look at the people you work with who are going through the same thing and you don't even have to say anything, becuase they know how rough it is.

"Dude..."
"Yeah...."
"I think I got an hour of sleep."
"....I dunno man, I think it would have been easier if I didn't sleep at all."
"This sucks."
"Yup. Ready to do this?"
"Hell yes!"

It's hard to cook and keep a whole kitchen running on two hours of sleep but the adrenaline and the challenge...all that information coming at you at once and having to sort it out and give orders and directions....it's like a high you'll never get bored of. I love it, but I miss not being able to write of all the things I don't do anymore. Yep, miss it even more than playing video games.

Luckily!!!! My second job got busted in a sting operation for serving alcohol to minors. It was all one waitresses fault, and just becuase she was lazy, but it's still happening. They lost their liquor license for 60 days which put them out of the three busiest weeks in this season. They might not even make it through the winter.

I've been tossing the idea of quitting around in my head...get out now before they ask me to work pro-bono. It'd free up my nights for a little bit again, but I'd be quitting. I've never quit out early on a single thing in my life. The idea of it just makes my insides crawl. Either way I'll know by the end of the day today if I'm sticking around or not.

And either way I'm getting back into writing. It's time, gotta have a hobby and a way to forget about all this stress for a few hours a day. I'm writing again Mizahar. (Finally)
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[Hania's Scrapbook] The Speakeasy

Postby Kelpie on October 2nd, 2010, 11:20 pm

Image

The black one is me, the white one is you.

Come back to me pls. :(
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[Hania's Scrapbook] The Speakeasy

Postby Rage on October 3rd, 2010, 12:04 am

WOOT!

Myrian's writing again!!!

...why am I still on this account?

Notice: I will not be available for modding in the foreseeable future until I've cleared up my backlog of Miz stuff (PC and ST-wise). Hopefully, it's a temporary thing, but we'll see. I will still grade your threads, however.
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[Hania's Scrapbook] The Speakeasy

Postby Hania on October 4th, 2010, 5:32 am

Well, reading through all of the character interviews, the blogs and scrapbooks about everyone's PC's it kinda made me miss the characters I left back at the old boards I used to rp on. I think Chairman's own muse post pushed me over the edge though and now I have to try and sum up the boys; if only for my own amusement.

Forward: This is going to take up some space so it's not for those who get bored easily, or don't have time. Maybe you should break it up into bits if you do find this walk down memory lane worth your time.


The Psycho Frak Kitten



Kavi Riggers :
You know, there are characters that you create and you like, or some you love, maybe even a few you hate; but Kavi was one character that took the next step beyond just being a character. When it came time to write a post for him I could just close my eyes, slip into his little corner of my brain and POOF everything I wrote was pure Kavi. And yes, I'm using his name as a verb because Kavi is....Kavi.

I wanted a challenge, and at the time I hadn't quite bottled up all of the bad things in my life, so I let my mind rot and decay for a few days. From the tepid filth I managed to cook up came Riggers. He lived on a casino satellite called "The Wheel" with his parents. Had everything been normal Kavi would have become a brilliant space ship architect and engineer, worthy of the Grand Imperial Navy's lead space flight research position. However, his mother was vile in her liberal abuse of the child she never wanted. His father wasn't any better either, a lawyer for the criminally charged, he was hardly home and left all matters of how Kavi was to be brought up to his wife regardless of what effects they had mentally, or physically. Butchered....doesn't seem to be the right word for what the Kitten did to his mother when he finally had enough of her torturing him. His father had him institutionalized the very same day, at age 14, until he became an adult at 18. Four years of unexplained "freak" accidents befell the inmates of psych ward 1126 and the mortality rate climbed to an astounding 46% for killing, it seemed, had become as necessary as breathing for Kavi.

After being let out with a "full recovery" the horrifically genius psychopath played things low key for a while by using his inexplicable talents of control in the gambling industry, where he built up a small mountain of credits. Money wasn't enough, Kavi wanted power. He tracked down the Sith, evil jedi types, and started his tutelage under Leliel who couldn't have been a better match (or a better cohort in our little games of debauchery and silly rp). Extensive training in Force control yielded a Sith that was something to be feared by every living thing. I'm proud to say that Kavi was a complete nightmare in every sense of the word. He could do all the cool things like choke dudes, and lift ten speeder bikes in the air and juggle them about. But he was also adept in mind control, and Sith alchemy which is severely frowned upon even among the sith. He had all kinds of disgusting little critters running around. His training with Leliel also carved away almost every shred of his sanity, and flesh that was replaced with bionic implants or areas that were held together with the dark side of the Force.

