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Rants and Raves

Trembling...in anticipation....

I'm an Attention Whore

Chris J. Canatsey
My other home, go check it out!



November 26th, 2011


Looking back sometimes can be rough, but a healthy part of living I feel. Looking back upon huge moments that affect a life is refreshing at times but also can be stressful and generally heavy.

My grandmother passed away yesterday at 9:17am in the morning. She simply fell asleep and did not wake back up, her last hours were pain free and relaxing as her body simply let go. I was never particularly close to my grandmother, I'll be the first to say I didn't like her but she was family and she was loved nonetheless. She was one of the first people in my life, literally right after the doctors and my parents she was there. My grandmother has been a stable and pointed fact in my life for these last 25 years, and quite suddenly she's gone. I said all my goodbyes when I left New Port Richey over 7 years ago, she and many others I did not ever need to see again to live a happy life. But I am still moved at her passing, at the woman who first taught me to plant and grow and garden. This woman who taught me to cook and combine spices, which lead to a passion that fills me completely.

The person you are today is a mash-up of your life experiences, both good and bad. My grandmother who has passed on was a big and important role in many of my life experiences, for good or for ill. If you enjoy the person that I am today, raise a glass in respect for the woman who helped me along my both.

We may not have always gotten along, but you know I always ahve and will love you Grandma.

 - Chris

November 8th, 2011

Christmas Wishlist of DOOM!

As is tradition, I like to provide a Christmas wishlist for all of those
people who inquire or wish to do any gift-giving towards me this
upcoming season. Likewise, if you would like one of my delightfully made
Christmas cards or a gift, do let me know your address or provide me
with a similar list :)


. XBox 360

. PS3

. New Laptop battery

. Blackberry Cellphone Charger

. Elder Scrolls: Skyrim (PS3 or 360)

. World of Warcraft game-time cards

. iPad

. Digital camera

. iPod Touch

. Skylander (Wii)

. Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword (Wii)

. External drive

. Flash drive


. White tee-shirts (large)

. Khaki shorts (36 waist)

. Socks!

. Fabric for making clothing with (white, blue, red, brown, green and black preferred)

. Elbow pads

. Catcher greeves

. Leather boots (preferably in a 14th century style)


. Mage: The Awakening Minds Eye Theater addition

. Banisher (Mage: the Awakening supplement book)

. Seers of the Throne (Mage: the Awakening supplement book)

. Forme of Cury

. Wolfheart

. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (hardback)


. Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger tides (DVD)

. Lord of the Rings Extended edition Fellowship of the ring (DVD)

. Howl's Moving Castle (DVD)

. Troll Hunter (DVD)

. The Lion King (DVD)

Captain America; The First Avenger (DVD)


. Basic weight lifting set

. Sticks of Rattan

. Decks of playing cards

. Saffron

. Grains of Paradise

. Cubeb

. Kiddie pool (big plastic ones)

. Potting soil

. Onion, Green pepper, basil, rosemary or sage seeds

. Camping lantern

. Fire pit

. Razors

. Gift cards to Wal-Mart, Target, Lowes, Home Depot, Books-a-Million, Michaels or Jo-Anne's

July 16th, 2011

IC: WIll they?

Alfred pushed back from his computer chair, the plush leather having long since conformed to his body and it felt like he was leaving a second pair of skin as he peeled himself up. His red and bleary eyes stared at the computer monitor, glancing over at the picture frame to the right of the monitor hanging on the wall. He seemed to draw strength from gazing at it, as if to remind himself of what he was doing.

It was your standard photo frame, five different photo's surrounding a central picture. In one photo was a picture of Alfred and Dario enjoying a pretzel together from the New York trip, smiles on both their beaming faces. Would he ever forgive him, for the actions he was taking? Would he ever understand..? Alfred kisses two fingertips and places them against the photo, his eyes moving over to another photo containing the image of Alfred and Calli sitting in some beach chairs and flanked by rather attractive cabana boys. Would she miss him, if things take a dark turn, or would she just move one? Will she understand the motivations, the movements and the purpose? Or will she just condemn and be hurt?

