Fist off, I'd just like to say that I adore how I said I'd continue this blogging thing, and then the first thing I did was abandon ship. Oh me.
What'll I do now:
Well, for the past week or so I've managed to keep myself occupied. And by "occupied" I mean, I read 365 chapters of the pokemon adventures manga. I'd have read them all, but for the life of me, I cannot fine a translated copy of 366. I don't know exactly when I started this mission, but damn did I enjoy it. I'm well aware of the fact that I could be ridiculed into oblivion for this, but hell if I care.
The manga follows 13 main characters (the characters mirror the main games(for those of you sensing a number discrepancy pokemon green version was released in Japan only alongside pokemon red version and blue was the third edition while yellow was an additional version. The Japanese version of Blue was the formula for Red and Blue everywhere else, and yellow functioned as the third wheel.) and they're all well done. Compared to the anime at least. The manga, on a whole, is much more enjoyable than the anime. The characters are better done (sorry Ash but I'll choose Red every time now), the themes are better, the pokemon are more badass, and the evil gangs are actually a threat. It's infinitely cooler, especially for me, 'cause apparently the manga world is closest to what Satoshi Tajiri (creator of pokemon) had in mind when he created the world. Shit blows up, legendary pokemon wreak havoc, and people and pokemon die. It's badassery.
Overall I've determined my favorite characters in the series from this. Before actually reading the manga my favorite character was automatically Gold. I'd read up a bit on the characters and seen artwork and stuff and basing my favorites off of that Gold came out on top (It doesn't hurt that Gold has always been my favorite of the game entries either, and the character design from that is still my favorite.) But now Gold has been moved down to a still respectable second place. I now have a ridiculous love for Ruby.
Which is mildly ironic. Ruby/Sapphire were my least favorite of the games. Probably because of the time frame in which they were released. I was in jr. high/high school when they first came out and not as willing to admit my all encompassing love for pokemon due to peer pressure. Since then I've given the 3rd gen more of a chance (I played through most of the game (Sapphire version I believe) when they first came out). Last year I played through a significant portion of Emerald version and I don't hate it nearly as much.
But back on topic. Ruby is undeniably my favorite character from the series. He goes against the archtype. He's superficial, a bit flamboyant, and entirely obsessed with Pokemon Contests (the more 'girly' aspect of the pokemon universe). I loved him from the moment he was introduced. In his first appearance he tries to subdue wild pokemon by asking them to join his team because they looked "cool" when that inevitably failed, he tried to subdue them with cool looking, but battle worthless moves. He ended up having to run away as they chased him. Of course, his character grows over the course of the series, and you learn more things about him, and through it all I enjoyed his growth more than that of any of the other characters.
As I type this I've been trying to come up with a list of my favorite characters from the series, but it's been hard. I've got the top three filled out, but ranking the rest has been hard.
1. Ruby
2. Gold
3. Diamond
4. ???
No luck with the remainder of the list. Maybe listing them all will help.
Red
Blue
Green
Yellow
Gold
Silver
Crystal
Ruby
Sapphire
Emerald
Diamond
Pearl
Platinum
Listing isn't helping. Maybe tiers.
Ruby. Gold. Diamond.
Blue. Red. Green.
Crystal. Platinum. Yellow.
Pearl. Sapphire. Silver. Emerald.
That'll work. I can tier them. Though that doesn't really mean much either. Outside the first tier, it's not very set.
In the long run, I don't know why I'm trying to rank my favorites. I hardly ever bother to rank things. Outside of the top three it doesn't really matter. But I just had this compulsion to try to rank them. God only knows why. But I had it. And I failed miserably. But I'm ok with that. Maybe that means it wasn't really that important in the first place. Dunno, dun care. I'm going to go play Batman now. Ray's inspired me.
Quote of the Day:
"The future will be better tomorrow."
- Dan Quayle
24.5.10
18.5.10
Ranting
And here it goes again.
It's been a week:
Just a week. I've been out of school for a week, and it already feels like a month. A week ago I was mildly excited to be free for the summer. Now, a week has gone by, and I"m almost ready to go back. I'm at the point where I'm a few boredom filled days away from saying I'd rather be fighting some article for J280 again, rather than sitting at my kitchen table staring at the piranha swimming into the sides of his tank for the billionth time.
I'm tired of being here already. Now, this isn't a sad lonely "wah my high school friends kinda sucked, I hate fishers, I'm so lonely" type post. This is a I'm starting to feel the boredom post. This is a I'm tired of cleaning up my siblings messes, carting them around like a taxi cab, and generally having nothing to do type post. Of note: I'm also tired of the stench my brother seems to radiate. Ten year old boys are so gross.
But at the same time. I'm not ready to go back. I don't want to be responsible. I don't wanna have to be all adult like in a year or so. I don't wanna have assignments to do. I don't wanna do the school thing. I'd honestly settle for the early semester gig. The part where you're not doing much, the projects haven't piled up yet, and generally you have more free time than you should. That part would be cool. There's still a bit of work to be done, but mostly it's just goofing off. But then theres the knowledge of mid semester work, and that sucks, so I'd almost rather be here, sitting at my table staring at dumb ass fish.
I'm supposed to be helping work with my dads website right now. But I don't feel like it. Which is bad, because I'm hoping to get paid for all this, so I need to be earning my keep. But every time I start working on it, I remember exactly why I've never been a CS or graphics kid, even though I have an innate interest in it all. the work is boring as fuck. I can only take so much copy/paste and the like. It's killing me a little bit (not really, but more than an hour of it is of severe detriment to my work ethic). I've always liked the outcome of all the work, and the process for most of it. But damn if I don't get bored actually doing the work.
Which is why I'm sitting here typing out this blog instead of copy pasting my ass off so that I can get new shoes (I'm still aiming for finishing this summer with some fly ass shit). I need to be copy pasting. But I figure blogging is a better way to not do work than playing Torchlight again. And god knows, If I weren't blogging and talking to people on facebook, I'd be slaying some zombies and skeletons with my bad ass (mostly bad) Torchlight skills.
Quote of the Day:
"The sweat of hard work is not to be displayed. It is much more graceful to appear favored by the gods."
- Maxine Hong Kingston
It's been a week:
Just a week. I've been out of school for a week, and it already feels like a month. A week ago I was mildly excited to be free for the summer. Now, a week has gone by, and I"m almost ready to go back. I'm at the point where I'm a few boredom filled days away from saying I'd rather be fighting some article for J280 again, rather than sitting at my kitchen table staring at the piranha swimming into the sides of his tank for the billionth time.
I'm tired of being here already. Now, this isn't a sad lonely "wah my high school friends kinda sucked, I hate fishers, I'm so lonely" type post. This is a I'm starting to feel the boredom post. This is a I'm tired of cleaning up my siblings messes, carting them around like a taxi cab, and generally having nothing to do type post. Of note: I'm also tired of the stench my brother seems to radiate. Ten year old boys are so gross.
But at the same time. I'm not ready to go back. I don't want to be responsible. I don't wanna have to be all adult like in a year or so. I don't wanna have assignments to do. I don't wanna do the school thing. I'd honestly settle for the early semester gig. The part where you're not doing much, the projects haven't piled up yet, and generally you have more free time than you should. That part would be cool. There's still a bit of work to be done, but mostly it's just goofing off. But then theres the knowledge of mid semester work, and that sucks, so I'd almost rather be here, sitting at my table staring at dumb ass fish.
I'm supposed to be helping work with my dads website right now. But I don't feel like it. Which is bad, because I'm hoping to get paid for all this, so I need to be earning my keep. But every time I start working on it, I remember exactly why I've never been a CS or graphics kid, even though I have an innate interest in it all. the work is boring as fuck. I can only take so much copy/paste and the like. It's killing me a little bit (not really, but more than an hour of it is of severe detriment to my work ethic). I've always liked the outcome of all the work, and the process for most of it. But damn if I don't get bored actually doing the work.
Which is why I'm sitting here typing out this blog instead of copy pasting my ass off so that I can get new shoes (I'm still aiming for finishing this summer with some fly ass shit). I need to be copy pasting. But I figure blogging is a better way to not do work than playing Torchlight again. And god knows, If I weren't blogging and talking to people on facebook, I'd be slaying some zombies and skeletons with my bad ass (mostly bad) Torchlight skills.
Quote of the Day:
"The sweat of hard work is not to be displayed. It is much more graceful to appear favored by the gods."
- Maxine Hong Kingston
16.5.10
Party time
Hello again, missed me, didn't you?
Well that's interesting:
Alright, so yesterday was my brothers first 10th birthday party. I say first, because apparently next weekend there will be another one. Damned spoiled little kid has so many friends that he gets two birthday parties. Hell, I wish I had had enough friends to have one. Haha. In any case, it was an interesting affair.
Bill came down from Muncie-town to visit/help out with the party. We ended up getting chased around by 10 year olds with plastic swords for hours on end. Those little bastards are evil. One of them was wielding the damn thing and practically spanking me with it while I was trying to restrain my brother. I let go and ran away after 3ish hits. Bill was consistently pelted with flying blades, poor fencing attempts, and thrown, yes thrown, double ended spear toys. I felt bad for him. So bad, in fact, that I jumped him and held him down for a bit so he'd get attacked more. I'm so nice.
We ended up beaten and bruised. Bill has, or at least had, a lovely Harry Potter-esque scar on his forehead from where we think one of the kids stepped on his face. Poor guy. We only made two kids cry during it though, so thats a plus. One got the wind knocked out of him, and my brother may have gotten a little squished. But all in all, nothing too major with the kids and injuries. We were the ones taking most of the beating. And by "we" I clearly mean him. My method of fighting has always been to run away and hit when the opportunity presents itself.
We then proceeded to partake of the kickball game from hell. I swear, at some point during the day, we went from 6 little boys to, the entire neighborhood trying to play. It was ridiculous. We were babysitting the entire street. The kids argued the whole time. Bill laid down the law, and when that didn't work I used my epic ability to be loud as all hell. Screaming shut up seems to be highly effective. Only one more kid cried during that, and he wasn't one of ours, so all in all, good game I suppose. Felt bad for the poor kid though, he was so confused.
Over the course of us getting our asses beat and injuring ourselves (Bill did something to his knee, I'm just lazy and out of shape and wearing the wrong shoes constantly). Bill managed to meet dad. Later on they did the whole question answer session, for which I pretended to be sleepy so I wouldn't be included in any of it. I'm so nice, throwing the poor boy to the wolves like that. But seeing as death threats were kept to a minimum "if he stays, he's in the basement with the boys. if he's found elsewhere, he's dead and buried in a neighbors yard" I think it went well.
