Life is like a box of chocolates; everything’s good until you end up with a mouthful of nuts.
The Wieler Vaccine
Imagination has always been one of the most wondrous gifts in my opinion. Without it, would we even have advanced to where we are? If not for the dreamers, how we would ever advance as a race? As a society?
Of course, there was the argument for pre-destination; perhaps the Jovians had controlled it all… for all we knew, there could have been several attempts, perhaps even across several dimensions, creating different timelines for New Eden we would never be aware of. Did we ever come to fully understand their power? Did they even have limitations?
Gigaer recently gave a sit down interview. Twas an interesting tale he spun. Did it really happen that way? Did it not? Does the truth of it matter more than the telling?
Pirate Music
Ol Nyna Evpuneq Nu penc, V’z va gebhoyr guvf gvzr. Wbjny juvarq fbzrguvat jryy nobir zl urnevat enatr.
“V’z xvaqn ohfl evtug abj,” V fnvq. Wbjny qvnyyrq ure serdhrapl onpx gb fbzrguvat n yvggyr yrff yvxryl gb penpx tynff naq gevrq ntnva.
“Gurl’er fubbgvat ng hf.”
“Abg n ybg V pna qb nobhg gung abj,” V lryyrq, synvyvat gbjneqf gur pbafbyr. V yhatrq ng gur xabo gung qviregf nyy raretl gb gur erne qrsyrpgbe fuvryqf. Gur rfpncr cbq ynhapurq.
“Qnzzvg.”
“Gurl’ir whfg incbevmrq gur rfpncr cbq.”
“V pna frr gung, Wbjny. Jurer gur uryy vf Rabc?”
“Fur’f qbja va gur tnyyrl.” Fbzrguvat uvg hf — uneq.
“Qba’g gryy zr fur’f orra yvfgravat?” V fnvq. Wbjny abqqrq.
“Gung’f whfg terng,” V fubhgrq, fynzzvat zl svfg vagb gur pbafbyr, “jr’er tvivat guvf hc abj orsber gurl oybj hf bhg bs gur fxl.” Wbjny fdhrnyrq fbzrguvat. V onpxrq bss gur guehfgref naq fnttrq vagb zl frng. V’z abg n cvybg, arire unir orra. Gur pbyq terl bs gur cngeby pehvfre svyyrq gur zbavgbe.
***
Jr fgbbq orsber gur Zvazngne pbzznaqre. Zl ersyrpgvba qnaprq bss gur bqqyl natyrq cnaryf bs uvf havsbez. Vg jnf inthryl ulcabgvp. Ur’q frag uvf tehagf va svefg. Gurl’q ebhaqrq hf hc — n ovg zber ivtbebhfyl guna jnf fgevpgyl arprffnel — ohg jr unq gevrq gb bhgeha uvz, fb V pbhyqa’g ernyyl pbzcynva. Bar nccrnerq oruvaq uvz naq juvfcrerq fbzrguvat va Zngnev. V qvqa’g pngpu vg. Gheavat gb hf, ur fjvgpurq gb Pbzzba.
“V ungr fzhttyref.” V qvqa’g cebgrfg guvf. Ur jnf evtug, nsgre nyy. Rabc fjnlrq orfvqr zr. Orvat Tnyyragr, V jnf snveyl fher fur’q or evtug. Fur fynzzrq gb gur tebhaq, uneq. Thrff abg. Gur pbzznaqre ebhaqrq ba zr.
“Lbhe sevraq frrzf gb unir n ovg bs n ceboyrz, V guvax fur yvxrf gb yvfgra gb guvatf, onq guvatf, vyyrtny guvatf.” Ba phr, bar bs uvf tehagf cebqhprq gur qvfx.
“Jung vf guvf?” nfxrq gur pncgnva jvgu rabhtu rknttrengrq gurnger gb svyy gur tenivgl jryy bs n fznyy cynarg.
“N cevzvgvir fgbentr qrivpr, fve,” fnvq gur tehag “Naq jung — rknpgyl — qbrf vg fgber?”
“Ol gur fgngr bs ure —” gur thneq jnirq qvfzvffviryl ng Rabc’f cebfgengr, tvttyvat svther, ” — V’q thrff zhfvp, fve.”
