Thursday, July 31, 2003
Dancing Queen
Perhaps you've read the Philly Weekly this week, and noticed the article about Ibdaa dance troupe. That show is being put on, in part, by my officemate Kymberlie and her organizations. So I'm thinking of going, but would prefer to go with a friend/friends. The show starts at 7:30, it's $15, and it's at the community college of philadelphia. If you haven't seen the article, it's a group of teenagers dancing stories of life in a Palestinian refugee camp. It's likely to be very sincere and beautiful, so it'll be interesting to watch my reaction.
If you're interested, e-mail me with your phone number.
EDIT: I'm going home now, with no e-mails. On the off chance that you see this and want to go, maybe I'll see you there.
Perhaps you've read the Philly Weekly this week, and noticed the article about Ibdaa dance troupe. That show is being put on, in part, by my officemate Kymberlie and her organizations. So I'm thinking of going, but would prefer to go with a friend/friends. The show starts at 7:30, it's $15, and it's at the community college of philadelphia. If you haven't seen the article, it's a group of teenagers dancing stories of life in a Palestinian refugee camp. It's likely to be very sincere and beautiful, so it'll be interesting to watch my reaction.
If you're interested, e-mail me with your phone number.
EDIT: I'm going home now, with no e-mails. On the off chance that you see this and want to go, maybe I'll see you there.
- Unknown, 1:59 PM
Scattercat!
Yesterday, at movie night, we watched a scary movie. I was a little bit concerned. I've been squeamish about horror flicks since I was a small child. I'm not sure why, but when I was tiny, I was extremely susceptible to film tricks. For example, when I was in first grade, the start of E.T. managed to freak me out. You know, the part that shows the forest at night, being vaguely creepy? I also was scared by Ghostbusters II as a wee one, which meant that it cut through parody. I don't remember exactly what it was about that film.
Anyway, things went well, I think, largely because there were a few people there who were more easily scared than I. Made things easier for me to view the film with detached irony. Ahhhhhhh, detached irony. You make the bitter pill of life just as bitter to swallow, only with fewer friends.
Either that, or something has desensitized me to horror. It would pretty much have to be video games, though I don't know what would have done it.
Also at movie night, I got yelled at for bringing up Platonic questions earlier. Stupid Plato. After the film, superhero names were being handed out. I ensured that I got Captain Oblivious. Because I have the amazing ability to think that people don't like me when they do, and do when they don't. I just proceed in my vague world of neutrality. Lalala. . .
Yesterday, at movie night, we watched a scary movie. I was a little bit concerned. I've been squeamish about horror flicks since I was a small child. I'm not sure why, but when I was tiny, I was extremely susceptible to film tricks. For example, when I was in first grade, the start of E.T. managed to freak me out. You know, the part that shows the forest at night, being vaguely creepy? I also was scared by Ghostbusters II as a wee one, which meant that it cut through parody. I don't remember exactly what it was about that film.
Anyway, things went well, I think, largely because there were a few people there who were more easily scared than I. Made things easier for me to view the film with detached irony. Ahhhhhhh, detached irony. You make the bitter pill of life just as bitter to swallow, only with fewer friends.
Either that, or something has desensitized me to horror. It would pretty much have to be video games, though I don't know what would have done it.
Also at movie night, I got yelled at for bringing up Platonic questions earlier. Stupid Plato. After the film, superhero names were being handed out. I ensured that I got Captain Oblivious. Because I have the amazing ability to think that people don't like me when they do, and do when they don't. I just proceed in my vague world of neutrality. Lalala. . .
- Unknown, 10:29 AM
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
Ennui
I am thinking: maybe I should run out of the office, down a few blocks to the park with the fountain with the blue water, and get soaking wet, and then come back to work.
But instead, I'm going to go to a meeting.
I am thinking: maybe I should run out of the office, down a few blocks to the park with the fountain with the blue water, and get soaking wet, and then come back to work.
But instead, I'm going to go to a meeting.
- Unknown, 1:34 PM
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
Fun with Blogs
Some people seem to be getting bored with their blogs. No, I won't link to you all. But you - and we - know who you are. Tsk tsk!
To counter that, I think we need arbitrariness. I like arbitrariness. When it suits me. (get it? arbitrary . . . oh, nevermind) My idea is to have a loosely connected blogging community (check) that every so often (once a week perhaps) has an easy little assignment. Something like: why did you name your blog what you did? Or something not directly related, like, what was your first job? I dunno. I can't think of that many good ones. Others would have to help.
The idea, basically, would be to have a small group all reading and commenting and linking to each other. Providing support and motivation. Peer pressure, though nobody would be forced to write (much).
Some people seem to be getting bored with their blogs. No, I won't link to you all. But you - and we - know who you are. Tsk tsk!
To counter that, I think we need arbitrariness. I like arbitrariness. When it suits me. (get it? arbitrary . . . oh, nevermind) My idea is to have a loosely connected blogging community (check) that every so often (once a week perhaps) has an easy little assignment. Something like: why did you name your blog what you did? Or something not directly related, like, what was your first job? I dunno. I can't think of that many good ones. Others would have to help.
The idea, basically, would be to have a small group all reading and commenting and linking to each other. Providing support and motivation. Peer pressure, though nobody would be forced to write (much).
- Unknown, 3:22 PM
Title
I spent most of Saturday with a fellow Antioch student who's here in Philly. One of the things we did was sit down at Penn's Landing while drinking water ice. After all, we are in Philadelphia. We just wanted to prove it. We'd probably have eaten cheesesteak, too, if either of us ate steak.
Antioch, like most colleges, has a motto. In English, though. It's "Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity."
Just writing that here makes me feel a little silly. At Antioch, the motto is cliché. I remember reading a letter to the community in the school newspaper which contained the motto and groaning. Knowing that a handful of Antioch kids read this page and are groaning makes me feel like a bad cliché. But oh well. The motto elicits such a response because it's so ingrained in the culture. Most people at Antioch will agree with it. The groans are only partially the sighs of youth grown of irony responding to sincerity. They're also "well, duh!" groans.
I bring this up because of the conversation we had. She wanted to know if the idea of going and joining a commune was making the world better, or ignoring the world's problems. The question, basically, was of how to change the system - from within, slowly and incrementally, or by rejecting it. It occurred to me that it's the sort of discussion thousands of Antiochians have had.
The obvious thing that people see when they see the motto is that it shows a committment to making things better. Underlying it is a theme of depression and self-hatred, though. It comes from Horace Mann, the college's first president, who likely uttered it shortly before his death, about himself, thinking he hadn't done anything. You've probably heard of Mann in your high school textbooks, a decent sign of someone who got things done. But the quote is a sign of a person, and a school, that probably won't ever be happy with its achievements. Which is good, in terms of people being motivated to get things done.
But it's bad, in terms of making people happy with their life.
I spent most of Saturday with a fellow Antioch student who's here in Philly. One of the things we did was sit down at Penn's Landing while drinking water ice. After all, we are in Philadelphia. We just wanted to prove it. We'd probably have eaten cheesesteak, too, if either of us ate steak.
Antioch, like most colleges, has a motto. In English, though. It's "Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity."
Just writing that here makes me feel a little silly. At Antioch, the motto is cliché. I remember reading a letter to the community in the school newspaper which contained the motto and groaning. Knowing that a handful of Antioch kids read this page and are groaning makes me feel like a bad cliché. But oh well. The motto elicits such a response because it's so ingrained in the culture. Most people at Antioch will agree with it. The groans are only partially the sighs of youth grown of irony responding to sincerity. They're also "well, duh!" groans.
I bring this up because of the conversation we had. She wanted to know if the idea of going and joining a commune was making the world better, or ignoring the world's problems. The question, basically, was of how to change the system - from within, slowly and incrementally, or by rejecting it. It occurred to me that it's the sort of discussion thousands of Antiochians have had.
The obvious thing that people see when they see the motto is that it shows a committment to making things better. Underlying it is a theme of depression and self-hatred, though. It comes from Horace Mann, the college's first president, who likely uttered it shortly before his death, about himself, thinking he hadn't done anything. You've probably heard of Mann in your high school textbooks, a decent sign of someone who got things done. But the quote is a sign of a person, and a school, that probably won't ever be happy with its achievements. Which is good, in terms of people being motivated to get things done.
But it's bad, in terms of making people happy with their life.
- Unknown, 3:10 PM
Monday, July 28, 2003
Arkaeyn's national animal is the hipster, which frolics freely in the nation's many lush forests
I have a country now.
As my first act, I legalized gay marriage.
On the other hand, beef-based agriculture? I don't eat beef anymore. Something's gone horribly awry.
I have a country now.
As my first act, I legalized gay marriage.
On the other hand, beef-based agriculture? I don't eat beef anymore. Something's gone horribly awry.
- Unknown, 3:25 PM
Don't Tell Me Your Name If You Don't Want It Sung
For some reason, I just got in a fight with my ex. Normally, when I say "for some reason," it's an ironic twist of my language to state the obvious. For example: "For some reason, the Iraqis don't seem to be entirely happy with 150,000 American troops in their country." In this case, however, it's an unknown. We were talking and all of the sudden, she got pissed off and said she never wanted to talk to me again. Sure, she's an ex, it happens.
But then she added: "Please refrain from mentioning me in your writings."
Now, you, my long-time fans, may have noticed that I do tend to refrain from mentioning her in my writings here. In fact, last week, I think I wrote my only real reference to her was written last week. She, on the other hand, has written about me all the time, up to and including blogging with messages directly to me. She even wrote poetry about me, which was more than a little strange.
But, and this is the point, she's given me the means and motive to be petty and vindictive. So I'm going to refer to her right here, in my blog. Her name is Beth. Yeah! How do you like that refraining? I got more refraining where that's from!
In other news, this marks the third time in a week that I've used an S-K lyric to title one of my blog posts. It's getting out of control. I either need to make a rule where I try to use as many as possible, or I need to calm things down a little.
On the other hand, this lyric is slightly nicer than the Atmosphere lyric along the same lines that's running through my head. "A few years ago, an ex-girl of mine . . ."
For some reason, I just got in a fight with my ex. Normally, when I say "for some reason," it's an ironic twist of my language to state the obvious. For example: "For some reason, the Iraqis don't seem to be entirely happy with 150,000 American troops in their country." In this case, however, it's an unknown. We were talking and all of the sudden, she got pissed off and said she never wanted to talk to me again. Sure, she's an ex, it happens.
