AtmaWeapon
08-09-2007, 02:06 AM
ll Ages and Persuasions and Possibly Invoke Discussion of Similar Circumstances in the Life of the Reader
Two weekends ago I was visited by my fiancée and her family; a bright spot amongst dark times indeed. While I could spin a tale of romance surrounding these events this is not the purpose of the story. The lack of romantic dialog may or may not have anything to do with the fact that I tend to be a rather insensitive person when I have been alone for long stretches but I digress.
One of the relics of the visit is the acquisition of the entire Harry Potter series; I purchased the first six books as a gift for her and she had recently purchased the seventh. At once I attacked the books, moving through them at as speedy a pace I could. The work week approached, which slowed my progress rather significantly, particularly as I tried to drag my way through Goblet of Fire.
Despite a lack of talent in its production, music and sound has always been something I enjoy. There are quite a few games that I cannot play muted, because without their soundtracks the experience is reduced to the point that I feel my time could be better spent attempting to dig a hole to the other side of the planet. Sometimes it is so boring I almost feel like I'm playing Halo. Sound was one of the reasons I think Twilight Princess was one of the most fantastic installments in the Zelda series. The gameplay was so-so and the graphics were decent, but what kept me going was the mix between nods to retro Zelda themes and its contrast to the dark, ambient noise of the Twilight Realm. I played the game with headphones on so as not to miss details.
One of the sounds I did not enjoy was the otherworldly calls of those weird bird enemies in the Twilight Realm (I believe they were called "Twilit Kalgorok"). For some reason this noise struck fear into my heart and caused me to place high priority on exterminating these menaces. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that my lack of control over the camera made it particularly challenging to discover that one of them was about to bite a chunk out of my buttocks, but something about the birds and their noise unsettled me.
So it was that last Saturday I laid upon my futon, somewhere between Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix. Throughout the day, I couldn't mistake this soft chiming noise that reminded me slightly of the creature I despised. At random intervals it chimed, always coming from in front of me. I didn't notice it for several hours, but after a while I realized I felt uneasy and the noise of the chime was not helping. It was a rather windy day, so I dismissed it as a neighbor's wind chimes and decided I'd just have to live with it.
Anyone else possessed with a touch of obsession knows that, once introduced to a mystery, it begins to dominate your thoughts. As I slogged my way through the slow and dreary Order of the Phoenix I noticed every chime. It seemed to increase in frequency from something that would happen a few times an hour to a constant background noise happening several times per minute. I thought I'd have to retreat to some other location to read, though since the greater portion of my living space has windows facing where I had deduced the chime was located my chances of escape were dim. Then I remembered.
The books were not the only reminder of the one I hold dear that had been left behind; she had left two small sets of wind chimes: one I purchased in Chattanooga on a visit, another that I purchased in the awesome gift store that had a big shark head so it looked like you were going into the shark's mouth in Biloxi, probably 2 months before Katrina wiped the store off of the coast. One chime was destined for my cubicle at work, the other she hung from the TV stand I have fashioned out of those cheap metal bookshelves that many college students have. I quick touch of the chime revealed this turtle-shaped menace was the source of the noise.
Of course, since it was a relic of the visit which I did not wish to forget, I left it hanging. Discovering the source of the noise seemed to either cause it to chime less or perhaps I simply noticed it less. Strangely enough, since relating this tale to her tonight I have not heard it chime once. (Except I just heard it; apparently tonight it is chiming particularly soft.)
Long story short, I was bothered by a silly windchime. Sort story long? Anything by Dickens.
Two weekends ago I was visited by my fiancée and her family; a bright spot amongst dark times indeed. While I could spin a tale of romance surrounding these events this is not the purpose of the story. The lack of romantic dialog may or may not have anything to do with the fact that I tend to be a rather insensitive person when I have been alone for long stretches but I digress.
One of the relics of the visit is the acquisition of the entire Harry Potter series; I purchased the first six books as a gift for her and she had recently purchased the seventh. At once I attacked the books, moving through them at as speedy a pace I could. The work week approached, which slowed my progress rather significantly, particularly as I tried to drag my way through Goblet of Fire.
Despite a lack of talent in its production, music and sound has always been something I enjoy. There are quite a few games that I cannot play muted, because without their soundtracks the experience is reduced to the point that I feel my time could be better spent attempting to dig a hole to the other side of the planet. Sometimes it is so boring I almost feel like I'm playing Halo. Sound was one of the reasons I think Twilight Princess was one of the most fantastic installments in the Zelda series. The gameplay was so-so and the graphics were decent, but what kept me going was the mix between nods to retro Zelda themes and its contrast to the dark, ambient noise of the Twilight Realm. I played the game with headphones on so as not to miss details.
One of the sounds I did not enjoy was the otherworldly calls of those weird bird enemies in the Twilight Realm (I believe they were called "Twilit Kalgorok"). For some reason this noise struck fear into my heart and caused me to place high priority on exterminating these menaces. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that my lack of control over the camera made it particularly challenging to discover that one of them was about to bite a chunk out of my buttocks, but something about the birds and their noise unsettled me.
So it was that last Saturday I laid upon my futon, somewhere between Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix. Throughout the day, I couldn't mistake this soft chiming noise that reminded me slightly of the creature I despised. At random intervals it chimed, always coming from in front of me. I didn't notice it for several hours, but after a while I realized I felt uneasy and the noise of the chime was not helping. It was a rather windy day, so I dismissed it as a neighbor's wind chimes and decided I'd just have to live with it.
Anyone else possessed with a touch of obsession knows that, once introduced to a mystery, it begins to dominate your thoughts. As I slogged my way through the slow and dreary Order of the Phoenix I noticed every chime. It seemed to increase in frequency from something that would happen a few times an hour to a constant background noise happening several times per minute. I thought I'd have to retreat to some other location to read, though since the greater portion of my living space has windows facing where I had deduced the chime was located my chances of escape were dim. Then I remembered.
The books were not the only reminder of the one I hold dear that had been left behind; she had left two small sets of wind chimes: one I purchased in Chattanooga on a visit, another that I purchased in the awesome gift store that had a big shark head so it looked like you were going into the shark's mouth in Biloxi, probably 2 months before Katrina wiped the store off of the coast. One chime was destined for my cubicle at work, the other she hung from the TV stand I have fashioned out of those cheap metal bookshelves that many college students have. I quick touch of the chime revealed this turtle-shaped menace was the source of the noise.
Of course, since it was a relic of the visit which I did not wish to forget, I left it hanging. Discovering the source of the noise seemed to either cause it to chime less or perhaps I simply noticed it less. Strangely enough, since relating this tale to her tonight I have not heard it chime once. (Except I just heard it; apparently tonight it is chiming particularly soft.)
Long story short, I was bothered by a silly windchime. Sort story long? Anything by Dickens.