The Chronicles of Blurdy
Mathew Blurdy started keeping a web journal a few months before the events depicted in the Helm #1 began. Check out his musings and see if you can correlate journal entries with the events in the series!
Mathew's Web Journal
Entry: The Chronicles of Blurdy Tuesday, April 1st, 2008
I haven’t been doing as much writing as I’d like to lately—music, poetry, my novel, my screenplays—nothing. I’ve been pretty busy with gaming and my lady love and making ends meet and all. I wish I’d never introduced those ends to each other. Anyway, that’s the point of this. I’ve decided to keep a blog journal which I will write in religiously, every single day, and which I can later maybe use for inspiration or something, or just as an outlet for my prodigious creative flow. My creative juice has been backing up something fierce lately and I wouldn’t want a dam-busting flash-flood of the stuff to come spilling down on the unsuspecting valley dwellers of this world and sweep them away in a torrent of ideas too intense to survive. That would be tragic. Also, I thought this site could serve as a good font for the wisdom of the Blurdy—a veritable trough of musings and concepts from which the general public can swill. Only, instead of the standard pig-slop that makes up most blogs out there, mine will be filled with the heady ambrosia of the Gods, idea-wise.
So, sit yourself down ye varlets and wenches, affix your eyes to the screen and prepare to submerge yourselves in the warm stream of Mathew T. Blurdy’s creative juice! The cost is only your time, the rewards are incalculable! Here’s a little bone just to whet your appetites until the morrow!
The Blurdy Top Ten List of Excellent Films!
- E.O.T.B. (Emperor of the Bracelet—the extended versions trilogy): The best fantasy adventure ever crafted by mortal man. This would fill the first three spaces except that all true lovers of fantasy recognize that these three movies comprise one masterwork!
- Big Trouble in Little China: Kurt Russel—a demigod among men and John Carpenter—a gold plated film deity! This is their ultimate butt kicking triumph!
- Highlander: Come On!! THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE!
- Raiders of the Lost Ark: No explanation necessary. If you don’t like this movie, you are a total idiot. The other ones…not so much.
- Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope: Again, if you don’t agree, just shut up.
- L.O.T.R. (Lord of the Rings—the extended versions trilogy): A close runner up to E.O.T.B. and a master work from Peter Jackson—although some of the SloMo emotion crap bugs me.
- The Beast Master: Underrated. If you haven’t seen it, check it out. If you didn’t like it, have your brain checked.
- Aliens: My six-foot-five, manly-man-friend, Jojo, screamed like a girl during this movie and he’s a ninja. Case closed. And what I mean, of course is that he’s a friend of mine who happens to be a manly-man, okay? Don’t get all bent out of shape.
- Terminator (1 and 2): I’ll be baaahk. Hell yeah!
- Conan: Disagree and he’ll lop your head off.
Of course, any list is a tragedy for what must be left off, so don’t start writing your lord Blurdy to whine about omissions, just grab a big piece of biscuity couch and soak up this movie gravy for your entertainment pleasure.
Entry: The DVD STOP Friday, April 11th, 2008
Working in a video store is cool. I get to watch movies pretty much all day. If my manager, Damien isn’t in, then I even get to pick which movies. Last Friday was like a sword and sorcery marathon. I put in The Beast Master and followed it up with The Emperor of the Bracelet (E.O.T.B.) trilogy. I’ve probably watched those movies a couple of hundred times each. Those movies rule.
I put in Conan the Barbarian afterwards, but then Damien came in and yelled at me and made me put in Teletubbies. Teletubbies is cool too, but in a different way. Anyway, my point is that working in a video store is cool. Some people may say that it doesn’t pay too well, and it doesn’t seem like an excellent career choice, but it’s an awesome way to stay flexible while being involved in the film industry. I’m just keeping my foot in the door, keeping my options open, keeping it real.
And from now on, I’m writing every day. Or at least every other day.
Entry: Highlander Rules! Sunday, April 13th, 2008
He fought his first battle on the Scottish Highlands in 1536. He will fight his greatest battle on the streets of New York City in 1986. His name is Connor MacLeod. He is immortal.
Highlander is one of the greatest fantasy franchises ever. If you don’t agree with me, then you are a moron. I wish they would bring the TV show back or make another half a dozen movies or something…Anything…
I mean, how cool would it be to just find out one day that you were an immortal champion and that your destiny was entwined with the fate of the entire planet? Way cool, that’s how cool.
I’ll tell you something else—everything you need to know about life you can pretty much learn from watching the Highlander. It’s got honor and wisdom and fashion and everything. Plus, Sean Connery is in the first one, so it’s got him too.
Also, the Highlander replica coat is the coolest garb a mortal man can wear. It’s practical and it looks awesome. It’s seriously like a cross between a cape and a coat. The only thing cooler would be an actual cape—except it wouldn’t be as practical!
