Helo Tigers of the Sky

That might be the title for the arcade video game I dreamt of last night.

To actually dream a video game... how bizarre. And this wasn't a dream of me playing a video game, where I could see myself infront of the machine, hands on the controls going at it. No, my entire perspective was the screen: blue sky and clouds in the far background, a little gun cross-hair in the foreground, and lots of enemy helicopters in between!

I could slide left and right, hover up and down and pivot to follow my quandry. I had at my disposal a chain gun and some sort of not-to-accurate rockets that seemed to randomly veer up--no problem there, just aim low, they'll shoot high.

I remember starting the dream midway through a level. I was hovering above a sea of white of clouds with a blue sky as the only back-drop--all rendered with a mid '80s 8-bit color palette. A quick scan of the upper left-hand corner of my field of view showed four little helicopter icons: attackers that I needed to seek and destroy. Well, maybe not "seek" as I couldn't go to them really, I'd just have to wait for them to come to me.

I spotted them, all four, about a quarter mile out. I started firing my gun--too far: the bullets dropped off the screen before they even came close to the intended. I started firing my rockets--they veered up, albeit a little closer to my foe. I shifted my aim lower and fired the rockets again--bingo! One of the bogies flashed red to indicate a hit, and they broke their tightly spaced formation. I followed one, I can't remember which, as it came close, firing my rockets and adjusting aim, then going to guns in last 100 yards. It whizzed by and I pivoted on my imaginary base, hoping to put it in my sights again.

The screen started flashing red--I was being attacked from behind! I quickly rotated back to my other attackers and started firing wildly only to have them too whiz by. I had lost all four of them. I kept scanning the sky. Turning here, strafing there. I spotted one and the attack was on again. Slowly, one-by-deliberate-one, little red X's appeared over the helo icons in the upper left-hand corner of the screen. In an epic battle, with some really close calls, I emerged victorious, my foes sent down from whence they came in exploding balls of 8-bit fire.

My dream even came complete with these pre-drawn sepia montages to show my victory.

Yeah, that's entertainment!

At a later point, I was supposed embark on another mission--the next "level"--but the squadron left without me! My last, fading image of the dream was of the sun setting over the mountain-tops in the far distance, the lone, grounded helo perched on the flight deck, and up front: my dejected pilot, standing with his flight helmet in one hand, his other arm sadly hanging at his side, sorrowfully looking down at the scorched, desert ground of base camp with his long, black shadow extending towards me.

---

I also had a dream that "re-imagined" the Back to the Future movies, though, this time with a cataclysmic tsunami at the end.

A Lovely Entry

How are you doing Capt Chapman? It's been a long time, no? I just thought of you when I heard an ad spot on this on-line radio station that plays classical guitar music. The spot had a line which went, "...instead of spending time at that 'Pro Wrestling' blog you seem to be hooked on..." which got me to thinking about Hmmm-bloggy and how I haven't done anything with it lately. Then I thought that I should write something just for old time's sake, but even that didn't feel very compelling. Then I thought, "I wonder if Jason has been dutifully checking it for updates," so now, I'm not writing to my blog, I'm writing to you... though, I just thought to myself, "Wouldn't this make a lovely entry?" I think it would make a great entry!

What a coincidence!!

"How are you doing today?"

"Oh, I'm fine thanks. And you?"

"I'm doing well, thanks. And how's she doing?" I asked looking in the direction of the toddler that was sitting in the child seat of the shopping cart, her back to me as she studied the assortment of Altoids packages in front of my register.

"Yea, you got it right!" she cracked with a wry smile.

"What? That she's a girl?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I just saw the hot magenta jacket with the pink lining and kinda went from there."

"You'd be surprised then. I can dress her from head to toe in pink and people will still thinks she's a boy."

"Hmm. How old is she?" I asked and continued scanning the groceries.

"She's just over a year old."

"Oh, how was the birthday?"

"Good, she stayed awake for most of it." the mother said with a big smile breaking across her face.

"Well, that's good."

"Yeah, she didn't do to well with her big sister hitting the piñata.

"Oh, how old is her older sister?"

"She's three-and-a-half. Her and her friends started beating up the piñata... I guess it was the violence of it."

I reached into the child seat and pulled out the last grocery, a half-pint of Half-and-Half, swiped it across the scanner, and pulled the cart through and started bagging.

"Wow, that's kind of an interesting coincidence. I was just up in Sacramento visiting some friends and they have a little girl that just turned a year old, and they also have a girl who's three and a half."

"Oh, that's neat." the mom replied.

"What's your daughter's name?" I asked, waiting for the credit card transaction to complete.

"Olivia."

