I like Warhammer.
I like 40k, and I think I could even learn to love Age of Sigmar.
I like the hobby. I like the interactions you can have with other people. I like everything about it.
The thing I hate? I hate how that no one will play.
I feel like I'm 8 years old again walking around the house asking everyone if they want to play a game with me and no one ever saying that they do. I feel like those days when I was done with homework and wanting to play with a friend or a neighbor or do anything other than sit at home and the only response that I got back was that everyone else was busy, and that no one wanted to be with me.
It's a two person game. All I need is one, just one, other person that would be willing to say, 'you know what? Sure, I'll give it a shot' and then playing with me. That's it. Just one person. I'm not asking for a D&D group. I'm not asking for a sports team. I'm asking for one other person that shares the hobby with me and is able to fairly regularly open up a night of their schedule and say that they want to play the game with me. It's really not that complicated, and yet for some reason I can't make it happen.
There was a commentary a while ago that I watched talking about how that because there was a community or at least a sense of community where a person was they were able to quickly paint and model and get things out because they wanted to play. They wanted to get out there, and they wanted to have fun with their frinds. I'm experencing the exact opposite of that. I want to play. I want to model. I want to paint. I want to make it a good hobby, but no one is out there playing, and I feel like the entry into other groups or circles that are hardcore about this are a little TOO crazy for me. I can't find someone in my circle, in my life position that doesn't have 100 hours a week to work on things, that doesn't smell like week old doritos, to grow with this.
What I would love is to have a friend where we could grow together in this game. Start out with small games, grow up to larger games. Become comfortable with the games and learn all of the nuances. Instead of that, I'm faced with people that have been doing this for years and their only goal is to get things on the table and wreck face. They don't slow down, they don't help me understand anything, and I feel like I'm getting left in the dust. It's a stupid rant, don't mind me. I'll still paint. I just have no clue when the next time it is that I'm going to be able to field anything.
In a side note - if anyone wants to buy me anything for anything, Chaos Demons (anything that's Tzeentch) is what I've got my eyes on for much further down the road. I still have to finish up painting all of my chaos (which is coming along, my maulerfiend is almost finished, then I'll only have a handful of models that I need to work on from there to be done) then I have to try and tackle two full MASSIVE fantasy armies.
Jul 10, 2016
I Waited - My American Life
http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/134/we-didnt
This was partially for the blog, partially for something else with work, but I decided that it fit well in both places, so here's a short story called I Waited.
This was partially for the blog, partially for something else with work, but I decided that it fit well in both places, so here's a short story called I Waited.
I Waited
I waited on my twelfth birthday,
for someone to tell me that I was actually a super hero. I knew that there was
something different with me, and I knew that they had to know what it was. I
wanted them to tell me just what my super power was going to be now that I was
going into puberty, and I couldn’t wait to keep the family secret. I didn’t
care about the cake, the ice cream, or anything else that was wrapped in paper
and given to me, I was looking forward to my grandma’s traditional birthday
card to have something more than $20 in it, so that I could finally be the
super hero that I knew I was.
I waited until the last minute of
my sixteenth birthday for my family to tell me that I was adopted. I knew that
I was. They didn’t have to tell me. I wanted to have them finally admit to the
truth. There were never pictures of my mom pregnant before I was around, there
were no baby pictures of me until a few weeks old, and despite what everyone
said about how I looked like my dad having brown hair and brown eyes wasn’t a
family trait, that’s just called looking average. I knew that there was
something different about me when my entire family loved music but I could
hardly carry a tune. I knew that I was something different because whenever I
looked at family pictures I never felt like I looked like everyone else around
me, but at the same time there were old yearbooks that I thumbed through that
had pictures of people that looked more like my relatives than my actual
relatives. I waited for someone to finally admit to the truth about who I was.
I waited before and after
graduation for someone to finally let me in on the family secret. Dad changed
his name when he was in college, and he never told anyone why. I knew that once
I finished high school that I would finally be old enough in their eyes to be
told. I stayed in my bedroom that night, instead of out with my friends,
because I was certain that someone was going to come into my room and tell me
the secret.
I waited for someone to tell me
which college I should go to. I got accepted to a few different ones, but I
didn’t know which one to pick. I knew that my advisor had a favorite, but he
never actually told me which one I should go to. My parents were even less
helpful and I tried to get them to put in their opinion but they said that it
was my choice. I waited past three admission deadlines and was stuck with plan
D.
I waited in college for her to call
back. I even had her number. She was going to be the one. She made me feel like
no one else ever could. She made me feel like just possibly, somewhere in my
bones was the person that could make dreams come true. She made it feel like I
could touch the tops of trees and float through clouds, but she said that she
would call me, and so I waited. I waited until I heard from one of my roommates
that she was engaged to someone else.
I waited for a response from my
interview at my dream job. They were the company I was going to work for. They
were the only thing that I wanted to be with for the years that I planned it
out. That company was where I was going to be, and I knew that after one
interview they would see what I had and call me back. I waited for their
response. I only slept three hours a night for a week because I was afraid that
if I fell asleep that I would miss their call welcoming me in to their fold,
where I knew that I would belong and could finally make a difference in my
world. I waited because I knew that if I got that job, I could finally be
different. I could finally do all of the things that I had dreamed of doing.
I waited to ask her to marry me;
she said it was too little too late. I wanted to make sure that I was ready and
that I could support her and we could have a family together. I wanted everyone
to be happy, and she didn’t like that I wanted to provide that for her.
I waited to start my family. I
couldn’t have a kid while still in a graduate program. Then I couldn’t have a
kid while interning. I couldn’t have a kid while in my first year at the
company. I certainly couldn’t have a kid while working on the new project. I
wanted to be the father that would help and love my kid, and I couldn’t do that
while I was just getting started in the world. I waited for her to tell me that
we should have a kid, but all she told me was that we weren’t right for each
other anymore.
I waited to move. I always wanted
to live on the east coast; I liked the cities. There were jobs out there that
were better paying, there was a life style that I knew would fit me, but I
waited because it was a bit too much work to try to box up everything in my
life deciding what pieces could go with me and which had to be thrown away. I
knew that I would have been better off in a different city with a different set
of friends, but getting there was just too much work, and so I waited. Each
week I would tell myself that I would start to clean out a room. That each
night I could start to think about cleaning my life up so that I could move,
but I waited to start it all because my work days were long and I got tired.
