Just a quick note to thank Mark Diehr/Basilisk of diehrstraits.com for helping me set up the MTG card tags! The dude is awesome.
I’ll go back through my older posts to add card tags when I can, and of course, I still have more stuff to write about from GP Manila, on a positive note, too. I don’t want to go finishing that one on a down note now, do I?
This post and the comments have been removed at Manaleak TCG Worcester’s request, as stuff has quite the flow-on effect, when you’re not looking.
As I waited on the 2nd floor for the elevator to the 6th floor, three people came along, one saying something to the others along the lines of “we need the student centre on the 3rd floor,” and pressing the already illuminated UP button. Once in the elevator, this person whacked the panel in the vicinity of the 3 button, but failed to actually connect, so it didn’t illuminate like the 6 had for me, and the 4 had for someone else. The doors opened on the 4th floor, and they all filed out without appearing to notice they were on the wrong floor.
Maybe I should have said something, but then again, maybe they should have taken the single flight of stairs up to the student centre in the first place.
And considering my neck is an integral part of me, I find its actions questionable, if not suicidal. I guess I slept funny last night, but I’m not laughing, so I don’t see what’s funny about it, either. I assume my neck would laugh, the traitorous bastard, if it had a mouth to go with its voice box, but that’s solely the property of my face, and that’s fine and seems to be on my side. I’m pretty sure this train of thought has been derailed now, and is about to crash and burn, which is coincidently, very much like the sensation I’m feeling in my neck.
I have to assume that the number of people who know this exists is the bare minimum, and those who check to see if I’ve bothered to kick it off are even less than that. That I haven’t, until now, isn’t due to laziness, although I can be pretty lazy at times, it’s because I had Grand Plans on how to what my first post would be.
However, the Perfect First Post is an illusive creature. No matter how close I come to finishing it, I can always, in theory, make it better. In wanting it to be the Perfect First Post, I inadvertently threw myself into a creative loop, never finishing it because I felt I couldn’t quite find that perfection.
So this is me, Breaking the Loop. Now that it is Broken, I can get on with posting the odd thoughts and fancies that cross my path from day to day, or tell stories about the things I do, and eventually, posting my Perfect First Post in its imperfect form, which will be fine, because by then, it’ll be just be another post.