Alfred pulls out from his desk a beer, popping the top off the wooden edge and tipping his head in salute to his dear friend. His eyes wander to the photo of Faith, feeling a sense of sadness overcome him. Would this gambit fail, and would he be forever separated from her? Would he not survive the week, let alone live to never see her grow up? Alfred's gaze drifts to the photo of his cousin Bree, the best one she's ever had in his mind from the 2008 Christmas card he never responded to. Would she approve or would she be angry and upset with him? Does she understand the stakes, or even what could occur should things be allowed to continue? Would he live one day to see her children grow and become beautiful in their own right?

He sips the beer, his eyes misting a bit. His gaze looks back to the final and largest picture in the frame, a photo taken of Gypsy as they danced at Fee's wedding. Alfred places a hand to his chest, as a heaviness sinking in his heart and soul. Does she support him, does he think what he's doing is right? Would she approve of his methods, would she still think fondly of him? He winces a bit, not looking forward to the scorn or look of sadness or pity in her eyes and wondering if he could steady his resolve to withstand her, and survive his own shame.

Alfred takes a deep breath and finishes his beer, tossing the empty glass bottle into his recycling bin. He walks with a steady gaze and opens his closet, whispering the soft muradas and tracing the sigal to open his own personal pocket realm. He pulls out all the necessary gear he was going to need for the trip, laying it on the bed. He speaks aloud, reaffirming his choice in attire almost ritualistically.

Black leather pants, shined and polished. "To hide my sins and fool my enemies."
Tap shoes with the trick heel to mask the sound. "To better dance with death."
Silk shirt, magenta in coloration. "To show my heart and hide my soul."
Pocketwatch attached to a stainless steel chain. "To always remember my place."
Stick of gum in the front pocket. "For emergencies."
Glitter for his clothing. "To blind my foes and fool my friends."
Sequined gold bowler cap. "Because you should always have fun and stay classy."

Alfred looks over everything, then turns to smile in the mirror. His grin slowly grows as he feels the warm comfort, the familiar touch of Fate. Filled with confidence, he poses and displays himself in the full length mirror. Hands on hips, hips cocked and that smug and self-assured smile slowly sliding its way on his face. "Oh darling, you look fabulous today." The lisp slides in naturally to his voice, a practiced trait after so many years. Alfred leans in and kisses the mirror, and makes a small wave.

"Pleasure to see you today Michael, let's go change the world. Shall we?"

June 13th, 2011

IC: Abdul's first

The air was cool and damp, he could practically taste the snark and falsely sweet words in his tongue. His eyes scanned the room nervously, there were far too many entrances into this ballroom and far to many side areas for Cainites to escape and carry on with foul deeds. The stench of the Warlocks made his nose twitch when he chose to breath, and his ridgedly clenched muscles made it clear to all that walked by; Abdul Aziz ibn Christian was an Assamite ready to pounce.

"Abdul, are you well?" The familiar veiled Arabic voice of Zaraya al-Kitab rang in his ears.

"I...no, honestly not sister. This social function is not for me, not what I am trained for or prepared for. I am a rafiq amongst the Children, yet I do not know how to fight this battle.." Abdul's gaze drifts to the small cluster of Toreador chattering away, the occasional laugh puncturing the conversation.

The smile clearly in her eyes, she reaches out and touches his shoulder. "This is the life of the Camarilla, you will adjust."

He sighs, but is visibly calmed by her comforting gesture. His eyes scan around the room and catches the sight of his fellow Children of Haqim circling the room. The mic on the front podium crackles to life and Abdul shifts his gaze. He steps forward to draw out the chair for his Elder Prince, sliding the obsidian Cainite to the table. At the mention of Archon Madwell's departure to handle a security issue, Abdul raises an eyebrow and turns of Zaraya. She matches his gaze and they share a singular thought.

