It’s not necessarily that I have always enjoyed the sight of fat people sweating, or even that I have come to enjoy this phenomenon, so much as I have always been cold. For this reason, I have found the world more delightful in these later years of my life, as I am sure many others have.
We live in America, the country you can count on to lead the world. We can count on America to make things how we want them: bigger, faster, hotter. I am proud to be a part of this effort, to make winters more comfortable, to make heating bills less costly, to turn up the heat, and get places doing it. America leads the world in the consumption of these magnificent hydrocarbons with other major players such as China and India playing in suit. We hold today a reputation for leading the world even stronger than it was after the Second World War.
Not only are we as Americans doing the right thing, our environment is repaying us. Public water bodies such as pools, rivers, and oceans will someday be warm enough to comfortably swim in. Too many fit guys like myself are being forced to wear shirts while they swim to avoid freezing to death. Only we can answer this call.
On top of this, the world around us will swell with life. No longer will plants wither in December, and no longer will we have to spend money to produce structures to protect them from poor weather, we are taking a stand. The air will be thick with oxygen, like a cozy blanket.
Children will be able to spend more time outside, someday even year round. The sports we love to play would never have to stop, and with any luck, any and all Americans will be able to work on their base tans for free.
Historians say that history repeats itself, and that we must know of these pasts if we are ever to escape them. I draw upon a key issue of genocide to conclude my case. Many years ago, our planet was wrought by an entire age of ice, destroying an abhorrent number of dinosaurs, and leading to their extinction.
This was no freak accident, as historians will tell you that there was not one, not two, not three, but four separate occasions in which this world was covered entirely by a storm of ice. Do not go calm into this dark night, stand for our economy, our comfort, and our lives: Warm this globe.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
RaTs!
“Argh me hearties” is not used often enough these days. It is just one of those things you are sad to see go. There are plenty of things you don’t want to see go in this world… this is just one.
The brutality of irony can be best depicted by the world. In this world to move something it takes energy: things at rest tend to stay at rest until acted upon by a force or object. By this logic, things would never leave you unless you asked them to, or made them. Still “argh me hearties” has left us. Damn our culture
I’m sorry… Rats our culture.
It doesn’t change the fact that I am rats-ed off. I blame children really. They always go off into the world wanting to be independent… hating the ones that give them the punishment they need to grow. So they hate other things by association. For these reasons our generation has no work ethic and shitty music. Whoops.
I’m sorry… Rats-y music.
It’s not like we are independent anyway. For one, we are quite dependant for resources. For two, we aren’t actually innovative when it comes to being different. I can’t prove it, but I am almost positive fashion history is repeating itself. I think I heard or read or heard someone reading that once; probably options one or three, because I don’t read that much.
But what do I know other than how to complain. I suppose I can live on that though. Off to complain about something else I suppose. Here goes.
The brutality of irony can be best depicted by the world. In this world to move something it takes energy: things at rest tend to stay at rest until acted upon by a force or object. By this logic, things would never leave you unless you asked them to, or made them. Still “argh me hearties” has left us. Damn our culture
I’m sorry… Rats our culture.
It doesn’t change the fact that I am rats-ed off. I blame children really. They always go off into the world wanting to be independent… hating the ones that give them the punishment they need to grow. So they hate other things by association. For these reasons our generation has no work ethic and shitty music. Whoops.
I’m sorry… Rats-y music.
It’s not like we are independent anyway. For one, we are quite dependant for resources. For two, we aren’t actually innovative when it comes to being different. I can’t prove it, but I am almost positive fashion history is repeating itself. I think I heard or read or heard someone reading that once; probably options one or three, because I don’t read that much.
But what do I know other than how to complain. I suppose I can live on that though. Off to complain about something else I suppose. Here goes.
Of What?
Completion is somehow one of the most difficult things in this world for me to master. I take for example the best example I can think of… the reason I know that this is a problem for me: school. In almost every single situation I receive an obligation I do about ninety percent of it, no matter how small.
This has ironically become even more obvious in the last weeks of this school year. Because I am taking 5 AP classes, and I have taken the tests for all of them, there isn’t much to do in the wide majority of my classes. One would think this would only improve my success in classes that I still have to do good work in when in fact this is not the case.
Despite my workload being only 1/6th of what it was only two weeks ago I often fail to meet quota per se. This doesn’t actually bother me this much, but does raise a question in my mind: how bad is this going to be when I am a senior? People always joke toward the end of the year saying, “oh I’ve got senioritis” but I’m sure that the real thing is twice as harsh.
According to the masses, this Wednesday we become seniors. Will my senioritis suddenly become justified? Will it increase in strength? Will it have no affect? It is truly perplexing what a good title or a good placebo can do. When you become a senior and have a good work ethic, I suppose chances are you won’t lose it until someone asks you, “Think you have senioritis?” It’s like that one guy from that one movie that is convinced that he has mono. Either way I only have ninety percent of that work ethic… it shouldn’t be hard to get rid of.
On a side note of this I would like to address our tendency to shoot for all or nothing. A 100% work ethic person is tough to compromise, while anyone else can be dropped to zero in seconds. It’s like the misguided thought that we have all had sometime as a kid: you get punished, you get mad. Then you decide that seeing as how you are already being punished; why not go out with a bang? Here’s to seniors.
This has ironically become even more obvious in the last weeks of this school year. Because I am taking 5 AP classes, and I have taken the tests for all of them, there isn’t much to do in the wide majority of my classes. One would think this would only improve my success in classes that I still have to do good work in when in fact this is not the case.
Despite my workload being only 1/6th of what it was only two weeks ago I often fail to meet quota per se. This doesn’t actually bother me this much, but does raise a question in my mind: how bad is this going to be when I am a senior? People always joke toward the end of the year saying, “oh I’ve got senioritis” but I’m sure that the real thing is twice as harsh.
According to the masses, this Wednesday we become seniors. Will my senioritis suddenly become justified? Will it increase in strength? Will it have no affect? It is truly perplexing what a good title or a good placebo can do. When you become a senior and have a good work ethic, I suppose chances are you won’t lose it until someone asks you, “Think you have senioritis?” It’s like that one guy from that one movie that is convinced that he has mono. Either way I only have ninety percent of that work ethic… it shouldn’t be hard to get rid of.
On a side note of this I would like to address our tendency to shoot for all or nothing. A 100% work ethic person is tough to compromise, while anyone else can be dropped to zero in seconds. It’s like the misguided thought that we have all had sometime as a kid: you get punished, you get mad. Then you decide that seeing as how you are already being punished; why not go out with a bang? Here’s to seniors.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Of Living A Life of Secrecy
It would completely suck to be Superman, for however much it may or may not rape. Laser beams from eyes and the ability to fly(S) (rhyming) are all well and good, but is it worth conditional personality.