People can always say that their toon was bad ass or how uber leet they were and that's cool. But I would like to see anyone match some of the feats Kavi accomplished. Or produce a believable level of insanity that made even the most seasoned RPers question my own mental stability. It's strange to take pride in Kavi because he was such a twisted, sick, individual and there were players who didn't even read his threads; much less write a thread with him. Kavi was a full bodied character with enormous wit and cleverness mixed with just the right amount of luxurious flair to be attractive, but also very easy to hate because of his evilness. There were threads I put him in just for the sake of having him be evil to someone else. And you know the strangest part? I've never had more FUN writing a character than I did my insane Kavi.


The Over Sexed Soldier Boy

D'Kor :
Aka- Dbo, Soldier Boy, Blondie, Dee, Kor, Korbert, Hey You, DK, Korkie, Stud Muffin (people seriously refereed to him that way)

Oh I had big plans for Dbo. BIG plans. D'Kor was one character I let be controlled by the free flow that is forum based RP. Originally I had plans for him to be a Jedi, but after allowing him (the character) to walk his own way, it turned out he was only force sensitive and not able to actually do anything more than get "A bad feeling" about things. There is a huge history with this character and I'm not even going to attempt to put an abbreviated version in here becuase not only would it not do him justice, I don't know if I want to. Kor has been my longest running character and was conceived via part of my personality. Actually everything about him is composed of little bits of me so it's kind of like sharing your kid with other parents ya know?

D'Kor is like a good ol' boy. He's loud, obnoxious, vulgar, funny, violent...a red neck with a cute face. If it got him high, drunk, went fast, had breastisies, or fired some kind of lethal projectile he was on it. He wasn't the smartest guy on the block but he was charming if that makes up for it. I also built a huge character flaw into him that gave him a small complex, and made him try to prove he wasn't stupid every chance he got. It made for really interesting situations. I even went the extra distance and researched all the bocci from the Star Wars universe I could just to use his bi-lingual talent in threads. It was so fun to watch him approach any given situation because sometimes he'd save the day. Other times he'd shoot a kid in the face, or he'd try to save the day-give up-and go find a beer and some one night stand. There was no pattern of what he'd do, or any set morals with him. It was complete freedom to write for Blondy. I could talk for hours about the Studdly and only get past the surface. I guess that's what writing one character for 5+ years will get ya.


I have more boys that still hold some form of residency in my head but I'm not going to take up more space with them here. I mean if you ask, sure, I'd love to talk about them :D But these two are my most developed. There's the ever drunk ex-cop turned Jedi. The whiney cry baby, fashion forward, french vampire emo guy. The asian party boy space pilot. The classic secret viking prince of a lost race that's an indentured servant for a pain in the ass baron. Anyone else?......I think that's most of them....The good one's anyway.

Wow. That was way too much. I'll go through and clean this up later. Oh, and you guys rock hardcore for the pics and making me laugh.
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[Hania's Scrapbook] The Speakeasy

Postby Hania on November 10th, 2010, 12:12 am

I'm a big fan of anything "EPIC" and "O-M-G that's so AWESOME". This is one of those moments.

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[Hania's Scrapbook] The Speakeasy

Postby Hania on November 18th, 2010, 6:21 pm

It’s not about the label you get branded with. Or the mystique of what you’re doing, it’s not even about the attention. It’s a singular sport with three variables that will, always, stay constant.

The board.
You.
And the Ocean.

When I started surfing there was the atmosphere you want to have out in the water. The tribal mentality any respectful surfer adopts is a unified way of life that would reshape the world. If you get up on the wave, and there’s another rider up as well, you have to take a stand and control the wave or you lose the whole thing; you have to kick that other person off of your wave. But it’s nothing to get mad about, because someone is going to want a wave more than you eventually and you’ll get knocked off. It’s not about the other surfers either. In the end it’s always you, the board, and the ocean. I might not ride the surfboard anymore, but I body board religiously and at the core it's all the same which is what counts for me.

It’s such a surreal experience your first time fully standing on a wave, it’s like the best drug in the world. You, a dinky little bipedal sack of water logged meat, is standing, RIDING, a force of nature that has been crashing onto the very beach you walked across for hundreds of thousands of years. On some primal level your brain understands that you’ve just tamed something uncontrollable. But it’s not about that; and should never be about that.

