wildelven

In a wonderful parody of Wikileaks, Twitter had an explosion of Wookieleaks, a series of tweets about scandals and revelations from Star Wars. The best were written in scandal headline format, taking about "Imperial sources" and "leaked Rebel documents" while making commentary about Star Wars or tying something from a galaxy far, far way to our own political reality. I highly recommend getting on Twitter and reading some of them, or just use Google to find the best of Wookieleaks. (And yes, "wookie" isn't the correct spelling of wookiee. #wookieeleaks also exists, because Star Wars geeks are just that pedantic.)

My absolute favorite, by @armonde, sheds light on a long-standing contraversy surrounding Star Wars:

Unedited Cantina footage shows Han shooting first #wookieleaks

I decided to jump into the fun, having been inspired to write up a few of my own, some of which got retweeted (which made me happy). I'm posting them here for posterity, and to share them with non-Twitter users. Clever readers might notice that I don't seem to have much respect for the prequels, based on some of the tweets. The last one, I think, is my masterpiece.


Admiral Motti literally choked to suppress religious controversy over disturbing "lack of faith" #wookieleaks

Sources say Imperial garbage disposal procedure resulted in Rebel escape #wookieleaks

Recovered Imperial records show Emperor Palpatine behind Naboo blockade and Clone Wars in confusing, counter-intuitive scheme #wookieleaks

"Millennium Falcon" YT-1300 light freighter manufacturer apparently hushed criticism that "parsec" measured distance, not time #wookieleaks

Rebel eyewitnesses report protocol droid impersonating deity, manipulating primitive culture for personal gain #wookieleaks

Trade Federation sued by shareholders on release of Imperial records regarding silly and counter-intuitive galaxy-ruling scheme #wookieleaks

Episodes 1-3 revealed to be Cardassian holodock plot to break will of Captain Picard. "There are three films!" screamed Picard #wookieleaks

Update: damn it, misspelled holodeck!

shadesong has been writing bits from the setting of her story Cicatrix for Blogathon 2010. "Cicatrix," shadesong writes, "is the seriously bent portal fantasy," which she shared a piece with me some time ago. In response to "When the Fire's Gone", I wrote this. I don't have a title for it, but it's her story from a boy's perspective. Possibly from my perspective.


Every time I meet a girl, I can tell if she's one of them. An Alice, or a Lucy, someone who has been somewhere else, someone whose childhood was not like mine, but in a place far from here where magic was real, and not just some man on TV making the Statue of Liberty disappear. I spent my childhood dreaming of such a place, pretending that I was a knight fighting dragons, or a wizard learning strange magic from a faerie prince, but none of it was real. None of it mattered.

I wanted it to be real. Desperately, passionately, I wanted it to be real. I cried myself to sleep at night, because I wanted to go to a place where magic made everything special. It's not that my life was bad – I had a good home and decent parents, I did just well enough in school to blend in, and I had some good friends. But it wasn't magic. It wasn't who I wanted to be. And boys of a certain age weren't allowed to dream of unicorns and magic, or knights and princesses and dragons.

There was a girl in my school who was one of them. She was one of the strange, quiet girls whom everyone made fun of after the few times she spoke up in class. I used to, just to keep wearing my disguise. We met in a corner of the playground, and we reached out to one another. We were each something the other needed. She found someone she could trust with the truth, and I found someone who had lived the life I've dreamed of. We always met after school, and walked home through the woods and over the fields, exploring and telling stories and asking questions. That was back when children were trusted, mind you.

And then she left. Mom told me that she was sick, and that her parents had taken her away to get better. I knew I'd never see her again, but I also knew that she'd never get back to the place she yearned for, not if her parents had her way. I never did see her again, although I dream of her sometimes. I don't even remember her name, now.

I was going to ask her to take me with her, if she ever did go back. I like to think she made it.