But then she added: "Please refrain from mentioning me in your writings."
Now, you, my long-time fans, may have noticed that I do tend to refrain from mentioning her in my writings here. In fact, last week, I think I wrote my only real reference to her was written last week. She, on the other hand, has written about me all the time, up to and including blogging with messages directly to me. She even wrote poetry about me, which was more than a little strange.
But, and this is the point, she's given me the means and motive to be petty and vindictive. So I'm going to refer to her right here, in my blog. Her name is Beth. Yeah! How do you like that refraining? I got more refraining where that's from!
In other news, this marks the third time in a week that I've used an S-K lyric to title one of my blog posts. It's getting out of control. I either need to make a rule where I try to use as many as possible, or I need to calm things down a little.
On the other hand, this lyric is slightly nicer than the Atmosphere lyric along the same lines that's running through my head. "A few years ago, an ex-girl of mine . . ."
- Unknown, 1:05 PM
Friday, July 25, 2003
You had me at Halo
Remember that tournament I entered? I'm pretty sure that's this weekend. I don't know, though, because they said they'd e-mail me the week before.
I've no problems skipping it, at this point. I'm pretty sure that, with several months of no practice, I'd fail pretty miserably. Especially as I recently played Metroid, which looks the same, but controls different, and so my fingers would go to all the wrong places. Ooo. Hot.
In other news, completely randomly, the girl who works with me here just hid in the corner behind her desk. This is very unusual behavior for her. She's very much a competent, sit up straight sort of person. I'm confused.
Remember that tournament I entered? I'm pretty sure that's this weekend. I don't know, though, because they said they'd e-mail me the week before.
I've no problems skipping it, at this point. I'm pretty sure that, with several months of no practice, I'd fail pretty miserably. Especially as I recently played Metroid, which looks the same, but controls different, and so my fingers would go to all the wrong places. Ooo. Hot.
In other news, completely randomly, the girl who works with me here just hid in the corner behind her desk. This is very unusual behavior for her. She's very much a competent, sit up straight sort of person. I'm confused.
- Unknown, 3:29 PM
Adventures in Laptopville
Fun for the whole family!
First of all, I order my laptop. I get a phone call an hour later, where they say that, since my shipping address is different from my billing address, I should call my bank. Makes sense. Since it's past five by my bank's time, I call them tomorrow, speak with someone, and think that I've just confirmed the shipping address. Good? Good!
I e-mail the laptop company, and say that it should be taken care. I get an e-mail back a few hours later saying that they tried to get the money, but I apparently didn't have it. After running out to an ATM to make certain I still had the funds, I discovered that it's because my card only lets so much a day be taken out. So I handled that.
Today, I discover that my billing address is the problem, the one I gave, my school address, is different from the one I used, my parents' address. So I fixed that, and then got e-mailed AGAIN with the unconfirmed shipping address thing.
Arg.
Oh well. At least these were all easily fixable problems. And I should be getting my laptop next week.
Have yourself a ball, Prisstina, DO ALL THE THINGS I WOULD
Fun for the whole family!
First of all, I order my laptop. I get a phone call an hour later, where they say that, since my shipping address is different from my billing address, I should call my bank. Makes sense. Since it's past five by my bank's time, I call them tomorrow, speak with someone, and think that I've just confirmed the shipping address. Good? Good!
I e-mail the laptop company, and say that it should be taken care. I get an e-mail back a few hours later saying that they tried to get the money, but I apparently didn't have it. After running out to an ATM to make certain I still had the funds, I discovered that it's because my card only lets so much a day be taken out. So I handled that.
Today, I discover that my billing address is the problem, the one I gave, my school address, is different from the one I used, my parents' address. So I fixed that, and then got e-mailed AGAIN with the unconfirmed shipping address thing.
Arg.
Oh well. At least these were all easily fixable problems. And I should be getting my laptop next week.
Have yourself a ball, Prisstina, DO ALL THE THINGS I WOULD
- Unknown, 3:15 PM
Paranoia
Remember my apartment? To recap, I have a cool apartment. I'm subletting it under the table. Things were going peachy keen, until last night, when I was informed by the middle-man that my deposit check had bounced. Which was, ah, shocking? I had been told the whole time that the deposit check was not going to be used unless actually needed, so I hadn't made sure I had the money in my account. I'm hoping it was a miscommunication. I'm sending an e-mail about it today.
This didn't stop me from scouring the room for my most important items and having them ready to shove in my backpack. I did stop short of finding out exactly where the youth hostel was.
Remember my apartment? To recap, I have a cool apartment. I'm subletting it under the table. Things were going peachy keen, until last night, when I was informed by the middle-man that my deposit check had bounced. Which was, ah, shocking? I had been told the whole time that the deposit check was not going to be used unless actually needed, so I hadn't made sure I had the money in my account. I'm hoping it was a miscommunication. I'm sending an e-mail about it today.
This didn't stop me from scouring the room for my most important items and having them ready to shove in my backpack. I did stop short of finding out exactly where the youth hostel was.
- Unknown, 11:02 AM
Thursday, July 24, 2003
Oh, you want to tempt her with your dirty rock and roll
At this point, I would ask you to give me suggestions for names for my laptop. But I won't. Because I have arbitrarily decided.
My naming convention for computers was simple. Once, I was reinstalling Windows on my family's machine, and listening to Sgt. Pepper's. Lovely Rita Meter Maid came on. So I typed it in. A few years later, I got my own computer, so naturally, I gave myself the better female-named song from that album: Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds. This won't work for my new puter, though. First of all, I'm out of girls names songs from that album. I could pick another song from the Beatles, but I'm not so much of a fan anymore. Not that I don't still like them generally. Just not enough to name my computer after a song of theirs.
So where to go next? Why, my relatively new favorite band. That would be the best option. And since I just realized that it's about a year since I discovered Sleater-Kinney, I can call it a celebration!
Briefly scanning their discography, I noticed two songs with names. First was Lora's Song. Doesn't count, that was the drummer's name, and I'm naming it after songs, not people. Good song, though. The other is Prisstina. Which is. . . perfect.
At this point, I will suggest that if you do not know the song, then you should go download it.
Now.
It works for several reasons. It's one of my absolute favorite songs, for a start, as well as the first song that made me think "hmm, this band, they're onto something." More importantly, though, the subject of the song is near and dear to me. It's about a smart girl who stays inside too much, but realizes that maybe there's something more outside. Just need to . . . let go.
While the other girls fondled their dates
She fooled around with her Bunsen plate
But one night she was walking around
She passed a club with music so loud
She wondered what it would be like
To stay out with a co-ed all night
So, for a computer that should be used for my studies, and will probably keep me inside too much (not that it's got to fight hard for that), I think we have a winner.
Unless you guys do come up with something better.
At this point, I would ask you to give me suggestions for names for my laptop. But I won't. Because I have arbitrarily decided.
My naming convention for computers was simple. Once, I was reinstalling Windows on my family's machine, and listening to Sgt. Pepper's. Lovely Rita Meter Maid came on. So I typed it in. A few years later, I got my own computer, so naturally, I gave myself the better female-named song from that album: Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds. This won't work for my new puter, though. First of all, I'm out of girls names songs from that album. I could pick another song from the Beatles, but I'm not so much of a fan anymore. Not that I don't still like them generally. Just not enough to name my computer after a song of theirs.
So where to go next? Why, my relatively new favorite band. That would be the best option. And since I just realized that it's about a year since I discovered Sleater-Kinney, I can call it a celebration!
Briefly scanning their discography, I noticed two songs with names. First was Lora's Song. Doesn't count, that was the drummer's name, and I'm naming it after songs, not people. Good song, though. The other is Prisstina. Which is. . . perfect.
At this point, I will suggest that if you do not know the song, then you should go download it.
Now.
It works for several reasons. It's one of my absolute favorite songs, for a start, as well as the first song that made me think "hmm, this band, they're onto something." More importantly, though, the subject of the song is near and dear to me. It's about a smart girl who stays inside too much, but realizes that maybe there's something more outside. Just need to . . . let go.
While the other girls fondled their dates
She fooled around with her Bunsen plate
But one night she was walking around
She passed a club with music so loud
She wondered what it would be like
To stay out with a co-ed all night
So, for a computer that should be used for my studies, and will probably keep me inside too much (not that it's got to fight hard for that), I think we have a winner.
Unless you guys do come up with something better.
- Unknown, 4:25 PM
Let's hit this up, yo
This sounds marvelously fun.
Sarcasmo? Wacky adventure? I'm sure we can figure out something.
This sounds marvelously fun.
Sarcasmo? Wacky adventure? I'm sure we can figure out something.
- Unknown, 3:02 PM
- Unknown, 2:56 PM
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
And speaking of consumption for happiness
Bullet bit.
The G732-S, slightly upgraded, here.
I managed to sneak this one by my brain by spending the whole day trying to get comments to work, then just going "hey, laptop time." Blam! Fuck you, brain!
Bullet bit.
The G732-S, slightly upgraded, here.
I managed to sneak this one by my brain by spending the whole day trying to get comments to work, then just going "hey, laptop time." Blam! Fuck you, brain!
- Unknown, 4:50 PM
You left your beret behind, and your croissant is getting cold
Last night was fun. Actually, no. It was quite the opposite.
Upon returning home from work, I realized that I had no plans and was bored/lonely/unhappy (the three terms describe a what's pretty much the same emotion in my body). Essentially, I had cabin fever, and, I realized, no good way to get around it. I called one person who I felt might hang out. Left a message, no reply. So I took a walk. Ended up buying CDs. Some people have noticed that when I go out, I end up buying CDs fairly regularly. It's not as bad as it seems. In this case, the original impulse was to get books. Which I did. Like a good Antiochian, I got my Stephen Jay Gould on. But the whole time, I felt disgusted about trying to buy my way out of loneliness with Things. I really didn't want to. But I really couldn't think of anything else to do.
I then got home and called my ex-girlfriend. No thoughts about it. Which is strange. I tend to dislike phones. If I call someone without specifically being invited to, I tend to agonize over it. I dislike imposing, and a phone call is nothing but imposing. So, with the call I mentioned above, I spent 15 minutes trying to decide if I should call or not. But with this call, it was put-my-bag-down-pick-up-the-phone.
Me: "So I bought a Dead Kennedys album."
Her: "You BOUGHT an album?"
Me: "I don't have a computer! What else can I do?"
Her: "Don't you have friends to make CDs for you?"
Me: "No! I don't!"