"No way! That's their daughter's name--the one year old is named Olivia," my grin now insupressable. I thought about that for a second and, on a whim, just threw out, "And the three and a half year old's name is Isabelle."

The mom looked a little shocked, "That's her middle name--Olivia Isabelle. Her father is from Argentina, and we looking for names that weren't very common, but that would still be easy."

"Yeah, both of their parents are Mexican too. Wow... that's cool. What a coincidence."

"It sure is," she said with a big smile, taking the cart and starting to push it towards the door. "Have a great day," she said with a little wave of her hand.

"I will, you too!"

I'm sick

Typically, about halfway through a dream as odd and long as the one I had last night, my conscious thought process recognizes that this odd contrivance of my subconscious is a result of my body having some physical ailment (i.e. When I get sick, I have really weird dreams, and I'm able to recognize that this is a "because-I'm-sick" dream, as I'm witness to the dream itself).

The dreams in and of themselves were no exception to what I've experienced in the past. From Ewan McGregor and Daniel Radcliffe (Harry of Harry Potter notoriety) in what will have to be the next Terminator movie, to Boba Fett in a weird parallel universe of Battlestar Galactica where the title of "Supreme Race" was to be decided not in ship-to-ship battle amongst Raptors and Raiders, Battlestars and Basestars, but on a basketball court with the top 5 cylon centurions going up against humanities top 5 13-and-under ball players--with a defected toaster (the metal and not the fleshy kind) in a rather hairy costume as the mascot for the humans.

Yeah, I'm definitely not feeling well right now : )

Though, there was something unique this time. At one particular moment of the Battlestar dream, I was aware at what a great job my subconscious was doing at weaving not just images and sounds together, but an actual story complete with an "Ohh, it was him!" plot twist moment when my conscious recognized that one of the characters was not just a trivial supporting role in the cast, but in fact a crucial character. I was amazed at how taken in with this particular story my conscious thought process was.

If that doesn't make sense, or you think I'm making it up somehow (and you may be right and I don't know it), my feelings won't be hurt.

I'm going to try and get some more rest now (that the gardener/lawn-mower guy has left).

In the beam

The sand underneath my feet me was bright, reflecting the light of the full moon above a cloudless night sky washed clean from the recent rains. The waves crashed, the moon-light reflecting on the the tops of the rollers, as I slowly meandered down the deserted, white beach.

The sand directly around me suddenly grew in brightness. A circle of light 30 feet across centered itself on me.

"What could it be?" I questioned, a slight sense of fear beginning to rise. No sooner had thoughts of some extraordinary celestial event begun to crystalize as my mind feaverishly went over the possible imaginative scenarios when, the light suddenly faded.

I looked up, and saw it--a red, flashing light appx 100 feet above me quickly moving inland. Then I heard it--the rapid thumping of the main rotor of a helicopter, it's sound previously masked by the rumbling ocean.

My eyes followed it as it moved over the first row of condos and houses along the beach, it's million candle spotlight shining it's beam down upon more unsuspecting people.

Misinterpreted Lyrics

Song Title

Artist

Actual lyrics

My Interpretation of the lyrics

Africa

Toto

There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do

There's nothing that a hundred men on mars could ever do

Band of Gold

Freda Payne

Since you've been gone, all that's left is a band of gold

Since you've been gone, all that's left is a bag of bones

It's official, I'M OFFICIAL!!!!

After hours of hard work, dedication, sacrifice, and a little sweat, I've been accepted into the family of Trader Joe's, Store 22 (Oceanside).

The hazing was easier than I expected (based on some of the stories I'd heard from veteran Crew Members this past week), and while being locked in the freezer for 75 minutes and being beaten 48 times with a container of Soft Spreadable Light Cream Cheese was trying, I didn't even need my suture kit!  I was actually doing OK till they gave me 23 minutes to prepare a dish from Quick Scrambled Egg Whites, Organic Vanilla Bean Yogurt, Butternut Squash, and Marinated White Salmon Fillets.  Realizing that these obviously were not the ingredients for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich I promptly got on my knees and prayed for mercy, from anybody.

     Oh, how they laughed.

Upon determing that I couldn't cry my way out of it, and that I needed a new plan of attack, I hastily prepared the only other dish I could think of.  After 12 minutes and 36 seconds of furious labor I presented Marie, Pattie, and Sue (the Demo Dames Deity) with Zach's White Salmon Fillets Casserole Omelet Surprise (an off-shoot of Zach's Famous Tuna Casserole).

     Oh, how they frowned.

I think one of them even got sick... which I couldn't concern myself with because by that time I was, once again, intently focused on a particular container of Soft Spreadable Light Cream Cheese.