I waited for the will to be read to
still hear the words that I knew were to be true. Everyone else was sad to hear
that my dad had died, but throughout the funeral I didn’t cry. I didn’t care
about his body being put into the ground. I didn’t care that I would never be
able to talk to him again, because I knew that the will was going to be read
and the truth would finally come out about me. It was the last chance for my
dad to tell me what I had always known, that he was not my father. I waited for
the lawyer to give away the china cabinet full of nick knacks to my sister. I
waited for the house to go to my older brother. I waited as all of the
heirlooms and chotskies were given away. I waited while everything else was
debated over, because apparently I should have had strong emotional ties to the
standup piano and argued over it for an hour with my brother and sister. I
waited because I knew that at the end of that will was going to be the lines
that I knew to be true, that I was different. That the people arguing about
silverware and blenders weren’t my actual blood, and that I was something more.
I waited for him to pull me to the side and tell me. I waited for the phone
call to come and tell me in secret for a month after the funeral.
I waited for my bosses to give me a
promotion because I knew that I was doing a good job and doing better than
everyone else in my office. I knew that I was better than them, and that my
manager had to be seeing that. I knew that they would see just how great of an
employee I was, and that they would do what had to be done and give me a raise.
I waited to enter retirement. I
still had work to do. I still had things to get done, and no one at my job
could do my job. It was my job, and no matter how smart they thought a new hire
was going to be, no one could do it faster or quicker than me. I waited to go
to finally see the cities I had dreamt about looking at. I waited to be the old
guy who could yell at kids to get off his lawn at all hours of the day. I
waited to even be that old guy who lived at the library and read books for the
entire day because that’s all he had to worry about. I knew that I wanted to do
those things, but I also knew that I needed my job and so I waited.
I waited to see a doctor about a
small little lump. It was a birthmark. A doctor wasn’t going to tell me any
different. I waited to see one because he wasn’t going to say anything that I
didn’t already know. I didn’t care if the lump had grown in size, changed
colors, or any of those other worry wort things. It was just a birthmark – a
birthmark of stage four skin cancer.
I waited for someone to come and
visit me in the hospital. Someone was going to come. My boss, my neighbor, or
anyone other than nurse Tyson was going to come and see me.
I waited for permission from my
body to stop breathing.
Jun 20, 2016
Thousand Sons Army - Warhammer
I took these pictures a while ago, but I forgot to put them up here. Here is my thousand son army. The only thing that is missing are two rhinos, but here are my 1,850 points of thousand sons.
There's all of them together. Terminator lord, sorcerer lord, a 5 man unit of warp talons, a 16 man unit of cultists, a 10 man unit of chaos space marines, a 10 man unit of terminators, a 9 man unit of thousand sons, and then the heldrake.
With that said, let's start at the top of the list with my thousand sons terminator lord. Sometimes I swap him over to a terminator sorcerer just to double down on psychic powers, but it depends on how I'm feeling.
Then comes the sorcerer. I can run him a bunch of different ways. I can say that he's just the thousand sons sorcerer, or, I can say that he's a sorcerer lord. Typically though, he gets jammed in a box with the other nine thousand sons. I have also been known to say the staff is a ranged weapon. Seeing as a lot of those options above don't allow for two melee options, that staff has been a bolter, a combi-bolter, and even the artifact flamethrower where you get to torrent strike with it.
5 man unit of warp talons. It's pretty simple and straight forward. There's not too many options for them, but now they have glowing eyes, so at least they've got that going for them.
16 man unit of cultists. This used to be only 10, but then I put in some extra time and finished up the rest of the group, just in case I wanted to bring more of them. They're typically the last thing I do in my list and they soak up anything extra that couldn't go into other areas. I know that I should give them a bit more credit because they're great bullet eaters, as well as objective secure, but here they are.
10 unit of chaos space marines. This picture is blurry, but if you've been on this blog for any time, you should know what these guys look like. I'll put in a few extra pictures of these guys blended in with the entire team, but they're also typically thrown into a rhino and bused around the table to where I need them.
10 man unit of terminators. Ahh these guys never let me down, except for every single time that they do. Seriously, I love them, but every time I've put them on the field, they've been cleared off in no time flat, mainly because they take an entire army's fire for a round to wipe them out. The best they've ever done is going from a ten man unit to a three man unit, when they faced up and tanked an entire 2,000 points worth of cannons from Astra Militarum.
9 man unit of thousand sons. These get thrown into the other rhino with the sorcerer above. They're impossible thousand sons unit (because they have melee weapons and pistols instead of full on bolters) but I like this look tot hem instead of the typical one where there's not much diversity. If the sorcerer above it only the unit sorcerer, the dude with a sword (in the front) just turns into a random thousand son with a big ol' sword. If he's a sorcerer lord, then the dude in the front, turns into the unit's sorcerer (which means in the rhino that they're jammed into that they'll have two sorcerers).
Heldrake! My thousand sons helldrake. The last piece to this puzzle. Here's all of the pictures that I have of this baleflamer, torent blasting, flying beast of awesome!
There you have it, 1,850 points of chaos space marines. All painted, all based, all up to the quality that I want them to be at, and all ready to wreck face in the name of Tzeentch.
With that said, let's start at the top of the list with my thousand sons terminator lord. Sometimes I swap him over to a terminator sorcerer just to double down on psychic powers, but it depends on how I'm feeling.
There you have it, 1,850 points of chaos space marines. All painted, all based, all up to the quality that I want them to be at, and all ready to wreck face in the name of Tzeentch.
Jun 15, 2016
I Don't Sell - My American Life
http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/133/sales
When I worked at ROI, I started out as a translator. That was my job. I was supposed to take what they had and then update it into a different language so that they could do their job. I didn't have to talk to customers (much) and at the very most I only had to do customer support, and never, ever had to sell.
Unfortunately African Mango went the way of the dinosaurs, and fell apart. I was given the option of either getting fired because they no longer needed a Swedish translator, or switch campaigns. I needed money, so I switched campaigns.
I met with my new boss, Brett Wood, and he explained what I needed to do. The only problem? I hated sales. I had no desire in any way shape or form to ever do sales over the phone. I hated telemarketers, I never wanted to be a telemarketer, but I was in a position to telemarket to companies.