Do you need my help? Okay, then my name is Superman. Do you wanna go on a date? I am some loser by the name of Clark Kent. I wear glasses that are thicker than the base of my shoes, and my hair isn’t greased back in that badass manner. Did I mention the frequent bursts of cognitive dissonance I feel? Am I Superman or not damn it?
Even when you work on this to the point that you get it where you like it you can’t be completely happy. Let’s say Clark stays late at the office, or gets macked up by some chick, or goes swimming or god knows what. Hey Superman, take off your shirt. I would rather not… You tell them that you have chest AIDS and that the shirt needs to stay. Deep down you will know that you just can’t expose your Superman shirt. Whoops.
Now let’s put it in a possible situation. You are grounded from video games, but your parents are constantly gone, here or there. Working your ass off to hide your activities is painful for both thought and stress. After a point you can almost only barely enjoy your game. Living the life of secrecy is hardr work than being a super hero. That’s why Superman is even cooler for doing both.
Do you need my help? Okay, then my name is Superman. Do you wanna go on a date? I am some loser by the name of Clark Kent. I wear glasses that are thicker than the base of my shoes, and my hair isn’t greased back in that badass manner. Did I mention the frequent bursts of cognitive dissonance I feel? Am I Superman or not damn it?
Even when you work on this to the point that you get it where you like it you can’t be completely happy. Let’s say Clark stays late at the office, or gets macked up by some chick, or goes swimming or god knows what. Hey Superman, take off your shirt. I would rather not… You tell them that you have chest AIDS and that the shirt needs to stay. Deep down you will know that you just can’t expose your Superman shirt. Whoops.
Now let’s put it in a possible situation. You are grounded from video games, but your parents are constantly gone, here or there. Working your ass off to hide your activities is painful for both thought and stress. After a point you can almost only barely enjoy your game. Living the life of secrecy is hardr work than being a super hero. That’s why Superman is even cooler for doing both.
Lettuce
Lettuce. If you ever wanted to do something or go somewhere with someone, you might say, “Let’s do something or go somewhere, someone.”
It has been brought to my attention by myself that this speaking is quite out of date. Take, for example, the sentence: Let’s go to the movies. What we mean to say is: We should go to the movies = or = I feel like going to the movies. What we literally say by using that contraction is let us or allow us. Allow us to go to the movies.
This is where I find my trouble. If you are speaking to someone and say the word ‘let’s’ you are almost definitely NOT asking for permission. Imagine hanging out with one of your friends and saying “Let’s go to the arcade,” only to hear your friend reply, “Only if you do my homework for me”
Using the word ‘let’s’ basically establishes yourself as inferior to anyone you speak it to. You are asking them for permission to do things that they would probably find entertaining anyway. It is ridiculous. Dictionary.com lists over thirty different definitions for the word let, all of which essentially: to allow. As for the contraction let’s, it lists 4 definitions all saying a contraction of let and us.
Ironically this is just too deep within our language to remove now. A growing and solidifying tumor of our language: it is here to stay. When I was pressed to think of different ways of phrasing “Let’s go to the movies” earlier on this very page, I was stumped. It took me 10 minutes to think of what I did, and frankly it sucks.
Still I will not stand idly by and watch such servitude. Moses had it right when he said “Let’s go” to Ramses. He wasn’t talking to Ramses saysing, "hey dude, let's go." He was saying, "Let us (the jews) go." Now was that so hard?
When I finish writing something like this I often realize one of three things: 1# no one cares. 2# I am probably worng. and 3# 08CS>SJ08
It has been brought to my attention by myself that this speaking is quite out of date. Take, for example, the sentence: Let’s go to the movies. What we mean to say is: We should go to the movies = or = I feel like going to the movies. What we literally say by using that contraction is let us or allow us. Allow us to go to the movies.
This is where I find my trouble. If you are speaking to someone and say the word ‘let’s’ you are almost definitely NOT asking for permission. Imagine hanging out with one of your friends and saying “Let’s go to the arcade,” only to hear your friend reply, “Only if you do my homework for me”
Using the word ‘let’s’ basically establishes yourself as inferior to anyone you speak it to. You are asking them for permission to do things that they would probably find entertaining anyway. It is ridiculous. Dictionary.com lists over thirty different definitions for the word let, all of which essentially: to allow. As for the contraction let’s, it lists 4 definitions all saying a contraction of let and us.
Ironically this is just too deep within our language to remove now. A growing and solidifying tumor of our language: it is here to stay. When I was pressed to think of different ways of phrasing “Let’s go to the movies” earlier on this very page, I was stumped. It took me 10 minutes to think of what I did, and frankly it sucks.
Still I will not stand idly by and watch such servitude. Moses had it right when he said “Let’s go” to Ramses. He wasn’t talking to Ramses saysing, "hey dude, let's go." He was saying, "Let us (the jews) go." Now was that so hard?
When I finish writing something like this I often realize one of three things: 1# no one cares. 2# I am probably worng. and 3# 08CS>SJ08
No Longer Living
There is a distinctly sounds that come from someone’s face when they say “Around Eleven” and “No Longer Living.” This statement of course is not accurate when you sing for the band disturbed.There is a distinctly sounds that come from someone’s face when they say “Around Eleven” and “No Longer Living.” This statement of course is not accurate when you sing for the band disturbed.
Such an issue has become the cornerstone for my most recent debate with one you might recognize by the name of garbage. Through this debate I have been able to call upon much psychology knowledge, and am therefore proud to be a part of this.
When it came time to bring in some outside rulings on the issue, we drew them over one by one and essentially asked the question: what words do you hear. This audio clip was about the song: Into the fire, by Disturbed. While we agree that this is a completely badass song, our difference lies from the seconds of :36 to :38 in the following video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9jImX7s2yk . We would much love your input on the debate. As if not to add bias or priming to this topic I shall list the two possible phrases uttered within this time period in alphabetical order:
“Around eleven”
“No longer living”
Still without disclosing information I can detail some of the irony we faced. When primed for either version our subject would hear what we asked them to. This was with to fail. Excuse me sir, do you hear Line A? Yes. Then one of us would turn to the other and say SEE! Excuse me next sir, do you hear Line B? Yes. HAH. I told you the other would say to the first. Needless to say, we will get nowhere without contribution.
Such an issue has become the cornerstone for my most recent debate with one you might recognize by the name of garbage. Through this debate I have been able to call upon much psychology knowledge, and am therefore proud to be a part of this.