Standing up on your board…..I…it’s amazing. It’s beyond accurate description. I can only liken it to what a friend of mine told me. “It’s like when I had my little girl. When I had her in my hands for the first time, and I realized that I made this new life and it was going to grow up and live autonomously someday.” I take his word for it. The only down side is when you get out of the water on that first day, because you’ll never get that same high back. Surfing is the search for that single, momentary, high you felt on your first wave. It’s a constant search for the thing you both gained and lost in the span of about forty seconds.

Some people realize they’ll never get the high again so they reshape the meaning of surfing. For some it’s the adrenaline of big waves, shallow breaks, and fame. For others it’s about getting away from the world. Honestly surfing is different for every person that rides the waves.

The best advice I can give to anyone who’s going to try, or wants to try surfing? Go once. Just for the day and never surf again. It’s an instant addiction to something so primal and invigorating that even I can’t quit. I’ll ride waves until the day I die. On that first day remember the board under your feet. That gritty feeling of sand rubbed into the tiny chunks of wax spread across the surface of the board. The way your ankles twitch fractions of an inch to balance you out. Remember the sun lighting the way for you to glide down blue glass. Remember how you couldn’t breathe, and your brain forgot you needed to. Memorize the feeling of knowing you just stood up on a board, on a wave. The ocean below you that still holds more mysteries than space. The way the white water crashed on the tail of your board, threatening to tip you over, and the way the little droplets formed small pools around your feet, and then slid back to where they came from. The smell of salt water, and the sounds around you.

Surfing is about finding yourself and losing yourself. It’s about realizing part of your person you never knew before. It’s about being there, in that moment, alone; just you, the board, and the ocean. You’re in another element, literally, you’re existing in liquid. It’s about having fun and letting the rest of the problems in the world dissolve like the best meditative trance possible. Find yourself, and lose yourself.

White froth
Cerulean blue
Almond eye
Perfection on Earth

Honest to goodness it’s the absolute ultimate.
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[Hania's Scrapbook] The Speakeasy

Postby Hania on November 18th, 2010, 10:46 pm

Sometimes you just

And then you just wanna

But in the end all you can do is wonder,

If I melt dry ice can I swim without getting wet?
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[Hania's Scrapbook] The Speakeasy

Postby Hania on December 5th, 2010, 7:59 am

What would things be like if all people did the just thing? The right thing? What would it feel like if human nature was something else entirely? What if...we worked on the barter system? I'll build you a walk in closet if you adjust my books. The answer? Living a fair and just life with a barter system can only feel like living a fair and just life with a barter system. The truth is we will never know becuase our lives are lived by way of life as we know it. Too many repeating words in the answer?

You can't know what it would be like to experience something if you haven't already done it before. Dying by drowning can only feel like drowning. Even though our experiences as individuals don't amount to much in the grand scheme of things they are still unique because we each experience reality differently. The events in our unique lives are our greatest accessory.

Once while talking to someone in conversation they commented how much they would like a world where there were no psychos, serial killers, or Mansons. I continued the conversation and then reflected on what they said later. How childish of them, and me, and you to wish such silly things. My mother argues that you should never let your inner child die and I have to say that I probably will never get past acting like I'm 18 or 20. Christ, the word penis still makes me giggle every time I hear it. But that does not change the fact that such daydreams are frivolous.

Do not make excuses. Suck in your gut, bolster your courage, and preform the beheading well. The actual words are a variation from the book Hagukure, but the message still remains. In this age where men have forgotten their courage and make a slippery mind and silver tongue their tools we have forgotten how to simply walk forward into whatever faces us. I theorize that if you treat life like you would revenge, except without the rage and hate, you will do well. Revenge is in the act of dying, not completing your goal. To simply stand at one end of your obstacle and cut your way to the other until you are brought down is how it should be done; not considering how many challenges are in your way or how to actually accomplish your quest. Such principles should be one of the pillars we all support ourselves with. When the light turns green just go. It doesn't matter if you get where you're going as long as keep trying to reach that goal.

Life is sideways and righteousness should not always be your goal. Often enough the best intentions (righteousness) lead a person straight to hell. Study, talk, and listen to the old stories and old folk, for there is where your discrimination's are peeled away. Once you are able to let your fear and worry go, along with presumptions and discrimination, you can be sure the choices you make are justified as much as they are true to yourself.

Do not remove those thoughts of a utopia, or even that rare perfect day we all desire. Those things are what drive us to do our jobs, and better ourselves. But school your thoughts into resolve and you will not think of straying from your mark. Use everything at your fingertips and minds reach as a tool to keep going and fight for yours. Letting your wishes become too ingrained in your life will focus your sight on just how opposite this world is from what you desire. More importantly you will also stray from hitting your mark. Enjoy your moment of bliss and appreciation of what you think things might be like and then come back to reality with the desire to take a step forward, even if it's just an inch in that direction.