“Nanylmr vg. Abj.” Nf gur tehag fpheevrq njnl, gur pbzznaqre’f rlrf yvg ba zr.
“V xabj lbh’ir orra gb Fbivpbh, Wnlra. V xabj gung lbh naq gurfr gjb svygul Rybef ner erfcbafvoyr sbe unys gur cvengrq zhfvp gung’f qrfgeblvat guvf jbeyq, naq jura V svaq vg, erfg nffherq gung lbh ner tbvat gb ebg.” V’z fperjrq.
***
Gjb qnlf yngre gurl eryrnfrq zr. Rabc’f fuvc jnf vzcbhaqrq naq qrfgeblrq. Fur jnf fragraprq gb n lrne va gur oevt sbe cbffrffvba bs n fznyy nzbhag bs nhqvb nygrevat fhofgnapr. Gurl qvqa’g svaq gur pnetb.
***
Lrnef yngre, V ena vagb Wbjny ba n sebagvre zbba. Jr erzvavfprq nobhg gur byq qnlf. Nccneragyl Rabc qvrq fubegyl nsgre ure eryrnfr. Fur’q ybnqrq rabhtu zhfvp gb ybobgbzvmr na vasnagel qvivfvba vagb na rfpncr cbq, naq ynhapurq urefrys gbjneqf n cnffvat pbzrg.
Roc’s Rule #284
How hard you hit isn’t as important as how hard you can be hit.
Roc that Caption #1
For all my anti-social behaviour, for all my sarcasm and disdain for humanity, I have an unwavering belief that there is good in all of us. For me, the problem with people as a whole is that selfishness is far easier, and often the instant gratification and path of least resistance; doing wrong requires nothing but laziness.
It’s only natural, after all; a river doesn’t flow uphill.
So before I get too preachy, let me reiterate; I’m all about community. I enjoy giving.
To that end, I’m going to try out a new hopeful contest series today called “Roc that Caption”. Nothing original or innovative in this at all, but I thought it could still be fun for us.
THE CONTEST:
Create a caption for the image below, posting your entry into the comments of this thread. A winner will be selected next Monday by me personally. Your caption may be funny, serious, mysterious, offensive, whatever you want it to be. There are no limitations to imagination after all. There is a limit of one entry per person however.
THE PRIZE:
The winner, selected by me, will be featured in their own story here on Roc’s Ramblings, written by me. I know, not much of a prize, but there are some that will hopefully appreciate it. I hope it doesn’t seem to be a prize of vanity, as it isn’t intended as such. I just always enjoy expanding my view of New Eden.
Also, one mystery faction frigate has been donated to this contest by @ievecoza on Twitter.
Summer’s Heart
Word spreads faster than the speed of light.
It seemed that many capsuleers and executive VIPs were catching wind of my efforts to promote healthy living. For some it sounded a resonance within, encouraging them to take up the mantle and do what they could to bring good health to the masses. Others bared their fangs, barking at the potential cuts into their profiting from the consumption by the masses of the fast and easy life.
As with all things in my lives, I had made some new friends, and some new enemies.
The owner of the soon to be opened Mendre nightclub, had invited me to sample some of the items from their day menu. She had mentioned I would be particularly excited about one of their new signature items.
I always enjoyed good food, and good company, so made my way to Mendre as my schedule allowed.
And I have to admit, the place was shaping up nicely, despite the ongoing interior renovations. The meal I had was delicious, but it was the dessert that was the real winner.
Heart of Roc
INGREDIENTS:
- 8 cups chopped strawberries
- 8 cups blueberries
- 8 cups raspberries
- a little bit of cranberry
- 1 cup sugar
- 1 pack toast bread
- sour cream (optional)
- 1 tbsp brown sugar (optional)
METHOD:
- Into a pan, add berries and 1 cup sugar.
- Cook on medium heat for 10 – 20 minutes or until the juice starts to come out.
- Cut the bread crust and dip in the berry pan.
- Place the breads in a bowl and pour the berry sauce on top of them. Place another layer of bread on top.