For the next few months, I was in sales, and I hated it. It wasn't even hardcore sales, I was doing the first contact for information for actual salesmen to follow up on, but I wanted nothing to do with it. I hated the product, I hated my job, and I hated sales. As I told Brett a million times, I don't do sales.
As much as I try to make it a mantra that I'm not a salesman, I wish I was.
Part of being a good author is knowing how to sell the book. People that don't know how to write, but know how to sell, they'll get published. Good authors that don't know how to sell their book and make contact with others, they're like me and never publish. I don't know what it is, but I just don't like sells, and I hate even more talking about myself.
That's the worst part about it. If I'm selling or talking about someone else or whatever else, but when it comes down to something that I have done or want to do, I'm a horrible salesman. I get awkward when it comes to talk about myself, and I get nervous.
The most recent example is with Dream Analysis. I had a real opportunity to become "That guy" on facebook, and spam everyone with it. Instead I think I mentioned it one or two times, and even then I didn't even push it that hard. I think I just left a link for one of them and never said a single word about what it was or what was going on. Even this blog, I write it as though I have a huge audience, and honestly I'm sure that if I whored out a bit more, I could get some regular visits, but I don't because I don't like to sell myself. Everything I do runs into that problem. If I just sold a few things a bit better I would have more followers, more readers, and more money, but I don't like it, and I don't know why.
Part of me hates sales because I feel like I'm forcing people into things that they don't actually want. For example with ROI I was pushing Visa cards on companies that didn't need or want them. If people actually wanted to read this blog, they would read it, I shouldn't have to sell it. If people want to read my book, they'll read it, I shouldn't have to push them. But I know that as much as I hate selling myself, I need to do it. It doesn't happen that way. The only way people can ever find me and appreciate me, is to sell myself. The only problem comes that I don't know just how much I'm going to have to sell, and that is when things get icky.
With the mood that I'm in right now, I'm most likely going to back off from this. I'm not a salesman. I know that I should be, but right now I want to get back into the joy of writing. I want to write what I want to write, and not have to worry about the stupidity of selling my books. I've been thinking way too much about how people think about me lately, and that's no good. I'm just going back to thinking about what I want to think about, doing my thing as best as I can, and enjoying life. Focusing too much on stupidity and other people hasn't been making me happy lately. It's time to write and do the things that I want to do.
When I worked at ROI, I started out as a translator. That was my job. I was supposed to take what they had and then update it into a different language so that they could do their job. I didn't have to talk to customers (much) and at the very most I only had to do customer support, and never, ever had to sell.
Unfortunately African Mango went the way of the dinosaurs, and fell apart. I was given the option of either getting fired because they no longer needed a Swedish translator, or switch campaigns. I needed money, so I switched campaigns.
I met with my new boss, Brett Wood, and he explained what I needed to do. The only problem? I hated sales. I had no desire in any way shape or form to ever do sales over the phone. I hated telemarketers, I never wanted to be a telemarketer, but I was in a position to telemarket to companies.
For the next few months, I was in sales, and I hated it. It wasn't even hardcore sales, I was doing the first contact for information for actual salesmen to follow up on, but I wanted nothing to do with it. I hated the product, I hated my job, and I hated sales. As I told Brett a million times, I don't do sales.
As much as I try to make it a mantra that I'm not a salesman, I wish I was.
Part of being a good author is knowing how to sell the book. People that don't know how to write, but know how to sell, they'll get published. Good authors that don't know how to sell their book and make contact with others, they're like me and never publish. I don't know what it is, but I just don't like sells, and I hate even more talking about myself.
That's the worst part about it. If I'm selling or talking about someone else or whatever else, but when it comes down to something that I have done or want to do, I'm a horrible salesman. I get awkward when it comes to talk about myself, and I get nervous.
The most recent example is with Dream Analysis. I had a real opportunity to become "That guy" on facebook, and spam everyone with it. Instead I think I mentioned it one or two times, and even then I didn't even push it that hard. I think I just left a link for one of them and never said a single word about what it was or what was going on. Even this blog, I write it as though I have a huge audience, and honestly I'm sure that if I whored out a bit more, I could get some regular visits, but I don't because I don't like to sell myself. Everything I do runs into that problem. If I just sold a few things a bit better I would have more followers, more readers, and more money, but I don't like it, and I don't know why.
Part of me hates sales because I feel like I'm forcing people into things that they don't actually want. For example with ROI I was pushing Visa cards on companies that didn't need or want them. If people actually wanted to read this blog, they would read it, I shouldn't have to sell it. If people want to read my book, they'll read it, I shouldn't have to push them. But I know that as much as I hate selling myself, I need to do it. It doesn't happen that way. The only way people can ever find me and appreciate me, is to sell myself. The only problem comes that I don't know just how much I'm going to have to sell, and that is when things get icky.
With the mood that I'm in right now, I'm most likely going to back off from this. I'm not a salesman. I know that I should be, but right now I want to get back into the joy of writing. I want to write what I want to write, and not have to worry about the stupidity of selling my books. I've been thinking way too much about how people think about me lately, and that's no good. I'm just going back to thinking about what I want to think about, doing my thing as best as I can, and enjoying life. Focusing too much on stupidity and other people hasn't been making me happy lately. It's time to write and do the things that I want to do.
Jun 2, 2016
What To Do Next
For six months I've been working on one project - my thousand sons army.
As you have seen (and will continue to see) I am VERY happy that this is my first army that I've completed, but there's always the next project.
The next projects that I have ready and lined up are as follows -
Make my Thousand Sons army into an apocolypse force. We're talking two demon princes, a second terminator lord, a third rhino, finalize the maulerfiend, a second unit of thousand sons, chosen, raptors, another lord, and then 23 marines. I've got a lot to work with here, and there's enough diversity that I could honestly spend the next few months working on them for a while and be just fine with it. The good side to this is that it gives me more diversity with my army. By adding that much into it that will be painted and ready to go, I could go as large as an apocolypse battle and be happy to field something because I'd be ready to throw a STUPID amount of points at the table. This is most likely the option that I'm going to go with because I should finish what I start. I still have more to work on with this, and I need to finish it.
I also have the option to finally go back to my roots and do some more vampires. I've got a horde of models (literally) just sitting around, and I've got a lot to do with them. I've got units of grave guard, ghouls, dire wolves, black knights, hexwraiths, and all sorts of undead goodness that need some time. The good time to this is the pure numbers of them. With the massive amount of numbers, I've got a massive amount of work, the only down side to this is that finding a game to use them in is near impossible.