Entry: Irwin and Destiny Tuesday, April 22nd, 2008
So, my stupid friend, Irwin, has decided to move out of town and that’s got me meditating on the nature of friendship, commitment and destiny.
WHY DO PEOPLE HAVE TO SUCK?
Why can’t they just focus on what is really important instead of getting distracted by all the crazy bull crap that life throws at them? I mean, material possessions and success are cool, but how important are they really?
Back in days of olde, do you think knights and heroes and other righteous lordlies put aside their questing to focus on getting higher paying jobs? The answer is NO! They knew that a sacred quest was sacred because it was hard. Sure, it would be nice to buy a second horse or get the latest armor with all the new features. Sure, they were getting pressure from their lady loves to settle down and focus on building the golden nest egg so that they could start thinking about busting out some Medieval ankle-biters. But did they pack it in and move to Seattle to take a job in a new satellite office just because it paid better and had greater career opportunities? Not when their band of lusty comrades still needed a rawkin base guitarist and kick butt Dungeon Master. No way!
Anyhow, it’s just disheartening. Where the hell is the play of destiny in climbing another stupid rung on the stupid corporate ladder? Nowhere. That’s where.
Entry: Romantic Pizza Tuesday, April 29th, 2008
If Pizza is an acceptable, budget conscious, romantic/date meal choice (and it’s pretty clear that it is), then it is an acceptable, budget conscious, romantic/date meal choice. Having a pizza date more than once in a row doesn’t alter its acceptability, nor does it negatively impact the shared sense of intimacy generated by the meal. I think any scientist would back me up on this.
I mean, obviously, if you were a person who didn’t like pizza, then it would be a different story. But if you are a person who has professed to like pizza in the past—especially and significantly—in the context of a romantic date, then you can’t just turn around and start complaining about how pizza isn’t special and romantic just because you’ve had it a few times. That’s irrational. It’s not something Mr. Spock would do.
Mr. Spock would acknowledge that the fault lies, not with the pizza, or even with the frequency of consumption, but with the imbibe. Or, imbibes, in this instance. I think that even Mr. Spock would be perfectly justified in calling a lady Vulcan on her B.S. if she started acting hurt and then miffed (completely out of the blue) about what had previously been one of her favorite dinner choices.
And this is high quality pie we’re talking about here—not just some frozen thing or from Big Brutus’ or something—but legitimate pie, cooked to order and loaded with whatever mouthwatering toppings you happen to love—say, pineapple and Canadian Bacon just for the point of argument.
Anyhow, there ought to be some kind of written contract that people sign when they get into a steady relationship that would stop women from changing their minds about what is cool and what is not cool just based on nothing at all. Personally, I don’t find expensive, fancy-pants restaurants with real table cloths and napkins very romantic. Show me the rough-edged ambience of a thriving community pizza joint—a place where people gather to game and live and discuss the issues of gaming and living—a place where writers might write, where artists might create, where revolutionaries might meet to plot the overthrow of the man—show me that place and I’ll show you more romance than you’ll ever get out of some hoity toity, highfalutin, fancy schmancy restaurant that sells cuisine.
Maybe next time I’m craving a pizza, I’ll set myself up a date with Star Trek—the old school version—and leave the complaining damsel out of the picture all together. Me thinks she doth protest too much—and you can bet your butt that Mr. Spock won’t start changing the emotional rules half way through the game and acting like I’m the one at fault!
Entry: The Awesome Past Saturday, May 3rd, 2008
It would have been cool to have been born into a different age. Even a couple of hundred years ago would’ve been okay, but the further back, probably the better. Although, not so far back as to get into caveman times—I’m thinking mostly of times in which there was chivalry and warriors with swords. Those were the days. I mean, back then a dude could get the appreciation he deserved just by strength of arms and noble righteousness. And the ladies gave you credit for having a code of honor. Not just credit either. They’d pledge you their troth—nudge nudge. These days, nobody seems to give a crap about strength of arms and noble righteousness. Especially the ladies. Which blows.
If I’d been alive about 500 years ago, I could have been almost anything. Maybe a lord, maybe a bard, maybe a freelance warrior. That’s where the term freelance came from. You probably didn’t know that. I could have had a steed, a castle, all kinds of things.
Now, you may be thinking, “Matt, who says you would have been a nobleman? You’d probably have been a serf or something.” That’s a fair point, but you’ve got to keep in mind that there were a lot fewer people back then, so my chances of being a nobleman would have been proportionally a lot better than the chances of me being rich right now (which I’m not—not yet anyway!) Also, and this is significant, my mom says that we’re related to royalty on my dad’s side. I guess the Blurdys were like Celtic lords or something back in the day. So, given the fewer people thing, combined with the history of nobility, and I would have ruled—both figuratively and literally.
In the present, I only rule figuratively (‘cept when I’m on stage!) Which is fine, but it would be much finer to rule literally. Plus, I would have been an awesome king! I would have created my own code of honor and done round table/Camelot kinda stuff—King Arthur-style—probably united all of the Celtic tribes against the Romans and changed the whole course of history.