When it came time to bring in some outside rulings on the issue, we drew them over one by one and essentially asked the question: what words do you hear. This audio clip was about the song: Into the fire, by Disturbed. While we agree that this is a completely badass song, our difference lies from the seconds of :36 to :38 in the following video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9jImX7s2yk . We would much love your input on the debate. As if not to add bias or priming to this topic I shall list the two possible phrases uttered within this time period in alphabetical order:
“Around eleven”
“No longer living”
Still without disclosing information I can detail some of the irony we faced. When primed for either version our subject would hear what we asked them to. This was with to fail. Excuse me sir, do you hear Line A? Yes. Then one of us would turn to the other and say SEE! Excuse me next sir, do you hear Line B? Yes. HAH. I told you the other would say to the first. Needless to say, we will get nowhere without contribution.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Of Shit Luck
Brutal optimism, while often a highly valued trait is considered an excellent way to live ones life. I would argue to the exact opposite. Pessimism, defined by myself as a lack of faith in absolutely everything, is a beautiful thing.
Take, for example, my most recent AP Exam. Sorting through every single test I took in that class I never got higher than a ‘C’. In most cases I found myself at the ‘just barely an F’ level. I walked into the test expecting full well to get rubberstamped onto a ‘2’ (AP grading scale: 1 being worst qualified, 3 being passing, and 5 being well qualified). Cold hard pessimism. I walk out thinking that I actually passed. I felt so much happier than I ever could have. And I do, and I did.
Let’s for example use the same scale. If you go in expecting a 1 and get a 3 you are going to be ecstatic – this would be pessimism. If you go in expecting a 4 and get a 3, you are going to be pissed –this would be optimism. My working definition of optimism is asking to get shit on.
Let us be honest, let us be reasonable, and let us be pessimistic. I thought I would never learn to spell pessimism, but by the end of this I have. Were I an optimist I would seek to master spelling it, not master it as much as I hoped and I would get pissed. Welcome to the jungle.
Take, for example, my most recent AP Exam. Sorting through every single test I took in that class I never got higher than a ‘C’. In most cases I found myself at the ‘just barely an F’ level. I walked into the test expecting full well to get rubberstamped onto a ‘2’ (AP grading scale: 1 being worst qualified, 3 being passing, and 5 being well qualified). Cold hard pessimism. I walk out thinking that I actually passed. I felt so much happier than I ever could have. And I do, and I did.
Let’s for example use the same scale. If you go in expecting a 1 and get a 3 you are going to be ecstatic – this would be pessimism. If you go in expecting a 4 and get a 3, you are going to be pissed –this would be optimism. My working definition of optimism is asking to get shit on.
Let us be honest, let us be reasonable, and let us be pessimistic. I thought I would never learn to spell pessimism, but by the end of this I have. Were I an optimist I would seek to master spelling it, not master it as much as I hoped and I would get pissed. Welcome to the jungle.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Yawnnn.
CS just posted OldGreg’s head. ( 1 2 3..) DOUBLE POST --CS just posted OldGreg’s head ( 1 2…) TRIPLE POST --CS just posted OldGreg’s head OWNING – POSTING SPREE –DOMINATING – WICKED SICK – UNSTOPPABLE – HEAD POST!
Sometimes that is what it feels like. I get obscenely bored nowadays and end up doing all of my posts in a slew. I feel tired… no focus… no drives… but somehow, just somehow, I manage to blog. I still won’t do this in summer, and I will probably end my session hating these blogs because the will be associated with poor grades and lethargy. Still here I am.
I will probably finish these tonight. Tomorrow I will go into school and tell the world how cool I am. Then they will know. Some will say, wow, dude, how did you do that? Some will say… man, that is so lame, but, deep down, they will be so proud of me. They will be so ashamed of themselves. We are on a system now that our success can be closely monitored. When was the last time he posted? Oh, okay. There are some of us that are far, far behind. They can not come back, and I am obscenely beyond schedule.
When I wrote in my notebook, I had college rule so the lines were really hard to fill. I got owned by people that had wide ruled. You can’t wide rule a word count. Some people find the word count to be synonymous with homosexuality.
I hate myself.
Sometimes that is what it feels like. I get obscenely bored nowadays and end up doing all of my posts in a slew. I feel tired… no focus… no drives… but somehow, just somehow, I manage to blog. I still won’t do this in summer, and I will probably end my session hating these blogs because the will be associated with poor grades and lethargy. Still here I am.
I will probably finish these tonight. Tomorrow I will go into school and tell the world how cool I am. Then they will know. Some will say, wow, dude, how did you do that? Some will say… man, that is so lame, but, deep down, they will be so proud of me. They will be so ashamed of themselves. We are on a system now that our success can be closely monitored. When was the last time he posted? Oh, okay. There are some of us that are far, far behind. They can not come back, and I am obscenely beyond schedule.
When I wrote in my notebook, I had college rule so the lines were really hard to fill. I got owned by people that had wide ruled. You can’t wide rule a word count. Some people find the word count to be synonymous with homosexuality.
I hate myself.
Kick Num Whi Daydo win
Many will tell you that this or that is an important life lesson. You need to learn to go out on a limb, you need to learn to be responsible, you need to learn empathy… ect. Of course I feel that the one most important life lessons hasn’t yet been listed, as it is in a class off its own. You need to learn to be shit on.
Some take this as the most important life lesson, some don’t acknowledge it, and some of you are still wondering what I meant when I said shit. Aside from language, I would like to keep this PG-13, and thereby can assure that I make note of no obscure fetish of cult ritual when I say: getting shit on.
In layman’s terms, and I would think according to urban dictionary, being shit on is the same as getting kicked while you are down… it is the unsportsmanlike conduct of life. Getting shit on is like coming home to find that your dad has killed himself, and because of that you lose your car. Getting shit on is studying for a test, getting an F, and then getting grounded because of it. It’s losing your job because the boss found out your wife cheated on you. It’s just plain crappy. (<--- this is a pun. The theme of this paragraph was ways to be shit on and I just used he word crap. The words ‘crap’ and ‘shit;’ are synonymous) Hilarious.
Any way, the main theme of people’s arguments on this issue all state that we need to be able to jump any hurdle, climb any mountain, ect. Various essays have been produced outlining this by such famous authors as DM. I, for the sake of arguing, would like to throw out the possibility of disagreeing. Why do we have to learn to be shit on? Work hard, and get lucky, and it will never happen.
Who says it’s too good to be true? Anyone that disagrees is a quitter jerk. All you have to do to make something come true is say it.
If only.