Her: "Well, go make some."
Me: "I don't know how!"
The phone call managed to remind me of everything that drove me crazy about this girl. Good and bad. The ease of conversation and sense of humour being top top top of the driving crazy good list. When she told me that she was uncomfortable with me using the word "dyke" because of my straight white maleness, it reminded me of the crazy bad. So, once the call ended, I had to think about why we broke up, and whether I fucked up something great, or got out of something doomed. I hate second-guessing myself.
I think I'll get a new comment system, by the way.
Last night was fun. Actually, no. It was quite the opposite.
Upon returning home from work, I realized that I had no plans and was bored/lonely/unhappy (the three terms describe a what's pretty much the same emotion in my body). Essentially, I had cabin fever, and, I realized, no good way to get around it. I called one person who I felt might hang out. Left a message, no reply. So I took a walk. Ended up buying CDs. Some people have noticed that when I go out, I end up buying CDs fairly regularly. It's not as bad as it seems. In this case, the original impulse was to get books. Which I did. Like a good Antiochian, I got my Stephen Jay Gould on. But the whole time, I felt disgusted about trying to buy my way out of loneliness with Things. I really didn't want to. But I really couldn't think of anything else to do.
I then got home and called my ex-girlfriend. No thoughts about it. Which is strange. I tend to dislike phones. If I call someone without specifically being invited to, I tend to agonize over it. I dislike imposing, and a phone call is nothing but imposing. So, with the call I mentioned above, I spent 15 minutes trying to decide if I should call or not. But with this call, it was put-my-bag-down-pick-up-the-phone.
Me: "So I bought a Dead Kennedys album."
Her: "You BOUGHT an album?"
Me: "I don't have a computer! What else can I do?"
Her: "Don't you have friends to make CDs for you?"
Me: "No! I don't!"
Her: "Well, go make some."
Me: "I don't know how!"
The phone call managed to remind me of everything that drove me crazy about this girl. Good and bad. The ease of conversation and sense of humour being top top top of the driving crazy good list. When she told me that she was uncomfortable with me using the word "dyke" because of my straight white maleness, it reminded me of the crazy bad. So, once the call ended, I had to think about why we broke up, and whether I fucked up something great, or got out of something doomed. I hate second-guessing myself.
I think I'll get a new comment system, by the way.
- Unknown, 11:20 AM
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
I Should Have a Perfume
I've continued obsessing over the laptop thing. I'd gotten to the point where I found a happy compromise. Power and price. Right? Then I went and found a review that said that it was slow. This confused the hell out of me. It's got a good video card, it's got a good processor speed, it's got a lot of RAM, why is it slow? And if it's slow, then what's the point of having those specs at all? Confusatron!
Hmmm. I just clicked on a button and it said the reason the performance was so low is because the video card memory is shared with the system memory. Which makes sense. And renders this blog post fairly meaningless. But I decided to post it anyway . . . otherwise I wouldn't have had anything to write about today.
Yes, I'm obsessing over this. But it's a Big Purchase. I feel I'm allowed.
I've continued obsessing over the laptop thing. I'd gotten to the point where I found a happy compromise. Power and price. Right? Then I went and found a review that said that it was slow. This confused the hell out of me. It's got a good video card, it's got a good processor speed, it's got a lot of RAM, why is it slow? And if it's slow, then what's the point of having those specs at all? Confusatron!
Hmmm. I just clicked on a button and it said the reason the performance was so low is because the video card memory is shared with the system memory. Which makes sense. And renders this blog post fairly meaningless. But I decided to post it anyway . . . otherwise I wouldn't have had anything to write about today.
Yes, I'm obsessing over this. But it's a Big Purchase. I feel I'm allowed.
- Unknown, 4:38 PM
Monday, July 21, 2003
It's Probably For The Best
My parents didn't let me watch cartoons until I was 10 or so. Many people, upon hearing this, look at me like I'd had my nose cut off. OK, so I'm not hip to the GI Joe, or Rainbow Brite, or even Pee Wee Herman references (as evidences by last week's movie night). I think I can survive that. I have a decently detailed reason for thinking that yeah, life without cartoons is a better life. But that's not the point of this blog entry.
This is the point.
I will let you make of that what you will.
My parents didn't let me watch cartoons until I was 10 or so. Many people, upon hearing this, look at me like I'd had my nose cut off. OK, so I'm not hip to the GI Joe, or Rainbow Brite, or even Pee Wee Herman references (as evidences by last week's movie night). I think I can survive that. I have a decently detailed reason for thinking that yeah, life without cartoons is a better life. But that's not the point of this blog entry.
This is the point.
I will let you make of that what you will.
- Unknown, 4:16 PM
Ooo baby, you want me? Oo baby you want me? Well, you can get this laptop here for free!
If only, hey?
I now have the ability to go to a website, load up the laptop of my dreams, and click buy, and have it delivered to my place of work. Which, of course, is nice. But gives me pause. What sort of laptop do I want?
I've determined that a computer is pretty much necessary for me. I want to be a writer, or do something with writing. I don't "do" handwriting. (I also get repetitive stress syndrome from typing too much, I think, but oh well!) Fair enough. But do I go all out and splurge for a gaming computer? Or do I keep it low-key. Video card? Who cares! I just want me internet.
At its core, the dilemma comes down to: do I want to be a Gamer, or someone who plays games? Do I want to play games? There's a pretty strong part of me that says that I can't really do what I want to do in life if I'm a Gamer.
On the other hand, life without games is really, really boring. It would be a mistake, if I am just going to be a gamer, to not get something with a real 3D card, or not enough memory to hack it.
In other news, I hate making decisions. See my blog entry for May 22nd.
If only, hey?
I now have the ability to go to a website, load up the laptop of my dreams, and click buy, and have it delivered to my place of work. Which, of course, is nice. But gives me pause. What sort of laptop do I want?
I've determined that a computer is pretty much necessary for me. I want to be a writer, or do something with writing. I don't "do" handwriting. (I also get repetitive stress syndrome from typing too much, I think, but oh well!) Fair enough. But do I go all out and splurge for a gaming computer? Or do I keep it low-key. Video card? Who cares! I just want me internet.
At its core, the dilemma comes down to: do I want to be a Gamer, or someone who plays games? Do I want to play games? There's a pretty strong part of me that says that I can't really do what I want to do in life if I'm a Gamer.
On the other hand, life without games is really, really boring. It would be a mistake, if I am just going to be a gamer, to not get something with a real 3D card, or not enough memory to hack it.
In other news, I hate making decisions. See my blog entry for May 22nd.
- Unknown, 1:34 PM
Friday, July 18, 2003
Pretentious Title/Not-very-clever Reference
Boring, too-long anecdote that doesn't make sense to anyone who doesn't know everything about my life.
Segue into anecdote being representative of my life.
Long, boring, introverted complaining.
Partially successful attempt at a conclusion.
Half-hearted claim to attempt change.
Whine for comments.
Boring, too-long anecdote that doesn't make sense to anyone who doesn't know everything about my life.
Segue into anecdote being representative of my life.
Long, boring, introverted complaining.
Partially successful attempt at a conclusion.
Half-hearted claim to attempt change.
Whine for comments.
- Unknown, 3:54 PM
Hmmm
What a lack of writing today. For unknown reasons, I'm feeling vaguely depressed and unmotivated. The "for some reason" is not sarcastic. I really don't know why today instead of yesterday.
At any rate, I've figured out the purpose this blog serves. It's my explanation to the world. If I can't say it, I'll write it up. This is what I'm really trying to think and say. At least, I hope it is. Sometimes it may be an apology. But mostly an explanation.
What a lack of writing today. For unknown reasons, I'm feeling vaguely depressed and unmotivated. The "for some reason" is not sarcastic. I really don't know why today instead of yesterday.
At any rate, I've figured out the purpose this blog serves. It's my explanation to the world. If I can't say it, I'll write it up. This is what I'm really trying to think and say. At least, I hope it is. Sometimes it may be an apology. But mostly an explanation.
- Unknown, 3:02 PM
Thursday, July 17, 2003
Missing Persons IV
This was supposed to be high school. But I don't really feel like it. It's too easy. And I talk about high school too readily. The people I'd refer to here are people I still talk about, sometimes. And there's so much, I don't know what to write. Chronologically, the next story is depressing, too. So I'm going to drop the chronology. And high school.
As mentioned just below, I was in Chicago last summer. I was interning with a public TV station. The other full-time intern in my department was a fellow named Josh Ostergard (I write his full name on the chance that he does an ego search, because I lost his e-mail. Hehehe). He was an anthropology grad student, which ought to translate as "fucked up bizarre." Since we were fairly young there, we hung out (don't trust anyone over 30, after all). He was filled with all sorts of quirks. The main one I think of, though, is that he didn't do sarcasm. If he said he liked something, then he liked it. If he found something attractive, he liked it. He provided an example to me in relation to the Anthony Hopkins/Chris Rock movie that came out last summer. He said he saw an ad for it, and thought "that sounds good." And then, he said, he realized he meant it.
I think of Josh when people complain about me not liking things, or being too sarcastic. They might have a point. OK, they're right. I think, what if I were like him? What if I were just . . . literal. I don't know what I'd say. I don't know if I could say anything. Maybe one day, I'll try it. I have irony so deeply woven into my linguistic habits, though, that I'm not sure I can do it and still be me. I'd have to wear a sign in front my eyes that says "Mean What You Say Today." On the other hand, I'm pretty sure that I annoy the hell out of people I care about, and who care about me, by my inability to be genuine.
Maybe I'll just start being non-sarcastic at some point. Maybe now. And see how it goes.
This was supposed to be high school. But I don't really feel like it. It's too easy. And I talk about high school too readily. The people I'd refer to here are people I still talk about, sometimes. And there's so much, I don't know what to write. Chronologically, the next story is depressing, too. So I'm going to drop the chronology. And high school.
As mentioned just below, I was in Chicago last summer. I was interning with a public TV station. The other full-time intern in my department was a fellow named Josh Ostergard (I write his full name on the chance that he does an ego search, because I lost his e-mail. Hehehe). He was an anthropology grad student, which ought to translate as "fucked up bizarre." Since we were fairly young there, we hung out (don't trust anyone over 30, after all). He was filled with all sorts of quirks. The main one I think of, though, is that he didn't do sarcasm. If he said he liked something, then he liked it. If he found something attractive, he liked it. He provided an example to me in relation to the Anthony Hopkins/Chris Rock movie that came out last summer. He said he saw an ad for it, and thought "that sounds good." And then, he said, he realized he meant it.