One of my uncles knew these lessons well and I wish I had the chance to talk to him now that I am learning but the wasting took him. I miss what could have been enlightenment and a connection to another that only those who live in The Way can experience. He was such noir hero that it is a shame for everyone who knew him, and could have known him, to be without now.

"The noir hero is a knight in blood caked armor. He's dirty and he does his best to deny the fact that he's a hero the whole time."- Frank Miller

Though I wish that I had the time to talk to him more and more as days go by I relish the thoughts of what it might have been like. When I am done thinking and come back to my tea, or whatever I'm doing, I'm filled with a resolve to learn what he learned and to realize what he did; so I can last long enough to pass the lessons along to the person who asks me about them.

This is one of the rare times that I feel I have managed to get my point across. So, I leave you with this,

"Fear profits a man nothing. Charge headlong with freedom in your heart and a flash of lightning in your eye; like a tiger crashing down the mountain."
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[Hania's Scrapbook] The Speakeasy

Postby Hania on December 25th, 2010, 4:52 am

I hate the holidays. Can’t stand ‘em. They’re boring and dull, empty and just memories I don’t want to bring up. I don’t have family to go see, I don’t have a bunch of friends to spend time with. Sure there’s a handful of people I usually run around with but it’s hard for them to include me in everything they do; and I understand that. They have families of their own and marriages, kids..seesh. It’s easy to see they want to let go and be kids again, do stupid things like I do just for a laugh but they can’t. So when I’m around them they force conversation to keep things moving and try to hide the fact it’s uncomfortable finding new ways to keep me in the loop.

I like rowdy crowds, hard people, and tough knocks. It’s just my kinda atmosphere ya know? Viking type campfires and nights out on the town. That’s what the local boys are all about. There’s maybe 15 of us or there about, ranging from 17-65 years old. We don’t have family, or easily reachable, relatives to spend the holidays with. We’re no good XD, even Old Frebb isn’t worth a plugged nickel but no one’s living in denial about it. It’s a close knit group like a bunch of orphans with no real responsible supervision. I mean last summer, D-Train and Johnny Maddox streaked 400 yards of boardwalk with cops in full pursuit on one of the busiest days of the year. They ran all the way from Harborwatch to the downtown pier and jumped off the end. Me and Big Jay were waiting with jet-skis to drive over to Assateague Island. God was that an epic day!

Last night Duce called a few of us up because Old Frebb was drunk again and fighting with a tree, in the snow, in his boxers. It took five of us to calm him down enough to get him back to Tommy Gun’s place. We ended up tossing all the mattresses outside and diving out of the second story window to see who could bounce the highest. Bald Rob let us hook a 9v transformer up to his nipple rings to see if he would jump, all on a five dollar bet. And you know….I do plenty of stupid things too. Like trying to catch a potato shot out of a muffler. But that’s what I mean, we’re no good. Every one of us is walking the line of hard edged and hired muscle for whoever needs it. No one has a good paying job, lives really aren’t going anywhere and somehow it’s not our fault. Either we’re waiting on someone else to do something or it’s just not in our hands anymore. Like Big Jay, he was two weeks away from being a certified EMT and then his gallbladder went BOOM, and now he’s still paying off the medical bills but doesn’t have enough to finish college. That was five years ago.

Well, anyway, Boomer and I wanted to do something special for the boys this year. We talked their bosses into letting them have three weeks off from work and we got permission to dip into the Local’s fund to buy them all plane tickets home. So they’re all gone and having a great time, and I’m glad for ‘em because even the devil agrees they need a break. The other friends I was talking about haven’t mentioned anything about getting together for the holidays at all, and I ain’t about to impose. That leaves me here, Christmas to New Years and a week after, with nothing to do and no one to do it. Been a week already. Think I must have just aimlessly wandered around my place 12 times today trying to find something to do to keep my mind occupied.

Finished the rubix last week. Blew through the Sudoku books already. Repaired the radio, vent ducts, re-shingled the roof, put in new plumbing, laid tile in Aunt Fran’s house for her Christmas present (She’s not really my Aunt). The only thing I haven’t done is drain the bottle of Sailor Jerry’s, and I can’t do that because I spent all my money on Christmas presents, then shipping them out, and I have to pay bills and finish up this tattoo before I spend more money. I hate Christmas and the holidays. All they do is remind me of the things I've lost and the things I don't have, I go down those roads enough, don't need to go down them anymore. Just had to say that.

Bafrakin’humbug.
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