Then there's the elves. None of them are painted (or at least none that I'd like to take credit for, there are still those that I painted while in Karlskrona). That reminds me that I should send something to Elder Ringer, and show him the obsession that he's implanted. With the elves, I have a fresh army. I start with nothing and can make them look and be however I want. It's daunting because I have that freedom, but at the same point it's a great thing because I can do whatever I want and that's just down right freeing.
Now I just have to figure out which one I want to do.
In other news, tonight my personal goal happened. There were two things that happened tonight and both of them were exactly what I have always set as a goal for myself. The first was that someone would look at my paint jobs and go 'wow, I want mine to look like that' or something along those lines. It's a low mark, but I wanted someone in the hobby to look at what I did and then be shocked that I've only been really hardcore painting for about six months, that they would look at what I have and want that for their own army. The other thing that happened, I've always wanted someone to look at what I have and then be shocked that I work with junk paint from Walmart. I'm not using expensive paints, or expensive brushes, I'm using things that you can buy for small moneys, not lots and lots of money. Tonight was the night where skill, not a thick wallet, made things look good.
As you have seen (and will continue to see) I am VERY happy that this is my first army that I've completed, but there's always the next project.
The next projects that I have ready and lined up are as follows -
Make my Thousand Sons army into an apocolypse force. We're talking two demon princes, a second terminator lord, a third rhino, finalize the maulerfiend, a second unit of thousand sons, chosen, raptors, another lord, and then 23 marines. I've got a lot to work with here, and there's enough diversity that I could honestly spend the next few months working on them for a while and be just fine with it. The good side to this is that it gives me more diversity with my army. By adding that much into it that will be painted and ready to go, I could go as large as an apocolypse battle and be happy to field something because I'd be ready to throw a STUPID amount of points at the table. This is most likely the option that I'm going to go with because I should finish what I start. I still have more to work on with this, and I need to finish it.
I also have the option to finally go back to my roots and do some more vampires. I've got a horde of models (literally) just sitting around, and I've got a lot to do with them. I've got units of grave guard, ghouls, dire wolves, black knights, hexwraiths, and all sorts of undead goodness that need some time. The good time to this is the pure numbers of them. With the massive amount of numbers, I've got a massive amount of work, the only down side to this is that finding a game to use them in is near impossible.
Then there's the elves. None of them are painted (or at least none that I'd like to take credit for, there are still those that I painted while in Karlskrona). That reminds me that I should send something to Elder Ringer, and show him the obsession that he's implanted. With the elves, I have a fresh army. I start with nothing and can make them look and be however I want. It's daunting because I have that freedom, but at the same point it's a great thing because I can do whatever I want and that's just down right freeing.
Now I just have to figure out which one I want to do.
In other news, tonight my personal goal happened. There were two things that happened tonight and both of them were exactly what I have always set as a goal for myself. The first was that someone would look at my paint jobs and go 'wow, I want mine to look like that' or something along those lines. It's a low mark, but I wanted someone in the hobby to look at what I did and then be shocked that I've only been really hardcore painting for about six months, that they would look at what I have and want that for their own army. The other thing that happened, I've always wanted someone to look at what I have and then be shocked that I work with junk paint from Walmart. I'm not using expensive paints, or expensive brushes, I'm using things that you can buy for small moneys, not lots and lots of money. Tonight was the night where skill, not a thick wallet, made things look good.
Jun 1, 2016
Thousand Sons Heldrake - Warhammer
I'm keeping this one in drafts for a while, but I want a photo log about how I made my heldrake the way I did. Here's all of the steps I took and how I got from blue on blue with more blue, to the final product.
I started it off with a dark blue base, dry brushed a light blue and then ink washed a regular blue. It was just blue on blue on blue for the excuse of saying that I had at least three colors on it. Sure, they were all blue colors, but I had them on there.
From there I painted in all of the sections that I wanted to do the color blend on the bottom of the heldrake red. I wasn't quite sure how it was going to look, so I played it safe and did the bottom first.
I thought it didn't look too bad, so the top got the red treatment as well.
The tricky part about the color blend was that I was working on a blue base with a red on top of it, meaning that a strong yellow was near impossible. What I did to try to fight this was that before I even tried to start fighting the color blend, I lined in each cell half yellow and half red. This way I could come back and do a few layers of yellow on the yellow (typically by the time I got to the blend it was at least two or three layers) so it was strong enough.
Then came the hideous task of blending every single cell. I didn't worry about going over the lines too much, but I will never ever do this ever again.
Slowly but surely I worked my way through each wing, and remember this is just the underside.
It's slowly progressing, bottom right wings are shaded, others are not.
Once I got an entire side done I went back over it with blue to clean up all of the painting over the lines and to really exaggerate the cells. This one simple thing made each cell pop a lot more than I was expecting and it almost made me question a further step down the path where I do the metals.
Finally both sides of the bottom got done.
With the piece half done with color blends, it was time to tackle the top. The same thing happened. Each cell was first 50/50 red and yellow and then I went in and color blended each one into a red to yellow gradient.
This is the one where I really realized just how much the blue lines made a difference. You can see that the top picture isn't bad, but as soon as each cell gets outlined in the second picture, things look significantly better.
That got me to this point. The only thing I needed to tackle was the face, with some REALLY small cells, so I went out, got a new detail brush and tackled those.
After that it was time for the silver to come in. Top, bottom, everywhere I could get it that made sense to me. Officially it was supposed to be a light blue silver color, but I could never see the blue in the silver.
To get a blue tone to the silver I washed it in a blue wash/glaze, I don't know, just regular paint watered down a whole bunch. You can see it in the next pictures. In the first picture there's only the blue wash on the top wing, and then in the second one you can see just what that blue wash does to everything else. It finally gets that hint that the silver isn't silver, but some sort of blue metal.
With that done I did some edge highlights, and then based it.
And here's my happy little Thousand Sons Heldrake with the rest of his army.
The best part about all of this, the ROUGH math behind all of this is that I started late November painting the marines, and have slowly been working through this army to now (which is the start of June). I do have two rhinos, that are just blue boxes (exact same paint job as the heldrake before any of this started), but I now have a fully painted, 40k Thousand Sons army. They are all the same color scheme, all of them are based, and all of them were done by me. In 6 months, I have made my 1850 points of an army, and I'm going to go out on a limb and say they look pretty good.