- Cover with plastic wrap and place another bowl on top of it to press down.
- Leave in the fridge overnight.
- Optionally serve with sour cream and/or brown sugar.
Mendre
Thrill to the Mendre dancers on Sovicou
The billboard caught my attention like none had in a while; sensual, exotic woman, mesmerizing me with their gyrations; heart pounding, ball shaking music appealing to my primal urges. I found myself getting excited at the very sensation of experiencing this … Mendre.
Aura informed me that in the Gallente Federation, the Mendre dancers had a generations old mythology surrounding their dancing prowess and sensuality; to experience a Mendre dancer on Sovicou was to experience a taste of bliss itself.
It was also the name of a new nightclub opening this fall; a nightclub I was bound and determined to headline the grand opening of. It would be an event none would forget.
Mendre… featuring DJ Roc. I chuckled to myself at the thought. It was mad, absurd; genius.
Nice
I’ve heard rumours that some people think I’m not nice; that I’m rude, blunt, uncouth.
I can be nice. Here’s an example:
It wasn’t too long ago that I received a message on my NeoCom from an agent. I’m sure the agent must’ve been confusing email messages with instant messaging, as only the title field was filled in. The body text was empty. I happened to be having dinner with a friend when I received the message, and showed it to her.
She shook her head, knowingly, and playfully admonished me. “Be nice.” was all she said. I gave her best “When am I not nice?” look, which was returned with a “Do you really need me to answer that?” stare, complete with sarcastic eyebrow raise.
So I was nice.
The title of the message had said “I’ve uploaded the file to your server.”
Now understand I am an organized person for my own sake. Telling me you’ve uploaded a file to my server without telling me the name of the file, the project it’s related to, or any other single useful piece of relevant information isn’t really helpful in any way.
My reply. “I’m sorry. I must be experiencing issues with my NeoCom as the body of your message was completely empty. Please resend.”
I felt good about myself. I put away my NeoCom and continued eating dinner, thoroughly enjoying the companionship and conversation of my friend.
Shortly, I received a reply. “I have uploaded a new binary to your server for you.” Excellent. At least I was made aware of the file type that had been uploaded to some mysterious project on my file server.
I sighed audibly.
My reply. “Please tell me the file name of the binary you have uploaded as well as which project you are referring to as I currently have no idea what the hell you are talking about.”
I had tried nice. Fail.
I didn’t receive an email back.
The following morning, I was called into the office of the agent’s supervisor. Apparently the agent had been offended by my curt reply. The supervisor was understanding, explaining it away as inexperience, etc, etc, but simply asked me to be nice.
“I’m always nice.” I replied. It amazed me just how many people could arch a single, sarcastic eyebrow.
We parted ways, and I went about my business per usual that day.
The next morning I received a message from the same agent. The body text was empty. The title had one simple question in it:
“Did you get the file I uploaded?”
I warmed up my autocannons.
Pizza Cones
“Roc, what the hell is a pizza cone?” – Tufat Tukaar
Sometimes I speak out of turn. Sometimes in my efforts to help people live a life of wealth and health, I occasionally make references to things of my distant past. It wasn’t too long ago I mentioned the dreaded pizza cone.
Here’s a picture:
I can see some of you drooling now. All the glory of a pizza wrapped in the handy convenience of a cone. For shame.
But, I get it. I totally understand. Snack food is easy, convenient; it’s why we don’t mind paying the extra price, both financially and physically. Entire industries exist to promote this lethal cycle.
But it needs to stop.
You want taste? You want convenience? You got it. And I’ll even make it cost less!
Healthy Pizza Cone
INGREDIENTS
METHOD
- Dice tuna into small pieces
- In a small bowl, mix fresh herb mint and fennel top
- Add to the mixture, half the lemon juice, 1/4 cup of cream cheese and the tuna
- Stuff the wrap, roll into a cone shape, and serve
I look forward to hearing everyone’s variations on this easy, tasty treat.
Nightmares
I dream.
My pod has sustained critical damage; navigation systems inoperable. I reflexively vomit in the surrounding fluid as I manually remove breathing and feeding tubes from my throat and nose; the slithering sensation of them from the inside out always foreign to my senses. I get one final assessment from Aura before having her release the umbilicals attached to the base of my skull and spine.