T'was funny though. Mom pointed out today that he's a bit... clingy? Touchy-feely? Something of the sort. Of course, I cannot deny these claims. He really is. Has to be half a centimeter away at all times. We talked about it a little, but mostly it came down to "yeah, I know. But it is better than he was before... haha?" I haven't really garnered Dad's opinion on him, but I'm sure I'll get it eventually.
It all amounted to a very interesting day. From which I am still recovering. I'm sore in places I have no clue as to why they'd be sore, and I've been managing a headache with meds all day. But it was fun? I guess. It wasn't bad at least. I just don't know if I can do that again for next weekend. This next batch of kids had better be calmer. I don't wanna have to play rough like that again. It's so exhausting.
Quote of the Day:
"You can't help getting older, but you don't have to get old."
- George Burns
Well that's interesting:
Alright, so yesterday was my brothers first 10th birthday party. I say first, because apparently next weekend there will be another one. Damned spoiled little kid has so many friends that he gets two birthday parties. Hell, I wish I had had enough friends to have one. Haha. In any case, it was an interesting affair.
Bill came down from Muncie-town to visit/help out with the party. We ended up getting chased around by 10 year olds with plastic swords for hours on end. Those little bastards are evil. One of them was wielding the damn thing and practically spanking me with it while I was trying to restrain my brother. I let go and ran away after 3ish hits. Bill was consistently pelted with flying blades, poor fencing attempts, and thrown, yes thrown, double ended spear toys. I felt bad for him. So bad, in fact, that I jumped him and held him down for a bit so he'd get attacked more. I'm so nice.
We ended up beaten and bruised. Bill has, or at least had, a lovely Harry Potter-esque scar on his forehead from where we think one of the kids stepped on his face. Poor guy. We only made two kids cry during it though, so thats a plus. One got the wind knocked out of him, and my brother may have gotten a little squished. But all in all, nothing too major with the kids and injuries. We were the ones taking most of the beating. And by "we" I clearly mean him. My method of fighting has always been to run away and hit when the opportunity presents itself.
We then proceeded to partake of the kickball game from hell. I swear, at some point during the day, we went from 6 little boys to, the entire neighborhood trying to play. It was ridiculous. We were babysitting the entire street. The kids argued the whole time. Bill laid down the law, and when that didn't work I used my epic ability to be loud as all hell. Screaming shut up seems to be highly effective. Only one more kid cried during that, and he wasn't one of ours, so all in all, good game I suppose. Felt bad for the poor kid though, he was so confused.
Over the course of us getting our asses beat and injuring ourselves (Bill did something to his knee, I'm just lazy and out of shape and wearing the wrong shoes constantly). Bill managed to meet dad. Later on they did the whole question answer session, for which I pretended to be sleepy so I wouldn't be included in any of it. I'm so nice, throwing the poor boy to the wolves like that. But seeing as death threats were kept to a minimum "if he stays, he's in the basement with the boys. if he's found elsewhere, he's dead and buried in a neighbors yard" I think it went well.
T'was funny though. Mom pointed out today that he's a bit... clingy? Touchy-feely? Something of the sort. Of course, I cannot deny these claims. He really is. Has to be half a centimeter away at all times. We talked about it a little, but mostly it came down to "yeah, I know. But it is better than he was before... haha?" I haven't really garnered Dad's opinion on him, but I'm sure I'll get it eventually.
It all amounted to a very interesting day. From which I am still recovering. I'm sore in places I have no clue as to why they'd be sore, and I've been managing a headache with meds all day. But it was fun? I guess. It wasn't bad at least. I just don't know if I can do that again for next weekend. This next batch of kids had better be calmer. I don't wanna have to play rough like that again. It's so exhausting.
Quote of the Day:
"You can't help getting older, but you don't have to get old."
- George Burns
15.5.10
Sendoff (90 of 90)
Holy shit. This is it. I made it 90(ish) days of continuous writing and blogging.
Update ya:
Alright, for the final(ish) send off I'm going to fill you in on what I've been doing all night, then move into the inevitable "holy fuck 90 blogs in 92 (I think) days" bit.
So at some point tonight my dad decided to throw me in on his business projects. I've been working with the IT guy all night on getting his website up and running, and so far so good. It's a good thing I'm a quick study. I don't actually know much about IT or... tech in general really. I'm just good at looking like I know shit. So this has been interesting. But, hey. I'd like to think I've been of some help, and that I've contributed. At the very least, I'm hopping the write ups of PR stuff will sound decent what with the me writing my way through school. But yeah, had fun hanging out with the old guys and listening in on old dude talk. Interesting stuff.
Now, for the meat and potatoes. This is my 90th blog post. I haven't been the most consistent updater, but I haven't been bad at it either. At least, I'd like to think I haven't. I made up for nights I didn't manage to post, and I have consistently managed to write at least once a day. It's been fun. I've talked about my life, and a bunch of other random shit that that entails. I hope any readers I've managed to gather have managed to stay entertained over the course of these past 90 days. I know I've enjoyed my exploits in blog writing.
I honestly don't think I'll quit the consistent updates. They may not be quite so regular seeing as I won't feel bad for not writing before passing out, but they will continue. It's been a good project. If I'm supposed to be working at being a writer, I might as well write, you know? What kind of writer doesn't write? I don't know where the rest of my adventures through blog-land will take me, but then again, I didn't know where my blogs were going when I wrote them either. This blog has evolved into a tale about well, life. It's been about writing a lot (mostly bitching about writing, admittedly), its been about friends, it's been about a little of everything. It'll probably keep being about a little of everything. Mostly because that's how my brain works.
So here's my great 90 in 90(92ish really) sendoff. See y'all tomorrow night lovelies.
Lauren.
Quote of the Day:
"I shall never be ashamed of citing a bad author if the line is good."
- Seneca
Update ya:
Alright, for the final(ish) send off I'm going to fill you in on what I've been doing all night, then move into the inevitable "holy fuck 90 blogs in 92 (I think) days" bit.
So at some point tonight my dad decided to throw me in on his business projects. I've been working with the IT guy all night on getting his website up and running, and so far so good. It's a good thing I'm a quick study. I don't actually know much about IT or... tech in general really. I'm just good at looking like I know shit. So this has been interesting. But, hey. I'd like to think I've been of some help, and that I've contributed. At the very least, I'm hopping the write ups of PR stuff will sound decent what with the me writing my way through school. But yeah, had fun hanging out with the old guys and listening in on old dude talk. Interesting stuff.
Now, for the meat and potatoes. This is my 90th blog post. I haven't been the most consistent updater, but I haven't been bad at it either. At least, I'd like to think I haven't. I made up for nights I didn't manage to post, and I have consistently managed to write at least once a day. It's been fun. I've talked about my life, and a bunch of other random shit that that entails. I hope any readers I've managed to gather have managed to stay entertained over the course of these past 90 days. I know I've enjoyed my exploits in blog writing.
I honestly don't think I'll quit the consistent updates. They may not be quite so regular seeing as I won't feel bad for not writing before passing out, but they will continue. It's been a good project. If I'm supposed to be working at being a writer, I might as well write, you know? What kind of writer doesn't write? I don't know where the rest of my adventures through blog-land will take me, but then again, I didn't know where my blogs were going when I wrote them either. This blog has evolved into a tale about well, life. It's been about writing a lot (mostly bitching about writing, admittedly), its been about friends, it's been about a little of everything. It'll probably keep being about a little of everything. Mostly because that's how my brain works.
So here's my great 90 in 90(92ish really) sendoff. See y'all tomorrow night lovelies.
Lauren.
Quote of the Day:
"I shall never be ashamed of citing a bad author if the line is good."
- Seneca
13.5.10
Age (89 of 90)
What? On time again? Preposterous.
Oh Lawd:
Summer continues as usual. And by as usual, I mean, I hardly know what day it is, dad has secretly supplied me with food at all hours of the night, and I've generally moved very little. But, it's getting more exciting. My computer to TV cables came in the mail today, so now I can watch pokemon on a bigger screen! It makes hulu so much more exciting. Shut up. Stop judging me.
But in other news. I'll actually be leaving the house tomorrow. I'll be with Stephanie and her rugrat Shelby in the morning. Then I may or may not be making my way to Muncie for the day-ish. I honestly hope I can get down to Muncie, but it's kind of inconvenient. I'm supposed to get my brother to speed camp (that damn little beast and his freakish training) for 10am Saturday, then he has his birthday party which I've been roped into helping with.
That little monster is going to be 10 soon. It's crazy. I feel all old and sentimental. Where's the time gone? He'll be in 5th grade. Lindsey will be a freshman in high school. Fuck, I'm (hopefully) graduating next year. What the shit? When did we all get old(er). We were cleaning out the basement the other day, and of course all the baby toys and stuffed animals were the first to go. We all just got so... big at some point. I don't know when. But we did. My brother is turning into a boy thing. He's got shoulders, and he's all tall and shit. What happened to the little kid I could beat up with no effort what so ever? Now I actually have to mildly attempt to restrain his scrawny ass.
It's weird. It's really weird. I'm that old person at home now. I've hit that "old" brink. For my area at least. Which is weird. Because at school I'm little. But at home, I'm surrounded by 15 and unders. Which really isn't that big of a gap in the real world, but this isn't the real world. This is home. At home I'm the oldest kid on the street. At home I'm the resident "old" kid. Surrounded by tiny little things that I almost run over in my car 'cause they're still too stupid to not dart out into the street. Shit, I'm not even that much older than the high school fucktards running around. But there's a difference. There's a difference between me, and those 18-19 year old high school seniors. I can just sense it. Maybe it's because I'm a jackass and I hate everyone (it's probably because I'm a jackass and I hate everyone) or maybe there really is a difference.
Maybe at some point in the 2-3 years age that separates me from the high school kids, I learned something. Or maybe I really do just have a god complex and think I'm better than everyone. It's probably both. Mostly the holier-than-thou attitude. But every time I see them around I can't help but smirk. Mostly because outwardly they (generally) fall into a category of people I can't help but laugh at (admittedly there's a high chance they're not all whores and meatheads, and that they're all very nice and good people on the inside). But still, a lot of them project that douche-y aura. (Of note: there's a chance that some of them aren't even in high school, some of the younger ones look epicly of whore) What the hell happened to kids?
My brother collects some bracelet thing called silly bands. I hope he stays like that for a while. I'm already loosing Lindsey to the "more grown than I should be" crowd. Can I keep one innocent one please? It'd be nice. I'd hate to have to come home and beat the shit out of males and females. The boys will be easy(er) to beat off. The girls? Those bitches get fearless.