And now that I have this rediculously sexy army. . . it's time to sleep.
I started it off with a dark blue base, dry brushed a light blue and then ink washed a regular blue. It was just blue on blue on blue for the excuse of saying that I had at least three colors on it. Sure, they were all blue colors, but I had them on there.
The best part about all of this, the ROUGH math behind all of this is that I started late November painting the marines, and have slowly been working through this army to now (which is the start of June). I do have two rhinos, that are just blue boxes (exact same paint job as the heldrake before any of this started), but I now have a fully painted, 40k Thousand Sons army. They are all the same color scheme, all of them are based, and all of them were done by me. In 6 months, I have made my 1850 points of an army, and I'm going to go out on a limb and say they look pretty good.
And now that I have this rediculously sexy army. . . it's time to sleep.
May 16, 2016
For Everyone Else
Here is my rough draft of my next story. I'm putting it out there for anyone who wants to help edit it. Feel free to give it a look.
https://drive.google.com/open?id=1ApcnMNKnBC1K8AvsgO1xw14Qaw9Erii2AUj_z_wKVp8
https://drive.google.com/open?id=1ApcnMNKnBC1K8AvsgO1xw14Qaw9Erii2AUj_z_wKVp8
May 5, 2016
Open Book - My American Life
http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/132/fathers-day-99
I will be an open book.
With my daughter, and any other kid that might call me Dad in the future, I have promised that I will be an open book. I will share my life, I will share my personality, and I will share who I am with them. As much as an introvert as I am, as much as I love my alone time, anyone who can ever call me their father, is in that circle so I have to talk to them. I will play with them, I will get to know their friend's names and drama, I will do everything I possibly can to be that ear that they can talk to.
People that call me Dad will know that I will do miracles for them. They will know that they have to only ask nicely and I will do everything in my power to do what they need. They will learn that I am totally whipped and it's because I love them that I act the way I do. They will know that I care. Even when my life doesn't mesh with theirs, even when everything around them makes me want to yell because they aren't what I expected, they will know, constantly, that I love them.
I will say please every single time.
I will say thank you every single time.
I will never use force. I will walk away when I want to.
I will let them see me cry. I will make mistakes, not on purpose, but because I'm a human and that's what we do, and I will show them how to pick themselves up and become better. I will say I'm sorry when something is my mistake. I will let things be my mistake, even if I think they aren't.
I will demonstrate everything I expect them to become.
I will not waste my life at my job and claim that it is because I want more for them that I spend more time at work than I ever do with them. Even if over-time is offered, my family will always come first. Even if that's a slap against me in a promotion, even if we could really use the money, or even if it's over time that is almost essential to get the job done, my family comes first.
I will have 'the talk' with them, and it's going to happen often. I don't care if it's super awkward, or uncomfortable, it needs to be done. I'll try my best to hide it in a car ride trip, or a corner discussion where they're least expecting it, but sex is not going to be an untouchable topic. It's my job to answer those questions, and I'm going to step up and say something about it.
I will say that I am proud of them. Even if it is a small accomplishment, I will brag. I will be 'that guy' at work that doesn't shut up about his family. They will show up to my job and everyone will know who they are, and all of the amazing things they've done. I will find amazing accomplishments, even if everyone thinks that they aren't that impressive.
I will never yell through the house. I will always try to talk to them face to face. Both when I correct and praise, it will be eye to eye, knee to knee, in a voice loud enough that they can hear me. I will talk to them. I'll never send an interpreter or negotiator to say what I want to say.
I'll wait. I will stay up late when I know they are out, and I will make sure they are home safely. Even when they're an adult I will wait for the call telling me that they made it home and I don't have to call the cops. I'll be outside dressing rooms, and I'll sit through all of the over times.
I will listen to every single story they ever want to tell me, no matter how long it is or what time it is.
I will always say that I love them. Always. Even in the darkest moments, and especially in the most socially awkward moments, I will say it. I will hug them, in public, when their friends are looking, even when they're at college, and especially when they get older. My last words when I leave them for any amount of time will never be goodbye. I will always see them later. I will always love them.
When they make me upset, I will first try to find a way to fix my view of them and think that it is maybe my own fault that I didn't see it their way.
If they say they're in love, I won't doubt them. It doesn't matter who that person is, where they're from, or their history, love is love and I'm not going to step in front of that train - unless they're young, then no one is dating anyone.
Books, TV, computers, games, hobbies are things to be shared, not an excuse to be by myself even though we're in the same room.
I will do these things as I fill my role as a dad. During future fathers days, this is what my family is going to say about me. This is what I will do not because I think I'm perfect or because I know everything there is about being a dad, but because I want to live the dream I never experienced.
I will be an open book.
With my daughter, and any other kid that might call me Dad in the future, I have promised that I will be an open book. I will share my life, I will share my personality, and I will share who I am with them. As much as an introvert as I am, as much as I love my alone time, anyone who can ever call me their father, is in that circle so I have to talk to them. I will play with them, I will get to know their friend's names and drama, I will do everything I possibly can to be that ear that they can talk to.
People that call me Dad will know that I will do miracles for them. They will know that they have to only ask nicely and I will do everything in my power to do what they need. They will learn that I am totally whipped and it's because I love them that I act the way I do. They will know that I care. Even when my life doesn't mesh with theirs, even when everything around them makes me want to yell because they aren't what I expected, they will know, constantly, that I love them.
I will say please every single time.
I will say thank you every single time.
I will never use force. I will walk away when I want to.
I will let them see me cry. I will make mistakes, not on purpose, but because I'm a human and that's what we do, and I will show them how to pick themselves up and become better. I will say I'm sorry when something is my mistake. I will let things be my mistake, even if I think they aren't.
I will demonstrate everything I expect them to become.
I will not waste my life at my job and claim that it is because I want more for them that I spend more time at work than I ever do with them. Even if over-time is offered, my family will always come first. Even if that's a slap against me in a promotion, even if we could really use the money, or even if it's over time that is almost essential to get the job done, my family comes first.
I will have 'the talk' with them, and it's going to happen often. I don't care if it's super awkward, or uncomfortable, it needs to be done. I'll try my best to hide it in a car ride trip, or a corner discussion where they're least expecting it, but sex is not going to be an untouchable topic. It's my job to answer those questions, and I'm going to step up and say something about it.