It was going to be one of those nights.

As if acting on one thought, both of the Assamites move into action. Abdul takes a defensive posture, hands open a his sides next to the small hidden daggers at his hips. Zaraya quickly moves about the ballroom, gathering the scattered Children of Haqim to one circle around Abdul to quickly conference. Whispered words are shared as they each reveal a piece of information, and a plan of action is quickly planned. Abdul and Zaraya remain to guard the Elder, and the others quickly fan out around the room creating a web of protection in case of any danger.

His sharp eyes alerting him to the movement of a Clanmate, Abdul turns his head and whispers harshly in Arabic. "Report."

"The Malkavians have gathered in the side chamber, they are all babbling in foreign tongues but seem to be able to communicate. They have amassed a large number of papers, each has some strange scribbles or symbols. They seem to be assembling them like a puzzle, but only that Clan seems to be able to understand a thing." The fellow Assamite quickly speaks, his eyes on Abdul.

There are several moments of silence between the two, as they seem to gaze in each others face. Abdul frowns a touch before understanding the look on his Clanmates face. It was the same one he took when speaking with either Zaraya or Alim at home, the one he has given and continues to give his Sire whenever they speak. This Assamite before him was awaiting orders from a superior.

"Find me another Brother, after that do your best to spy on the Madmen. We must learn what they are doing, and if it relates to this woman in red leather. I will inform the Elder." Abdul swallows hard, his throat having gone dry. The other Assamite bows before heading off to do as directed, and it's all Abdul can do to keep an outward composure. I have never given an order to a Clanmate before. The thought swirls in his mind as he bends low to whisper in the Elder's ear before returning to his post.

Zaraya seems to have a slight smile on her face as she watches Abdul over the next several minutes. Several Assamites come back and forth between them both, relaying information to Abdul and Zaraya and receiving more orders from the duo. At times even the Sheriff steps forward to listen to his words, a whispered command sends her off on another errand. His mind still wrestles with this new sensation of authority when he turns to face the newest arrival.

Thankful that his darkened skin prevents anyone from seeing he color drain out of it, Abdul blinks rapidly as the eldest rafiq at the gathering steps forward. This black warrior has a slight frown on his face, arms crossed and a posture that radiates displeasure at some current event. Not thinking and just reacting, Abdul speaks. "Report."

"There are currently only two women matching the description of the individual we are searching for. I am unsure of their names and vital information, bu can locate all of that with relative ease." The elder rafiq speaks plainly, no hint of anger in his voice.

"Excellent. Locate their names, clans, Camarilla positions and any details that the Elder might consider important then report." Abdul wastes no words in emotion, simply dictating his intent.

The elder rafiq nods his head and spins on a heel to do as instructed, and Abdul releases a held breath in relief. Who am I to give such orders, who am I to command our brothers so? The thoughts trouble him as he steps up quickly to speak with his Elder. He relays all the current information gathered, using Arabic only to minimalize any preventive leaks to the Nosferatu. The Elder, his advanced age giving him the appearance of a shining obsidian statue, remains still for what seems like years while he processes.

"Good work. Keep me informed."

That simple line causes Abdul's heart to race, his eyes shining in pride. He steps back, straightening his spine and tensing his body in preparation. Not only had he done the job suddenly thrust upon him, but he had done it with enough satisfaction to receive such praise from his Elder. A small smile creeps onto his face, causing a nearby Tremere neonate to step back nervously.

I would walk through fire for my Elder.

*       *           *

This and other nifty blog creations can be found at my new creation blog: http://transcendental-jouneys.blogspot.com

June 7th, 2011

New post!

My newest post to my creation blog is up, entitled Lost Tales: The Day We Never Told Gypsy About.

Go check it out, I think it's not too bad :)


June 6th, 2011

Well hello gentle reader, I see you've stuck around this long. Hope you're not expecting some epic tale or firm reason for my absence in La-la LJ land.