I think of Josh when people complain about me not liking things, or being too sarcastic. They might have a point. OK, they're right. I think, what if I were like him? What if I were just . . . literal. I don't know what I'd say. I don't know if I could say anything. Maybe one day, I'll try it. I have irony so deeply woven into my linguistic habits, though, that I'm not sure I can do it and still be me. I'd have to wear a sign in front my eyes that says "Mean What You Say Today." On the other hand, I'm pretty sure that I annoy the hell out of people I care about, and who care about me, by my inability to be genuine.
Maybe I'll just start being non-sarcastic at some point. Maybe now. And see how it goes.
- Unknown, 4:14 PM
Why Yes, This Is What I Do At Work
Would you like to follow Rowan as he wanders the internet? Now you can! Personal and political, some of my favorite links are now on the side. Other blogs, if you're here, you probably know about. Politics, well, click and read. Cursor is probably the best place to start, which is why I put it on top.
And I'd like to thank Amy (from Vis Major, see links on the side!) for giving me the new tagline a few weeks ago.
Would you like to follow Rowan as he wanders the internet? Now you can! Personal and political, some of my favorite links are now on the side. Other blogs, if you're here, you probably know about. Politics, well, click and read. Cursor is probably the best place to start, which is why I put it on top.
And I'd like to thank Amy (from Vis Major, see links on the side!) for giving me the new tagline a few weeks ago.
- Unknown, 2:06 PM
Rowan Should Keep His Big Mouth Shut At Movie Night, Redux
Last week, it was Curious George being racist. What was it this week? Well, Emmet was talking about what Britney Spears' quote about how pop music is harder to make than artistic music. He was saying how he agreed, it had a lot of production quality, but of course no artistic quality. He was sounding fairly passionate and informed. Which made the chaotic little part of my brain say "Perfect timing. Let's get him!" My frontal lobes (which govern impulse control) went absent. So out of my mouth came "What's the difference?" Which led me onto a Socratic (idealized, but let's not get into Socrates just now) questioning of him on the subject, which would have led, eventually, to a "what is art?" discussion. Fortunately, my frontal lobes got back into gear before things got too weird, which gave him the chance to ask me a question. At that point, it all fell apart, as I revealed my secret, that I was a music snob too, there was just no logical reason for it. It was entirely subjective. Which he agreed with. So I let it end there.
I bring this up not exactly as a play-by-play explanation of my life, though that may be part of it. But because it provides a good segué. I can't handle philosophy anymore. I've been hit with a double whammy. First is analytic philosophy, from which I've gathered that there is no argument. It's all definition. And to top that off comes radical translation, which basically says that people are speaking different languages from each other, and translating the words into what they recognize. Then the other whammy is postmodernism. Which says that logic is bunk, and everything is subjective anyway. Combine those two, and you basically come to the view that argument is irrelevant. Which is why those frontal lobes of mine should have been in gear. Because there's no way I could have continued down that path.
I hate philosophy. But hate has attractiveness. I am most interesting in examining the things I hate. At least they're not boring.
Last week, it was Curious George being racist. What was it this week? Well, Emmet was talking about what Britney Spears' quote about how pop music is harder to make than artistic music. He was saying how he agreed, it had a lot of production quality, but of course no artistic quality. He was sounding fairly passionate and informed. Which made the chaotic little part of my brain say "Perfect timing. Let's get him!" My frontal lobes (which govern impulse control) went absent. So out of my mouth came "What's the difference?" Which led me onto a Socratic (idealized, but let's not get into Socrates just now) questioning of him on the subject, which would have led, eventually, to a "what is art?" discussion. Fortunately, my frontal lobes got back into gear before things got too weird, which gave him the chance to ask me a question. At that point, it all fell apart, as I revealed my secret, that I was a music snob too, there was just no logical reason for it. It was entirely subjective. Which he agreed with. So I let it end there.
I bring this up not exactly as a play-by-play explanation of my life, though that may be part of it. But because it provides a good segué. I can't handle philosophy anymore. I've been hit with a double whammy. First is analytic philosophy, from which I've gathered that there is no argument. It's all definition. And to top that off comes radical translation, which basically says that people are speaking different languages from each other, and translating the words into what they recognize. Then the other whammy is postmodernism. Which says that logic is bunk, and everything is subjective anyway. Combine those two, and you basically come to the view that argument is irrelevant. Which is why those frontal lobes of mine should have been in gear. Because there's no way I could have continued down that path.
I hate philosophy. But hate has attractiveness. I am most interesting in examining the things I hate. At least they're not boring.
- Unknown, 12:57 PM
Can I Get Some Odds On That, Please?
Antioch has kind of messed up how I look at people aesthetically, particularly females. There's kind of an Antioch female look that doesn't have a male counterpart. Short, with short dyed hair. Piercings and tattoos. Thrift/vintage store clothing. Bandanas, often. I think there's also a poise thing, but haven't pinned it down yet. Anyway, I'll see someone randomly who kind of fits that, and I'll think "that looks like an Interesting Person."
This can lead to some strange things happening. Last year, when I was in Chicago, I saw a girl who fit the description walk by my office, and go talk to my boss. Being in the big city, and seeing females who did things like wear "make-up" and have "long hair." So she caught my eye in a pretty big way. Eventually, I walked by the boss's office, and he invited me in to meet . . . a former Antioch student who had held the job the year before.
Last night, I was walking down the street after movie night, and spotted a short girl, with dyed streaky hair, and punky clothing coming the other way down the street. I kind of smiled, and continued walking. And looking at her. And she was looking at me. Eyes narrowing, we stopped, and she asked "You go to Antioch, right?"
I'd like to calculate some odds on this happening. It was perhaps around 10:30 at night. Middle of Center City, where I live. She lives in West Philly. I only knew of one other Antioch student in the area. Ironically, that other student e-mailed me for the first time that very day. So having gone two and a half months without talking to another current Antioch student, in the same day, I get contacted by two? And one of those is walking down the same street and making eye contact. I'm guessing one in a couple billion. A lot of couple billion.
And have you ever had one of those weeks where weird coincidental stuff keeps on happening? A few days ago, there was the whole concert/t-shirt thing completely out of the blue. Then this. I've had weeks like this before.
Antioch has kind of messed up how I look at people aesthetically, particularly females. There's kind of an Antioch female look that doesn't have a male counterpart. Short, with short dyed hair. Piercings and tattoos. Thrift/vintage store clothing. Bandanas, often. I think there's also a poise thing, but haven't pinned it down yet. Anyway, I'll see someone randomly who kind of fits that, and I'll think "that looks like an Interesting Person."
This can lead to some strange things happening. Last year, when I was in Chicago, I saw a girl who fit the description walk by my office, and go talk to my boss. Being in the big city, and seeing females who did things like wear "make-up" and have "long hair." So she caught my eye in a pretty big way. Eventually, I walked by the boss's office, and he invited me in to meet . . . a former Antioch student who had held the job the year before.
Last night, I was walking down the street after movie night, and spotted a short girl, with dyed streaky hair, and punky clothing coming the other way down the street. I kind of smiled, and continued walking. And looking at her. And she was looking at me. Eyes narrowing, we stopped, and she asked "You go to Antioch, right?"
I'd like to calculate some odds on this happening. It was perhaps around 10:30 at night. Middle of Center City, where I live. She lives in West Philly. I only knew of one other Antioch student in the area. Ironically, that other student e-mailed me for the first time that very day. So having gone two and a half months without talking to another current Antioch student, in the same day, I get contacted by two? And one of those is walking down the same street and making eye contact. I'm guessing one in a couple billion. A lot of couple billion.
And have you ever had one of those weeks where weird coincidental stuff keeps on happening? A few days ago, there was the whole concert/t-shirt thing completely out of the blue. Then this. I've had weeks like this before.
- Unknown, 11:06 AM
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
Missing Persons, The Charm
Oh, this one is my favorite story from my childhood. Unlike the others, it doesn't really serve as a description of why I'm insecure and weird now. It's funny, though!
For eight grade, my family moved to a small town. The parochial nature of it, combined with my lack of social skills and recent thrashings in that arena meant that I had pretty much no friends. It's eighth grade, who does have friends? If I ever have kids, I'm home schooling through junior high. Maybe.
Anyway, I took the bus to and from school, and kind of befriended this girl named Michelle (yeah, I remembered a name this time!). I say kind of, because we didn't do that much, except sit on the bus together. Sometimes talk in class, when we had the same one. I would let her copy my homework for $.50. I remember when my parents found out about that. I recall them attempting to give me a talking to, but it fell apart on the whole "academic integrity in middle/high school is important" question that none of us bought into.
At any rate, she was kind of a bad girl, though not superwild. She was "going out" with this guy named Tarl. No, I don't know what sort of name that was. He was definitely a bad kid. He got suspended once for pulling a knife in school.
That's the story, there, as I heard it, when it happened.
A little later, I got some more interesting tidbits. For example, I another friend of hers rode the same bus, and I heard that told the guy that Michelle and I had something going on, which he got upset at. A little bit later, I discovered that she had told him the day he pulled the knife, which I can remember, because it was the last day before spring break.
A few years later, I finally added all the pieces up. He had drawn the knife in school because he had been told that his "girlfriend" had something going on with me. Someone had gotten out a knife in anger against ME! And I didn't get it. In fact, I seem to remember sardonically asking him if he'd enjoyed his extra-long Spring Break when he returned.
This is why one of my superhero names should be Captain Oblivious.
The story here doesn't really explain the whole missing persons thing. It's kind of a tidbit relating to Michelle, but not about her. I kind of would like to know what happened to her. My family moved again after that year. The last time I saw her, she was walking down the street in that neighborhood. She'd gotten very tall and lanky, as I recall.
It's quite possible that she's dirt-poor and homeless now. The neighborhood where I lived was on a steep hill, that, shortly after we moved, collapsed, and insurance didn't cover it.
But I remember her fondly because she was a kind of cool person who was randomly nice to a complete and utter nerd. Round about those times, it shocked and awed me that anyone would give me the time of day.
Oh, this one is my favorite story from my childhood. Unlike the others, it doesn't really serve as a description of why I'm insecure and weird now. It's funny, though!
For eight grade, my family moved to a small town. The parochial nature of it, combined with my lack of social skills and recent thrashings in that arena meant that I had pretty much no friends. It's eighth grade, who does have friends? If I ever have kids, I'm home schooling through junior high. Maybe.