Quote of the Day:
"Your first appearance, he said to me, is the gauge by which you are measured; try to manage that you may go beyond yourself in after times, but beware of ever doing less."
- Jean Jacques Rousseau
Oh Lawd:
Summer continues as usual. And by as usual, I mean, I hardly know what day it is, dad has secretly supplied me with food at all hours of the night, and I've generally moved very little. But, it's getting more exciting. My computer to TV cables came in the mail today, so now I can watch pokemon on a bigger screen! It makes hulu so much more exciting. Shut up. Stop judging me.
But in other news. I'll actually be leaving the house tomorrow. I'll be with Stephanie and her rugrat Shelby in the morning. Then I may or may not be making my way to Muncie for the day-ish. I honestly hope I can get down to Muncie, but it's kind of inconvenient. I'm supposed to get my brother to speed camp (that damn little beast and his freakish training) for 10am Saturday, then he has his birthday party which I've been roped into helping with.
That little monster is going to be 10 soon. It's crazy. I feel all old and sentimental. Where's the time gone? He'll be in 5th grade. Lindsey will be a freshman in high school. Fuck, I'm (hopefully) graduating next year. What the shit? When did we all get old(er). We were cleaning out the basement the other day, and of course all the baby toys and stuffed animals were the first to go. We all just got so... big at some point. I don't know when. But we did. My brother is turning into a boy thing. He's got shoulders, and he's all tall and shit. What happened to the little kid I could beat up with no effort what so ever? Now I actually have to mildly attempt to restrain his scrawny ass.
It's weird. It's really weird. I'm that old person at home now. I've hit that "old" brink. For my area at least. Which is weird. Because at school I'm little. But at home, I'm surrounded by 15 and unders. Which really isn't that big of a gap in the real world, but this isn't the real world. This is home. At home I'm the oldest kid on the street. At home I'm the resident "old" kid. Surrounded by tiny little things that I almost run over in my car 'cause they're still too stupid to not dart out into the street. Shit, I'm not even that much older than the high school fucktards running around. But there's a difference. There's a difference between me, and those 18-19 year old high school seniors. I can just sense it. Maybe it's because I'm a jackass and I hate everyone (it's probably because I'm a jackass and I hate everyone) or maybe there really is a difference.
Maybe at some point in the 2-3 years age that separates me from the high school kids, I learned something. Or maybe I really do just have a god complex and think I'm better than everyone. It's probably both. Mostly the holier-than-thou attitude. But every time I see them around I can't help but smirk. Mostly because outwardly they (generally) fall into a category of people I can't help but laugh at (admittedly there's a high chance they're not all whores and meatheads, and that they're all very nice and good people on the inside). But still, a lot of them project that douche-y aura. (Of note: there's a chance that some of them aren't even in high school, some of the younger ones look epicly of whore) What the hell happened to kids?
My brother collects some bracelet thing called silly bands. I hope he stays like that for a while. I'm already loosing Lindsey to the "more grown than I should be" crowd. Can I keep one innocent one please? It'd be nice. I'd hate to have to come home and beat the shit out of males and females. The boys will be easy(er) to beat off. The girls? Those bitches get fearless.
Quote of the Day:
"Your first appearance, he said to me, is the gauge by which you are measured; try to manage that you may go beyond yourself in after times, but beware of ever doing less."
- Jean Jacques Rousseau
12.5.10
Steam for Mac (88 of 90)
Steam for Mac Steam for Mac Steam for Mac
Steam for Mac:
I'm ecstatic. Steam is finally on Mac. When my PC crapped out on me a few months ago, I thought I was doomed. And by that I clearly mean my dad convinced me to get a mac (he's a mactard hardcore) and I thought I was going to have to kiss gaming goodbye. Not that I game on PC often (I really haven't participated in much more than guild wars) but I was still going to miss my few steam purchases.
But now, now it's on mac. And I'm stoked. I haven't actually booted up a game yet (mostly because the games I did have still haven't been ported over, but theres a high chance that at least a few of them will) but I will eventually. Maybe tomorrow. Valve is so awesome they decided to make portal free for awhile, so I took the ages of downloading and managed to pick that one up for free. I've always wanted to play, but it tried to explode my poor little HP. Hopefully this macbook will be able to handle it better, not that I'll be surprised it it decides to explode as well.
My only question is: Where the hell is TF2. I wants it. I've wanted to play for years now, but again, poor little HP and it's exploding tendencies. The mac should be able to handle it, but unfortunately, TF2 isn't here yet. So I'll have to wait. Semi-patiently. I want mac to be a semi-established platform. Then again, maybe I don't. I hardly ever PC game as is, it'd be just another excuse for me to buy games I'll hardly ever play.
Speaking of games I'll hardly ever play, I'm highly tempted to go buy Monster Hunter Tri. But I don't have anyone to hunt with, and I never hunt anyway. The game is far too intense for me to play on a regular basis. But I wants it. Probably because its shiny. This is my problem.
Me and games, we go way back. Give me something new and shiny and I'll love it. I really will. Hell, I'll learn everything there is to know about a game that I'll never buy, never play, and never care about past its release. But for the months before the release, I'm its biggest fan. After, not so much.
Maybe it'll go the same way with me and Steam. We'll see. I don't think I'd fall out of love so quickly if there was something to keep me coming back. Something persuasive. Something addicting. Like Guild Wars. It kept me coming back for years. I still want to go back (but alas, I have a mac and no working bootcamp). I've been going back to pokemon since 1997 when it first came out. Something about those damn little monsters. I'll go back for black and white even though the starters are ugly as shit. Something has to capture me.
Something about the world. Something about the story. If the story doesn't capture me, there's no hope. I'll never come back regularly. So maybe I'm downloading the wrong type of games. Maybe I need to get more RPG's again. Because lately, my tendency to return to games is slim. I haven't consistently played anything since Infinite Undiscovery last summer. Again, an RPG. I'd go for FF-whatever number they're on, but I never make it through those either. Probably gameplay related, because the story is always pretty boss. So come on desktop games, help me out here. Pull me in. Capture me. I'm waiting.
Quote of the Day:
"It is not necessary to understand things in order to argue about them."
- Pierre Beaumarchais
Steam for Mac:
I'm ecstatic. Steam is finally on Mac. When my PC crapped out on me a few months ago, I thought I was doomed. And by that I clearly mean my dad convinced me to get a mac (he's a mactard hardcore) and I thought I was going to have to kiss gaming goodbye. Not that I game on PC often (I really haven't participated in much more than guild wars) but I was still going to miss my few steam purchases.
But now, now it's on mac. And I'm stoked. I haven't actually booted up a game yet (mostly because the games I did have still haven't been ported over, but theres a high chance that at least a few of them will) but I will eventually. Maybe tomorrow. Valve is so awesome they decided to make portal free for awhile, so I took the ages of downloading and managed to pick that one up for free. I've always wanted to play, but it tried to explode my poor little HP. Hopefully this macbook will be able to handle it better, not that I'll be surprised it it decides to explode as well.
My only question is: Where the hell is TF2. I wants it. I've wanted to play for years now, but again, poor little HP and it's exploding tendencies. The mac should be able to handle it, but unfortunately, TF2 isn't here yet. So I'll have to wait. Semi-patiently. I want mac to be a semi-established platform. Then again, maybe I don't. I hardly ever PC game as is, it'd be just another excuse for me to buy games I'll hardly ever play.
Speaking of games I'll hardly ever play, I'm highly tempted to go buy Monster Hunter Tri. But I don't have anyone to hunt with, and I never hunt anyway. The game is far too intense for me to play on a regular basis. But I wants it. Probably because its shiny. This is my problem.
Me and games, we go way back. Give me something new and shiny and I'll love it. I really will. Hell, I'll learn everything there is to know about a game that I'll never buy, never play, and never care about past its release. But for the months before the release, I'm its biggest fan. After, not so much.
Maybe it'll go the same way with me and Steam. We'll see. I don't think I'd fall out of love so quickly if there was something to keep me coming back. Something persuasive. Something addicting. Like Guild Wars. It kept me coming back for years. I still want to go back (but alas, I have a mac and no working bootcamp). I've been going back to pokemon since 1997 when it first came out. Something about those damn little monsters. I'll go back for black and white even though the starters are ugly as shit. Something has to capture me.
Something about the world. Something about the story. If the story doesn't capture me, there's no hope. I'll never come back regularly. So maybe I'm downloading the wrong type of games. Maybe I need to get more RPG's again. Because lately, my tendency to return to games is slim. I haven't consistently played anything since Infinite Undiscovery last summer. Again, an RPG. I'd go for FF-whatever number they're on, but I never make it through those either. Probably gameplay related, because the story is always pretty boss. So come on desktop games, help me out here. Pull me in. Capture me. I'm waiting.
Quote of the Day:
"It is not necessary to understand things in order to argue about them."
- Pierre Beaumarchais
Hobbies (87 of 90)
Again, late post. Whoops.
You need a hobby hun:
You see, the problem with this statement is that I have plenty of hobbies. I may or may not have watched approximately 30 episodes of pokemon yesterday. Now, is there a problem with this, inherently, no. There was a problem once I started getting bored and fell asleep during numerous episodes (which I then restarted from the last part I remembered), but there's no inherent problem with pokemon being my hobby.
Well, maybe. I am a 20 year old female, so it is a bit against the grain. But I have no trouble with against the grain. But I see where the boy is coming from. I need a normal people hobby. A hobby that doesn't involve me sitting in pj's all day and watching 10 year old cartoons. Of course, my reply was that I have plenty of hobbies. I really do. My problem is that they're all story related. Or expensive, hell often times they're both. It's been discussed, but I'm obsessed with stories, the good and the bad. I will just as easily be captured by say Twilight's (admittedly terrible) story line, as I will the Monte Cristo's of the world. But books are mildly expensive and I am fast running out of shelving space. This hobby also doesn't require the donning of pants.
I've also made fencing a hobby. But I just don't believe the neighbors will appreciate it if the quiet girl who never leaves the house suddenly comes out waving a sword around at their children. Doesn't seem like it'd be the best idea I've ever had. So while this hobby may require pants, It also requires someone to stab at, which I don't have.
Video games are a constant source of love and entertainment in my life, but again, they do not require pants for me to enjoy. So, what then, would I take up as a hobby to both keep myself entertained, and leave the house. Dancing has been suggested, but as Dayna knows, that's almost impossible to get me to do. If I run, I treadmill it, If I play, again, it's electronically.