Some take this as the most important life lesson, some don’t acknowledge it, and some of you are still wondering what I meant when I said shit. Aside from language, I would like to keep this PG-13, and thereby can assure that I make note of no obscure fetish of cult ritual when I say: getting shit on.
In layman’s terms, and I would think according to urban dictionary, being shit on is the same as getting kicked while you are down… it is the unsportsmanlike conduct of life. Getting shit on is like coming home to find that your dad has killed himself, and because of that you lose your car. Getting shit on is studying for a test, getting an F, and then getting grounded because of it. It’s losing your job because the boss found out your wife cheated on you. It’s just plain crappy. (<--- this is a pun. The theme of this paragraph was ways to be shit on and I just used he word crap. The words ‘crap’ and ‘shit;’ are synonymous) Hilarious.
Any way, the main theme of people’s arguments on this issue all state that we need to be able to jump any hurdle, climb any mountain, ect. Various essays have been produced outlining this by such famous authors as DM. I, for the sake of arguing, would like to throw out the possibility of disagreeing. Why do we have to learn to be shit on? Work hard, and get lucky, and it will never happen.
Who says it’s too good to be true? Anyone that disagrees is a quitter jerk. All you have to do to make something come true is say it.
If only.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Revengance!
While in situations of any manner of disress, one can allways find sanctuary in the great art of revenge. Hammurabi had it right when he said have your eye taken, take their eye.
Thousands of solutuions to a single problem can be noted this way. You have wasted my time, now I shall send you McDonald's to buy me food, on foot, thank you. You have stolen my television, I shall steal yours. You have given me gohnoreeha, I must give you syphilis. You have stolen my heart, I shall steal yours (total gay). You have egged my residence, I shall egg yours.
We were playing frisbee, and I was laying down on the ground, hiding on the ground... you tripped over me and hurt my arm. It was an accident, but damned if I dont "wreck your shit right back."
So here is the root of our revenge: we are pissed off when something bad happens to us and there has got to be a way to feel as if we are not alone in our feeling of failure. Still this doesn’t always work…
The last laugher doesn’t last for long. You poke me, I bump you, You bop me, I knock you, You punch me, I slug you, You deck me, I pull a switch blade and gut you like a fish. Whoops.
That’s just how it works sometime. We as humans only like justice when it is in our favor. I just got hit… (did I just punch him twice as hard? Yes.) Time to slug that kiddo.
Thousands of solutuions to a single problem can be noted this way. You have wasted my time, now I shall send you McDonald's to buy me food, on foot, thank you. You have stolen my television, I shall steal yours. You have given me gohnoreeha, I must give you syphilis. You have stolen my heart, I shall steal yours (total gay). You have egged my residence, I shall egg yours.
We were playing frisbee, and I was laying down on the ground, hiding on the ground... you tripped over me and hurt my arm. It was an accident, but damned if I dont "wreck your shit right back."
So here is the root of our revenge: we are pissed off when something bad happens to us and there has got to be a way to feel as if we are not alone in our feeling of failure. Still this doesn’t always work…
The last laugher doesn’t last for long. You poke me, I bump you, You bop me, I knock you, You punch me, I slug you, You deck me, I pull a switch blade and gut you like a fish. Whoops.
That’s just how it works sometime. We as humans only like justice when it is in our favor. I just got hit… (did I just punch him twice as hard? Yes.) Time to slug that kiddo.
TEH GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUNTLEHT
As some of you may be presently currently aware, there is a plague a mist these lands, something out of its place, something, someone that does not belong in this world for the living, a beast comprised of no flesh and no blood, a beast constructed of pure noob, a beast that holds no ground and deserves no fortune, a beast that thinks so highly of itself for minor accomplishments such as a blog comprised of a single paragraph, and, indeed, while a decent accomplishment, it is nothing to the feat I currently attempt, a feat driven by competition and wrought with spite, a blog entry, once more, but infinitely more 1337 than any of its predecessors, not one paragraph, nay, one sentence, an entire embodiment of malice and justice, a wrongful compilation of thought and comma, as words slew and syntax cries some would say this is no longer a sentence, but once more I scream nay, for I do not cheat this establishment, I do nothing of the sort, no semicolons, no colons, and no dot dot dots, this is pure in both wit and skill as I nail the coffin shut on the phrase that we have come to live by, 08CS>SJ08, a phrase in itself without fallacy, shining through all darkness as the last ray of truth in this world, a beast in and of itself, with immeasurable strength and commitment to its cause, it is undying and a new religion, one free of obscenity, child molestation, and lies, this is the truth that someday we must all accept.
Monday, April 28, 2008
(infinity)
What do you get when you rotate a picture of the number "8" by multiplying it against the matrix
[ 0 , 1 ]
[ -1 , 0 ]
?
Answer:
the number of reasons CS>SJ.
It is in times like these that I can’t help but love myself. Brilliance radiating off of me like the stench of noob radiates off of an ACOG scorpion... or something like that. Such matters not. This debate can be argued thousands of different ways, but arguments amount to nothing.
I, backed by both truth and logic, could spout an absurd amount of reasons he is noob. Often enough I do, but this can only be settled one way.
Basically we will both sprout wings and absurd amount of physical dexterity and aptitude. Of course I already possess these things, but now they will be much more obvious. Orchestraic music will play in the background, and the singers will be singing in Latin. We will gain the ability to shoot liquid energy out of our hands in concentrated beams or orbs.
By the end we will both be bleeding profusely and somewhere along the lines we ended up fighting completely in the sky. Basically the fight will have been back and forth thousands of times by now, SJ has gotten cocky and has spouted insults the entire time. I decide to throw the last of the energy that I don’t have into one final blast.
His cockiness is thrown aside as he calls what he believes to be a bluff incorrectly. We both go flying in opposite directions toward the ground and hit with a solid thud. Two minutes later I am the first to get up I walk by his totally owned body and look down into eyes of sheer disbelief. He has been completely owned.
Of course all of this has been exaggerated, but never to the point of contradiction. Everything I have just detailed was essentially correct. SJ gets owned consistently in the end. Some say owned, some say pwned, some say “what commonly happens to SJ.” At least that is what I say.
Why do I say it? Because I am a man of truth. Cemented in the stone of the 21st century is the phrase CS>SJ.
[ 0 , 1 ]
[ -1 , 0 ]
?
Answer:
the number of reasons CS>SJ.
It is in times like these that I can’t help but love myself. Brilliance radiating off of me like the stench of noob radiates off of an ACOG scorpion... or something like that. Such matters not. This debate can be argued thousands of different ways, but arguments amount to nothing.