Every time I meet a girl, I can tell if she's one of them. I can tell if she's a little bit fey, a little wild, a little kinky, and a little like she doesn't belong. My friends always warn me that I pick the crazy ones, the depressed, the bipolar, and the broken. They warn me about dating anyone crazier than I am, but they never understand. I'm not looking for a quick lay, a one-night stand, or a girl to make me feel better about how miserable my life is. Those are easy to find. But the truly wild ones? The ones who aren't pretending, or are just dreamers like I am? Much harder.

I'm not looking for a quick score, or someone to make me feel better about myself. I'm looking for someone who can take me with her, if she ever does go back. Because I don't think I can get there on my own.


shadesong wants to call this Cicatrix fan-fiction. I become indignant when this happens. But if you enjoyed there, I do recommend the stories shadesong is writing, and I implore you to donate to her cause. (Of which I am helping her out by being a member of the pit crew. Inspiring and feeding Blogathon writers since 5:00 PM!)

shadesong is hosting a blogathon to raise money for the Boston Area Rape Crisis Center, and needs your support! From her LJ:

I'll be posting short fiction and poetry, composed spontaneously, every half hour for 24 hours. That's 49 pieces of story, automatic for the people. I'm also running an auction of wonderful stuff donated by wonderful people; each post will have a link to an auction item, and the story therein will be inspired by said auction item. (Auction will run July 26-August 2.) Yeah. Other people just post "I am so tired" for hours. I do Blogathon backwards and in heels. Because it wasn't hard enough?

Attentive readers will also notice shadesong mention her auction. There's lots of cool stuff there. And just in general, her LJ is an interesting place. You should check it out.

The Boston Area Rape Crisis Center, by the way, is a fantastic organization, and I highly encourage supporting them, or your local center or organization devoted to stopping rape. Or volunteer. Or talk to people, friends, and family. There are a lot of little things people can do to change how our culture thinks about and handles rape.


Which brings me to my small gaming story. I can't explain why, but apparently a lot of douchebags enjoy gaming online. It's a well-known fact that anonymity online leads to some gamers using abusive language, racist and sexist comments, and other hateful and hurtful language. So, when I found myself playing a game of Alien Swarm (fantastic free game on Steam) and a player named "A Black Rapist" joined, I promptly booted him and reported him to Valve.

Sadly, doing a user search for the term "rapist" lead to over four hundred hits. This saddens me greatly, and I've started to wonder what I can do to help change this, aside from booting and reporting anyone who plays that way. Ideas? Thoughts? Suggestions?

Finally got a chance to see it, with a bunch of friends at one of the local cinemas.

Even with the music cutting out three times (yes, we got free passes for that), it was an amazing film. I do want to see it again.


And I thiiinnnkkk... might be better than the Matrix.

It is a very strange feeling, the idea that I'll get more done once I get a job.

But hey, my new job starts tomorrow.

Looking forward to it.

Performed housecleaning today.

Battlestar Galactica + Malish = Creepy as Hell + Mind-screw Upon Waking


Also? Planet after planet of the Malish telling us that everything was okay was really wearing on the crew. Even when we knew that the planet was that way, we still had to check for ourselves. And the last thing I remembered was getting stabbed with a needle before heading back to the ship. At least we had good security protocols.

I had dream about Suriname again last night. In my dreams, Paramaribo is like a run-down, once-mighty city, full of old buildings and dreams, but still trying to live. There's lots of new innovation, but it's hiding among the ruins.

A lot of my old Peace Corps buddies were there, which is funny, because we're all gone by now. And I was apparently on my way to Aruba, and decided to stop off for a day and watch a friend's performance.

It's really strange how different places are in my dreams. And they're always the same place, despite any differences. I dream about the same college every time, for instance. It's an old school, but large and sprawling, like UMass Amherst was, but with more vine-covered walls, like Harvard or Fitchburg State. Yet it is definitely no school I've ever been to.

And Suriname is just like that. In my dreams, that country is nothing like the reality.

Post from mobile portal m.livejournal.com

Fallout 3: GotY is $25 this week on Steam. This edition includes a lot of the expansion packs, and usually runs at $50.

Come on, folks! Come out from your Vault and join us in the world of tomorrow!