What is this ridiculous obsession with the outdoors? Yes they're pretty, yes its nice to be outside once in a while, but why do I have to go out there all the time to be considered "normal". Tanning is stupid, reading outside is a pain, and playing games (of the electronic variety) is even worse. I was not made for the average 20 year old girl activities. And trust me, if I had friends I'd go outside and play with them should the occasion warrant it. But, you see, I don't have those, so solitary indoor activities are just fine. Now, is there a problem with me not having any friends, maybe. But that's another blog post.
For now, the lack of friends hasn't become a detriment to my summer. It inevitably will as I slowly become more hermit like again, but for the moment, I'm alright not having those "friends" of which you speak. And by friends, I clearly mean the kind you can call up and physically see within 20 minutes or so. I have plenty of friends overall. Just very few within seeing distance at the moment.
Quote of the Day:
"A waist is a terrible thing to mind."
- Jane Caminos
You need a hobby hun:
You see, the problem with this statement is that I have plenty of hobbies. I may or may not have watched approximately 30 episodes of pokemon yesterday. Now, is there a problem with this, inherently, no. There was a problem once I started getting bored and fell asleep during numerous episodes (which I then restarted from the last part I remembered), but there's no inherent problem with pokemon being my hobby.
Well, maybe. I am a 20 year old female, so it is a bit against the grain. But I have no trouble with against the grain. But I see where the boy is coming from. I need a normal people hobby. A hobby that doesn't involve me sitting in pj's all day and watching 10 year old cartoons. Of course, my reply was that I have plenty of hobbies. I really do. My problem is that they're all story related. Or expensive, hell often times they're both. It's been discussed, but I'm obsessed with stories, the good and the bad. I will just as easily be captured by say Twilight's (admittedly terrible) story line, as I will the Monte Cristo's of the world. But books are mildly expensive and I am fast running out of shelving space. This hobby also doesn't require the donning of pants.
I've also made fencing a hobby. But I just don't believe the neighbors will appreciate it if the quiet girl who never leaves the house suddenly comes out waving a sword around at their children. Doesn't seem like it'd be the best idea I've ever had. So while this hobby may require pants, It also requires someone to stab at, which I don't have.
Video games are a constant source of love and entertainment in my life, but again, they do not require pants for me to enjoy. So, what then, would I take up as a hobby to both keep myself entertained, and leave the house. Dancing has been suggested, but as Dayna knows, that's almost impossible to get me to do. If I run, I treadmill it, If I play, again, it's electronically.
What is this ridiculous obsession with the outdoors? Yes they're pretty, yes its nice to be outside once in a while, but why do I have to go out there all the time to be considered "normal". Tanning is stupid, reading outside is a pain, and playing games (of the electronic variety) is even worse. I was not made for the average 20 year old girl activities. And trust me, if I had friends I'd go outside and play with them should the occasion warrant it. But, you see, I don't have those, so solitary indoor activities are just fine. Now, is there a problem with me not having any friends, maybe. But that's another blog post.
For now, the lack of friends hasn't become a detriment to my summer. It inevitably will as I slowly become more hermit like again, but for the moment, I'm alright not having those "friends" of which you speak. And by friends, I clearly mean the kind you can call up and physically see within 20 minutes or so. I have plenty of friends overall. Just very few within seeing distance at the moment.
Quote of the Day:
"A waist is a terrible thing to mind."
- Jane Caminos
11.5.10
Grades (86 of 90)
Late again, I got sick-ish last night and passed out unexpectedly early. My B.
It's that time of year:
The time of year when half my known universe is excited, and the other half is reluctantly excited. Constant Facebook updates tell me that half my friends are enjoying home, and the other half would gladly be anywhere else. I'm falling in between the two groups this year. I'm glad it's all over, really glad. But I'd rather be glad elsewhere. Glad somewhere where I didn't automatically dislike 90% of the population.
But along with this time of year comes the inevitable flood of the grade induced Facebook status. Grades came in last night, and my poor Facebook is drowning in them. I'm happy from my friends and acquaintances, really I am. They seem to be happy with themselves this time around. It's always disheartening to wake up one morning and find one of your friends might not make it back the next semester. But they seem to have done well this time around, and I'm happy for them.
As for me, I'm fairly happy too. An A and all B's. Not too shabby. I earned that A. And I (maybe) earned one of those B's. The rest are throwaway. Grades given not based on effort or any work ethic on my part but on latent ability to not suck. But I saw all of these grades coming, except for maybe that surprise B I (possibly) earned. But I have this feeling, that this last semester was the start of something. It's taken me 3 full years (in college, 20 years if we're looking at my life) to get to a point where I honestly work at something. Hopefully it'll carry over to this next year. Because, honestly, I'm getting tired of relying on latent ability to not suck. Two of five classes challenged me to do anything more than sit in class and pretend to pay attention. I swear, occasionally, it makes me feel like a genius. Which I'm not.
I'm not super intelligent. I'm just not an idiot. I'm decent at retaining information, which is how I've made it this far. I have close to zero study skills because I've never had to learn them (again, decent at retaining, why study when you can retain enough to get a B in the first place). And I'm not particularly good at anything. Except for maybe writing. Emphasis on the maybe here. I'm not even going to pretend to be God's gift to anything.
Any talent I have probably came from an innate ability to read. That's about the one thing I do well on my own. I can read, and therefore have been gifted the ability to steal as well. Which is a trait I believe is residual talent in all writers. People are decent writers, not of their own design, but because they've gathered the ability to uniquely jack talents and ideas and concepts from the things and people around them and smoosh them all together in a fashion that becomes their own "style". And the tenacity to be willing to sit down and be told their shit sucks about a million times before they have even one word right. But that's just being stubborn. Which, I suppose can be considered a talent in this field. Without a stubborn sense of the divine self, you probably couldn't make it too far as a writer (not a person who writes mind you).
So, my semester really came down to: latent ability to not suck, innate reading skillz, and my stubborn nature. Even being forced to utilize those last two counts as a very good semester in my book. I'm proud of my A and hard (possibly) earned B. And looking back, those are the only type of grades I've ever really been proud of. The ones where I actually had to write. There have been far too few moments like this, but as my senior year approaches, and a future hopefully spent writing, I can't help but think I'll actually be forced to work again. And the thought, well it's bittersweet. But mostly sweet.
Quote of the Day:
"When the going turns weird, the weird turn pro."
- Hunter S. Thompson
It's that time of year:
The time of year when half my known universe is excited, and the other half is reluctantly excited. Constant Facebook updates tell me that half my friends are enjoying home, and the other half would gladly be anywhere else. I'm falling in between the two groups this year. I'm glad it's all over, really glad. But I'd rather be glad elsewhere. Glad somewhere where I didn't automatically dislike 90% of the population.
But along with this time of year comes the inevitable flood of the grade induced Facebook status. Grades came in last night, and my poor Facebook is drowning in them. I'm happy from my friends and acquaintances, really I am. They seem to be happy with themselves this time around. It's always disheartening to wake up one morning and find one of your friends might not make it back the next semester. But they seem to have done well this time around, and I'm happy for them.
As for me, I'm fairly happy too. An A and all B's. Not too shabby. I earned that A. And I (maybe) earned one of those B's. The rest are throwaway. Grades given not based on effort or any work ethic on my part but on latent ability to not suck. But I saw all of these grades coming, except for maybe that surprise B I (possibly) earned. But I have this feeling, that this last semester was the start of something. It's taken me 3 full years (in college, 20 years if we're looking at my life) to get to a point where I honestly work at something. Hopefully it'll carry over to this next year. Because, honestly, I'm getting tired of relying on latent ability to not suck. Two of five classes challenged me to do anything more than sit in class and pretend to pay attention. I swear, occasionally, it makes me feel like a genius. Which I'm not.
I'm not super intelligent. I'm just not an idiot. I'm decent at retaining information, which is how I've made it this far. I have close to zero study skills because I've never had to learn them (again, decent at retaining, why study when you can retain enough to get a B in the first place). And I'm not particularly good at anything. Except for maybe writing. Emphasis on the maybe here. I'm not even going to pretend to be God's gift to anything.
Any talent I have probably came from an innate ability to read. That's about the one thing I do well on my own. I can read, and therefore have been gifted the ability to steal as well. Which is a trait I believe is residual talent in all writers. People are decent writers, not of their own design, but because they've gathered the ability to uniquely jack talents and ideas and concepts from the things and people around them and smoosh them all together in a fashion that becomes their own "style". And the tenacity to be willing to sit down and be told their shit sucks about a million times before they have even one word right. But that's just being stubborn. Which, I suppose can be considered a talent in this field. Without a stubborn sense of the divine self, you probably couldn't make it too far as a writer (not a person who writes mind you).
So, my semester really came down to: latent ability to not suck, innate reading skillz, and my stubborn nature. Even being forced to utilize those last two counts as a very good semester in my book. I'm proud of my A and hard (possibly) earned B. And looking back, those are the only type of grades I've ever really been proud of. The ones where I actually had to write. There have been far too few moments like this, but as my senior year approaches, and a future hopefully spent writing, I can't help but think I'll actually be forced to work again. And the thought, well it's bittersweet. But mostly sweet.
Quote of the Day:
"When the going turns weird, the weird turn pro."
- Hunter S. Thompson
10.5.10
Silence is Golden (85 of 90)
Happy Mother's Day y'all. Hope you appreciated the women in your life. The ones who raised you, even if they're not your mom.
Once again, I don't know what words will follow:
It's mother's day. I feel I should be compelled to write about my mom and all the whatever's we've gone through, and all the awesomeness she is. But I just don't feel that compulsion. She's just not the (writing) topic of the day. Even if this is a day we as a society have set aside for her.
Instead I'd rather concentrate on me. Again. Tomorrow marks the day I'll officially begin changing my summers at home. I'll run a mile or two. Probably. Hopefully. I'm determined to finish setting up my room. And I'll hopefully manage to feed myself. There's not much food around here... at least not food I want. If all else fails, I'll go up to subway and have them make me food.
But tomorrow is the first day I'll be alone again. Alone in my house. Hell, the first time I've been alone in a while, just in general. I haven't really been alone for longer than sleeping in an extended period of time. I honestly can't remember the last time I was by myself. It'll be interesting. I've got a month of weekdays spent alone. I'll have to adjust again. It's strange. I normally have to adjust to being around people so much, but over the past few months, I've been continuously surrounded.