Life has been a bit of a roller-coaster as of late. Financial issues with the car have been (mostly) settled, got my budget plan set back in place for the rest of the calender year. Making the intelligent choice to move back in with my father at the end of the year, gonna rent out the upstairs portion of his 2 story house. This'll allow me to afford a brand new car (a good investment) as well as finish schooling for a better paying job. I'm not entirely please with having to move, but it is for the best to give myself a better future. Plus I'll have steady internet access so life won't be to difficult.

I started a creation blog, gonna update Tuesday/Thursday/Sunday's. Hit me up if you want the link.

Let's get the ball rolling again, time to get these old tires out of the mud.

March 3rd, 2011

IC: Bliss

George revved the engine hard as he raced along the highway, weaving in and out of the slower cars. He had long ago removed his helmet, his hair whipping freely back and his eyes narrowed at the high winds. He was already pining for his beloved, the feel of her lips on his cheek or her hand within his starting to fade.

It had been a strange few days lately. George had his usual routine of church repair, he removed an urge demon from a home the night prior and just this morning he had helped to consecrate a new graveyard. But everything felt...more. Ever since he met Kat, his life had become more and more beautiful. Sights and smells, previously overlooked, seemed highlighted to his senses and stood out everywhere. Life had a beauty to it, a new look and a new polish that his previous specter of death always seemed to hide.

He heard the next song cycle through on his iPod, the song he had dubbed "Kat's Song" in his heart. He thought back to that night, where she had dressed him in such finery as he had never known to celebrate his new life. Where she had worn clothing he saw fit for only perfection...and she was perfection in  his eyes. His smile grew wide, and he laughs as he lays the bike to the side. His foot touching the ground, George makes a sharp J-turn and immediately changes lanes and speeds back up north. Kat had broken him from his mold, made him feel like a real person for the first time in nearly a decade.

Fresh Strawberries and wildflowers were a must, he hoped to surprise her by arriving a day earlier than he said. Plans with his father could wait, love could not be contained so.

February 23rd, 2011

IC: Reforging

tink tink tink

For hours on end, that was his only companion in the darkness. He could see nothing, having doused every flame and ensured that no sun shone over his Hollow, and worked his craft in absolute darkness. The furnace even produced a black flame, the blade when heated seemed to suck in the light around it.

tink tink tink hisssssssssss

Wiping sweat from his brow, Toil pants softly. This was the longest part, the hardest part of the craft. Until now it had all been physical strength which was required, a strength Toil sadly lacked. Hammering the metal, heating and cooling over and over for more hours than he could recall, Toil's body ached in places normal bodies were not meant to ache. Yet this was all easy, all simple. The real hard part became the magic, which he would have to add neck.

tink tink tink hissssssssss

Pulling the blade from the water once more, he lays the metal back onto the furnace. Feeling the heat beat form the dark flames, he begins to sweat profusely. Summoning his courage, he reaches into his sack. He begins to pull items from it, placing them on the hollow of the blade. Thrusting his hands into the fire time and time again, he winces as he feels his flesh blackening and burning, the smell of cooked meat to his nose. Each time he thrusts his hands in, he seems to speak aloud to only his own ears what he has added.

"The first rays of dawn, so it may know hope."

"Blood of the enemy, so it may thirst."

"Platinum, so it may remain pure."

"Blood of the hero, so it may know its path."

"Blood of the creator, so it may know sacrifice."

As he with draws his burned hands, he steels his resolve. Grabbing the blade from the flames once more, he sets it within the hilt and begins to hammer. Every ounce of pain, almost enough to make him faint, he used to fuel his strikes. As each hammer blow fell, sparks of light rose up as if to defy the darkness. Toil hammers, slamming the mallet down over and over for hours before stopping from sheer exhaustion.  Dipping his own hands into the water, and knowing he taints its purity with his blood, he looks at his finished work. Wrapping his hands around the hilt, he holds it aloft, gazing with unseeing eyes.  "You who was forged in the darkness, when all hope has seemed lost for a new day. What say you then, to the endless night?" The most critical part...that which would define if he were to succeed or fail.