In the end, my Captain and First Mate (standing by the store's Steering Wheel in a Tiki-Torch lit ceremony) welcomed me "aboard" and presented me with my name tag, and a bag of Trader Joe's Just A Handful of Roasted Unsalted Almonds (you'd think that marketing would have come up with a more "marketable" name than that, but, Oh well...).

Holy Black Balaclavas, I asked a Ninja:

Do ninjas play pro sports?

I've noticed there's a high percentage of black athletes in today's pro ranks. Are these phenomenal athletes indeed ninjas?

Thanks,
Zach
Carlsbad, CA

This was the Ninja's response:

Thanks For Asking A Ninja Re: Do ninjas play pro sports?

The Ninja will read your question carefully and then decide whether or not it's interesting and funny.

If it is, he'll answer it and look forward to killing you soon.

If it isn't, he'll still kill you, but he won't enjoy it.

Thanks again!

-Team Ask A Ninja

Dancing Queen

With a bit of rock music, everything is fine
You’re in the mood for a dance
And when you get the chance...

You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen
Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine

You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life
See that girl, watch that scene, dig in the dancing queen

Technorati/Engadget test...

Link to Engadget article regarding digital TV buyout.

Ultimately, a link to this blog, the very blog you're reading right now, should end up here... I think: Link to Engadget Link Tracker

My Messy Room

Too much stuff! I hate packing!

All I want,

is to find a coffee shop that:

• Serves great coffee- specifically a great soy, chai latte
• Is cheap
• Has a quiet, inviting atmosphere
• Isn't popular

While most shops meet the first three criteria, it's been hard so far to find one that meets all four. I imagine though that it is possible.

If this Canaan of cappuccinos, this Vanilla Latte Valhalla really were to exist, it would, of course, need some method of detracting the thronging masses bent only on fulfilling their trumped up image of the poster child for SUV drivers that necessitates a cell phone in one hand and a 24 oz., steaming hot, quadrupuly caffeinated beverage in the other. Here are two possible ideas.

An application process. At the store-front, next to the biometrically authenticating security door, would be a clip board with an application form, like the kind you find at most chain, food stores, that reads at the bottom, "Don't call us, we'll call you... maybe." At the time that an applicant is selected, they are summoned to the store, interviewed, and if approved, their biometric signature is added to the system.

The alternative is an entrance exam that might read something like: "Name the five greatest minds to have shaped our world and why you think you could take them in a bar fight, as a collective."

All this writing has made me thirsty, I'm going to Starbucks.

As a follow-up to my previous post,

Hey! Here's something really original!

I'm now the proud owner of five versions of the song, "Dragostea Din Tei" by the Romanian pop, boy-band, "O-Zone." According to my iTunes PlayCount tally, encompassing all five versions, I've listened to this song 141 times.

If you haven't seen Gary's video, follow the above link.

Oh, the woes of packing for... I don't know how long

It started out un-simply enough. Pull out all the bins that I packed when I moved from my previous domicile to my present domicile, and take inventory of what I have, what I want to keep, and what I can sell, give away and donate.

This required strewing all the contents of the bins across my room-mates den floor; fortunately he's out of town and won't be back for, let's see... appx 96 hours. I currently have

• 70 books
• 10 pairs of drumsticks, 1 pair of clave (with a clave "cozy" that my brother loving fashioned out of denim scratch) 1 egg shaker, and 1 electric, rice shaker (actually, it's not rice, nor is it electric... it's just an old joke from the Vineyard worship team)
• 3 desktop computers, 1 non-functioning laptop, 2 LCD monitors, 3 CRT monitors, appx 100 feet of cable (USB, FireWire, Ethernet, power, parallel, audio, etc)
• and 8 articles of clothing from my previous job at Modern Postcard (including the beanie, but not including the stadium blanket or hand towel)

This process is made all the more difficult because I'm about to enlist in the US Navy, and I don't know when I'll need this stuff again. The more essential items, like my iPod, iShmael, I'm sure I'll be able to have shipped to me once I get settled in at my "A" school. I also have to pack my clothes (which I'll probably have shipped to me with the iPod) with the knowledge that I'll need only certain articles to be readily available between April and June, in Charleston, South Carolina- which I assume might be a little humid, and CTT1 said that the mosquitoes sound like helicopters too (which I hope is only hyperbole) :).

I'll be talking to my recruiters this week and getting answers regarding the shipping of personal effects, my ship date, and the Charleston climate, all of which should definitely help. In the meantime, more packing, pacing, and organizing only to pull everything back out and re-organize.

Adios,
Zach