I'll probably play music. And clean more. And fill the silence with something. It's so strange going from one mode to another. I'll have to switch gears from this "social" mode I managed to pick up, and go back to normal mode. Or it's going to be very hard to not hate this summer. Very very hard. The more I think about the people here, the less I want to be here. It's a feeling I'd rather have forgotten, but it comes back every summer. Every summer I'd rather be somewhere else and here all at once. I want to be with my family. But I'd rather be with them somewhere else. Anywhere else. Because here, they have lives, and I have a vat full of memories. Ew. Who wants those creeping around.
Quote of the Day:
"You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than a year of conversation."
- Plato
Once again, I don't know what words will follow:
It's mother's day. I feel I should be compelled to write about my mom and all the whatever's we've gone through, and all the awesomeness she is. But I just don't feel that compulsion. She's just not the (writing) topic of the day. Even if this is a day we as a society have set aside for her.
Instead I'd rather concentrate on me. Again. Tomorrow marks the day I'll officially begin changing my summers at home. I'll run a mile or two. Probably. Hopefully. I'm determined to finish setting up my room. And I'll hopefully manage to feed myself. There's not much food around here... at least not food I want. If all else fails, I'll go up to subway and have them make me food.
But tomorrow is the first day I'll be alone again. Alone in my house. Hell, the first time I've been alone in a while, just in general. I haven't really been alone for longer than sleeping in an extended period of time. I honestly can't remember the last time I was by myself. It'll be interesting. I've got a month of weekdays spent alone. I'll have to adjust again. It's strange. I normally have to adjust to being around people so much, but over the past few months, I've been continuously surrounded.
I'll probably play music. And clean more. And fill the silence with something. It's so strange going from one mode to another. I'll have to switch gears from this "social" mode I managed to pick up, and go back to normal mode. Or it's going to be very hard to not hate this summer. Very very hard. The more I think about the people here, the less I want to be here. It's a feeling I'd rather have forgotten, but it comes back every summer. Every summer I'd rather be somewhere else and here all at once. I want to be with my family. But I'd rather be with them somewhere else. Anywhere else. Because here, they have lives, and I have a vat full of memories. Ew. Who wants those creeping around.
Quote of the Day:
"You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than a year of conversation."
- Plato
9.5.10
Random (84 of 90)
Haha, late again. It seems that even when I'm not at school, weekend posts are a never constant thing.
Weird:
So, today I realized that I hadn't gone a 24 hour period without talking to that boy for a exceedingly long time. As in, it had been since Spring Break. That's about a two month period. I'm pretty sure I've gone longer periods without talking or seeing people I've lived in the same house with, hell, the same dorm room.
It was strange. I could tell I hadn't talked him all day, it was like some weird absence thing. I fear this won't bode well. In any case, I spent all night talking to him on skype. My siblings were highly amused, especially my sister. She took the opportunity to talk as much as she could. As in, while I was off unpacking and cleaning and moving things around in my room, she'd steal my computer and start a conversation. Haha. Crazy little girl.
My room is a wreck. It's worse than it was before. But I'm slowly getting things in order. I want it to be clean, so I won't feel bad playing xbox and generally being the lazy ass I am. In fact, I only feel bad now because my things are still occupying a section of the main level as well. Once I get everything cleaned up to the point that my stuff is all in one place, I'll probably feel better about the cleaning thing. But for now, I'm still surrounded by a mess of books, games, and memorabilia. In fact, right now my feet are resting on a box of my younger years. Yearbooks and old trophies abound. Along with old sparing gear and police brutality sticks. I was such a rad kid, and violent. I love my tonfa though, I wish I had spent more time learning them. We also found my boken in the basement, which is pretty rad. It seems I move from one violent weapon to the next.
It's swords now, they're much stabbity-er than the other weapons I've played with. But fencing blades are pretty blunt if you think about it, especially the stabbing/poking weapons I play with, as opposed to the slasheyness of sabres.
Looking back, this blog post makes little sense, but that's ok. It matches the clutter in my mind, and in my room.
Quote of the Day:
"If the English language made any sense a catastrophe would be an apostrophe with fur."
- Doug Larson
Weird:
So, today I realized that I hadn't gone a 24 hour period without talking to that boy for a exceedingly long time. As in, it had been since Spring Break. That's about a two month period. I'm pretty sure I've gone longer periods without talking or seeing people I've lived in the same house with, hell, the same dorm room.
It was strange. I could tell I hadn't talked him all day, it was like some weird absence thing. I fear this won't bode well. In any case, I spent all night talking to him on skype. My siblings were highly amused, especially my sister. She took the opportunity to talk as much as she could. As in, while I was off unpacking and cleaning and moving things around in my room, she'd steal my computer and start a conversation. Haha. Crazy little girl.
My room is a wreck. It's worse than it was before. But I'm slowly getting things in order. I want it to be clean, so I won't feel bad playing xbox and generally being the lazy ass I am. In fact, I only feel bad now because my things are still occupying a section of the main level as well. Once I get everything cleaned up to the point that my stuff is all in one place, I'll probably feel better about the cleaning thing. But for now, I'm still surrounded by a mess of books, games, and memorabilia. In fact, right now my feet are resting on a box of my younger years. Yearbooks and old trophies abound. Along with old sparing gear and police brutality sticks. I was such a rad kid, and violent. I love my tonfa though, I wish I had spent more time learning them. We also found my boken in the basement, which is pretty rad. It seems I move from one violent weapon to the next.
It's swords now, they're much stabbity-er than the other weapons I've played with. But fencing blades are pretty blunt if you think about it, especially the stabbing/poking weapons I play with, as opposed to the slasheyness of sabres.
Looking back, this blog post makes little sense, but that's ok. It matches the clutter in my mind, and in my room.
Quote of the Day:
"If the English language made any sense a catastrophe would be an apostrophe with fur."
- Doug Larson
8.5.10
And so it begins (83 of 90)
Well, blogger. I'm home.
Home is where the heart is:
A short few hours ago I was romping (well, more like zombie-shuffling) around BSU. I was exhausted and dragging my ass to and from finals. And when the last one was done, it didn't even register. The semester is over. It's over.
I still can't believe I won't be heading back Sunday night. Back to the place I've grown to love. Back to my friends, my second family. I can't believe I won't be back for months. Even as I sit here staring at the boxed up parts of my life. Ever since I got home I've been moving. Changing things around, tearing down posters, unloading boxes. I've been preparing.
My room is coming along nicely. The walls are bare, the TV and xbox are up. My books are scattered around, waiting to replaced on their proper shelves. And I already feel lighter. It's as if a weight is being lifted off of my shoulders. A weight I hadn't known was there. In this house, my childhood was suffocating me. But I can already feel the change. See the shift being reflected in my possessions. And I'm glad I've managed to stay up long enough to start changing things. I'm still exhausted.
But, I miss them already. My second family. It hasn't even been 24 hours since I last saw most of them. But it's a Friday night, and instead of being dragged off for some shenanigan filled adventure, I'm sitting at home, staring at the computer screen that will once again become my best friend. My friendship with my computer has been on the back burner for a while now. And honestly, I didn't miss it. But now I'm home again. Back in a place where I have few friends. Back in the place that I so desperately want to escape for that very reason. My only attachment to Fishers is my family. I don't particularly have HighSchool friends. I don't have any connection to this town any more. I haven't wanted to be here since I started college. Not after my past with people from here.
I'm still mildly terrified of running into a large group of my old friends. The thought of it is not something I relish. I can handle maybe one or two at a time. But a group? I don't know how well I'd manage. Especially when theres no one else to turn to. No one close by anyway. It can be so lonely here. It hasn't fully hit yet, but after 2 summers experience with the feeling, it's only a matter of time before it strikes again.
Quote of the Day:
"Actions lie louder than words."
- Carolyn Wells
Home is where the heart is:
A short few hours ago I was romping (well, more like zombie-shuffling) around BSU. I was exhausted and dragging my ass to and from finals. And when the last one was done, it didn't even register. The semester is over. It's over.
I still can't believe I won't be heading back Sunday night. Back to the place I've grown to love. Back to my friends, my second family. I can't believe I won't be back for months. Even as I sit here staring at the boxed up parts of my life. Ever since I got home I've been moving. Changing things around, tearing down posters, unloading boxes. I've been preparing.
My room is coming along nicely. The walls are bare, the TV and xbox are up. My books are scattered around, waiting to replaced on their proper shelves. And I already feel lighter. It's as if a weight is being lifted off of my shoulders. A weight I hadn't known was there. In this house, my childhood was suffocating me. But I can already feel the change. See the shift being reflected in my possessions. And I'm glad I've managed to stay up long enough to start changing things. I'm still exhausted.
But, I miss them already. My second family. It hasn't even been 24 hours since I last saw most of them. But it's a Friday night, and instead of being dragged off for some shenanigan filled adventure, I'm sitting at home, staring at the computer screen that will once again become my best friend. My friendship with my computer has been on the back burner for a while now. And honestly, I didn't miss it. But now I'm home again. Back in a place where I have few friends. Back in the place that I so desperately want to escape for that very reason. My only attachment to Fishers is my family. I don't particularly have HighSchool friends. I don't have any connection to this town any more. I haven't wanted to be here since I started college. Not after my past with people from here.
I'm still mildly terrified of running into a large group of my old friends. The thought of it is not something I relish. I can handle maybe one or two at a time. But a group? I don't know how well I'd manage. Especially when theres no one else to turn to. No one close by anyway. It can be so lonely here. It hasn't fully hit yet, but after 2 summers experience with the feeling, it's only a matter of time before it strikes again.
Quote of the Day:
"Actions lie louder than words."
- Carolyn Wells
7.5.10
Love it (82 of 90)
And another delayed post. Mostly because I got dragged off to dinner, then to fencing, then to ironman last night. I do not regret this.
I am Ironman:
But not really. I'm Lauren. I wish I were Ironman, or rather I wish I knew him. Not just Robert Downey Jr. but Tony Stark.
You see, I've always had a love/love relationship with Tony Stark. Ever since I found out about the character, I've loved him. In some ways, it doesn't make since. He's an archtype that a lot of people dislike. He's rude, arrogant, full of himself, rich, and alcoholic. It's a daunting combination of bad character traits.
And a lot of the dislike for Tony Stark stems from this. Which, in some ways, is understandable. Most people naturally dislike ass-holes. It's a built in reflex. If someone is an asshole, then well, you really don't like them. I, on the other hand, have some sort of fatal attraction to them.
Charismatic assholes are my favorite. In real life and in fiction. They're just all sorts of fun. Of course, I don't just mean your run of the mill average asshole. But the assholes with a purpose. The one's who know they're assholes, and continue to be one anyway. Not because they're genuinely terrible people, but because there is a method to their madness.
