tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39972086179391845992012-02-16T06:51:54.588-07:00Mychalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15456485630321842024noreply@blogger.comBlogger91100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3997208617939184599.post-66057671931078140662011-05-09T22:01:00.003-06:002011-05-09T22:42:08.784-06:00

I'm wrapped up in a couple of TV shows on Monday nights. I don't tend to watch a lot of live TV, since I prefer seeing a lot of episodes back-to-back, but there are two shows that have really captured my attention. If only there were something good to watch in between them, but no one puts a good show on at 8 o'clock on Mondays. (Darn you, Dancing with the Stars!)First, at 7 pm on NBC, we have

Mychalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15456485630321842024noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3997208617939184599.post-32488312545898695172011-05-02T23:11:00.003-06:002011-05-02T23:46:12.517-06:00

Last night, my wife logged onto Facebook and read that Osama Bin Ladin had been killed as a result of a military action by the U.S. in Pakistan. The news has been saying that this is day we'll remember forever, like where we were when we heard about the planes hitting the towers almost 10 years ago. But is this something I want to remember?Bin Laden lived a violent life, and his actions led to

Mychalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15456485630321842024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3997208617939184599.post-70096857615271088442011-02-14T04:06:00.003-07:002011-02-14T05:33:01.815-07:00

Alright, so this is not the typical rant about the over commercialization of Valentine's Day that everyone seems to write this time of year. I am one of the few people I know who actually truly loves this holiday. And not just because it's fun to get a card from every girl in your class just because they have to, or because I love crappy candy hearts. It's also not because I'm married and no

Mychalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15456485630321842024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3997208617939184599.post-85237997178271399022011-01-23T11:41:00.002-07:002011-01-23T12:31:14.743-07:00

Video games are a huge part of my life. They have been since I was 7, and a NES system entered our house with a cartridge of Super Mario 3. I'd played Mario games before but this was the first one that I had access to in my own house. That was when the addiction started. This may be the reason why the list of systems that were in my own house reads like a Nintendo's greatest hits roster,

Mychalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15456485630321842024noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3997208617939184599.post-41752564547385204742011-01-09T11:46:00.002-07:002011-01-09T12:06:31.971-07:00

Don't get me wrong. I love weekends. I just subscribe to the version of weekends I had when I was a kid:" Get as much playtime in as you can until you have to go back to school on Monday." Now I am an adult, and weekends are supposed to mean "Get as much stuff done you couldn't do during the week before you have to go back to work on Monday." The difference is striking, and now, more than ever, I

Mychalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15456485630321842024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3997208617939184599.post-35472813907932641862011-01-09T08:24:00.001-07:002011-07-06T16:46:29.988-06:00

I awoke this morning and decided to write. So I went to my computer, surfed a little, then finally shut down Facebook and opened Google Docs. I went to my novel from NaNoWriMo that I hadn't opened since the beginning of November, and re-read it. I didn't like half of it. Now, instead of bothering to change it, I decided to keep trudging on, and go back to fix it later. Then I tried to start the

Mychalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15456485630321842024noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3997208617939184599.post-60264095340462141222011-01-02T11:24:00.004-07:002011-01-02T11:56:45.306-07:00

Twas the day after New Year's and all through the house,not a person was stirring, not even a mouse.The bottles were strewn on the floor without carein the hopes that soon sober people would clean up there. I've never under stood the tradition of staying up as late as possible to greet the new year, so that we can start it off with a riotous party and then collapse in to a coma. We torture our

Mychalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15456485630321842024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3997208617939184599.post-49542036108543628382008-12-01T23:33:00.004-07:002008-12-01T23:51:25.738-07:00

Has anyone ever read one of those stories that has a sad ending before? You know, the bad guy wins, or the girl ends up with the wrong guy? You know, the ones that work out a little closer to real life.I have a new respect for stories in which the people get what they want, and not what they need. Joss Whedon's Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, for instance. (Okay, I'm a bit of a sci-fi fanboy.)

Mychalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15456485630321842024noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3997208617939184599.post-46744057242893448462008-11-23T22:04:00.003-07:002008-11-23T22:28:41.200-07:00

I recently read a book entitled Extras, by Scott Westerfield. The premise behind the story is a fictional city where the economy is based on fame. Those who are famous receive all of their needs and wants for free. Those who are not must work for their living. So, in order to raise fame, they post articles to their feeds (or blogs), in order to receive pings (or hits) to raise their fame.Anyway,

Mychalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15456485630321842024noreply@blogger.com0