The present kind of sucks. We’ve got global warming and all kinds of other dangerous junk going on. Had I been in charge back in the day, things would be different now. We’d all be philosophers because we’d have different values. And there’d be a king in this country because there would have been a shining example of how good royalty could be.
Anyway, I read that the truly great people are never appreciated in their own time. So, at least I’ve got that going for me.
Entry: Commitment Saturday, May 17th, 2008
I tell you, love is special. Special as in wonderful and special as in retarded. I have a love/hate relationship with love. Right this exact minute, I love love. Yesterday, I hated love. Today, I am its master. Yesterday, I was its fool. I should write a song about that. It would be a million seller. Everybody can relate to that.
So, it’s getting pretty serious with my lady love. Serious enough that a couple of days ago she started the, “Where is this relationship going?” discussion. Man those five words have probably brought more anguish to mankind (and I’m speaking specifically of mankind rather than womankind here) than any other five words, with perhaps the exception of, “I love your best friend.” I heard those fatal words once, freshman year of high school. I thought my heart was just going to implode. But that’s another story and I was a different person back then. Naïve, innocent. Not the guy I am now.
Anyhow, so all of a sudden we’re having the “where’s-this-relationship-going” talk. It totally came out of the blue. We were having this awesome night, watching videos (Knocked Up—funny) and eating popcorn in my room, and bang, out of nowhere she hits me with the line. First, the movie wasn’t even done yet—which was kinda rude. Second, you don’t just hit someone with that. Anyway, I wasn’t ready and I kind of choked, metaphorically. And right exactly then, I got one of those little flakey bits of popcorn kernel stuck on the back of my tongue. So then I was kind of choking literally too.
So I take a big long drink of Dr. Pepper to try to wash the kernel down (Dr. Pepper has not sponsored this reference in any way. I wish they would, but the reference is made out of love, not money). But then my lady love is all like, “What? Are you stalling? You don’t know where this is going?” And so I try to tell her about this popcorn kernel and she starts getting really, freakily mad. She starts accusing me of not really caring about her and stuff—which is ridiculous because she’s totally my lady love and I’m completely committed to her. So I tell her she’s being ridiculous and irrational. Which, apparently, is a mistake. She just went crazy ballistic then. She starts saying that she doesn’t see where our relationship is going—you know, that I’m not committed to our future because I don’t have a real job. So I get a little pissed and tell her that working at the DVD Stop is totally a real job—and also a way of keeping myself open for opportunities. There are so many things in my life that could take off at any moment—like my band, or my writing or my film career. So, of course, she scoffs. And then the whole thing just blows up into this big fight and she stalks upstairs and leaves and she slams the door and wakes up my mom. And then my mom chews me out about being inconsiderate!
Holy crap! Anyway, that’s the part where I hate love. I just got totally depressed after that. Called in sick to work the next morning and got an earful from Damien (my jerk boss) about how I’m irresponsible. Watched a Star Trek Next Generation marathon.
But then later, I’m over at Elrond’s Tobacco and Cutlery at the Mall and I see this commitment ring and it occurs to me that maybe what Jill needs is some kind of symbolic gesture to show her how committed I really am. She’s been after me a couple of times to move into her apartment (the lady loves to love her Bunsie Bear ;) but I’m not really in a cash position to do something like that at this time. I’m basically only part time at the DVD Stop and I’m not really able to assume a greater time commitment there at the moment without losing the flexibility I need to take my creative efforts to the next level. Anyway—the point is though that I know we’re going to be together always—I’ve known it since our third date—it’s just gonna take a while before I can make the whole thing formal so I can get myself established first.
So, long story short, I decide to buy this ring. But the thing is like $45! And it’s just silver! What the hell would it cost if it was gold? But, I guess a high price is the price you have to pay to show you’re really committed. So I go home and scrounge up all my available cash and I get my mom to float me $20 by promising to mow the lawn over the weekend and then I go back and buy the ring.
And now here is the part where I love love again. Jill goes nuts for this ring. I drop by her place and she’s totally being all cold and formal with me and she’s like, “What do you want?” So I tell her that I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching and my life is kinda meaningless without her in it. Which is gold. Chicks eat that stuff up. Not that it isn’t true, mind you. She starts coming around and she tells me that she just gets crazy wondering when we’re going to take things to the next level and that’s when I spring the ring on her. I tell her it’s like a promise ring—it’s my promise that this relationship is going someplace and that one day, when my boat comes in and I can afford a really kick butt diamond, I’m totally going to propose to her.
The rest is history. We’re together stronger than ever. Forever. So let that be a lesson to you all out there. You’ve got to show the people you love that your really care about them. It may cost you $45, but the love you’ll get back is priceless—just like those credit card commercials say.
