It seems like everyone is keeping a web journal these days. In general, I'm very much opposed to the idea of just posting up your most intimate thoughts for the whole world to read. It smacks of exhibitionism and encourages the hideously voyeuristic tendencies most members of our society have begun to show over the last few years. Against my better judgment, however, I have been persuaded to start keeping a weblog, if only to bitch about how much I hate weblogs.

I'm busily working on my next big RPG, a Ravenloft campaign that's going to be more or less continuitous with my last one. I've created my own system and everything, a project that has consumed much of my time and effort for the last several months. I would say that it's not worth it, except that I intend to use this same system through my next several games. The real problem is that it's going to become obsolete every few months as new things come out and new ideas are brought forward. That's the difficulty with excellence: it requires constant vigilance, while mediocrity is easy.

I hate my job. I've become convinced that most people hate their jobs, but mine is actively fucking me over, something I tend to have issues with. During the summer, I work for the university's housing conference, which gives room and board to various summer scholastic and athletic programs. Last year was my first year with them, so I got the shaft on number of hours per week, but I accepted that and toughed it out. First year *anything* has to pay its dues. This year, I'm still getting ass on hours. I've found out that it's because one of the scheduling managers this year was a first-year last summer himself, and he was so traumatized by the unfairness of it all that he changed the policy to give preferential scheduling to the first year employees. That makes no sense whatsoever, and punishes returning employees. I won't go into it anymore, since it angers up my blood. Needless to say, if I don't get more hours starting this week, it's two week notice time.

My fiancee's siblings were up for a few days this week. It was really great to see them, especially May. I like Charlie, but I just can't understand him about half the time; he's enigmatic to a fault, and quite fond of getting under people's skin. Charles is at his best when he's not trying so damn hard to be likeable or annoying - much like many people I know, the relazed Charlie is the best Charlie.

May, on the other hand, is an absolute delight to hang out with all of the time; I just wish I could get her to open up to me a little better. It's one of my great sorrows that I can't figure out a way to be better friends with her - she's one of the genuinely coolest and most talented people I know, not to mention drop-dead beautiful. She just doesn't pal around with me, though. I don't suppose I blame her; I am kind of lame sometimes, and I must seem hideously old to her. Mostly I guess that I wish I knew what she thinks of me.

Apparently, once you start typing a weblog, you just don't know when to shut up. Another thing I hate about them. I'll leave all this as is though; it's part of my agreement with myself - no editing.

I better get to bed before I start babbling any worse.


Jeremy