Anyway, I took the bus to and from school, and kind of befriended this girl named Michelle (yeah, I remembered a name this time!). I say kind of, because we didn't do that much, except sit on the bus together. Sometimes talk in class, when we had the same one. I would let her copy my homework for $.50. I remember when my parents found out about that. I recall them attempting to give me a talking to, but it fell apart on the whole "academic integrity in middle/high school is important" question that none of us bought into.
At any rate, she was kind of a bad girl, though not superwild. She was "going out" with this guy named Tarl. No, I don't know what sort of name that was. He was definitely a bad kid. He got suspended once for pulling a knife in school.
That's the story, there, as I heard it, when it happened.
A little later, I got some more interesting tidbits. For example, I another friend of hers rode the same bus, and I heard that told the guy that Michelle and I had something going on, which he got upset at. A little bit later, I discovered that she had told him the day he pulled the knife, which I can remember, because it was the last day before spring break.
A few years later, I finally added all the pieces up. He had drawn the knife in school because he had been told that his "girlfriend" had something going on with me. Someone had gotten out a knife in anger against ME! And I didn't get it. In fact, I seem to remember sardonically asking him if he'd enjoyed his extra-long Spring Break when he returned.
This is why one of my superhero names should be Captain Oblivious.
The story here doesn't really explain the whole missing persons thing. It's kind of a tidbit relating to Michelle, but not about her. I kind of would like to know what happened to her. My family moved again after that year. The last time I saw her, she was walking down the street in that neighborhood. She'd gotten very tall and lanky, as I recall.
It's quite possible that she's dirt-poor and homeless now. The neighborhood where I lived was on a steep hill, that, shortly after we moved, collapsed, and insurance didn't cover it.
But I remember her fondly because she was a kind of cool person who was randomly nice to a complete and utter nerd. Round about those times, it shocked and awed me that anyone would give me the time of day.
- Unknown, 4:05 PM
Your guess is as good as mine
Monkeybutt made a quiz.
You are Marilyn Monroe. You are beautiful. The
whole world wants to be with you, yet you feel
immense loneliness. You are unstable. The rest
of the world cannot see this, does not want to
see this. You are misunderstood and
objectified.
Which random tormented badass are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Who knew?
Monkeybutt made a quiz.
You are Marilyn Monroe. You are beautiful. The
whole world wants to be with you, yet you feel
immense loneliness. You are unstable. The rest
of the world cannot see this, does not want to
see this. You are misunderstood and
objectified.
Which random tormented badass are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Who knew?
- Unknown, 2:11 PM
More Fools Them
I've been invited to get my politics on. Some weirdo recommended me as a person of opinions, and so I'm now a contributor to the Muted Drum.
This is probably good news for most of you reading this for the personal stuff. If you like my political stuff, you can go there. Evidently I haven't heard that the personal is political. Oh well.
I've been invited to get my politics on. Some weirdo recommended me as a person of opinions, and so I'm now a contributor to the Muted Drum.
This is probably good news for most of you reading this for the personal stuff. If you like my political stuff, you can go there. Evidently I haven't heard that the personal is political. Oh well.
- Unknown, 12:41 PM
Tuesday, July 15, 2003
Missing Persons, Part Deux
I'm skipping kindergarten because I don't remember any specific people that are Missing from my life. So onto elementary school!
This one goes out to my entire elementary school class. I had a bit of a strange situation. I went to, I guess, a good sized elementary school, but I stuck with the pretty much the same class for all five years. This is because I was in the school district's Smart Kids program, also called the Challenge program. It was also a program for people with learning disabilities, which helped my ADD go unnoticed for several years. I remember a little bit of the test to get into the class. There were, like, 10 pictures of a hose. And you had to draw things that were coming out of the hose. I'm guessing that that was the "creativity" part of the test.
So anyway, I was with the same 20-30 smart/weird kids for my elementary school career. And we did some good things. Our class had a suggestion for a school-wide recycling program. It got implemented. I think it eventually turned into a neighborhood-wide recycling program. Some brilliant girls turned the school's theme song, "Truman Pride" into "Truman Died," which was about the idiot who stayed on Mount St. Helens when it erupted. Some of the same later attempted to rig the school-wide spelling bee, and succeeded, but then felt guilty about it and turned themselves in. Fantastic stuff.
Things started turning sour, though, when junior high came around. The Smart Kids class got broken up and turned into just two of the seven classes of the day. More importantly, the social pressures of junior high (Hell on Earth) shattered most any connection I had to these people. At that point, my family decided to move. I could guess that, when high school came around, a lot of those aquaintances and so forth might have turned into friends. Once the idiot ladder of junior high social life was removed, or at least mitigated slightly, things probably would have changed. I don't mope about that, really. It just came to me as I was writing this. This probably connects very easily to my whole roots complaint. I had some sort of social roots once, but lost them, and never figured out how to replace them.
I sometimes wonder if there's any decent way to find out what happened to these people. I know what happened to one of them. There was a girl who was there for one year. In the class photos, that year is the only one that I wasn't the tallest (I think). Because she was. She went on to become a college basketball star. See? I told you this group of kids was pretty special, though I didn't necessarily expect it to be in atheletics. But I can and will argue that atheletic intelligence is not something to be scoffed at.
I'm skipping kindergarten because I don't remember any specific people that are Missing from my life. So onto elementary school!
This one goes out to my entire elementary school class. I had a bit of a strange situation. I went to, I guess, a good sized elementary school, but I stuck with the pretty much the same class for all five years. This is because I was in the school district's Smart Kids program, also called the Challenge program. It was also a program for people with learning disabilities, which helped my ADD go unnoticed for several years. I remember a little bit of the test to get into the class. There were, like, 10 pictures of a hose. And you had to draw things that were coming out of the hose. I'm guessing that that was the "creativity" part of the test.
So anyway, I was with the same 20-30 smart/weird kids for my elementary school career. And we did some good things. Our class had a suggestion for a school-wide recycling program. It got implemented. I think it eventually turned into a neighborhood-wide recycling program. Some brilliant girls turned the school's theme song, "Truman Pride" into "Truman Died," which was about the idiot who stayed on Mount St. Helens when it erupted. Some of the same later attempted to rig the school-wide spelling bee, and succeeded, but then felt guilty about it and turned themselves in. Fantastic stuff.
Things started turning sour, though, when junior high came around. The Smart Kids class got broken up and turned into just two of the seven classes of the day. More importantly, the social pressures of junior high (Hell on Earth) shattered most any connection I had to these people. At that point, my family decided to move. I could guess that, when high school came around, a lot of those aquaintances and so forth might have turned into friends. Once the idiot ladder of junior high social life was removed, or at least mitigated slightly, things probably would have changed. I don't mope about that, really. It just came to me as I was writing this. This probably connects very easily to my whole roots complaint. I had some sort of social roots once, but lost them, and never figured out how to replace them.
I sometimes wonder if there's any decent way to find out what happened to these people. I know what happened to one of them. There was a girl who was there for one year. In the class photos, that year is the only one that I wasn't the tallest (I think). Because she was. She went on to become a college basketball star. See? I told you this group of kids was pretty special, though I didn't necessarily expect it to be in atheletics. But I can and will argue that atheletic intelligence is not something to be scoffed at.
- Unknown, 3:57 PM
Do Big Kids Have To Do This?
I just came back from a baby shower.
Uh-huh.
I just came back from a baby shower. Two of the women who work in the Peacebuilding unit here are pregnant, so we had a little party. Instead of a meeting, which I am grateful for, as well as the good cake. It was just . . . a little weird. People were talking about rattles and mobiles. One of the pregnant women got really really genuinely excited about one of those baby-carrying-on-your-chest things.
Still. It beat having a meeting.
I just came back from a baby shower.
Uh-huh.
I just came back from a baby shower. Two of the women who work in the Peacebuilding unit here are pregnant, so we had a little party. Instead of a meeting, which I am grateful for, as well as the good cake. It was just . . . a little weird. People were talking about rattles and mobiles. One of the pregnant women got really really genuinely excited about one of those baby-carrying-on-your-chest things.
Still. It beat having a meeting.
- Unknown, 3:04 PM
I'm a Big Kid Now
So, yesterday, I was having a conversation with someone, and I said "Did you see that article in The Nation about . . .?" And the person I was talking to responded in the affirmative.
It was a little odd.
So, yesterday, I was having a conversation with someone, and I said "Did you see that article in The Nation about . . .?" And the person I was talking to responded in the affirmative.
It was a little odd.
- Unknown, 10:25 AM
Monday, July 14, 2003
Missing Persons, Exhibit A
Remember that post I made about the Ewoks? About how some event or series of events that my parents told me about in preschool had an effect, or set a template, for the rest of my social life? Same thing here.
My mom once told me a story about my "girlfriend" in preschool. The story went something like this. There was a frail or diseased girl in my preschool, and I was the guy who hung out with her. Who helped her out. I have no recollection of this, but I'm willing to assume that it's true. Like Donald Rumsfeld would say, even if the actual events didn't happen, we should proceed under the assumption that they happened, for they are likely.
So why do I bring this up? Like the Ewoks, it might have set up something I haven't been able to break out of. Sure, my dating life started innocently enough. But the girlfriends have gotten crazier and crazier. Back in the days when they weren't so crazy, I was quoted on one of their web sites saying "Do you know how attracted I am to girls with problems?" I could probably link to that. But out of kindness to the former webmistress, I won't.
You know how when you talk to prospective mates, you kind of have a rating system in your head? Mine starts getting happy when they start talking about weird stuff. Learning disabilities? You best believe I dig it. And how many diagnoses do you have . . .? Hot!
This would all make more sense if I were really fucked up. But I'm not. I have ADD, and some disthymic depressive tendencies. That's about it. But I have noticed that I tend to be interested in people who are more, hmm, excessive than I.
So somewhere out there, or maybe not, there's a girl who's name and face I can't remember, but she still manages to serve as a kind of a sad symbol for part of my life. Maybe next time I'm out dating, I won't instinctively look for the weirdest person. Maybe I won't be drawn to the self-destructive type. But probably not.
Remember that post I made about the Ewoks? About how some event or series of events that my parents told me about in preschool had an effect, or set a template, for the rest of my social life? Same thing here.
My mom once told me a story about my "girlfriend" in preschool. The story went something like this. There was a frail or diseased girl in my preschool, and I was the guy who hung out with her. Who helped her out. I have no recollection of this, but I'm willing to assume that it's true. Like Donald Rumsfeld would say, even if the actual events didn't happen, we should proceed under the assumption that they happened, for they are likely.