I will say that I am proud of them. Even if it is a small accomplishment, I will brag. I will be 'that guy' at work that doesn't shut up about his family. They will show up to my job and everyone will know who they are, and all of the amazing things they've done. I will find amazing accomplishments, even if everyone thinks that they aren't that impressive.
I will never yell through the house. I will always try to talk to them face to face. Both when I correct and praise, it will be eye to eye, knee to knee, in a voice loud enough that they can hear me. I will talk to them. I'll never send an interpreter or negotiator to say what I want to say.
I'll wait. I will stay up late when I know they are out, and I will make sure they are home safely. Even when they're an adult I will wait for the call telling me that they made it home and I don't have to call the cops. I'll be outside dressing rooms, and I'll sit through all of the over times.
I will listen to every single story they ever want to tell me, no matter how long it is or what time it is.
I will always say that I love them. Always. Even in the darkest moments, and especially in the most socially awkward moments, I will say it. I will hug them, in public, when their friends are looking, even when they're at college, and especially when they get older. My last words when I leave them for any amount of time will never be goodbye. I will always see them later. I will always love them.
When they make me upset, I will first try to find a way to fix my view of them and think that it is maybe my own fault that I didn't see it their way.
If they say they're in love, I won't doubt them. It doesn't matter who that person is, where they're from, or their history, love is love and I'm not going to step in front of that train - unless they're young, then no one is dating anyone.
Books, TV, computers, games, hobbies are things to be shared, not an excuse to be by myself even though we're in the same room.
I will do these things as I fill my role as a dad. During future fathers days, this is what my family is going to say about me. This is what I will do not because I think I'm perfect or because I know everything there is about being a dad, but because I want to live the dream I never experienced.
I Don't Know
Staff training was at LDSBC on Tuesday night, and for the first two hours there was no actual training. There were people talking, things were being said, words were entering my ears, however, nothing of any substance was being taught to me about being an educator for the university.
One thing that did stick out to me was when the president of LDSBC, President J. Lawrence Richards, said the following line - "None of us here in this room tonight are here for the money."
This and a lot of the other things that were said throughout the first two hours didn't sit well with me. It was like the entire corporation of LDSBC and me do not see eye to eye with each other. You see, the problem is that it's my job. Teaching is my career. It is what I want to be when I grow up. I am doing exactly what I want to be doing thirty years from now.
They treat it as either a hobby that no one chooses to do, or they treat it as a church calling where God told me that this is where I should teach.
I'm sorry, but neither of those are true. Teaching is not bonus income, or community service hours for me. Teaching English is not something I do because I'm bored and need something to keep my brain from going into atrophy. I do not teach because I want a bit of extra cash to spend on the weekends. It is my career.
For two hours I sat in a room that was labeled a training, and was trained in nothing.
I was told from the speakers that the Spirit would be there and hopefully the Spirit would make up for anything that they didn't teach. I'm sorry, but you have to teach SOMETHING for the Spirit to make up the difference. They taught me that I should ask myself 'what could I do better' and then do it better.
Seriously? That's your great two hour speech? Figure out what you're doing wrong and fix it? That's all of the training that you're going to give?
The only other training that they gave was when they put us in groups and told us to teach each other about what we have done with students. I'm sorry, but I learned little/nothing, and it lead to no great marvelous insight. In the two hour massive group "training" I learned less than I would have from reading random google searches about how to become a better teacher.
Then came the one hour English department training. In the first ten minutes we covered more ground than we ever did in the two hours. We learned. I learned. I walked away with tools that I could use. If we're only talking about the English department training, it was golden, however the first two hours made me seriously wonder if I was a fit for the college.
Everything that they were talking about in the first two hours - I don't agree with.
They said that the number one priority of the college was to convert souls to Christ, and only as a far secondary nature comes our discipline.
I'm sorry, but as an English instructor, I think it's my number one goal to teach my subject. My students are paying to learn my topic, not to be preached to.
They said that we teach real life skills for the jobs our students can obtain.
The syllabus and course information I've been given is anything but real life. It is the fluffiest thing that doesn't prepare anyone for any sort of job. Even how they treat students who do not fit criteria is not reflective of the real world. They want to prepare our students for the real world, but then they're too afraid to actually expose the real world to our students.
They said we only have 10% of our students wanting to transfer to further education.
Every student I say that to is shocked to hear that information.
They said we should have students teach our class and be instructors with us.
My students are not fluent in the skills that they need to learn. That is why they are in the class. No matter how you try to spin something, you can not teach something that you do not know even exists. Even things like peer evaluation I always feel sketchy doing with my students because there are some of them that simply do not know, but I have no way of doing it all myself so they have to do some of the work.
They said that we should make a class president.
I don't need someone to manage other people's lives. If they don't want to show up for class, that is their choice. They shouldn't need a babysitter, and there is no need for students to be babysitters for each other. They are adults. No one checks on me if I choose not to do something, it just doesn't happen.
There were so many things in that discussion that I didn't agree with. We're trying to show that we are an accredited college that can give degrees and skills that are necessary in the workplace, but then we don't treat the classroom as an extension of that workplace. How are we supposed to teach what we promise, when we do not practice it in our classrooms? And then ultimately, how is it that they can claim that we, the adujunct faculty, are such a great force for good and without us the school would die - and not treat us like that? It's great and all to say it, but the actions that follow those words do not reflect that. The reflection on the actions say that we are not necessary, that we can be replaced, that there is nothing unique or valued in our skills.
I'm a 30 year old working in the professional field of my choice and I do not have a full time job or health benefits. I do have two fluctuating part time jobs, but teaching up to 24 credit hours just in hopes of getting paid the exact same money as a person working a normal 40 hour work week and not having to spend hundreds of hours a semester at home grading papers, is not the same.
I want to teach. I love teaching. I just don't know if this is for me because I do not fit the mold that they have.
One thing that did stick out to me was when the president of LDSBC, President J. Lawrence Richards, said the following line - "None of us here in this room tonight are here for the money."
This and a lot of the other things that were said throughout the first two hours didn't sit well with me. It was like the entire corporation of LDSBC and me do not see eye to eye with each other. You see, the problem is that it's my job. Teaching is my career. It is what I want to be when I grow up. I am doing exactly what I want to be doing thirty years from now.
They treat it as either a hobby that no one chooses to do, or they treat it as a church calling where God told me that this is where I should teach.