I, backed by both truth and logic, could spout an absurd amount of reasons he is noob. Often enough I do, but this can only be settled one way.
Basically we will both sprout wings and absurd amount of physical dexterity and aptitude. Of course I already possess these things, but now they will be much more obvious. Orchestraic music will play in the background, and the singers will be singing in Latin. We will gain the ability to shoot liquid energy out of our hands in concentrated beams or orbs.
By the end we will both be bleeding profusely and somewhere along the lines we ended up fighting completely in the sky. Basically the fight will have been back and forth thousands of times by now, SJ has gotten cocky and has spouted insults the entire time. I decide to throw the last of the energy that I don’t have into one final blast.
His cockiness is thrown aside as he calls what he believes to be a bluff incorrectly. We both go flying in opposite directions toward the ground and hit with a solid thud. Two minutes later I am the first to get up I walk by his totally owned body and look down into eyes of sheer disbelief. He has been completely owned.
Of course all of this has been exaggerated, but never to the point of contradiction. Everything I have just detailed was essentially correct. SJ gets owned consistently in the end. Some say owned, some say pwned, some say “what commonly happens to SJ.” At least that is what I say.
Why do I say it? Because I am a man of truth. Cemented in the stone of the 21st century is the phrase CS>SJ.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Super Mario
There is something very special about completing something. It is almost as if you could base everything in this world on a one hundred and twenty percent scale of completion. Say you have almost finished a task, even ninety nine percent of the way done, you do not feel half as good as if you actually had completed it.Video games are a great example. They all have some final challenge, and until that is completed you may be granted no mental sanctuary. For this reason I find that the final boss is often too easy. It is almost depressingly so, actually. To work so hard on something, and then be given a joke is almost an insult.But I see where they are coming from. Not everyone in the gaming world can be as amazing as myself (anyone see that comment coming?). Losers out there need cheats and strategy guides to get to the end… to add a task of skill to the closing only depresses the weak. How could one be so betrayed? To achieve satisfaction with a new school gamer all you have to do is beat something. Reading forums online while cheating here and there is hard enough work… … …What is an SNES?
WigglyTANK is not completely sick when it is in the possession of a noob… Cheat for rare candies and then get owned… if It takes so much work to get it right in the first place, why? S. J. is noob.
WigglyTANK is not completely sick when it is in the possession of a noob… Cheat for rare candies and then get owned… if It takes so much work to get it right in the first place, why? S. J. is noob.
Poser Pose
What do you get when you cross a kid desperate for acceptance with plaid pants, a cap with a pre-frayed brim, and an Abercrombie shirt with an oversized collar and a pocket that will never be used? Call me a jerk for pulling an R. L. Stine, but to find out turn to page 1 (the title). Before you turn back to the top of this page, keep in mind that it is crucial that you do not loop repeatedly through this paragraph.
Did you make it out? Good job. And here you think that I might be patronizing you… I would like to assure you that I have done nothing of the sort. There is a chance that I simply have entertained myself for a short burst or that maybe I have truly complimented you. Is it so hard to believe? What is the matter? Everyone needs a boost sometime. There is no need to bring you down, so I won’t.
So many things in this world are that simple. I think about crap like that… not really though. I think about crap like: why am I talking to you…? It isn’t like you are going to read this… but I thought some more and came to a conclusion. If you read this then you are reading this. If you don’t, no one will ever realize how much of my own time I have wasted. Talking to myself… you can listen if you want? That just sounds emo to me. What a shame. Laugh out loud. “Emo” is not in the Microsoft Word dictionary.
I wonder if the future can be in blogs somewhere. Not blogs themselves but the concept maybe. Psychiatry could find a strong base in it possibly. The whole psychoanalytic concept of therapy… free association say what you feel like until you just go ahead and scream your problem. What absurdity.
I play video games on www.addictinggames.com. They are fun, some don’t load right. Some aren’t fun, and some we aren’t allowed to play at school. It’s a shame really because I don’t play them at home. It is a time killer. But why kill time?
Did you make it out? Good job. And here you think that I might be patronizing you… I would like to assure you that I have done nothing of the sort. There is a chance that I simply have entertained myself for a short burst or that maybe I have truly complimented you. Is it so hard to believe? What is the matter? Everyone needs a boost sometime. There is no need to bring you down, so I won’t.
So many things in this world are that simple. I think about crap like that… not really though. I think about crap like: why am I talking to you…? It isn’t like you are going to read this… but I thought some more and came to a conclusion. If you read this then you are reading this. If you don’t, no one will ever realize how much of my own time I have wasted. Talking to myself… you can listen if you want? That just sounds emo to me. What a shame. Laugh out loud. “Emo” is not in the Microsoft Word dictionary.
I wonder if the future can be in blogs somewhere. Not blogs themselves but the concept maybe. Psychiatry could find a strong base in it possibly. The whole psychoanalytic concept of therapy… free association say what you feel like until you just go ahead and scream your problem. What absurdity.
I play video games on www.addictinggames.com. They are fun, some don’t load right. Some aren’t fun, and some we aren’t allowed to play at school. It’s a shame really because I don’t play them at home. It is a time killer. But why kill time?
Call of Newbie 4
Pop quiz: what do you call a hopeless video gamer that spends the great majority of his time in his basement playing a garbage sharp shooter game? None other than the infinitely weak, yet infinitely infamous, SJ.
I would like to begin by noting that HE STILL LIVES WITH HIS PARENTS. Pathetic. Observing quite simply a graph of: days that he has lived with his parents (represented by a score of 0) and days that he has not (represented by a score of 1), it is easy to see that the equation of the line to his own at any given point can be represented as: DNE Following this trend it is easy to deduce that the trend shall continue until his premature death.
Point Two: he will have a premature death. This is justifiable for two reasons: noobs die prematurely is the obvious first point. The second reason: rage. It is logical to suspect that in the premature future noob by the initials of SJ (that lives with his parents) will be dominated in a call of newbie game (he was called). It can then only logically be assumed that he will kill himself.
What is a red tiger ACOG skorpion? Quite simply the calling card of the noob. In its purest form the noob uses this weapon predominantly, often in search and destroy missions. A noob might be considered even more thuroughly noobish if they play hard core search and destroy. I am so lame? Chiggity check yourself, spraying noob.
The truth hurts, noob.
I would like to begin by noting that HE STILL LIVES WITH HIS PARENTS. Pathetic. Observing quite simply a graph of: days that he has lived with his parents (represented by a score of 0) and days that he has not (represented by a score of 1), it is easy to see that the equation of the line to his own at any given point can be represented as: DNE Following this trend it is easy to deduce that the trend shall continue until his premature death.