So why do I bring this up? Like the Ewoks, it might have set up something I haven't been able to break out of. Sure, my dating life started innocently enough. But the girlfriends have gotten crazier and crazier. Back in the days when they weren't so crazy, I was quoted on one of their web sites saying "Do you know how attracted I am to girls with problems?" I could probably link to that. But out of kindness to the former webmistress, I won't.
You know how when you talk to prospective mates, you kind of have a rating system in your head? Mine starts getting happy when they start talking about weird stuff. Learning disabilities? You best believe I dig it. And how many diagnoses do you have . . .? Hot!
This would all make more sense if I were really fucked up. But I'm not. I have ADD, and some disthymic depressive tendencies. That's about it. But I have noticed that I tend to be interested in people who are more, hmm, excessive than I.
So somewhere out there, or maybe not, there's a girl who's name and face I can't remember, but she still manages to serve as a kind of a sad symbol for part of my life. Maybe next time I'm out dating, I won't instinctively look for the weirdest person. Maybe I won't be drawn to the self-destructive type. But probably not.
- Unknown, 4:09 PM
Radiation vibe I'm grooving on
Saturday night, I went to go see Fountains of Wayne with Cyn. Turned out to be an interesting night.
It got started before I'd even left my building. I put on my Concert Outfit, which consists of blue jeans and my "Your Favorite Band Sucks" t-shirt. The primary difference between this and my normal clothes is that I try to make sure I wear this particular t-shirt to concerts. Anyway, I was wearing this, and stopped at the desk of my apartment building to drop something off, where a man and a woman were talking to the doorman/waiting for a call. The woman saw my shirt, laughed, and we had a brief conversation about bands. Then she turned to me and said "Have you ever heard of Fountains of Wayne?" I figured that she was planning on going to the show. She went on, saying things like "I heard a song from their new CD, but I can't play it here, and I'm wondering if I should go buy it." It finally dawned on me that she was not, in fact, going to the show. So completely randomly, a total stranger starts having a conversation with me about a band that I am WALKING OUT THE DOOR TO GO SEE. Hello? Cosmic forces of irony? Thanks for that one!
The Fountains of Wayne show was fairly fun. They played two of the three songs that I knew of theirs, and Cyn danced a lot and I danced some, which is a lot for me. It was pretty damn short, though. But at any rate, the thing I'm going to remember from the night is Ben Lee, the opening act. He got up on stage with his cute little British accent and started playing with the audience. This is what I like to see from bands. Something to show that they're not just there for the paycheck. He came on stage and started talking about the Limp Bizkit/Metallica show going on concurrently in Philly. A few songs later, he asked if he was the only one who'd gone. The guy I happened to be standing next to screamed out "I missed it!" Ben Lee kept talking about it, and then the guy screamed "It's all about the nookie!" Ben Lee ran with this and asked the guy if he had a date, and if they wanted to come on stage and dance, or maybe do some nookie, during the next song. So they did. He started playing a fairly slow romantic song, and these two audience members, on stage, obviously had no idea what to do. So they did a terrible, offbeat, loud tango. It was so bad, that Ben Lee stopped the song and complained to them "Come on guys, be more romantic!" So they got confused and left. In the middle of the song. But it gets better! Further into the song, Ben Lee stopped it again, and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and apparently, talked with his mom. He ended it saying "I love you." Fantastic!
And I forgot to add that there's a problem with going to see shows. They make me want to be in a band. I don't play any instruments, and I'm not going to claim I have a great voice. Maybe I do for punk, or maybe not. Wouldn't know until I tried. But the point is that it gives me hopes and dreams for something that's really just not gonna happen.
Saturday night, I went to go see Fountains of Wayne with Cyn. Turned out to be an interesting night.
It got started before I'd even left my building. I put on my Concert Outfit, which consists of blue jeans and my "Your Favorite Band Sucks" t-shirt. The primary difference between this and my normal clothes is that I try to make sure I wear this particular t-shirt to concerts. Anyway, I was wearing this, and stopped at the desk of my apartment building to drop something off, where a man and a woman were talking to the doorman/waiting for a call. The woman saw my shirt, laughed, and we had a brief conversation about bands. Then she turned to me and said "Have you ever heard of Fountains of Wayne?" I figured that she was planning on going to the show. She went on, saying things like "I heard a song from their new CD, but I can't play it here, and I'm wondering if I should go buy it." It finally dawned on me that she was not, in fact, going to the show. So completely randomly, a total stranger starts having a conversation with me about a band that I am WALKING OUT THE DOOR TO GO SEE. Hello? Cosmic forces of irony? Thanks for that one!
The Fountains of Wayne show was fairly fun. They played two of the three songs that I knew of theirs, and Cyn danced a lot and I danced some, which is a lot for me. It was pretty damn short, though. But at any rate, the thing I'm going to remember from the night is Ben Lee, the opening act. He got up on stage with his cute little British accent and started playing with the audience. This is what I like to see from bands. Something to show that they're not just there for the paycheck. He came on stage and started talking about the Limp Bizkit/Metallica show going on concurrently in Philly. A few songs later, he asked if he was the only one who'd gone. The guy I happened to be standing next to screamed out "I missed it!" Ben Lee kept talking about it, and then the guy screamed "It's all about the nookie!" Ben Lee ran with this and asked the guy if he had a date, and if they wanted to come on stage and dance, or maybe do some nookie, during the next song. So they did. He started playing a fairly slow romantic song, and these two audience members, on stage, obviously had no idea what to do. So they did a terrible, offbeat, loud tango. It was so bad, that Ben Lee stopped the song and complained to them "Come on guys, be more romantic!" So they got confused and left. In the middle of the song. But it gets better! Further into the song, Ben Lee stopped it again, and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and apparently, talked with his mom. He ended it saying "I love you." Fantastic!
And I forgot to add that there's a problem with going to see shows. They make me want to be in a band. I don't play any instruments, and I'm not going to claim I have a great voice. Maybe I do for punk, or maybe not. Wouldn't know until I tried. But the point is that it gives me hopes and dreams for something that's really just not gonna happen.
- Unknown, 1:25 PM
Missing Persons
I have decided that my blog needs more arbitrariness. Is that a word? It is now! So, I have decided that this week is Missing Persons week. I'm not very good at staying in touch with people. Each day this week, in chronological order, I'm going to write about people I don't talk to and don't know how to get in touch with. I might get bored of it quickly and stop, like I did with the Nerd/Geek/Dork post. But since I've written this, I've kind of entered into a contract saying I'll write five of these. And there seems to be a decent number of people who read this thing now, so ya'll can complain at me if you like this idea and I fail miserably.
I suppose this blog is, at some level, an attempt to maintain contact with people. So when I leave somewhere, people can stay in touch with me. Or think they're staying in touch with me, or remember me, or something of the sort.
I have decided that my blog needs more arbitrariness. Is that a word? It is now! So, I have decided that this week is Missing Persons week. I'm not very good at staying in touch with people. Each day this week, in chronological order, I'm going to write about people I don't talk to and don't know how to get in touch with. I might get bored of it quickly and stop, like I did with the Nerd/Geek/Dork post. But since I've written this, I've kind of entered into a contract saying I'll write five of these. And there seems to be a decent number of people who read this thing now, so ya'll can complain at me if you like this idea and I fail miserably.
I suppose this blog is, at some level, an attempt to maintain contact with people. So when I leave somewhere, people can stay in touch with me. Or think they're staying in touch with me, or remember me, or something of the sort.
- Unknown, 11:45 AM
Friday, July 11, 2003
I'm A Freak
A few days ago, I came to a disturbing conclusion that, in terms of fashion, I really wouldn't mind being Yuber from Suikoden III. This is disturbing for a few reasons. Obviously, picking a video game character as a fashion role-model is a bit, uh, weird. Even leaving that aside, however, it's weird that it's from Suikoden III. That game didn't exist. SI and SII were great games, two of the best on the original Playstation. So SIII's boredom and genericness (it's a word now, goddammit) became that much more disappointing, to the point where, a month or two after playing it, I thought to myself "It would be really cool if they made a new Suikoden game. Oh yeah. They did. And it sucked."
Anyway. He wears nice black clothes and has a really cool hat. And twin swords, but I probably wouldn't have twin swords. He does not look like he did in the first two games, where he looked like some SCA asshole who thought evil helmets were cool.
EDIT:
There's a poor quality screenshot of the guy here.
A few days ago, I came to a disturbing conclusion that, in terms of fashion, I really wouldn't mind being Yuber from Suikoden III. This is disturbing for a few reasons. Obviously, picking a video game character as a fashion role-model is a bit, uh, weird. Even leaving that aside, however, it's weird that it's from Suikoden III. That game didn't exist. SI and SII were great games, two of the best on the original Playstation. So SIII's boredom and genericness (it's a word now, goddammit) became that much more disappointing, to the point where, a month or two after playing it, I thought to myself "It would be really cool if they made a new Suikoden game. Oh yeah. They did. And it sucked."
Anyway. He wears nice black clothes and has a really cool hat. And twin swords, but I probably wouldn't have twin swords. He does not look like he did in the first two games, where he looked like some SCA asshole who thought evil helmets were cool.
EDIT:
There's a poor quality screenshot of the guy here.
- Unknown, 1:25 PM
Thursday, July 10, 2003
I Just Don't Get It
Astrology is weird. I want to say that it's completely bunk. It really shouldn't work. But . . . there's something about it that just doesn't let go. For example, today I was looking at basic compatibility. I'm a Saggitarius. I am supposed to be most compatible with Libra, Aquarius, Leo, and Aries. Funny four signs, that, given the fact that the four people I've ever called "girlfriend" in my life were each one of those signs.
Bizarro! Bizarro!
But I've only known one person who could come up with a reasonably logical argument for why astrology works. Though it was still full of holes. But most people seem to either accept it blindly, or reject it blindly, or not care. It's a hard life, being a skeptic.
Astrology is weird. I want to say that it's completely bunk. It really shouldn't work. But . . . there's something about it that just doesn't let go. For example, today I was looking at basic compatibility. I'm a Saggitarius. I am supposed to be most compatible with Libra, Aquarius, Leo, and Aries. Funny four signs, that, given the fact that the four people I've ever called "girlfriend" in my life were each one of those signs.
Bizarro! Bizarro!