Entry: Garage Sale Nirvana Tuesday, May 27th, 2008
Spent the weekend garage sale browsing. Garage sales are awesome—like going on a treasure hunt. You never know what you’ll find, but it’s likely to be something totally cool. Saturday, I found some 1970’s Wacky Packs in near mint condition. Some little old lady was obviously selling off her son’s stash now that he’s moved out on his own or something. Had no idea what they were potentially worth.
I walk into a garage sale, I feel kinda like Indian Jones—from Raiders, not from the new movie. That movie is kinda junk. At a garage sale, there’s all this stuff scattered before you. A lot of it is just worthless. Some of the items are dangerous traps. But hidden in plain sight, there’s likely to be a golden idol or two. I got my totally cool guitar at a garage sale. It’s a Gibson Corvus, which is really rare. There’s not a huge market with collectors yet, but it’s coming. I feel it. The guitar is deep purple and came with a hard shell case and I got it for like, $34 from some old guy who used to be in a band. Talked him down from $50.
Which is the other cool thing about garage sales. It’s like you’re in a foreign country or something where it’s acceptable to negotiate—not like buying something in a stupid store where the prices are all fixed and nobody gives a crap about anything. I love bargaining. Kind of gives you a sense of what it must have been like back in the days of chivalry, when most people bartered and you could negotiate anything. Ride up on your steed to the local bazaar. Got some armor for sale? Well, what if I trade you this fine goat? Throw in that redoubtable shield and I’ll even add a couple of chickens and some yams to sweeten the deal. What say ye, varlet?
Anyway, you can negotiate for anything at a garage sale. You just have to know what you are doing. For example, one time I managed to buy a nearly complete set of the Time Life Books Enchanted World series for $27.50. That, in case you’re wondering, is a total steal. The dude even had the much-sought-after Legends of Valor and he didn’t even know what he was sitting on! All I have to find now are: Lore of Love, Gods and Goddesses, the Fall of Camelot and the Book of Christmas.
Oh well, I’ll keep searching!
Entry: Fireworks and Double Entendres Saturday, July 5th, 2008
Blew a bunch of stuff up yesterday for the fourth! Not just the legal stuff either—although, if any of you reading this are cops, I’m just engaging in standard-male-social exaggeration—not admitting to the commission of any crime.
But I really did blow up some awesome crap. Got it from out of state. The big explosives are always super impressive to the ladies, and let me tell you, Jill was one of the ladies last night. She was all over yours truly because of my manly courage in the face of fire and brimstone.
I love the fourth ‘cause you can totally feel what it must be like to be a wizard or other magic user. Striding around, firing balls of magical flame from your wand or conjuring colored smoke to confuse the eyes of your enemies. I was like Gandalf at the beginning of LOTR and Jill was totally like my hobbit audience, wowed and amazed by my pyrotechnical prowess. I blew up so many explosives that there were some who would call me Tim. I kept encouraging Jill to blow some up herself, but she’s a delicate flower and was a little too shy. But finally, after much persuasion and beer, she did blow one thing. Talk about a grand finale.
Entry: LIFE BLOWS Wednesday, July 16th, 2008
So, my mom told me last night that she’s thinking of upping my rent. And this is my mother I’m talking about. Not some Scrooge-landlady. Except I guess she is more like Scrooge than I figured. She gave me this whole line of crap about how it’s for my own good ‘cause it’s the only way she can figure to jumpstart my life.
Jumpstart my life? Woman, my life is already so jumpstarted it’s like it’s been hit by lightning. Or like it’s been hit by lightning while getting jolted with one of those defibrillator things and getting a massive shot of adrenaline right in the heart while drinking a Red Bull! My life is like the Javier Sotomayor of life. There’s no need to jumpstart it because it’s already up in the air like a rocket jet car or that dude from Thunderball.
So I tell her, let’s look at all the massive stuff I got going on. First, there’s my band. Yes, my bass player just left—but that’s a temporary setback on the road to rock stardom. Second, there’s all my ideas. My brain is so busting full of ideas it’s like the ideas are confetti in my mind. You know those little champagne-bottle-shaped-fire-cracker thingies they pass out on New Year’s Eve? Well, that’s what my mind is like. And I’m just waiting for Hollywood or some major book publisher to pull that string on the back so I can blast out my ideas onto an eagerly unsuspecting public. My mind will put someone’s freakin’ eye out! Mark my words! Third, there’s my lady love, Jill. I’ve given her a commitment ring and everything.
So my mom interrupts me there and starts criticizing Jill! The basic gist being that she’s easy! Holy crap! Then my mom lays into my band (she says we suck) and my creativity! It’s like she’s not trying to jumpstart my life, but to totally emotionally kill me!
“Sorry, Mathew honey, that was just me ripping out your still-beating heart and biting into it like a big, ripe tomato.