Point Two: he will have a premature death. This is justifiable for two reasons: noobs die prematurely is the obvious first point. The second reason: rage. It is logical to suspect that in the premature future noob by the initials of SJ (that lives with his parents) will be dominated in a call of newbie game (he was called). It can then only logically be assumed that he will kill himself.
What is a red tiger ACOG skorpion? Quite simply the calling card of the noob. In its purest form the noob uses this weapon predominantly, often in search and destroy missions. A noob might be considered even more thuroughly noobish if they play hard core search and destroy. I am so lame? Chiggity check yourself, spraying noob.
The truth hurts, noob.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Get Used To It
----------------------------------------------------
l...................... l ............08CS>Sj08..l
l...................... l ..........................l
l...................... l ..........................l
l...................... l ..........................l
l...................... l ..........................l
l...................... l ..........................l
l...................... l ..........................l
----------------------------------------------------
l...................... l ............08CS>Sj08..l
l...................... l ..........................l
l...................... l ..........................l
l...................... l ..........................l
l...................... l ..........................l
l...................... l ..........................l
l...................... l ..........................l
----------------------------------------------------
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Of Being A Nerd
They say it is important to be yourself. Good advise, unfortunately, in some situations it is easier said than done. Example: if you are a nerd.
So why is it such good advice? Why else, it feels great. I quote Monty Python. I brush up infinitely on video games. I make jokes about peoples mothers. Upon hearing things that could easily interpreted sexually, I do so, and then repeat them aloud for any one who is willing to listen. Did I mention that it all feels great?
But is being yourself only a guilty pleasure? Is doing what I like to do okay? After all, most behavior results in some degree of social suicide. Questions never stop coming though. Who cares about a social life? Is being an outcast who is himself better than being a popular kid who goes home every night and plays dungeons and dragons? Where do we draw the line? Can we truly choose rationally? What stays the same? What stays with us? Can I be myself later? Can I fit in later? Who cares? Who doesn’t? Does what I do today really affect how I am tomarrow? Why do I even wonder? Sad. Some day.
So why is it such good advice? Why else, it feels great. I quote Monty Python. I brush up infinitely on video games. I make jokes about peoples mothers. Upon hearing things that could easily interpreted sexually, I do so, and then repeat them aloud for any one who is willing to listen. Did I mention that it all feels great?
But is being yourself only a guilty pleasure? Is doing what I like to do okay? After all, most behavior results in some degree of social suicide. Questions never stop coming though. Who cares about a social life? Is being an outcast who is himself better than being a popular kid who goes home every night and plays dungeons and dragons? Where do we draw the line? Can we truly choose rationally? What stays the same? What stays with us? Can I be myself later? Can I fit in later? Who cares? Who doesn’t? Does what I do today really affect how I am tomarrow? Why do I even wonder? Sad. Some day.
Of Homosexuals
My little brother Mark I full blown gay. Not only can he not take a hint, he doesn’t know when to shut up, or in some cases when to speak up. The worst part is that most of the people I know would find no logical fallacy in the statement.
So when did homosexuality miraculously become synonymous with everything that we don’t like? It’s hard to say, but we do. That’s gay, you’re gay, gay gay. Gay. Obscene, is it not? Yet it is so deeply imbedded in our culture. Most ironically, its implementation makes no sense whatsoever.
Let’s just say that I hate walruses. If I find something else that I hate, and wish to admit it verbally, it doesn’t make sense for me to scream, “That is so freaking walrus!” Do you know what I’m saying? Where I’m coming from? Even further into the pit of analogy I might draw up more questions. What did the walruses ever do to me?
It is only natural to assume that a man, even obscure enough to have developed a hate for walruses, has never been sexually assaulted, wronged, or raped by a walrus. The only thing the man may hold for it is fear. Strange.
So when did homosexuality miraculously become synonymous with everything that we don’t like? It’s hard to say, but we do. That’s gay, you’re gay, gay gay. Gay. Obscene, is it not? Yet it is so deeply imbedded in our culture. Most ironically, its implementation makes no sense whatsoever.
Let’s just say that I hate walruses. If I find something else that I hate, and wish to admit it verbally, it doesn’t make sense for me to scream, “That is so freaking walrus!” Do you know what I’m saying? Where I’m coming from? Even further into the pit of analogy I might draw up more questions. What did the walruses ever do to me?
It is only natural to assume that a man, even obscure enough to have developed a hate for walruses, has never been sexually assaulted, wronged, or raped by a walrus. The only thing the man may hold for it is fear. Strange.
The next big problem with language arts…
Periodically I feel I must do what I am now accustomed to do: complain. Once again I do what has now almost become ritual: complete homework while bitching about it. I will never like L.A., but there is something even more definite than this –I will never get a good grade in an L.A. class.
The audience, after hearing this most recent statement, is undoubtedly split on what to think of this. Some of you may note that fact to be an absolute travesty, noting that my ability is astounding and infallible. Some of you may agree with it, looking back on what outsiders might consider a lack of effort. I would say that both parties are incorrect.
What makes me do poorly in L.A. is the fact that I suck. Ironically, while most find it a simple class: the study of the language that they use EVERY DAMN DAY OF THEIR LIVES. Hell, we even THINK about things in English. But there is a catch. It is all too easy to have enough to get by in such a class. Can you read? Can you write? Can you sound things out? – if you answered yes to any two of those you are hired.
Unfortunately, if I can get by with something I will. Big surprise. Over the years, my skills have done nothing but degenerate. Reading as little as possible and writing to match for all of my high school career, my vocabulary has seen no improvement, and in fact, I now reside on the low end of reading and comprehension. I can’t spell either.
Here in lies moral: the reason I hate this class. There is no easy way out. You can’t cram for English. There is nothing more to learn to significantly improve your success. All you can do is practice –something I haven’t been doing for quite some time. Thanks to this I must accept my fate. It will lower my college entrance exam scores and keep my ITED composite score down as well. Every test in the world is first a reading test and then a test of the subject. I will get there someday.
The audience, after hearing this most recent statement, is undoubtedly split on what to think of this. Some of you may note that fact to be an absolute travesty, noting that my ability is astounding and infallible. Some of you may agree with it, looking back on what outsiders might consider a lack of effort. I would say that both parties are incorrect.
What makes me do poorly in L.A. is the fact that I suck. Ironically, while most find it a simple class: the study of the language that they use EVERY DAMN DAY OF THEIR LIVES. Hell, we even THINK about things in English. But there is a catch. It is all too easy to have enough to get by in such a class. Can you read? Can you write? Can you sound things out? – if you answered yes to any two of those you are hired.