I'm sorry, but neither of those are true. Teaching is not bonus income, or community service hours for me. Teaching English is not something I do because I'm bored and need something to keep my brain from going into atrophy. I do not teach because I want a bit of extra cash to spend on the weekends. It is my career.
For two hours I sat in a room that was labeled a training, and was trained in nothing.
I was told from the speakers that the Spirit would be there and hopefully the Spirit would make up for anything that they didn't teach. I'm sorry, but you have to teach SOMETHING for the Spirit to make up the difference. They taught me that I should ask myself 'what could I do better' and then do it better.
Seriously? That's your great two hour speech? Figure out what you're doing wrong and fix it? That's all of the training that you're going to give?
The only other training that they gave was when they put us in groups and told us to teach each other about what we have done with students. I'm sorry, but I learned little/nothing, and it lead to no great marvelous insight. In the two hour massive group "training" I learned less than I would have from reading random google searches about how to become a better teacher.
Then came the one hour English department training. In the first ten minutes we covered more ground than we ever did in the two hours. We learned. I learned. I walked away with tools that I could use. If we're only talking about the English department training, it was golden, however the first two hours made me seriously wonder if I was a fit for the college.
Everything that they were talking about in the first two hours - I don't agree with.
They said that the number one priority of the college was to convert souls to Christ, and only as a far secondary nature comes our discipline.
I'm sorry, but as an English instructor, I think it's my number one goal to teach my subject. My students are paying to learn my topic, not to be preached to.
They said that we teach real life skills for the jobs our students can obtain.
The syllabus and course information I've been given is anything but real life. It is the fluffiest thing that doesn't prepare anyone for any sort of job. Even how they treat students who do not fit criteria is not reflective of the real world. They want to prepare our students for the real world, but then they're too afraid to actually expose the real world to our students.
They said we only have 10% of our students wanting to transfer to further education.
Every student I say that to is shocked to hear that information.
They said we should have students teach our class and be instructors with us.
My students are not fluent in the skills that they need to learn. That is why they are in the class. No matter how you try to spin something, you can not teach something that you do not know even exists. Even things like peer evaluation I always feel sketchy doing with my students because there are some of them that simply do not know, but I have no way of doing it all myself so they have to do some of the work.
They said that we should make a class president.
I don't need someone to manage other people's lives. If they don't want to show up for class, that is their choice. They shouldn't need a babysitter, and there is no need for students to be babysitters for each other. They are adults. No one checks on me if I choose not to do something, it just doesn't happen.
There were so many things in that discussion that I didn't agree with. We're trying to show that we are an accredited college that can give degrees and skills that are necessary in the workplace, but then we don't treat the classroom as an extension of that workplace. How are we supposed to teach what we promise, when we do not practice it in our classrooms? And then ultimately, how is it that they can claim that we, the adujunct faculty, are such a great force for good and without us the school would die - and not treat us like that? It's great and all to say it, but the actions that follow those words do not reflect that. The reflection on the actions say that we are not necessary, that we can be replaced, that there is nothing unique or valued in our skills.
I'm a 30 year old working in the professional field of my choice and I do not have a full time job or health benefits. I do have two fluctuating part time jobs, but teaching up to 24 credit hours just in hopes of getting paid the exact same money as a person working a normal 40 hour work week and not having to spend hundreds of hours a semester at home grading papers, is not the same.
I want to teach. I love teaching. I just don't know if this is for me because I do not fit the mold that they have.
Apr 23, 2016
Smile
I've typed this four times, and deleted it four times.
I've broken all of my rules of writing and done an entire draft of this article that I want to write, and no matter what it comes out like I'm the biggest jerk in the world.
I'm going to re-start it one last time and try to tackle this thing in the most positive light that I can.
I am so happy for my friends. All of them. From the best to the worst, to all of them in between. I'm going to be honest and finally say what we all do - there are some friends I keep around on Facebook just to pop in on when I'm having a bad day to remind me that I'm not as bad off as I think I am.
I've got debt, I've got a crazy life, and I'm juggling a million and a half things because I'm under paid but over worked. As hard as I think my life might be (my sister actually emailed me this winner of an article this afternoon http://gawker.com/the-misery-
To those winners that I keep in my circle of friends that I never talk to, that I rarely ever see, just let it be known - the only reason I keep you around is to keep track of your train wreck of a life because it helps me get through mine.
It used to be that the train wrecks were sitting right next to me for class after class in high school. Even in college I had roommates or dorm mates that would be putting themselves in the craziest of situations that I could watch from a distance. The fishbowl of Provo was an amazing thing because it let me see the good in my life without having to look that far. Now that I'm living in a house and I honestly don't socialize that much, it's a bit harder to find my peers and how they're doing. Luckily Facebook is there for me to stalk you and to remind myself that I can smile because I'm not living a dead end life that has no hope for me, becoming that person on Facebook who only talks about getting drunk over the weekend because you can't stand your job, or just giving up. Thank you for letting me see the good and keep on smiling.
Even now it sounds really bad, but this is the best draft I've got. So, thank you for choosing to be stupid, because it helps me see the good choices.
I've broken all of my rules of writing and done an entire draft of this article that I want to write, and no matter what it comes out like I'm the biggest jerk in the world.
I'm going to re-start it one last time and try to tackle this thing in the most positive light that I can.
I am so happy for my friends. All of them. From the best to the worst, to all of them in between. I'm going to be honest and finally say what we all do - there are some friends I keep around on Facebook just to pop in on when I'm having a bad day to remind me that I'm not as bad off as I think I am.
I've got debt, I've got a crazy life, and I'm juggling a million and a half things because I'm under paid but over worked. As hard as I think my life might be (my sister actually emailed me this winner of an article this afternoon http://gawker.com/the-misery-
To those winners that I keep in my circle of friends that I never talk to, that I rarely ever see, just let it be known - the only reason I keep you around is to keep track of your train wreck of a life because it helps me get through mine.
It used to be that the train wrecks were sitting right next to me for class after class in high school. Even in college I had roommates or dorm mates that would be putting themselves in the craziest of situations that I could watch from a distance. The fishbowl of Provo was an amazing thing because it let me see the good in my life without having to look that far. Now that I'm living in a house and I honestly don't socialize that much, it's a bit harder to find my peers and how they're doing. Luckily Facebook is there for me to stalk you and to remind myself that I can smile because I'm not living a dead end life that has no hope for me, becoming that person on Facebook who only talks about getting drunk over the weekend because you can't stand your job, or just giving up. Thank you for letting me see the good and keep on smiling.