But, unfortunately, many people don't see the method in the madness. And over time, I've decided it's because they have never had to deal with a proper ass-hole before. I've spent my entire life surrounded by this particular breed of asshole. It's probably a large part of why I am the way I am now. And I think more people need to be raised by assholes. Or at the very least, come into contact with them. Two of the most influential people in my life fall into the category of asshole. They pushed me more than anyone else ever has, and I thank them for that. They may be assholes, but it's a breed of assholery that helps people grow. I spent my childhood with assholes, I'm not afraid of them now. I'm not afraid of authority. Difficult people are a welcome challenge. Why? Because I've dealt with it all before. It's easier to take in stride.
So, Tony Stark. I love him to death. He's an asshole, and he knows it. He's a fucking genius, and he knows it. He acts better than you, because he is better than you. But he won't leave you hanging. He saves the world in his trillion dollar suit of brilliance. He's got your back. Even if he's an arrogant prick about it along the way.
Quote of the Day:
"The trouble with jogging is that, by the time you realize you're not in shape for it, it's too far to walk back."
- Franklin P. Jones
I am Ironman:
But not really. I'm Lauren. I wish I were Ironman, or rather I wish I knew him. Not just Robert Downey Jr. but Tony Stark.
You see, I've always had a love/love relationship with Tony Stark. Ever since I found out about the character, I've loved him. In some ways, it doesn't make since. He's an archtype that a lot of people dislike. He's rude, arrogant, full of himself, rich, and alcoholic. It's a daunting combination of bad character traits.
And a lot of the dislike for Tony Stark stems from this. Which, in some ways, is understandable. Most people naturally dislike ass-holes. It's a built in reflex. If someone is an asshole, then well, you really don't like them. I, on the other hand, have some sort of fatal attraction to them.
Charismatic assholes are my favorite. In real life and in fiction. They're just all sorts of fun. Of course, I don't just mean your run of the mill average asshole. But the assholes with a purpose. The one's who know they're assholes, and continue to be one anyway. Not because they're genuinely terrible people, but because there is a method to their madness.
But, unfortunately, many people don't see the method in the madness. And over time, I've decided it's because they have never had to deal with a proper ass-hole before. I've spent my entire life surrounded by this particular breed of asshole. It's probably a large part of why I am the way I am now. And I think more people need to be raised by assholes. Or at the very least, come into contact with them. Two of the most influential people in my life fall into the category of asshole. They pushed me more than anyone else ever has, and I thank them for that. They may be assholes, but it's a breed of assholery that helps people grow. I spent my childhood with assholes, I'm not afraid of them now. I'm not afraid of authority. Difficult people are a welcome challenge. Why? Because I've dealt with it all before. It's easier to take in stride.
So, Tony Stark. I love him to death. He's an asshole, and he knows it. He's a fucking genius, and he knows it. He acts better than you, because he is better than you. But he won't leave you hanging. He saves the world in his trillion dollar suit of brilliance. He's got your back. Even if he's an arrogant prick about it along the way.
Quote of the Day:
"The trouble with jogging is that, by the time you realize you're not in shape for it, it's too far to walk back."
- Franklin P. Jones
6.5.10
Crusader (81 of 90)
Alright. Here we go. Last nights post was delayed due to procrastination.
Bad Religion:
So, I was thinking about religion earlier. I'm not entirely sure why, but it just crossed my mind. Maybe because I'll be going home soon, and as such, will most likely be attending church more frequently than I do now. Which is to say, I'll go at least once, haha.
In any case, I've been thinking about the different types of religions, how I was raised, and what my beliefs are now. And, I've found, that over time, my beliefs have changed.
Which they probably should have. You know, what with the growing up and "finding yourself" bull shittery and whatnot. But when I was younger, I don't think I particularly had a religion. Yes, I went to church. Yes, I was baptized as a baby. Yes, the only thing I'd been introduced to was Christianity. And as such it shaped me and my morals. But my family has never been super religious. We were your average Christians, church on sundays, celebrated the holidays, baptized the babies, said our prayers, and touted God's grace when it was appropriate.
But by and large, we honestly weren't all that religious. And I myself, am even less so now.
In a way at least. i don't really go to church all that often anymore, but I do say my prayers every night before bed, and before most meals. Partially because it's how I've been conditioned, partially because I do what to give thanks. But the difference is, now I know who I'm praying to. When I was younger God was just that big guy in the sky mom said to pray to. Now, he's a definite force of ideals that I believe in. I don't know if I fall under the Christian sense of God anymore. At least not in the strictest sense.
The way I've structured my ideals generally comes down to "don't be a dick". Which, coincidentally, coincides with a lot of religious beliefs. I believe there is a God. Just one. I believe that he make take on different forms. And as different forms, different people see different things. Which is why I'll never knock (most) any religion. In your world, God is this. As long as you're not "being a dick" you're square. Hell, you don't even have to believe in a God.
But everyone believes in something. And I think, that as long as you're a decent person, why's it matter what God you do or don't believe in? Just because I consider myself to (loosely) be Christian, and you consider yourself atheist or pegan or pastafarian or whatever, it doesn't mean I'm any better a person than anyone else. I don't believe there's a God who actively interferes with our lives (and if there is I bet he's playing the sims with our lives, watch out for disappearing doors and pool ladders). I think our strength and wisdom and ability to learn comes from people.
We learn through stories, which is why the Bible is so loved. It's got a shit ton of stories in it. Even if they're all written in funny language that takes forever to understand (which is precisely why I've never made it through). But just because you haven't read the Bible, or the Torah, or the Quran or whatever, doesn't mean you don't learn. There are plenty of other stories that you can learn the exact same lessons from. And some of them come with dragons, which, come on, are infinitely cooler than a kid with a sling shot.
So all in all, this really isn't a post about my religion, or lack there-of, but about being a decent person. None of us knows for sure what happens when we die. And all of us are trapped on this planet we call Earth with a few decades to live and make a life for ourselves. So why waste it arguing religious bullshit and judging others based on things that don't particularly matter (unless ones religion is douchbaggery). Not all Christians are bible thumpers, not all Muslims are terrorists. So for _____ (insert religious figure there) sake, shut the hell up and argue about something important. Like hungry babies or something.
Quote of the Day:
"Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them?"
-Abraham Lincoln
Bad Religion:
So, I was thinking about religion earlier. I'm not entirely sure why, but it just crossed my mind. Maybe because I'll be going home soon, and as such, will most likely be attending church more frequently than I do now. Which is to say, I'll go at least once, haha.
In any case, I've been thinking about the different types of religions, how I was raised, and what my beliefs are now. And, I've found, that over time, my beliefs have changed.
Which they probably should have. You know, what with the growing up and "finding yourself" bull shittery and whatnot. But when I was younger, I don't think I particularly had a religion. Yes, I went to church. Yes, I was baptized as a baby. Yes, the only thing I'd been introduced to was Christianity. And as such it shaped me and my morals. But my family has never been super religious. We were your average Christians, church on sundays, celebrated the holidays, baptized the babies, said our prayers, and touted God's grace when it was appropriate.
But by and large, we honestly weren't all that religious. And I myself, am even less so now.
In a way at least. i don't really go to church all that often anymore, but I do say my prayers every night before bed, and before most meals. Partially because it's how I've been conditioned, partially because I do what to give thanks. But the difference is, now I know who I'm praying to. When I was younger God was just that big guy in the sky mom said to pray to. Now, he's a definite force of ideals that I believe in. I don't know if I fall under the Christian sense of God anymore. At least not in the strictest sense.
The way I've structured my ideals generally comes down to "don't be a dick". Which, coincidentally, coincides with a lot of religious beliefs. I believe there is a God. Just one. I believe that he make take on different forms. And as different forms, different people see different things. Which is why I'll never knock (most) any religion. In your world, God is this. As long as you're not "being a dick" you're square. Hell, you don't even have to believe in a God.
But everyone believes in something. And I think, that as long as you're a decent person, why's it matter what God you do or don't believe in? Just because I consider myself to (loosely) be Christian, and you consider yourself atheist or pegan or pastafarian or whatever, it doesn't mean I'm any better a person than anyone else. I don't believe there's a God who actively interferes with our lives (and if there is I bet he's playing the sims with our lives, watch out for disappearing doors and pool ladders). I think our strength and wisdom and ability to learn comes from people.
We learn through stories, which is why the Bible is so loved. It's got a shit ton of stories in it. Even if they're all written in funny language that takes forever to understand (which is precisely why I've never made it through). But just because you haven't read the Bible, or the Torah, or the Quran or whatever, doesn't mean you don't learn. There are plenty of other stories that you can learn the exact same lessons from. And some of them come with dragons, which, come on, are infinitely cooler than a kid with a sling shot.
So all in all, this really isn't a post about my religion, or lack there-of, but about being a decent person. None of us knows for sure what happens when we die. And all of us are trapped on this planet we call Earth with a few decades to live and make a life for ourselves. So why waste it arguing religious bullshit and judging others based on things that don't particularly matter (unless ones religion is douchbaggery). Not all Christians are bible thumpers, not all Muslims are terrorists. So for _____ (insert religious figure there) sake, shut the hell up and argue about something important. Like hungry babies or something.
Quote of the Day:
"Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends of them?"
-Abraham Lincoln
5.5.10
Dear Non Writers
Alright, I'm going to write this earlier than I initially planned, only because I think there's something you need to understand. And I'm feeling the need to rant.
Dear Non-Writers:
If I happen to be bitching about writing, just accept it. Don't try to console me, don't try to sympathize. Don't try to say you've been there before. Don't try to compare your page limit to mine. Don't tell me how many papers you have to write. Just, please, don't.
You see, the truth of the matter is, none of it, and I mean none of it is helpful. I'm bitching because I need an outlet. Not in any way shape or form do I want you to do anything about it, or even comment more than a general "that sucks". You cannot do anything. Anything. Let me restate that, you do not have the qualifications or capability to understand anything. Yes, I understand you got decent grades in English in high school. That's fine and dandy. But you are not a writer. You have never been, and unless something changes, you have no intention to be.
And I'm ok with that. Really I am. I'd hate to hang out with only writers all the time. We're such self important God-Complex wielding bitchy assholes. All of us. If you're a writer and you're reading this, and you dare to deny it, I will flat out call you a liar. Search your heart, you know it to be true. But really, it's fine to not be a writer.
But there are times, like now, when I really don't want to hear your non-writer advice.
No, I am not writing a "paper", yes, occasionally I will call it so. But only because I know your non-writerey mind doesn't fully understand just how distinct the differences are between a short story, an essay, a critical essay, a creative critical essay, a news article, a magazine article, a feature, a criticism, a public interest piece. Among the many other differences I deal with on a daily basis. And normally, I won't begrudge you the difference, because you just don't understand. Which is fine. But as I near the end of my rope with the non-cooperative articles I'm fighting, not writing, but fighting the inability to understand the difference irks me.