The blade begins to hum, like the soft thrum of a new day. From deep within it's core, it starts to glow a ruby red and gold. As if the dawn itself was rising from within the blade, it began to glow brighter and bright like the sun. Banishing the darkness from the workshop, it illuminates every corner of small space. Its light is reflected in the tears on Toils face, shimmering and sparkling as he admires his creation.

"You...are ready."

January 18th, 2011

I've had a lot of time for introspection lately, free time to think be it at my job or in my home. I've been troubled for a little while now in regards to it all, the things I've considered and where my mind has let me wander. I'm not a person of change most of the time, much of my life has been me fighting to keep things static and unmoving, but on random and rare occasions I just need it. I crave change in my life, be it a new place or new job or new clothing style. This is one of these times for me, but I've been actively fighting it for about 2-3 months now.

I'm happy, but then I'm not, with my life. I'm happy with having my own place again, living on my own does wonders for my metal state and self-esteem. I'm happy to have a job and car, they're not ideal of what I'd like but they both get the job done and by golly that's what matters! I'm happy with my girlfriend, sure we have the occasional fight but what couple doesn't? I'm happy with Game over all, and happy with my friends whom I get to see and associate with.

On the other side of the coin I'm unhappy with my job too, I'm not making anywhere near the amount of money I work for and constantly have to take it in the jaw for other peoples issues and mistakes. I'm unhappy that there are times that require me to devote whole days to game related activites, I hate the feeling of if I'm not focused and catching up and handling all these e-mails then I won't get to enjoy Game. I'm unhappy with my self-image, I really want to invest in a new waredrobe and get to losing weight and I'm tired of money/time issues always cropping up. I feel spiritually disconnected, a feeling that even church attendance has been able to rectify.

I really am a creature of habits. I like to go to bed at the same time, wake up at the same time, eat at the same time. I like to do the same things on the same days with the same people. The problem is, and I can recgonize this, is that my habits become self-destructive. If I get into habits which are not good for me at all, I keep the cycle going and continue to rev myself ina  downward spiral. I'm utterly afraid of change, I'm terrified of making a mistake and ruining my life. But I can't keep going in this pattern, I can't keep this cycle of being up. I need to focus on myself, be selfish and see to my own needs, if I am ever to be able to help others.

I need to take steps back from Game. I can't fix every issue, and I can't force people to be civilized human beings or responsible. I need to accept this, really really really do. I need to focus on what I have fun with, and step away from the things I don't. I'm cutting Requiem out all together, I have my character that I'm keeping on the books for random con games or the like I feel like attending, but I won't force myself to the local game anymore. I enjoy Storytelling in Mage so I'm gonna keep up on that, as well as do my fun Sparkles RP where I go. I enjoy Toil's personal story, and everytime I've raised my head above the local scene I've bencome sickened. I'm gonna focus on the local Game only for a while, do my Praesidium plans and just enjoy and have fun (zero stress). I adore being in the thick of it with Masquerade, that won't change much though now that I have some reliable minion PC's I think I can relax and not work as hard anymore...I'd like some more good RP scenes like I had the other night with Carmen.

I need to make myself feel good about me again. I'm gonna start light, do some walking as well as basic push-ups/sit-ups. I've considered the P90x that others are working on, but I can't afford all the extra equipment and such right now. I need to focus better on my dietary intake as well. More home cooked meals, more good for you food. Juice is expensive, but from concentrate is far cheaper so I may be going that route. I enjoy cooking meals anyway, so it's not a hardship...I just need to remind myself not to be lazy and buy burgers at mcdonalds because I've had a long day at work :p. Eating better and doing ome basic exercises will get me feeling better about myself, and the money I save on fast food can be aimed at improving and updating my waredrobe.
I need to get school back up and running, this job situation is my fault. I need to get my career going, I need to move on with my life. I'm almost 25 for pete's sake, and I still feel stalled in my life because I've been too afraid of failure. I'm not where I wanted to be at this age, nor am I where I need to be. And I really don't have anyone to blame but myself, sure some situations have contributed but the overall area of blame is with myself being too afraid and comfortable in my safe zone.