Then she tells me that working in a video store isn’t really working—and even if it was, she’s gonna raise my rent by a hundred bucks a month, which she knows I can’t afford on my salary. Then she has the nerve to reiterate that she’s only doing all this for my own good.
And now I gotta go to work, all depressed and unsettled because my jerk boss, Damien, put me on morning shift even though I’ve told him like two or three hundred dozen times that I’m not a morning person. Life blows.
Oh, and get this! When my mom hands me my lunch for work, she tells me that there’s only regular Oreo’s in it because she ran out of the Double Stuff! And she makes it clear that she thinks it’s somehow my fault because I didn’t pick any up on my way home from work last night! Well, here’s some news, Ma: I would have if I wasn’t so busy trying to marshal all of my creative forces so that I could make it big and get you off my back about jumpstarting my life.
Well, at least there’s one bright note ahead. Jill called and said she wants to come in and see me at work because she’s got something important to tell me. I think she’s going to apologize for a fight we had last night when I asked her to pay for her share of the pizza we were splitting. She was so out of line.
I better motor. I’m supposed to be at work by 11:00.
Entry: Reality Thursday, July 17th, 2008
What if everything you thought was real was actually…well…not unreal, I guess, but not exactly really real? I mean, like if…I don’t know. Not everything, but lots of stuff. What if a bunch of stuff you suspected was true—or you hoped was true—actually turned out to be true? That sounds like it would be so cool, but maybe it wouldn’t be exactly as cool as you thought it would be? Maybe it would be worse? But still kind of cool.
Is it possible to pinch yourself in a dream and have it hurt and everything, but you’re still dreaming and the whole pinch thing was just part of the dream? How is that pinch thing supposed to work? How can you know you’re not dreaming it?
I’m babbling. I’m pretty tired. I need some Dr. Pepper and a big pizza.
Entry: Holy Crap! Friday, July 18th, 2008
Life is freakin’ amazing! I don’t think most people really realize how magical and awesome the world is. They go through their whole lives worrying and bellyaching about little stupid stuff, like their job or their girlfriend or money or whatever. And that’s all just bull poop when you get right down to the big scheme of things. I mean, that stuff doesn’t really stack up when you get to thinking about destiny and fate and stuff. I know lots of people who don’t think they have a destiny—and maybe they don’t—but if one guy had a destiny, wouldn’t that kind of imply that everybody had one? I mean, how could that one guy’s destiny work out the way it’s supposed to unless the whole thing was worked out? Maybe there’s some way I haven’t thought of, but what if there isn’t?
You ever hear that expression, “today is the first day of the rest of your life?” Well, up until now, it’s always seemed like a stupid cliché that people like my mom used on me to try to “motivate” me into changing my life to better suit their expectations. But today, I feel like it actually is the first day of the rest of my life.
Even as I write that, I’m thinking, “Whoa, Dude. How gay.”
Just to be clear, I don’t have anything against the people of the homosexual persuasion. Hell, I love the gays. Not, you know, like in a gay way, but I respect them.
Today, things just seem really…better. I’m thinking maybe I’ll start working out again. Used to be quite a body builder back in the day—not to brag or anything—and not that I’m not in pretty good shape still. But I know I could stand to lose a few pounds and kinda, you know, tone up. Only thing is I’m really sore right now, so I’m gonna have to rest up a bit. Oh, and I probably gotta find a new job. I got fired the other day! Can you believe it? Here’s the funny thing—when I got fired, it actually seemed important, but now, I’ve got it in perspective. Kind of small potatoes really.
But I do need some cash. Mom’s still on me about raising my rent.
Anyway, today everybody should just take a second to chill and soak up the sweet karmic power vibes the universe is putting out—stop and smell the roses, tell somebody you care about them, spend a second looking in the eyes of a child to see the wonder there. Probably a baby would be best, ‘cause the older ones get annoying.
Entry: The Splurge Thursday, August 21st, 2008
I’ve been working out for the past few days, trying to get into better shape. So today I’m gonna reward myself by getting a new motorcycle. Don’t get me wrong, I love the Goblin (my old minibike) but these days I need something with a bit more pickup. Something I can really move on. I’ve got my eye on a Norton Commando. Awesome bike. It’s pretty expensive, but I just did a job that netted me beaucoup de bucks, so it’s no problem. Besides that, sometimes you just have to splurge.
Splurge. I love that word. It sounds all wet and goopy and fat and sexy money. Spluuuuuurrrr-juh!! Say it with me. Spluuuuuuuuurrrrrrr-juh!!
Dang, I am sore today. Probably the working out—but I’m sure it’s not as bad as it could be. I used to be a pretty serious body builder back in high school, so my body gets back in condition really fast. Like muscle memory or something. You just gotta have discipline and work to set a routine. And get plenty of rest. And don’t starve yourself. Lots of people make that mistake. They start working out and dieting at the same time. That’s a big no-no. You’ve got to feed the fire if you want to burn the fat. That’s what I say, and you can quote me on that. In fact, that should be on a T-shirt or something.