I take a deep breath.
My pod cracks, the metal bending along several seams, as it splashes down, the intense heat of the atmospheric entry dissipating as so much steam upon hitting this ocean. I sear my skin, the pungent smell filling my nostrils as I struggle to be free from this sinking coffin.
I am stuck.
Deeper and deeper the pod sinks, dragging me to my watery grave. Even light eventually cannot escape, and I am blind, my arms flailing about in slow motion, desperately reaching out for salvation … and finding it.
My hands grasps tightly around something I cannot see. I feel waves of pressure roll over me, feel the strength of the creature. My other hand secures itself, and I hold on for all I have; my pod and this creature in a mortal tug of war. I am the rope.
My body bends, threatening to break, but at last I spring free of the capsule, still bound by the strength of my arms and my will to this mysterious creature.
My lungs threaten to burst, and I need to breathe in air more than anything else I have ever wanted, but I know if I do, it will be my death.
The creature pushes forward suddenly, and I nearly lose my grip. Still I cannot see. I can only pray the creature is moving towards the surface, towards the light, towards life.
Minutes pass, my lungs afire. I can feel myself slipping. Even in the blackness, I can see spots before my eyes, and know I do not have much time left. Pressure is building, crushing me from the inside, as my lungs build up pressure from the inside.
The creature is plunging deeper. I panic and let go.
I feel myself slow, no longer accelerated by the incredible speed of the creature. I float, no indication of which way is up, which way I would swim to if my arms and legs were responding. They aren’t.
I can feel myself sinking.
I have many regrets from my lives, not of things I have done, but rather of things I have not done, things I have not said. Mynxee.
The murky depths continue to crush me, threatening to end of my life more quickly than lack of oxygen will.
I am blinded by a light so intense it burns my retinas. I am falling. At least that is what it feels like. I open my mouth to chance a breath and only succeed in sucking in water, making my situation even more perilous.
I see humanoid figures coming towards me, silhouetted against the bright light. I raise my arm to shield my eyes, trying to get a better look.
They grasp at me, holding onto my arms, and I feel a surge of motion once again.
One of them holds my face gently, kissing me, breathing oxygen into my lungs. My life is saved, if only for the moment.
The light fades to a more manageable daylight, and I can see a beautiful city far below, growing in the distance.
My saviours are more clear to my eyes now, they are human, but with fishtails; mermaids of legend, and whatever the man version is called. I hope it is one of the females that was kissing me, though I don’t really care since I am alive.
I spend the next several days with these people, learning that they communicate telepathically, understanding their technological advancements are not as advanced as New Eden. They provide me with a special breathing apparatus that converts water into oxygen, and I sustain myself on seaweed and mollusks.
We’re not sure if my breathing equipment will work in my universe, as I am the first human they have met. I have no choice but to gamble that it will. I cannot stay here.
We have conceived several plans to get me home, and discarded them all. In the end, I will go as I came, naked and alone.
They swim with me as close as they can, but I must push myself into their sun, into the hole I came from. When they saw me fall from their sun, they thought I was a god. I am.
I feel the crushing pressure anew as I push forward, the blinding light causing me to squeeze my eyes shut. Even with my arm in front of my face, the light penetrates through.
Then suddenly, darkness, and a greater pressure than anything I have known.
I open my eyes.
I see stars all around me.
Looking behind, I am at the mouth of a black hole. My confusion is only surpassed by the fact that the water converting breathing apparatus isn’t functioning in this unexpected environment, and I begin to asphyxiate.
The gravity of the black hole begins to crush me, dragging back into its black center. I am helpless.
A small light starts flashing on my NeoCom. I pick it up and see I have one message. It is from Mynxee.
“Wake up.”
I do, with a gasp, throwing the pillow from my face. My alarm clock is beeping on my bedside table. I turn it off.
I quickly assess my environment. I am in my quarters aboard the Ripsack, my Jaguar class assault frigate.
I laugh and shake my head. No more pizza cones before bed.
ROC'S RAMBLINGS 