No, I cannot increase my word count by adding more "the's". That's ridiculous. Yes, my word/page count is almost always more of a guideline than a set thing. No, you can't help with critiques. Again, I know your skills were adequate for high school, and yes, you could probably catch the grammar and "this makes no sense" mistakes. But it all comes back to the understanding bit. You have to understand the craft before you can adequately edit anything. Know what I'm doing, what I'm trying to do, where it's falling apart, what's missing, and what I need to get there. And largely, non-writers cannot provide what I'm looking for. Nothing against you, but you probably suck and can't help me much.
There's something you have to understand about being a writer. Not just someone who is told to write something, but a writer. There is something that separates a writer from someone who writes. Something that you can't really be told, it's something you learn/come to realize on your own. But that something, is why you're all of no real assistance. Sorry loves, but really. There's just a certain writer-ly pain and annoyance and attitude that you can't really understand unless you've attempted to be, or are trying to be a writer.
So please, non-writers, when I bitch, just bitch back about your respective fields. I know you don't understand. You know I don't understand. Let's just keep that happy medium, shall we. I really don't need you channeling another narcissistic, high and mighty, asshole of a writer. Especially one that has no idea what their doing. Go back to being nice, normal people. I bitch at you, because I don't want to hear writer bitching back.
End bitchy self important I pretend I'm a writer rant.
Quote of the Day:
"It's none of their business that you have to learn to write. Let them think you were born that way."
- Ernest Hemingway
Dear Non-Writers:
If I happen to be bitching about writing, just accept it. Don't try to console me, don't try to sympathize. Don't try to say you've been there before. Don't try to compare your page limit to mine. Don't tell me how many papers you have to write. Just, please, don't.
You see, the truth of the matter is, none of it, and I mean none of it is helpful. I'm bitching because I need an outlet. Not in any way shape or form do I want you to do anything about it, or even comment more than a general "that sucks". You cannot do anything. Anything. Let me restate that, you do not have the qualifications or capability to understand anything. Yes, I understand you got decent grades in English in high school. That's fine and dandy. But you are not a writer. You have never been, and unless something changes, you have no intention to be.
And I'm ok with that. Really I am. I'd hate to hang out with only writers all the time. We're such self important God-Complex wielding bitchy assholes. All of us. If you're a writer and you're reading this, and you dare to deny it, I will flat out call you a liar. Search your heart, you know it to be true. But really, it's fine to not be a writer.
But there are times, like now, when I really don't want to hear your non-writer advice.
No, I am not writing a "paper", yes, occasionally I will call it so. But only because I know your non-writerey mind doesn't fully understand just how distinct the differences are between a short story, an essay, a critical essay, a creative critical essay, a news article, a magazine article, a feature, a criticism, a public interest piece. Among the many other differences I deal with on a daily basis. And normally, I won't begrudge you the difference, because you just don't understand. Which is fine. But as I near the end of my rope with the non-cooperative articles I'm fighting, not writing, but fighting the inability to understand the difference irks me.
No, I cannot increase my word count by adding more "the's". That's ridiculous. Yes, my word/page count is almost always more of a guideline than a set thing. No, you can't help with critiques. Again, I know your skills were adequate for high school, and yes, you could probably catch the grammar and "this makes no sense" mistakes. But it all comes back to the understanding bit. You have to understand the craft before you can adequately edit anything. Know what I'm doing, what I'm trying to do, where it's falling apart, what's missing, and what I need to get there. And largely, non-writers cannot provide what I'm looking for. Nothing against you, but you probably suck and can't help me much.
There's something you have to understand about being a writer. Not just someone who is told to write something, but a writer. There is something that separates a writer from someone who writes. Something that you can't really be told, it's something you learn/come to realize on your own. But that something, is why you're all of no real assistance. Sorry loves, but really. There's just a certain writer-ly pain and annoyance and attitude that you can't really understand unless you've attempted to be, or are trying to be a writer.
So please, non-writers, when I bitch, just bitch back about your respective fields. I know you don't understand. You know I don't understand. Let's just keep that happy medium, shall we. I really don't need you channeling another narcissistic, high and mighty, asshole of a writer. Especially one that has no idea what their doing. Go back to being nice, normal people. I bitch at you, because I don't want to hear writer bitching back.
End bitchy self important I pretend I'm a writer rant.
Quote of the Day:
"It's none of their business that you have to learn to write. Let them think you were born that way."
- Ernest Hemingway
4.5.10
Dual Nature
Hello there. On time blog post again? What what!
Simplicity:
Well, I was supposed to be writing today after I distinctly did not write yesterday. But that didn't happen because I was yet again kidnapped by ones Bill and Raymond. We brought Morgan along for the ride today as well. T'was fun.
It was simple again. Just four people occupying the same space. I don't know why, but that feeling is like my ultimate... something. I don't know what word to put there. But the calmness of people being able to occupy the same space without necessarily interacting the whole time is something I love. It's amazing.
It lets you know that you're comfortable enough with someone to just sit. You don't have to talk, you don't have to do anything. You can just be near each other and be happy for the company. Maybe that's why I enjoy it so much. Because I've hardly gotten the chance to just be comfortable like that.
Contrary to popular belief, I'm an extremely chill person. I don't need to be doing something all the time. I'm not all that loud 90% of the time and I'm really not all that hyperactive. Now, of course, a lot of people only see me in the 10% of the time when I am hyped up, loud, and operating with the attention span of a rodent. But for the most part, I'm really not that way.
So when I get the chance to just be me and chill in someones presence I can really appreciate it. It's rare that people get to know that side of me and I'm actually happy when they do. I'd rather have everyone know that I'm not some hyperactive easily excitable twit all the time. I'm only that way sometimes. You are more likely to find me lazing around quietly, than running around excitedly.
But the excited part of me is the only part that some people know. The loud, mildly obnoxious, irresponsible, carefree twit I can be. It's both a persona, and a part of me. It's a part of me I play up to my advantage on occasion. It's a part of me that allows me to live the way I do. But it's also a problem on occasion. There are goods and bads. But I think the two sides of me even out. At least in a way better than Harvey Dent could handle. And, honestly, I'm ok with being almost split in my behaviors. It's what makes me, me. Even if people discredit me because they only know one side. It's always amusing to surprise them with the other side on occasion.
Quote of the Day:
"I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me."
- Noel Coward
Simplicity:
Well, I was supposed to be writing today after I distinctly did not write yesterday. But that didn't happen because I was yet again kidnapped by ones Bill and Raymond. We brought Morgan along for the ride today as well. T'was fun.
It was simple again. Just four people occupying the same space. I don't know why, but that feeling is like my ultimate... something. I don't know what word to put there. But the calmness of people being able to occupy the same space without necessarily interacting the whole time is something I love. It's amazing.
It lets you know that you're comfortable enough with someone to just sit. You don't have to talk, you don't have to do anything. You can just be near each other and be happy for the company. Maybe that's why I enjoy it so much. Because I've hardly gotten the chance to just be comfortable like that.
Contrary to popular belief, I'm an extremely chill person. I don't need to be doing something all the time. I'm not all that loud 90% of the time and I'm really not all that hyperactive. Now, of course, a lot of people only see me in the 10% of the time when I am hyped up, loud, and operating with the attention span of a rodent. But for the most part, I'm really not that way.
So when I get the chance to just be me and chill in someones presence I can really appreciate it. It's rare that people get to know that side of me and I'm actually happy when they do. I'd rather have everyone know that I'm not some hyperactive easily excitable twit all the time. I'm only that way sometimes. You are more likely to find me lazing around quietly, than running around excitedly.
But the excited part of me is the only part that some people know. The loud, mildly obnoxious, irresponsible, carefree twit I can be. It's both a persona, and a part of me. It's a part of me I play up to my advantage on occasion. It's a part of me that allows me to live the way I do. But it's also a problem on occasion. There are goods and bads. But I think the two sides of me even out. At least in a way better than Harvey Dent could handle. And, honestly, I'm ok with being almost split in my behaviors. It's what makes me, me. Even if people discredit me because they only know one side. It's always amusing to surprise them with the other side on occasion.
Quote of the Day:
"I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me."
- Noel Coward
2.5.10
Geekdom abound (78 of 90)
Ah, well'p Sunday well spent.
My Pokemans, Let me show you them:
So, it's funny. Two days ago I said I wanted to be all healthy and stuffs. Lies and deceit. Well, at least in practice it's a lie. Or, rather, I haven't implemented the whole "healthy me" game plan. Hopefully I'll start once I get back home. In the mean time...
I've been watching pokemon all day. ALL day. Nothing but pokemon episodes. Watching pokemon, playing pokemon, researching pokemon. I have a problem. A poke-problem. I'm entirely addicted. But my team is beginning to shape up. Sure, it's still entirely unbalanced and ridiculous, but I'm finally getting more of the members of my final team.
So very many hours of pokemon. As I type this, I'm watching the end of Bye Bye Butterfree, and going back and forth between this and Pokemon Gold. I've decided to train a Murkrow for the first time. I normally go with Hoot-Hoot/Noctowl, but I decided to switch it up this time.
In other nerdly news, we went to steak and shake today. Had many lovely conversations. And by many lovely conversations, I mean, we spent the entire time talking about Pokemon, Batman, and Macs. So very much time spent geeking out. It was enjoyable. I don't get much "geek out" time anymore, what with me talking to semi "normal" people now.
It's nice knowing that should I need someone to geek out at, they're available. It's been a while since I've had a bunch of dorks to geek out at. That being said: here's what's on my mind, geek wise:
1. I hate and love apple. (as I hate and love myself (lol see that LotR reference go go go but I don't really hate myself)))
I know it's terrible. I know I could have gotten a much better PC for the same amount of money as the macbook I'm typing on now. I know that gaming is shit on this thing (but looking up with Steam for Mac coming out April 4th Valve time (which means, god only knows human time)). I know that I can't do much with this thing. I know. But. It's so damn pretty. So damn pretty. And the iPhone, yeah, I'd be better off with a droid. But, iPhone. App Store. Convenience. Buh. Damn you Steve Jobs. Damn you. I've fallen into your target audience trap after years of struggling. I blame my father.