Don’t anybody reading this try making that shirt! That’s my idea and this blog is evidence that I came up with it first. Even if I don’t get around to it for a while, that’s my intellectual property.
Thing is, I’m kinda experiencing some life changes at the moment. Kinda taking myself in a new direction. Don’t panic, Blurdy fans, I’ll always keep my hand in with the rock ‘n’ roll, the gaming and the writing, but there’s some important work I’m doing and it’s kinda reorganized a lot of my priorities.
Yeah, I used to worry about all the stupid crap that people worry about—money, relationships, work—but now I’m kinda transcending that stuff. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
DANG! Now that’s got me thinking about maybe ‘waving up some fish sticks for breakfast!
Entry: Brisingr and Lady Love Friday, August 22nd, 2008
So I was poking around on the Internet this morning (not for any particular reason) and I came across this old Norse word, Brisingr—which, far as I can make out, means “be on fire”. Again, no reason…I just sometimes look up old Norse words for gaming and stuff. So the thing is, I’m thinking what a cool word and meaning and I start kind of imagining that if I one day had a kid (and that kid was a boy) that it might be cool to name the little ankle biter Brisingr. First off, because of the cool meaning, second off, because it would really mess with his teachers when they try to say his name in class, and third off, for personal reasons.
But then I poke a little more and I find out that that Chris Paolini dude is naming his next book Brisingr! That totally blows the name for my kid, ‘cause I’m not really too fond of those Paolini dragon books. I don’t want to come down too hard on the guy or anything—being a writer myself (unpublished at the moment) I get how difficult it is to create a masterwork of fiction—but that first book of his seemed like it kinda borrowed a lot from Star Wars. Only with dragons.
No, I know what you’re probably thinking—Star Wars with dragons!! Holy crap would that be cool!! Only thing is, not so much. And then, also, the movie version is pretty lame. It’s no Beast Master or anything.
Anyhow, I kind of feel cheated because this perfectly good, perfectly cool, ancient Norse word is sort of off limits now for my kid. Like, day before yesterday, that wouldn’t have been a big deal because of how I didn’t have such firm plans for making babies, but things are maybe heading in a different direction today. As you know, the ladies love the Blurdy—and one lady love in particular just might have her eyes back on the prize!
But damn, love and life sure are complicated! Oh well, I got some exercising to do.
Entry: Third Wheels Saturday, August 23rd, 2008
PRESS PAUSE AND LISTEN UP, MINIONS!! The Blurdy star is on the rise and I am lounging around on cloud nine! Or at least I would be if I didn’t have this new…uh…personal trainer riding my butt. But enough on that—on to the big news!
Had a DATE last night. Not a date, a DATE, if you know what I mean. Now I know you know I’m not one to kiss and tell, but let’s just say that the Blurdy machine was firing on all cylinders last night!
I started the whole thing with a single red rose—which is not only classy, but highly cost effective. Followed up with a motorcycle ride. My lady love digs the new Norton Commando! Then went to a fancy dinner—cloth napkins, real silver wear, the whole shebang! This kind of thing is impressive to the ladies. Finished up with an awesome horror flick, I Believe in Mary Worth!
Words of precious advice from a master? Always go for the horror flicks (not the chick flicks) when dating. The ladies like to snuggle close when they’re scared—plus, you get their hearts pumping, blood racing—next thing you know, they’ve got lovin’ on their minds. And then…well, like I said, a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. But you totally know what happened next!
Now, here’s a priceless free insight: third wheels are a pain in the butt. If you’ve got a friend who has a girl, don’t go hitchin’ along on his date. I’ve actually committed this grievous sin on more than one occasion, and for that I am now truly sorry. It never occurred to me what a crimp the third wheel can put in the love hose—what a style cramp the third wheel can be.
So here’s some more free Blurdy advice. BlurdyVice? MattVice? MBA? Yeah! Here’s some more MBA. Don’t be the third wheel—find yourself a girl or stay at home and watch DVD’s, but don’t mess it up for a friend. Don’t be that kinda chimp.
IMPORTANT NOTE: This advice does not apply to women—a two to one ratio of women to men on a date is always enticing, so women, do not worry about being a third wheel! That kind of three wheeled vehicle can be cool—like a Big Wheel! So chicks, ignore this advice…unless you are really ugly or uptight or some other kind of buzz killer.
Also, Munchkin Donuts rock!! Munchkin Donuts, the donuts that could only get better if they filled in the holes! Okay, I now return you to your normally scheduled programming.
Entry: Foreboding Sunday, August 24th, 2008
Just woke up with this totally evil nightmare! I was screaming and fighting with my blankets, all sweaty and HOLY CRAP! I just about jumped outta my own skin!