Even now it sounds really bad, but this is the best draft I've got. So, thank you for choosing to be stupid, because it helps me see the good choices.
Apr 21, 2016
Shoot Me First - My American Life
http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/131/the-kids-are-alright
Part of this episode was the fact of teachers trying to notice students that are troubled, or possibly doing something stupid like a school shooting. It's one of those things that I have the very real possibility of doing because I deal with writing, and I make my students write about their own thoughts and opinions. I have the very real chance to see the mental health of students, and seeing just who is mentally stable and who might be walking on a thin line outside of that.
All things considering, I'm supposed to be a gate keeper of the university and recognize when, or if, a student starts to go off of the rails. The only problem with that? I am pretty loose with the crazy stuff that students throw at me. Just this semester I've had students tell me stories about LSD trips, getting arrested by the cops, Senior pranks, almost dying because of pranks from their friends, and that's just the scratch of the surface.
If looked at in the wrong light, I could have easily reported a large chunk of those students. There were down right sociopathic mentalities with students with these stories, and I had to sort through them and figure out if the student I was dealing with was mentally well adjusted.
Not only that, but I have students who mentally show that they just give up. They're going to school, they do the best they can, and then one thing triggers and then they just give up. Depending on those triggers of why they stop showing up, I'm starting to put myself in the cross hairs of students that aren't okay.
That's the scary part about teaching, hearing why other students in other schools decide to go on shooting sprees. I fail a student and I put my butt in line of a gun shot. I make students think critically and analytically - I'm in the cross hairs. I make a bad joke, be slightly offensive, or do anything that makes a student angry and instead of them getting a spine and learning how to be an adult, I run the risk of dealing with a crazy and being in the line of a gun shot.
School shootings are their own deal that I could write page about (I mean, come on people, you come in fully armed, and you only kill two people? Do the words fish in a barrel mean nothing to you? I'm sorry, but yes, deaths are horrible, but the accuracy of those people is down right horrible.) but it's a scary realization that at any point one of my students could come in and shoot me because of something I've done to them. Instead of talking to me, instead of getting help with whatever issue they're dealing with, they're reaching for a gun and my classroom is a target for them to hit.
Now, in the future, if any of my students decide to go on a school shooting and shoot up my classroom, please shoot me first. I'm going to go out on a limb, and after seeing someone get shot, I'm going to make fun of you. Mockery and insults are my coping method. If you put me in a bad spot, I'm going to hurt you . . . mentally. If you show up into y classroom and you take ten shots, but only manage to kill three people, please believe that I'm going to broadcast your hit rate to everyone. You're going to be reloading and I'm going to yell out, "It's okay everyone, even if they shoot another five times, none of us are going to get hit because they're such a bad shot!" It'll only go down hill from there. I'll broadcast your grades, why you're failing, or anything else that I can put on you. In short, shoot me first, or at least put me pretty high up on the list, because if you don't, I'm going to make the rest of your shooting spree a living hell.
Part of this episode was the fact of teachers trying to notice students that are troubled, or possibly doing something stupid like a school shooting. It's one of those things that I have the very real possibility of doing because I deal with writing, and I make my students write about their own thoughts and opinions. I have the very real chance to see the mental health of students, and seeing just who is mentally stable and who might be walking on a thin line outside of that.
All things considering, I'm supposed to be a gate keeper of the university and recognize when, or if, a student starts to go off of the rails. The only problem with that? I am pretty loose with the crazy stuff that students throw at me. Just this semester I've had students tell me stories about LSD trips, getting arrested by the cops, Senior pranks, almost dying because of pranks from their friends, and that's just the scratch of the surface.
If looked at in the wrong light, I could have easily reported a large chunk of those students. There were down right sociopathic mentalities with students with these stories, and I had to sort through them and figure out if the student I was dealing with was mentally well adjusted.
Not only that, but I have students who mentally show that they just give up. They're going to school, they do the best they can, and then one thing triggers and then they just give up. Depending on those triggers of why they stop showing up, I'm starting to put myself in the cross hairs of students that aren't okay.
That's the scary part about teaching, hearing why other students in other schools decide to go on shooting sprees. I fail a student and I put my butt in line of a gun shot. I make students think critically and analytically - I'm in the cross hairs. I make a bad joke, be slightly offensive, or do anything that makes a student angry and instead of them getting a spine and learning how to be an adult, I run the risk of dealing with a crazy and being in the line of a gun shot.
School shootings are their own deal that I could write page about (I mean, come on people, you come in fully armed, and you only kill two people? Do the words fish in a barrel mean nothing to you? I'm sorry, but yes, deaths are horrible, but the accuracy of those people is down right horrible.) but it's a scary realization that at any point one of my students could come in and shoot me because of something I've done to them. Instead of talking to me, instead of getting help with whatever issue they're dealing with, they're reaching for a gun and my classroom is a target for them to hit.
Now, in the future, if any of my students decide to go on a school shooting and shoot up my classroom, please shoot me first. I'm going to go out on a limb, and after seeing someone get shot, I'm going to make fun of you. Mockery and insults are my coping method. If you put me in a bad spot, I'm going to hurt you . . . mentally. If you show up into y classroom and you take ten shots, but only manage to kill three people, please believe that I'm going to broadcast your hit rate to everyone. You're going to be reloading and I'm going to yell out, "It's okay everyone, even if they shoot another five times, none of us are going to get hit because they're such a bad shot!" It'll only go down hill from there. I'll broadcast your grades, why you're failing, or anything else that I can put on you. In short, shoot me first, or at least put me pretty high up on the list, because if you don't, I'm going to make the rest of your shooting spree a living hell.
Warhammer 40k Thousand Sons - My Way
I don't want to go through each one quite yet and give a big blown up picture of each one, but here's my Thousand Sons Sorcerer. I'm not really quite sure why they all have the color blend on them, but by now, it just looks awesome, so I keep on doing it. As an important reminder - these are not a typical Thousand Sons in any way. The models are a bit off. There should be no close combat weapons on anyone but the leader, and the leader should not be rocking that staff and a sword. It's nice to see him with it, but it's not exactly kosher. I liked how it looked, therefore I made it happen.
As always - any critique or comments about how I could become better are always appreciated.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)