A Valentine's Letter of Sorts

Note: Today's post is actually ripped and generally unedited from an old blog of mine. I had posted this a year or two ago for Valentine's Day, as I had been playing Final Fantasy 8 for the first time around then. Those who have played it may find this humorous, those who haven't... Well, let's just say I'm honestly not exaggerating the game much at all. Anyways:


Dear Final Fantasy 8,

I know we may not have gotten along the best in the past, but I hope this day is treating you well. Needless to say, I know that you're a very demanding individual, and I hope you find someone that can do things the way you like them. Someone who won't try to fight their battles. Someone who won't try to get more experience. I know you want to keep us down, FF8. You don't want us to play the way we're used to playing, you want us to work with you, the way you want, because you think that would be funny.

A look back at more pleasant times together,
before I opened your case.

It would be fine if those we're the only issues, but baby, you know they're not. I know you have a thing for artists, but you can't just force someone to be one if they aren't already. I've been drawing and drawing and drawing for you, FF8, and what do I have to show for it? Am I really any better than I was before? I don't feel like it. You tell me that I'll be better if I stock up 100 of each drawing, but do you know how long that even takes to do? And then every once in a while, you'll make me use the drawings so that you can show your friends or whatever it is you even do with them, and then I have to start drawing back up to 100 drawings again. Oh, and not to mention the times you find something totally new you like, and then I have to start drawing all over again.

I'm sorry, baby. I know this is a special day, and I didn't mean to just bad talk you, but you make me so emotional. I know that you have your positive qualities sometimes too. Like, um, do you remember when we used to play cards together? We always had so much with that. I got into cards back when I used to play with my ex, FF9, but then I realized that playing with her wasn't any fun. She had all these crazy rules, and she expected me to remember all of them. She would draw all these weird numbers and letters on the cards, and once I thought that I finally understood her little game, she told me that she actually couldn't even fit on all the numbers she needed to on the card itself. 

Oh... Oh god. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON, FF9?
WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

That's why I liked our card games, baby, at least at first. You kept it simple. I could see what was going on. Unfortunately, even that was not perfect. At some point you got it in your head that it would be fun to start changing up the rules every once in a while. You thought it would be more interesting. Then, when I was confused by all these new rules, you would beat me and take the one card I treasured most. The one I never knew if I would find another copy of. Somehow, FF8, you managed to break my spirit and take away all the fun I once had over our card game that I held so close to my heart.

I haven't even touched upon your crazy demands. Do you remember that time you told me that you thought I should wear fire instead of a coat? I laughed it off, thinking you were just cracking a joke, but then you just stared at me expectantly. You tried to tell me it would help protect me, and I honestly didn't even know what to tell you.

In retrospect, I guess I really haven't touched upon a good quality. You can sing pretty well, I guess? I don't know, FF9 used to be better at that too. Well, anyways, I wish you the best.

Best Regards,
Azuma

The Ultimate Fear

Over the last week, Lola became more scared than usual. Sure, Lola was always a complete chicken, but now she was scared to even sit in the family room any longer and I would constantly find her either in the kitchen all alone or in the cat's small room, sitting with him.

You know somethings wrong when this
creep seems like a suitable roommate.

We weren't sure what was bugging Lola so much. We realized there had to be something in the family room that was getting to her, but we had no idea what it could possibly be. Her world was crumbling around her and we were merely insensitive jerks, clueless to the cause of her endless pain. 

This is what it looks like when a giant dog fearfully
 tries to cram herself into a room meant for a cat

We pondered and pondered what could have possibly had this effect on her, but couldn't seem to figure it out. All the while, her growing fear spread over a week, showing no signs of going away. By the end of the week we finally learned what the problem was, and she's now slowly been re-adapting to her old habitat in our family room... but before merely explaining what scared her so greatly, I'd like to take a step back and consider things from her point of view.

Last week was my brother's birthday, and over the weekend we had a surprise dinner party out for him one night. Obviously, as any individual could tell you, this meant to Lola that we had ditched yet again for the night to go out, but the true problems were so much larger than that. 

While enjoying our time at the party, my brother got a number of fun gifts, and some family friends even brought some balloons to add to the festive atmosphere of the party. When the night was done, we decided to take some of the balloons home, as our friends had certainly put together a very nice collection of sorts. When we got back home, we put the balloons in the front room, right by the family room, and went to say hello to our dogs, like always. Lola, like always, was happy to see us after having probably scared herself into thinking we had left her forever. She was happy enough, in fact, that we never would have realized that this very moment was when her intense fear began. As Lola cheerfully licked us all hello, her eyes set sight on the balloons which now resided in the next room over. Lola, in her abstract dog mentality, quickly recognized said balloons for exactly what they were. She immediately noticed that her old worst enemy, plastic bags, had somehow now obtained the ability to levitate... and this horrified her. Lola stared at the balloons, unsure what to do about this terrifying new revelation, while the balloons merely floated in place, smugly mocking her fear.

Look at those smug motherfuckers

Lola had known fear before, but she had never known fear like this. No matter how hard she fearfully glared, at the balloons, they stood their ground. They may have wavered some in the natural breeze, but they showed no sympathy or remorse. Lola knew that the house wasn't big enough for the both of them, and was determined that either her or the balloons would have to go, but she couldn't find the determination to stand up to the balloons and their ruthless bullying. She wanted to find that determination, truly she did, but when she stared at the cold, lifeless surface of those balloons, she was instilled with such fear that she would physically shake.

It was only once we realized that, perhaps, there was a connection between the balloons and Lola's fear that we moved said balloons to another room where she wouldn't be able to see them.

And thus, Lola felt she could stand tall in knowing that this was a battle that she had won. She knew she could now rest peacefully.

Still, however, every once in a while Lola shakes walking into the room as she fearfully scans it, considering the possibility that her old nemesis could return.

Goose Part II: All Hell Breaks Loose

I thought the Geese outside my workplace were weird before... I did. Now everything's reached a whole new level though.

Over the past week, goose drama was unfolding left and right. The word around the office was initially that father goose had left mother goose, or rather, as my co-worker so eloquently put it:

"“Like a typical male, Father goose hits up mother goose and leaves.”


Despite the rage of my feminist coworker, before long we realized that father goose had not actually gone anywhere besides perhaps to some other part of the parking lot for the time being. She probably would have referred to it as "that asshole going out on the town while mother goose was suffering through the trials and tribulations of childbirth" but, considering that I'm a member of the male gender that she seems to have such distaste for, I did not actually approach her for a comment.

Anyways, as this one rumor was extinguished, a more awkward one started to arise in its place. Specifically, the new rumor was that the geese were spotted eating their eggs. As everyone had been crowding around one window to look outside at the geese, I decided to take a peek out said window to see if the rumors were true:

I quickly snapped one picture of the goose from the rain splattered window, but couldn't see the eggs anywhere, so I could only imagine that the goose was still sitting on them. As I took my picture, I jumped as I very quickly got confirmation that father goose had certainly not left mother goose:

 Despite the rain splattered glass separating me and father goose, he had jumped into view so quickly that I was convinced he was determined to rip my face, glass or no glass. Needless to say, I went back to my desk and didn't get very much of a confirmation of what was going on as father goose was now standing there, ever waiting, to rip my face off. 


Needless to say, this all occurred days ago, and the geese are still there, showing no signs of moving. The geese have claimed my workplace to be their home, and will not leave until they conquer and consume everything in their sight.


At this point, all I can truly do is hope that they take sassy feminist co-worker before they take me.