Unfortunately, if I can get by with something I will. Big surprise. Over the years, my skills have done nothing but degenerate. Reading as little as possible and writing to match for all of my high school career, my vocabulary has seen no improvement, and in fact, I now reside on the low end of reading and comprehension. I can’t spell either.
Here in lies moral: the reason I hate this class. There is no easy way out. You can’t cram for English. There is nothing more to learn to significantly improve your success. All you can do is practice –something I haven’t been doing for quite some time. Thanks to this I must accept my fate. It will lower my college entrance exam scores and keep my ITED composite score down as well. Every test in the world is first a reading test and then a test of the subject. I will get there someday.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
NOob Temping Fate
Noob there is nothing (which is to say almost nothing) in this world greater than the feeling one gets from testing fate and winning. Noob I have become very familiar with this, especially given some my most recent experiences. Noob a noob with the initials of SJ can attest to this, though it is quite possible he wouldn’t. Noob Still I think myself an expert.
Noob the important part about feeling good is feeling better than you expected to. Noob as you will find, most everything is relative. Noob assume I was playing a game with my older brother. Noob assume he was winning beyond a shadow of a doubt, and he gambled a chance do finish me off and end the game—and failed. Noob he would still go on to win the game without question, but he was absolutely pissed off: in his mind I had won the game.
Noob still cheating your destiny through sheer luck or ambition can do as much to help as it can hurt if you fail. Noob for example going from “going to lose your driver’s licence” to “not” could bring a smile to anyone. Noob, listen to the words I say, “You are garbage at COD4 SJ”
Noob the important part about feeling good is feeling better than you expected to. Noob as you will find, most everything is relative. Noob assume I was playing a game with my older brother. Noob assume he was winning beyond a shadow of a doubt, and he gambled a chance do finish me off and end the game—and failed. Noob he would still go on to win the game without question, but he was absolutely pissed off: in his mind I had won the game.
Noob still cheating your destiny through sheer luck or ambition can do as much to help as it can hurt if you fail. Noob for example going from “going to lose your driver’s licence” to “not” could bring a smile to anyone. Noob, listen to the words I say, “You are garbage at COD4 SJ”
lowered? Am I no
Nostalgia is wicked sick. This past weekend I helped myself to a big serving of Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy’s Quest and I feel as if my socks have been thoroughly rocked off of my body. Since then I have been able to find them and return them to my feet, but the magic is not lost.
It was like taking a trip down memory lane, to a simpler time, to a time before I had solved every secret in the game. And it was right. I had forgotten much of my roots. Back in the day, or at least my version of the day, we struggled for hours to solve some secrets; this weekend I struggled to remember the past.
Still I had the good times revisit me. I got beat down by Klubba when I didn’t have enough kremcoins, I one shotted King Zing Sting, I navigated Bramble Blast, and I found all of the DK coins (even if it took me a while). It felt great, but I really do wonder how good it could have made me feel if I had never played it before. Sure, today I consider it a timeless classic that no one could hate, but I find myself wondering as I often do: has my ability lowered? Am I no longer capable of what I once was? Could I still have beaten this fresh if I started 5 years later? It only pisses me off because I will never know.
It was like taking a trip down memory lane, to a simpler time, to a time before I had solved every secret in the game. And it was right. I had forgotten much of my roots. Back in the day, or at least my version of the day, we struggled for hours to solve some secrets; this weekend I struggled to remember the past.
Still I had the good times revisit me. I got beat down by Klubba when I didn’t have enough kremcoins, I one shotted King Zing Sting, I navigated Bramble Blast, and I found all of the DK coins (even if it took me a while). It felt great, but I really do wonder how good it could have made me feel if I had never played it before. Sure, today I consider it a timeless classic that no one could hate, but I find myself wondering as I often do: has my ability lowered? Am I no longer capable of what I once was? Could I still have beaten this fresh if I started 5 years later? It only pisses me off because I will never know.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Defence Of The Ancients
Out from the moonlight tavern he rose: bones slowly assembling, the great King Leoric now only level one was under my command. Dawn was just breaking as the horns of war sounded; I sprinted to reach my lane in time. Waiting for me already was the infamous mogul khan Axe, equipped only with two stout shields: perfect for harassing. I subtly typed, “-di –showdeny” and began to lane.
We had great difficulties in store for us, attempting to lane against the renowned juggernaut Yunero. During his blade storm he is immune to magical damage and stun, while racking up serious damage and last hitting our creeps. Needless to say, Axe’s blood lust is not easily quenched and a simple 5 minutes into our great war, he sacrificed himself to destroy our opponent. One for one, but I was the only one to remain in the lane; Victory for the scourge. I took this opportunity to gain easy levels and get some creep kills, but we were only beginning this war.
It was Lion, the demon war witch, who was soon to leave us. I watched the countdown of his life until I could take no more. Our bot solo, burst damage specialist of the scourge was lagging out. A snide “pp” rang out from purple’s keyboard and all I could respond with was “no.” It was 4v5 now, a losing battle. As axe was not pleased particularly by the 15 more seconds he had to re-spawn, hate burned inside of him. As I left our lane to fulfill Lion’s duties Axe sprinted into our former fray, even more blood thirst than ever. After being nearly immediately slaughtered by the juggernaut, he too left us, but by choice. 3v5. Another snide remark came from the sentinel as if urging us to quit, “gg”.
Of course I could never have this. After a quick burst of team planning, Mirana, Priestess of the Moon, left mid to take on jugg, while storm was left mid to face viper and enchantress. Meanwhile I had arrived at my fate: the reason Lion left us: both a phantom assassin and a stealth assassin: Rikimaru and Mortred stood invisible on my path to victory.
For the rest you would just have to watch the replay. Needless to say, I went 12-0.
We had great difficulties in store for us, attempting to lane against the renowned juggernaut Yunero. During his blade storm he is immune to magical damage and stun, while racking up serious damage and last hitting our creeps. Needless to say, Axe’s blood lust is not easily quenched and a simple 5 minutes into our great war, he sacrificed himself to destroy our opponent. One for one, but I was the only one to remain in the lane; Victory for the scourge. I took this opportunity to gain easy levels and get some creep kills, but we were only beginning this war.
It was Lion, the demon war witch, who was soon to leave us. I watched the countdown of his life until I could take no more. Our bot solo, burst damage specialist of the scourge was lagging out. A snide “pp” rang out from purple’s keyboard and all I could respond with was “no.” It was 4v5 now, a losing battle. As axe was not pleased particularly by the 15 more seconds he had to re-spawn, hate burned inside of him. As I left our lane to fulfill Lion’s duties Axe sprinted into our former fray, even more blood thirst than ever. After being nearly immediately slaughtered by the juggernaut, he too left us, but by choice. 3v5. Another snide remark came from the sentinel as if urging us to quit, “gg”.