Man have I got the willies right now. Holy crap. Holy crap…
So, in this dream I was like…
Uh…you know, it’s totally stupid but I can’t remember much about this dream. Like ten seconds ago I was completely freaking out about this totally terrifying, dear-god-please-kill-me-now-variety nightmare, and now all I can remember is this sort of baleful green light and bat wings and a dungeon or something.
That is a totally stupid thing about dreams. I often get the feeling I have psychic dreams about the future, but then I can’t remember what the heck they were about, so I’m left to fumble my way forward instead of accessing the massive power of my subconscious. Which totally blows. Sometimes I hate my subconscious.
Oh well, life’s been more than a little weird lately…probably got me unsettled and stuff. Probably nothing. Still, now I gotta try and go back to sleep. Dang!
Entry: Cocoa Balls and Moo Wednesday, October 8th, 2008
I love Cocoa Balls! Cocoa Balls has always been my favorite cereal, ever since I was a wee lad. No matter how weird the world gets, no matter how rocky the road ahead, Cocoa Balls sweet chocolaty balls of goodness will always see me through. Armed with my Cocoa Balls, I just about think I could take on any challenge and come out on top—especially now that they have a sugar free version so I can chow down guilt-free. Yes, give me a bowl of Cocoa Balls in Moo and I am sitting on top of the world. The only thing better is two bowls.
I guess that is Cocoa Ball optimism at work. Cocoa Ball optimism has totally got me looking up and seeing only good things ahead. Life with my lady love is sweet and getting sweeter all the time. My economic situation is looking up, I’m on track with my new exercise program and I’m even getting along better with my new personal trainer. I should read my horoscope! Bet it says something like, “Scorpio: Things are going your way! Your hard work and noble high mindedness are about to pay off in spades! Pursue your love relationships with added vigor!”
And added vigor is exactly what I get from my Balls! Yes, my Cocoa Balls are supreme!
Entry: First Impressions of Evil Thursday, October 9th, 2008
Have you ever met someone and just thought immediately that you hated the guy? I mean, just everything about the guy really bugged you instantly—totally rubbed you the wrong way? And you think, “Holy Crap! I bet that dude is evil and my Spidey sense is just picking up on the tangible evil vibe that guy is sending out into the ether.” But then you start second guessing your Spidey sense and thinking how unfair it is to totally hate someone you don’t even know and you start wondering if it’s because he reminds you of someone you’ve totally forgotten about who used to pick on you as a kid or something—like some dude who stole your lunch money or gave you a wedgie or spit in your mouth or something? So, you just try to ignore that you completely despise every fiber of the guy’s being and you work really hard at being high-minded and impartial and Spock-like in an effort to get along with the dude because maybe that is a necessity of a commerce based relationship or something, even though the guy totally reinforces all the time that he’s a dillweed jerkbucket.
I’m not talking about anyone specific here—I’m just talking in hypotheticals and what-ifs—but what if you worked at just ignoring your bad vibe signals for literally years, despite constant mean-spirited sniping from the dude, and then, all of a sudden, you were presented with absolute and compelling proof that the dude actually was an evil, dark and dirty douche bag who’d been up to no good probably the whole time you knew him? What then?
Well, if you were me, which I am, then maybe you’d start working on trusting your first impression instincts and putting a little of the self-doubting negativity stuff aside. I mean, I know this world or ours doesn’t provide a particularly conducive environment for going with your gut instincts and standing up for what’s right even when you don’t have any proof of a particular guilty party’s guilt, but maybe the Earth would be a better place if more people were more ready to do whatever needed to be done to do that. I know I am. Well…within reason.
Entry: Nothing Matters Tuesday, November 18th, 2008
Life is just bull crap. You may, for a brief while, start thinking things are cool. Then life kicks you in the balls and you have to vomit up all of your loves, hopes and dreams. If you’re lucky, they go in the toilet so you can just flush them away. Otherwise, they congeal in a stinking pool on the bathroom tiles and you not only have to deal with their ruin, you have to scrub them up before they poison the air of your whole world.
Why does life have to make you feel like that big, stupid Hindenburg dirigible? You’re flying so high, on top of the world, the greatest airship of your age. And then BLAM! Down in flames. Oh the humanity. Oh the freakin’ humanity…
Entry: WHOA!! Thursday, November 20th, 2008
Life is like a roller coaster.
Not some crappy kiddie coaster at Easter Bunny Village either, but one of those cool, newer ones like they have at Vegas on top of a building or at Universal Studios or something. The kind that shoots you a million feet straight up in the air and then blasts you right back down while hanging you upside down. The kind where, even though you know it’s state of the art, you’ve also read that some heavyset kid got his head lopped off because the restraint bar didn’t close properly—so the adrenalin you’re feeling ain’t just the blood gorging your head, but it’s really legitimate fear-of-death kinda adrenalin. The good but godawful kind.