But I've only known one person who could come up with a reasonably logical argument for why astrology works. Though it was still full of holes. But most people seem to either accept it blindly, or reject it blindly, or not care. It's a hard life, being a skeptic.
- Unknown, 5:11 PM
Rowan's Taxonomy, part the first
Last night, I promised Sarcasmo that I'd finally do this post. There were a few posts that were inevitable once I started the blog. The Ewoks one was the easiest. Also, Sleater-Kinney Ruined My Music Tastes is coming soon. But the big one was the Nerd/Geek/Dork taxonomy. I always talk about this, largely because I think I'm clever.
So get out your permalinks, kids, cause I'm taking a run at it.
My rationale for this? Ordinary language philosophy, of course. I have a idea that words should be defined by what they're used as, therefore, definitions can by obtained by taking how words are and aren't used, and constructing a definition that way. It's kind of counter the way most people think of words. They think words have definitions first, then based on those, what is and isn't is decided. I think the opposite is true. Or a useful tool. Anyway. I'll give you an example if I ever define what a video role-playing game is (here's a teaser: The Sims is a quintessenital RPG). What a mess of a methodology description, hey? I'll go further, and say that these definitions, while useful to me, and while they match what many of my friends say they consider themselves, aren't necessarily going to be considered true. To go back to the Sims: Just because it matches up with what defines an RPG, doesn't mean people aren't going to be silly and argue with me about it. In the case of the Sims, they're wrong. In this case, well, mine are working definitions.
Anyway, here goes.
Nerds are the easiest start to define. Nerds like Star Trek. Nerds like superhero comics. Nerds are good at math and science. Nerds play Dungeons and Dragons, or Magic: the Gathering. We all know the type, right?
Next come dorks. This is a little bit harder. Dorks like drama, literally and figuratively. Goth people are probably dorks, which leads to people who like Vampire: the Masquerade being dorks, as opposed to nerds. Who like D&D. With me so far?
Geeks are toughest. I see geeks as having some level of snobbery. That is, they'll turn their nose up at things like Star Trek, or role-playing, or Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Let your nerds and dorks read the Robert Jordans and the Star Wars novelizations, the geeks say, but bring me REAL science fiction. Never sci-fi, of course. Might as well call it skiffy. That's just an example. The indie rockers of the world are geeks, too.
The best general description I can give is this: Nerds have no shame. Geeks have shame. Dorks revel in their lack of shame.
I'm cutting this off now, because I'm getting bored of it. Tomorrow, or sometime, I'll get into more detail. For now, please leave your questions and comments in the box.
Last night, I promised Sarcasmo that I'd finally do this post. There were a few posts that were inevitable once I started the blog. The Ewoks one was the easiest. Also, Sleater-Kinney Ruined My Music Tastes is coming soon. But the big one was the Nerd/Geek/Dork taxonomy. I always talk about this, largely because I think I'm clever.
So get out your permalinks, kids, cause I'm taking a run at it.
My rationale for this? Ordinary language philosophy, of course. I have a idea that words should be defined by what they're used as, therefore, definitions can by obtained by taking how words are and aren't used, and constructing a definition that way. It's kind of counter the way most people think of words. They think words have definitions first, then based on those, what is and isn't is decided. I think the opposite is true. Or a useful tool. Anyway. I'll give you an example if I ever define what a video role-playing game is (here's a teaser: The Sims is a quintessenital RPG). What a mess of a methodology description, hey? I'll go further, and say that these definitions, while useful to me, and while they match what many of my friends say they consider themselves, aren't necessarily going to be considered true. To go back to the Sims: Just because it matches up with what defines an RPG, doesn't mean people aren't going to be silly and argue with me about it. In the case of the Sims, they're wrong. In this case, well, mine are working definitions.
Anyway, here goes.
Nerds are the easiest start to define. Nerds like Star Trek. Nerds like superhero comics. Nerds are good at math and science. Nerds play Dungeons and Dragons, or Magic: the Gathering. We all know the type, right?
Next come dorks. This is a little bit harder. Dorks like drama, literally and figuratively. Goth people are probably dorks, which leads to people who like Vampire: the Masquerade being dorks, as opposed to nerds. Who like D&D. With me so far?
Geeks are toughest. I see geeks as having some level of snobbery. That is, they'll turn their nose up at things like Star Trek, or role-playing, or Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Let your nerds and dorks read the Robert Jordans and the Star Wars novelizations, the geeks say, but bring me REAL science fiction. Never sci-fi, of course. Might as well call it skiffy. That's just an example. The indie rockers of the world are geeks, too.
The best general description I can give is this: Nerds have no shame. Geeks have shame. Dorks revel in their lack of shame.
I'm cutting this off now, because I'm getting bored of it. Tomorrow, or sometime, I'll get into more detail. For now, please leave your questions and comments in the box.
- Unknown, 4:27 PM
The Marvels of Technology
I just heard something talking and beeping at me. From my pocket. I removed my cell phone, and discovered that it had called my parents for about 2 minutes. So I left a message saying that my cell phone had accidentally called them.
I hope to draw your attention to the fact that I did not spell it accidently, which I have been doing. I tend to pride myself on my spelling, and the discovery that I've had that one wrong was a bit humbling.
I just heard something talking and beeping at me. From my pocket. I removed my cell phone, and discovered that it had called my parents for about 2 minutes. So I left a message saying that my cell phone had accidentally called them.
I hope to draw your attention to the fact that I did not spell it accidently, which I have been doing. I tend to pride myself on my spelling, and the discovery that I've had that one wrong was a bit humbling.
- Unknown, 1:49 PM
Monkeyface
So, last night, I brought up my Curious George is racist theory in company, and was once again looked at like I was crazy. I really don't understand. It seems so clear to me.
White man goes to Africa, gets a childish brown monkey, brings the brown monkey back, the brown monkey goes crazy and gets into all sorts of trouble without the white man around . . .
Eh? EH?
I think it's that I didn't read the books as a child, so I told have an emotional attachment to them.
Oh, and Babar? Totally classist.
So, last night, I brought up my Curious George is racist theory in company, and was once again looked at like I was crazy. I really don't understand. It seems so clear to me.
White man goes to Africa, gets a childish brown monkey, brings the brown monkey back, the brown monkey goes crazy and gets into all sorts of trouble without the white man around . . .
Eh? EH?
I think it's that I didn't read the books as a child, so I told have an emotional attachment to them.
Oh, and Babar? Totally classist.
- Unknown, 10:41 AM
Wednesday, July 09, 2003
Fall Breaaaaaaak!
Yesterday, I discovered that the WTO is having one of those meetings in Cancun in September.
Woohoo! Wet t-shirt protest!
Yesterday, I discovered that the WTO is having one of those meetings in Cancun in September.
Woohoo! Wet t-shirt protest!
- Unknown, 10:11 AM
Tuesday, July 08, 2003
Live-Action Ping-Pong Matrix!
Out of nowhere, a friend of mine from Antioch sent me this link. I thank her. You will thank her too. Her name is Alicson, and she is currently in Japan.
Out of nowhere, a friend of mine from Antioch sent me this link. I thank her. You will thank her too. Her name is Alicson, and she is currently in Japan.
- Unknown, 3:57 PM
Oh, You're No Fun Anymore
I am beginning to hate meetings here at work. Gasp! Meetings? Really? No, I actually used to like meetings. When I worked in Chicago, by the end of my time there, they were almost parties. One day they turned into one. Last term, it meant I got to hang out with my newspaper staff. This job, though? 20 people into a room, very slowly asking and answering questions.
I actually could have gotten more work done not at the meeting by staying on the Net and checking web sites out. I might have found another Army video game thanks to Penny Arcade, for example. Or I might have run out of web sites to read and actually done work. I might have done anything except sit in that room and do nothing but listen to boring pointless stuff.
Funny thing is, a significant portion of the meeting was devoted to streamlining, to avoid pointless meetings. Here's a hint: don't have 2 hour long meetings that the bulk of which can be conducted by e-mail.
I am beginning to hate meetings here at work. Gasp! Meetings? Really? No, I actually used to like meetings. When I worked in Chicago, by the end of my time there, they were almost parties. One day they turned into one. Last term, it meant I got to hang out with my newspaper staff. This job, though? 20 people into a room, very slowly asking and answering questions.
I actually could have gotten more work done not at the meeting by staying on the Net and checking web sites out. I might have found another Army video game thanks to Penny Arcade, for example. Or I might have run out of web sites to read and actually done work. I might have done anything except sit in that room and do nothing but listen to boring pointless stuff.
Funny thing is, a significant portion of the meeting was devoted to streamlining, to avoid pointless meetings. Here's a hint: don't have 2 hour long meetings that the bulk of which can be conducted by e-mail.
- Unknown, 3:42 PM
Monday, July 07, 2003
We Wish You A Merry Fifth-Day
The rest of the weekend was not so socially pathetic, as my friend Jon from New Jersey came to visit. ("Hi, Jon from New Jersey!") We had several completely mundane adventures around Philly.
We had real Italian (supposedly) chicken pizza. Chicken pizza is a subject that has recieved much attention from my brain lately. I have recently stopped eating mammals. More on this later. The primary problem with this that I have is pizza. I liked pepperoni pizza. Not so much with the vegetables on pizza. But now? That leaves me with very few options when it comes to pizza. Why, I thought, isn't chicken pizza a respectable option? I mean, when you think about it, it's perfectly logical. Take a Chicken Parmesan sandwich. It's bread, with sauce, and cheese, and chicken. Just like a pizza! Anyway, we had a chicken pizza. And it was damn good.
Moving right along! Jon got a gay movie catalog, that had some sort of gay-promoting ad in it that he thought was cool. He said "If only they printed stuff like this in mainstream magazines!" I responded with "But then they'd know you exist!"
However, I almost responded with "But then they'd know we exist!" That "we" thing is kind of tricky, given how I pretty much stick to girls. I think it means that y'all, and you know who y'all are, y'all are contagious.
The rest of the weekend was not so socially pathetic, as my friend Jon from New Jersey came to visit. ("Hi, Jon from New Jersey!") We had several completely mundane adventures around Philly.
We had real Italian (supposedly) chicken pizza. Chicken pizza is a subject that has recieved much attention from my brain lately. I have recently stopped eating mammals. More on this later. The primary problem with this that I have is pizza. I liked pepperoni pizza. Not so much with the vegetables on pizza. But now? That leaves me with very few options when it comes to pizza. Why, I thought, isn't chicken pizza a respectable option? I mean, when you think about it, it's perfectly logical. Take a Chicken Parmesan sandwich. It's bread, with sauce, and cheese, and chicken. Just like a pizza! Anyway, we had a chicken pizza. And it was damn good.