2. My pokemon team is shaping up nicely. I've got 3.5 of 6 pokemon choosen to follow me through the game. I say 3.5 because I'm not entirely sure if I'm going to keep my Furret with me. It's so cute. So TM-able. But so... not good. Haha. Hypothetically, and in the story line I've made up in my head, it's an amazing choice. But for battle functionality, it's not so great. But oh well. The story line is more important to me anyway, and in the story version... Furret is the Pikachu to Tony's Ash.
3. My boy knows things about comics? What? Score. I foresee many moments of pure geekery. And also agrees that Namor is 1000% better than Aquaman in all aspects. Now for the Psylocke (Betsy Braddock) v. Jean Grey (Phoenix) v. Emma Frost conversation. The choice could be a deal breaker, haha.
My Pokemans, Let me show you them:
So, it's funny. Two days ago I said I wanted to be all healthy and stuffs. Lies and deceit. Well, at least in practice it's a lie. Or, rather, I haven't implemented the whole "healthy me" game plan. Hopefully I'll start once I get back home. In the mean time...
I've been watching pokemon all day. ALL day. Nothing but pokemon episodes. Watching pokemon, playing pokemon, researching pokemon. I have a problem. A poke-problem. I'm entirely addicted. But my team is beginning to shape up. Sure, it's still entirely unbalanced and ridiculous, but I'm finally getting more of the members of my final team.
So very many hours of pokemon. As I type this, I'm watching the end of Bye Bye Butterfree, and going back and forth between this and Pokemon Gold. I've decided to train a Murkrow for the first time. I normally go with Hoot-Hoot/Noctowl, but I decided to switch it up this time.
In other nerdly news, we went to steak and shake today. Had many lovely conversations. And by many lovely conversations, I mean, we spent the entire time talking about Pokemon, Batman, and Macs. So very much time spent geeking out. It was enjoyable. I don't get much "geek out" time anymore, what with me talking to semi "normal" people now.
It's nice knowing that should I need someone to geek out at, they're available. It's been a while since I've had a bunch of dorks to geek out at. That being said: here's what's on my mind, geek wise:
1. I hate and love apple. (as I hate and love myself (lol see that LotR reference go go go but I don't really hate myself)))
I know it's terrible. I know I could have gotten a much better PC for the same amount of money as the macbook I'm typing on now. I know that gaming is shit on this thing (but looking up with Steam for Mac coming out April 4th Valve time (which means, god only knows human time)). I know that I can't do much with this thing. I know. But. It's so damn pretty. So damn pretty. And the iPhone, yeah, I'd be better off with a droid. But, iPhone. App Store. Convenience. Buh. Damn you Steve Jobs. Damn you. I've fallen into your target audience trap after years of struggling. I blame my father.
2. My pokemon team is shaping up nicely. I've got 3.5 of 6 pokemon choosen to follow me through the game. I say 3.5 because I'm not entirely sure if I'm going to keep my Furret with me. It's so cute. So TM-able. But so... not good. Haha. Hypothetically, and in the story line I've made up in my head, it's an amazing choice. But for battle functionality, it's not so great. But oh well. The story line is more important to me anyway, and in the story version... Furret is the Pikachu to Tony's Ash.
3. My boy knows things about comics? What? Score. I foresee many moments of pure geekery. And also agrees that Namor is 1000% better than Aquaman in all aspects. Now for the Psylocke (Betsy Braddock) v. Jean Grey (Phoenix) v. Emma Frost conversation. The choice could be a deal breaker, haha.
L is for the way you Look at me
Alright, update for tonight. It's actually on time, which is mildly shocking. And by mildly, I mean, I didn't expect this either. Haha.
You said what now?:
Alright blogger. I'm going to lay it down for you. What I'm thinking, what I'm feeling. What's happened in the past few hours. I normally do that, but I don't know if it's ever been to this extent. So lets see how this works, shall we?
Today, I hung out with Bill and Ray for the majority of the day. As the night wore on, Tori and Dayna showed up. Followed by Morgan. Which isn't so odd, it's the usual suspects really. Bill, Ray, and I played various video games and just kinda chilled. An afternoon at Ray's apartment. Nothing really of note.
But as the others arrived we started getting closer to party time. It was a small thing, just the above mentioned people. Nothing fancy, just the 6 of us hanging out and doing our thing. We played rockband all night. Nothing fancy. I just got back a few short minutes ago.
That boy. I think he said I love you. And by "think", I mean, I know he said "I think I love you" or some such thing. I, of course, pretended to be tipsy. I'm not shocked. I'm not surprised. I'm not scared or prepared to bolt. I don't know what I am.
I think I'm more contemplative than anything. Why say that now? Why me? Why now? What? Why didn't I say "I know" like Han Solo? That would have been badass. Instead I simply replied "mmkay" and continued my tipsy performance. Why does this kid think the sun shines out of my ass?
I don't understand people. I don't understand myself. Somehow, I just never envisioned the "I love you" talk ending like this. I was prepared for an "OH SHIT, FLEE" moment. Not... this. Whatever this is. I guess I'm just curious is all. I mean, what the hell. I'm an asshole, I'm awkward, I'm mildly evil, and the list goes on. -sigh- crazy boy. What am I going to do with him?
You said what now?:
Alright blogger. I'm going to lay it down for you. What I'm thinking, what I'm feeling. What's happened in the past few hours. I normally do that, but I don't know if it's ever been to this extent. So lets see how this works, shall we?
Today, I hung out with Bill and Ray for the majority of the day. As the night wore on, Tori and Dayna showed up. Followed by Morgan. Which isn't so odd, it's the usual suspects really. Bill, Ray, and I played various video games and just kinda chilled. An afternoon at Ray's apartment. Nothing really of note.
But as the others arrived we started getting closer to party time. It was a small thing, just the above mentioned people. Nothing fancy, just the 6 of us hanging out and doing our thing. We played rockband all night. Nothing fancy. I just got back a few short minutes ago.
That boy. I think he said I love you. And by "think", I mean, I know he said "I think I love you" or some such thing. I, of course, pretended to be tipsy. I'm not shocked. I'm not surprised. I'm not scared or prepared to bolt. I don't know what I am.
I think I'm more contemplative than anything. Why say that now? Why me? Why now? What? Why didn't I say "I know" like Han Solo? That would have been badass. Instead I simply replied "mmkay" and continued my tipsy performance. Why does this kid think the sun shines out of my ass?
I don't understand people. I don't understand myself. Somehow, I just never envisioned the "I love you" talk ending like this. I was prepared for an "OH SHIT, FLEE" moment. Not... this. Whatever this is. I guess I'm just curious is all. I mean, what the hell. I'm an asshole, I'm awkward, I'm mildly evil, and the list goes on. -sigh- crazy boy. What am I going to do with him?
1.5.10
Ringing (76 of 90)
Alright, here's last nights post. I'm getting really bad about updating on time again, haha.
Weekends Destroy the Posting Schedule:
Today's topic is a brand new one. Shocking, I know, considering that I neder post anything that doesn't involve bitching about writing. Writing about bitching. Or friends or other such nonsense. But my problem of the day is health.
My ears have been ringing for a week or so now. Like, hardcore. They normally do so occasionally, but they haven't stopped in forever. Which brings me to a main point, maybe I should see a doctor more often. I haven't been since freshman year. And even then it was only for shots for college. I also haven't been to the dentist in about a year. I don't think I've picked up any more cavities since then, haha.
And most importantly, I haven't been to an eye doctor in about two years. Now, for me, that's a real problem. I'm supposed to go at least once a year so they can check and make sure shit hasn't fucked up with my eye. I don't think anything has changed, but I'm no doctor, I also on't recall, or right down things when I have problems. Probably should start doing that. But most of the time it's not a big enough deal for me to think about writing anything down.
Now, for the moral of the story time. You see, I should probably pay more attention to my health. I'm generally a healthy kid, and I generally don't have major health concerns. But all the same, I'm not as healthy as I could be. I have the strangest eating habits ever, I don't exercise, and I don't eat particularly healthy.
Take today for instance. I didn't wake up until 11-noon -ish, I didn't get out of bed until almost 2pm, after which I walked to taco bell where I proceeded to eat a chicken quesadilla, a taco, and one oreo. I drank Hi-C fruit punch if that's any better than soda. And since then, I've been at a friends apartment playing resident evil 5. (Love this game by the way)
And I'm no where near in good shape. I'm not in terrible shape, but it's not good either. The only "physical activity" I engage in is fencing. Which, for me, isn't nearly enough. Yes, it can be intense, but for the most part it's not. It's no where near enough activity for me. So this summer, I'm going to start running again. And I mean that this time. Hopefully.
I say that every summer, but I really do want to follow through this year. I have a few goals for the summer, and of of the main ones is getting back into some semblance of "in shape". As of right now, I'm just some twig masquerading as a healthy person.
Weekends Destroy the Posting Schedule:
Today's topic is a brand new one. Shocking, I know, considering that I neder post anything that doesn't involve bitching about writing. Writing about bitching. Or friends or other such nonsense. But my problem of the day is health.
My ears have been ringing for a week or so now. Like, hardcore. They normally do so occasionally, but they haven't stopped in forever. Which brings me to a main point, maybe I should see a doctor more often. I haven't been since freshman year. And even then it was only for shots for college. I also haven't been to the dentist in about a year. I don't think I've picked up any more cavities since then, haha.
And most importantly, I haven't been to an eye doctor in about two years. Now, for me, that's a real problem. I'm supposed to go at least once a year so they can check and make sure shit hasn't fucked up with my eye. I don't think anything has changed, but I'm no doctor, I also on't recall, or right down things when I have problems. Probably should start doing that. But most of the time it's not a big enough deal for me to think about writing anything down.
Now, for the moral of the story time. You see, I should probably pay more attention to my health. I'm generally a healthy kid, and I generally don't have major health concerns. But all the same, I'm not as healthy as I could be. I have the strangest eating habits ever, I don't exercise, and I don't eat particularly healthy.
Take today for instance. I didn't wake up until 11-noon -ish, I didn't get out of bed until almost 2pm, after which I walked to taco bell where I proceeded to eat a chicken quesadilla, a taco, and one oreo. I drank Hi-C fruit punch if that's any better than soda. And since then, I've been at a friends apartment playing resident evil 5. (Love this game by the way)
And I'm no where near in good shape. I'm not in terrible shape, but it's not good either. The only "physical activity" I engage in is fencing. Which, for me, isn't nearly enough. Yes, it can be intense, but for the most part it's not. It's no where near enough activity for me. So this summer, I'm going to start running again. And I mean that this time. Hopefully.
I say that every summer, but I really do want to follow through this year. I have a few goals for the summer, and of of the main ones is getting back into some semblance of "in shape". As of right now, I'm just some twig masquerading as a healthy person.
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