I wanna hang out with my friends more, be more social outside of Game. Its hard when a majority of my friends are in the same hobby, we tend to gravitate to topics we all feel comfortable. Maybe I'll start setting up a poker night, or a evening where I gather with my friends and just cook dinner and have a social dinner night like I used to in Gainesville. Maybe I'll set up a DnDnD night (Dungeons and Dragons and Dinner), just to hang with my friends and enjoy each others company.

I need to get my life in order again, to clean it up and put it where I need to put it. I need to feel on an even keel again, like I'm in control again and not passing off the debt and responsibility of my choices unto others. I wanna feel good about myself and life again, because I'm a decent person and gosh darnit I deserve to feel that way. I'm just utterly afraid of taking these steps. I just have to hope I'll have help along the way, because man will I need it >.<.

January 13th, 2011

Brogan paces back and forth, his weapon of choice held up in a defensive posture. He watches his fowl foe rise slowly to the occasion, the smell of defeat lingering off as Brogan stood back ready to strike the final blow. Making a swift slide to the left and dropping the iron protection his foe hides behind, Brogan stabs forward and makes three vertical cuts along his foes mid-section. Seeing the juices run freely, Brogan smiles wide. He puts down his knife, reaching for the next instrument in his struggle.

Pulling the Duck pot pie from the stove with his heat-resistant mitts, Brogan takes a deep whiff and sighs happily at the completed work. The crust was browned just right, the juices ran clear and free from the ventilation slits and he could see the vegitables inside had distrubuted just right. Setting it on a rack to cool for later, Brogan begins to hum as he scrubs the various dishware used for the meal. It was a good day today, very few customer's in McNeils this day meant more time for experimentation with various meals. It was a slow paced life, the only real struggle he dealt with daily was the Marquis and Marquess fighting for his service (and of course the Pooka and her 'borrowing' of his various kitchen tools). No one had called upon his Knightly duties since he arrived some 5 years ago, and life was at peace.

The thunderclap rolls across the sky, as a chill wind begins to set in. As a cloud moves to cover the skies, Brogan gives a shiver down his spine at the sudden change of weather. It was a frustration, the quick change of weather here in Florida, and one that tended to set him on edge. Especially when it involved incoming thunderstorms, which Florida was also famous for. Shutting his small window and curtains, Brogan shakes his head as he does his best to block out the drum beat inside his own veins that accomplinies the pitter-patter of the rains that fall from the storming skies.

"McNeil, I'm checing out for the day. Its slow, and we won't have any customers with this storm." He grabs his coat and hat, getting the standard nod from McNeil, then pulls his hat down low as he steps out into the storm. Brogan gives a sigh of relief as he heads out, feeling the wind begin to whip against his exposed skin and the rain water begin to seep into his clothing. Moving about down the street, he helps various ladies (caught in the middle of thier mid-day strolls) inside by proiding shelter of his small umbrella and opening doors, until he is the only one left about.

Making his way back to his small home, Brogan breathes deep in the purity of the thunderstorms fresh air. Stepping inside long enough to kick off his shoes, he heads to his rooftop sanctuary. Placing his hand on the well-weathered steering wheel fixed upon his roof, Brogan tilts his head back and stares into the storm itself. He gives the wheel a spin, feeling the drumming inside his veins pounding away again as he relives memories of yesteryear. He gives a soft chuckle, imagining that he was back on the ship again. Brogan closes his eyes and loses himself in the memories, seeking that sweet release even for just a few hours as the storm rages overhead.

A few hours of violence, several weeks of peace. Life is good to Brogan.
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