I guess the thing is that you just have to have faith. You just have to get on that coaster and hang on through the crazy ride, trusting in whatever nut-job engineers, red-necked carnie mechanics and unnamed gods have had a hand in your fate and have brought you to that moment of truth. If you can hang on and you’ve been smart enough to check your restraint bar, you’ll be in for one wild ride. If it doesn’t kill you and it doesn’t make you hurl your chow, it just might be fun and leave you a better person.
So here’s my advice to everybody out there—and you know who you are. Don’t chicken out and don’t give up. Go ahead and hang on for dear life and scream like a little girl if that’s what it takes to get you through it. But believe in yourself and try to enjoy the ups and downs. Maybe that’s what they’re there for.
Entry: Life, Reality, Sanity, Blurdy Sunday, November 23rd, 2008
Okay, kiddies. Time for some serious Blurdy meditations here. Prepare yourselves for the wisdom.
I’ve been going through some pretty hairy crap over the past few days (nothing I care to go into here) and it’s led me to do some serious soul searching—you know, kinda trying to get a handle on who Matt Blurdy really is and how I got to be that guy. After deep introspection, I’ve concluded that soul searching isn’t much fun. Which is probably why I haven’t done so much of it over the course of my life. But you know that famous quote about how the “unexamined life” isn’t worth living or something? Well, that quote seems pretty accurate to me at the moment, even if I can’t remember who said it. It was probably Abraham Lincoln or Shakespeare or somebody wise like that. What I’m thinking is that everybody, and that especially means you Mr. or Ms. Person reading these words, could probably benefit from taking a hard look at who they are every once in a while ‘cause you never really know when who you are is going to get tested. And you may not think it, but you could easily get a big fat F on that test because it’s like a personal identity pop quiz that your butthole teacher springs on you totally out of the blue. Only this time, the butthole teacher is life. There’s no time to study. No time to think. No time to bone up on who you are. Given that kind of situation, what’s to stop you from failing? So I guess what I’m saying here folks is, take the time and bone up on yourself NOW, while you’ve got a moment. And seriously think about maybe making some changes. Hell, even I’ve got a few things about my life I’m thinking about working on ‘cause, believe it or not, even the ‘ole Blurdy could probably be a better person.
You ever wonder about reality? You ever wonder how much of what’s going on around you is really real and how much of it might just be in your head? I have been thinking about this A LOT very recently. I mean, what is reality anyway? Is it just what it seems like and that’s it, or is there way more to it than that? Is it all about quarks and quantum particles and egg head physics stuff, or are there forces at work we can only guess at? Not just supernatural forces like ghosts of psychic hotline stuff, but maybe forces like good, evil and destiny. You know, for most of my life, I was kinda confused about the nature of reality. I mean, I pretty much believed in math, but I was open minded about Bigfoot for example. But then, in my twenties, I made up my mind about it and thought I knew the answer. And then something happened, just a while ago, and I totally changed my mind. And then, something else happened and now I’m back to being confused. So I guess the bottom line is, nobody really knows anything about anything. I sure don’t.
When I was a kid, I had this friend named Jane Hadley and one time, I told her I thought she was crazy and she said, “Crazy people never worry about being crazy. They think they’re sane. I worry about it sometimes, so I know I’m not crazy. That’s the only way to tell for sure.” Then she cracked me in the head with her lunchbox and ran off. It was one of those metal Scooby Do Lunchboxes and it hurt like a bastard and gave me a big old goose egg. Anyway, that idea that you can’t really be crazy if you are concerned about your sanity seemed really right on to me and it’s stuck with me all these years. Every once in a while when I’d get to worrying about my grasp on reality, I’d remember stupid Jane Hadley cracking my head with that lunchbox and then I could relax, confident in the knowledge that I couldn’t be crazy.
But then it occurred to me this morning, what if a crazy person knew that worrying about being crazy meant they couldn’t be crazy, and so, they worried about it just to prove that they weren’t? Because, you see, if they worried and used that as proof that they couldn’t be crazy, then they wouldn’t think that they were crazy, and then they could actually turn out to be crazy because crazy people don’t worry that they’re crazy and they’re not worried! Which I guess just kinda points to the fact that you can never know for sure if you’re crazy or not. You just can’t tell.
So here’s what I got. Nobody can tell for sure what life is all about, what the true nature of reality might be or even whether they’re really sane or not. It’s all just up in the air. Now you can either let that paralyze you, or you can just dive in and try to live your life and be the person you are. Maybe that’s a dude who works in a video store and lives in his mom’s basement. Maybe it’s a dude who secretly does heroic stuff and protects others from crap they can’t even guess about…uh, like a…like a secret cop. Maybe it’s a crazy social misfit sitting in an alley talking to himself. But the thing is, you gotta figure out who that dude is you are and compare it to the dude who you actually want to be. And then, if it ain’t right, try to fix it.
Me, I’m Mathew Blurdy, and I’m a dude whose got a pizza in the oven and a Lost In Space marathon to watch with my Lady Love. Thanks for reading my journal.