Moving right along! Jon got a gay movie catalog, that had some sort of gay-promoting ad in it that he thought was cool. He said "If only they printed stuff like this in mainstream magazines!" I responded with "But then they'd know you exist!"
However, I almost responded with "But then they'd know we exist!" That "we" thing is kind of tricky, given how I pretty much stick to girls. I think it means that y'all, and you know who y'all are, y'all are contagious.
- Unknown, 2:06 PM
We Wish You A Merry Fourth-Day
For the Fourth of July, I:
didn't leave my apartment
listened to British music
watched a movie about capitalist alienation
I also apparently missed all-you-can-eat ice cream somewhere in Philly. I'd have been a proud American for that.
For the Fourth of July, I:
didn't leave my apartment
listened to British music
watched a movie about capitalist alienation
I also apparently missed all-you-can-eat ice cream somewhere in Philly. I'd have been a proud American for that.
- Unknown, 1:26 PM
Thursday, July 03, 2003
Let Freedom Ring
So . . . it's just about the Fourth of July, huh? It's hard being a liberal around this time. Some thinkers latch onto the Founding Fathers, and have great quotes about the meaning of freedom, and all that. Which is nice. They are some damn fine quotes, after all! But, uh . . .
The Founding Fathers weren't particularly fantastic role-models. That whole American Revolution thing? It was all about the benjamins. Those wonderfully phrased pieces of patriotic writing weren't a small group of heroes proclaiming a new world. They were more along the lines of Americans these days ranting and raving about government freedom when it affects their gas prices. These guys just happened to be well-trained in rhetoric.
In other words, if you want me, I'll be in my room. . . all weekend, probably. Sigh.
Dammit.
So . . . it's just about the Fourth of July, huh? It's hard being a liberal around this time. Some thinkers latch onto the Founding Fathers, and have great quotes about the meaning of freedom, and all that. Which is nice. They are some damn fine quotes, after all! But, uh . . .
The Founding Fathers weren't particularly fantastic role-models. That whole American Revolution thing? It was all about the benjamins. Those wonderfully phrased pieces of patriotic writing weren't a small group of heroes proclaiming a new world. They were more along the lines of Americans these days ranting and raving about government freedom when it affects their gas prices. These guys just happened to be well-trained in rhetoric.
In other words, if you want me, I'll be in my room. . . all weekend, probably. Sigh.
Dammit.
- Unknown, 3:29 PM
Final Iraqi VII
So, I was chatting with Meghan, who noticed that there's a price on Saddam's head of $25 million. She said she was rounding up a posse to go to the Middle East and take him out. Which immediately got my video-game addled mind thinking: that would make a great game!
Think about it. You create your character, then go to Iraq, and recruit your party. You know, there's the Kurdish Peshmerga, Shiite Cleric, Sunni Guerilla, American Medic, British Fighter, and so forth. Race and class, just like an RPG! And everyone knows that in RPGs, the plot always involves the overthrow of an evil empire. So along the way of fighting to find Saddam, you'll uncover some deep dark secrets.
It could be just like Jagged Alliance 2! That game had mustard gas, though, and we all know that Iraq doesn't. Someone get me on the line with Sir-Tech.
So, I was chatting with Meghan, who noticed that there's a price on Saddam's head of $25 million. She said she was rounding up a posse to go to the Middle East and take him out. Which immediately got my video-game addled mind thinking: that would make a great game!
Think about it. You create your character, then go to Iraq, and recruit your party. You know, there's the Kurdish Peshmerga, Shiite Cleric, Sunni Guerilla, American Medic, British Fighter, and so forth. Race and class, just like an RPG! And everyone knows that in RPGs, the plot always involves the overthrow of an evil empire. So along the way of fighting to find Saddam, you'll uncover some deep dark secrets.
It could be just like Jagged Alliance 2! That game had mustard gas, though, and we all know that Iraq doesn't. Someone get me on the line with Sir-Tech.
- Unknown, 11:54 AM
The Best Thing Ever
I'm just gonna sneak this one in behind the last political type post. . .
1. Go to Google
2. Type in "weapons of mass destruction"
3. Click on I'm Feeling Lucky
thanks to Tom Tomorrow's blog.
I'm just gonna sneak this one in behind the last political type post. . .
1. Go to Google
2. Type in "weapons of mass destruction"
3. Click on I'm Feeling Lucky
thanks to Tom Tomorrow's blog.
- Unknown, 11:02 AM
Wednesday, July 02, 2003
I know, I know
I promised no more politics, but when the idiocy comes this thick, I can't help it.
President Bush said "Bring them on" in response to Iraqi resistance. Our troops are plenty tough enough to take those damn towelheads.
He's encouraging the Iraqis to fight?
Did Karl Rove forget to give him his shots this morning?
I promised no more politics, but when the idiocy comes this thick, I can't help it.
President Bush said "Bring them on" in response to Iraqi resistance. Our troops are plenty tough enough to take those damn towelheads.
He's encouraging the Iraqis to fight?
Did Karl Rove forget to give him his shots this morning?
- Unknown, 4:05 PM
For the love of. . .
I keep seeing a white SUV limo. I think it's housed somewhere near where I live. It disgusts me. Makes me want to get out my keys.
I mean, really. What does riding around in an SUV limo prove? Isn't it redundant? Wouldn't it just be easier to get "I'M A RICH FUCKING ASSHOLE" tatooed on your forehead, or something? How about "I HAVE PENIS SIZE INSECURITIES?"
I keep seeing a white SUV limo. I think it's housed somewhere near where I live. It disgusts me. Makes me want to get out my keys.
I mean, really. What does riding around in an SUV limo prove? Isn't it redundant? Wouldn't it just be easier to get "I'M A RICH FUCKING ASSHOLE" tatooed on your forehead, or something? How about "I HAVE PENIS SIZE INSECURITIES?"
- Unknown, 1:03 PM
Conference Call
Last post on the conference, probably. I hung out yesterday with a hyperactive Hawaiian high-schooler. She had gone to the conference, and was kind of left-over here. So we're kind of talking, and she says "So what are you, 30?"
"What? You mean, my age?"
"Yeah."
.
.
.
30???
Oh, man.
Oh, MAN.
Nothing against 30-year-olds. I know some cool 30-somethings. That's not the problem. The problem is that I'm 22. . . .
To get back at her, I guessed her age was 13. That'll learn those kids.
Thirty . . .
Last post on the conference, probably. I hung out yesterday with a hyperactive Hawaiian high-schooler. She had gone to the conference, and was kind of left-over here. So we're kind of talking, and she says "So what are you, 30?"
"What? You mean, my age?"
"Yeah."
.
.
.
30???
Oh, man.
Oh, MAN.
Nothing against 30-year-olds. I know some cool 30-somethings. That's not the problem. The problem is that I'm 22. . . .
To get back at her, I guessed her age was 13. That'll learn those kids.
Thirty . . .
- Unknown, 11:51 AM
Tuesday, July 01, 2003
End of an Era
I have officially entered into a trade for my Xbox. I'm getting a pile of mostly Gamecube games and some cash. Back in the dizzy-day, I got my Xbox for 5 games: Halo, Jet Set Radio Future, Morrowind, Obi-Wan, and . . . I don't even remember now. But after the initial game-getting, what happened to the Xbox? Pretty much everything I want for it, or play on it, it available for other systems. Deus Ex 2 and Soul Calibur 2, for example, are the games I want most for the Box. One's coming for PC as well, the other for Playstation 2 and Gamecube.
So it's gone. I'd say I'll miss it, and I probably will when Halo 2 gets released. And I'm sure I will when I enter the Halo tournament this month with no practice.
So now I can go get a Gamecube. But I don't really want to. I think. I don't know. It would be my first ever console purchased with my own money, and, and . . .ahhh! Confusatron! Want games, but don't want games all the time. Want social life too. But . . . games.
I think it's time to go home.
I have officially entered into a trade for my Xbox. I'm getting a pile of mostly Gamecube games and some cash. Back in the dizzy-day, I got my Xbox for 5 games: Halo, Jet Set Radio Future, Morrowind, Obi-Wan, and . . . I don't even remember now. But after the initial game-getting, what happened to the Xbox? Pretty much everything I want for it, or play on it, it available for other systems. Deus Ex 2 and Soul Calibur 2, for example, are the games I want most for the Box. One's coming for PC as well, the other for Playstation 2 and Gamecube.
So it's gone. I'd say I'll miss it, and I probably will when Halo 2 gets released. And I'm sure I will when I enter the Halo tournament this month with no practice.
So now I can go get a Gamecube. But I don't really want to. I think. I don't know. It would be my first ever console purchased with my own money, and, and . . .ahhh! Confusatron! Want games, but don't want games all the time. Want social life too. But . . . games.
I think it's time to go home.
- Unknown, 4:53 PM
More Conference
I mentioned in an earlier post about still being shy at this thing. Normally, my shyness involves me being scared to take people's time up with talking to them, if they're not talking to me. But that relies on them knowing me already. If they know me, and aren't talking to me, that's for a reason. But if they don't know me, or if there's a bunch of people that don't know each other, I'm okay. So my shyness shouldn't have been an issue at the conference.
But I worry that, if I talk to these people, they'll discover that I'm not a very good activist. I'm decidedly inactive, really. I'll read and write, but calling people? Going out and talking to people? Eek. Not me! I did tell one person about my inactivism. He said I sounded like a homebody, a Cancer. I replied that I was a Saggitarius. He said "Well, maybe the whole thing is bunk, then." Good old astrology!
I mentioned in an earlier post about still being shy at this thing. Normally, my shyness involves me being scared to take people's time up with talking to them, if they're not talking to me. But that relies on them knowing me already. If they know me, and aren't talking to me, that's for a reason. But if they don't know me, or if there's a bunch of people that don't know each other, I'm okay. So my shyness shouldn't have been an issue at the conference.
But I worry that, if I talk to these people, they'll discover that I'm not a very good activist. I'm decidedly inactive, really. I'll read and write, but calling people? Going out and talking to people? Eek. Not me! I did tell one person about my inactivism. He said I sounded like a homebody, a Cancer. I replied that I was a Saggitarius. He said "Well, maybe the whole thing is bunk, then." Good old astrology!