Of course I could never have this. After a quick burst of team planning, Mirana, Priestess of the Moon, left mid to take on jugg, while storm was left mid to face viper and enchantress. Meanwhile I had arrived at my fate: the reason Lion left us: both a phantom assassin and a stealth assassin: Rikimaru and Mortred stood invisible on my path to victory.
For the rest you would just have to watch the replay. Needless to say, I went 12-0.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Damn My Listening
Nothing like working double time. Here I am both satisfying my need for a “twelfth post” and complaining about my need for a twelfth post. I do listen, I did listen, but apparently I am too persuadable, for upon being argued by my colleague, I instantly switched dispositions to one that favored myself: that research one counts… whoops.
Aside from that I wouldn’t mind using this time to reflect how well this has gone. Frankly, I think it has gone pretty well, which is to say as well as it could have gone. A network of love and commenting is unachievable. For the most part we won’t read anything past our page. Why would we? That’s not part of the assignment. Still, I believe we have written more than we ever would in our journals. AND people (not to name names) like (actually I can’t name names…. But you know who) will be able to write legibly and therefore be read.
Still I look foreword to the future. We have 2/3 of a trimester left and I’m going to blog like there’s no tomorrow. I’ll be doing that tomorrow. Furthermore, the one to my right is completely Jewish. There is only garbage to my left.
Aside from that I wouldn’t mind using this time to reflect how well this has gone. Frankly, I think it has gone pretty well, which is to say as well as it could have gone. A network of love and commenting is unachievable. For the most part we won’t read anything past our page. Why would we? That’s not part of the assignment. Still, I believe we have written more than we ever would in our journals. AND people (not to name names) like (actually I can’t name names…. But you know who) will be able to write legibly and therefore be read.
Still I look foreword to the future. We have 2/3 of a trimester left and I’m going to blog like there’s no tomorrow. I’ll be doing that tomorrow. Furthermore, the one to my right is completely Jewish. There is only garbage to my left.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
weeeer gohna needa mahntaahhhgge!
There is probably nothing more hella bodacious crunk than a montage of me waking up every morning. For three reasons (smile, walk stage left).
Reason Number One (we start the bullshiting early when we promise three times the number of reasons that we have): Ahem. I love myself. I can’t think of anybody better in the world. He is as good at everything I want him to be good at, in all the right proportions. Who wouldn’t want a montage of me waking up every morning? Surely if you have heart problems, it may startle you enough to end your life… but then again, you will die peacefully knowing that you just experienced the happiest moment of your life. On I side note I love myself for that guarantee that he will never lie to you or exaggerate any story. (Smile walk to the far stage left as I begin my next paragraph)
Reason Number Two: Who doesn’t love a montage? Honest to God, I have never found myself fond of anyone who doesn’t love montages. If I don’t love you there’s no way you could love yourself, and if you don’t love yourself why is life worth living? So jump on the montage bandwagon. If your struggle to get on board is laborious enough and can be matched to kick ass music we will make a montage out of it. Ball is in your court. Urban Dictionary defines montage as “hella flippin crunk”, or at least it does now. It gets you fired up to do what you need to do, and it speeds up time for those of us that have to do training. Through the power of montages, Rocky Balboa was able to significantly better himself 5 times over the course of 5 movie. His combined workout? 14 pushups, 2 water buckets carried, 1 climb to an icy mountain (which took 10 seconds max), 7 pull ups, and exactly five bad ass montage music songs. You know what I’m talking about… heavy background music with a strong beat… yeah…
Reason Number Three: Who doesn’t like to wake up? To some degree, sure, we don’t want to wake up. But if you never wake up, people will never compile various footage from different angles, speeds, and locations of you rising and shining. And if it is never compiled, you better believe it will never be put to bad ass music.
Reason Number One (we start the bullshiting early when we promise three times the number of reasons that we have): Ahem. I love myself. I can’t think of anybody better in the world. He is as good at everything I want him to be good at, in all the right proportions. Who wouldn’t want a montage of me waking up every morning? Surely if you have heart problems, it may startle you enough to end your life… but then again, you will die peacefully knowing that you just experienced the happiest moment of your life. On I side note I love myself for that guarantee that he will never lie to you or exaggerate any story. (Smile walk to the far stage left as I begin my next paragraph)
Reason Number Two: Who doesn’t love a montage? Honest to God, I have never found myself fond of anyone who doesn’t love montages. If I don’t love you there’s no way you could love yourself, and if you don’t love yourself why is life worth living? So jump on the montage bandwagon. If your struggle to get on board is laborious enough and can be matched to kick ass music we will make a montage out of it. Ball is in your court. Urban Dictionary defines montage as “hella flippin crunk”, or at least it does now. It gets you fired up to do what you need to do, and it speeds up time for those of us that have to do training. Through the power of montages, Rocky Balboa was able to significantly better himself 5 times over the course of 5 movie. His combined workout? 14 pushups, 2 water buckets carried, 1 climb to an icy mountain (which took 10 seconds max), 7 pull ups, and exactly five bad ass montage music songs. You know what I’m talking about… heavy background music with a strong beat… yeah…
Reason Number Three: Who doesn’t like to wake up? To some degree, sure, we don’t want to wake up. But if you never wake up, people will never compile various footage from different angles, speeds, and locations of you rising and shining. And if it is never compiled, you better believe it will never be put to bad ass music.
Monday, March 24, 2008
So It Turns Out
that I completely suck at in class essays. Whoops. Amazing how many things in life we incorrectly favor ourselves in. We got essays back today and were asked to actually read them. First off, who reads? Secondly… oh Jesus this sucks.
Looking back on what I believed to be another work of art (that would be underscored because the teacher MUST hate me (how else could he deny me the amazing grade I deserve)) I began to see how completely terrible it was. If the words weren’t misspelled they didn’t fit together. Weak.
A twisted little philosophy, but wholesome truth. Everything we do is for the countless number ones out there. Things from cutting in cafeteria lines to subconsciously lying to ourselves about our ability to produce in class essays. Everything.
So how do we fix it? I am afraid I must answer my own question with a question. Why the hell not? I love myself, and stopping myself from bettering myself in my own mind is only going to take time and effort I could be using to love myself even more. So there I go kicking ass in my own little mind and I ride off into the sunset.
Looking back on what I believed to be another work of art (that would be underscored because the teacher MUST hate me (how else could he deny me the amazing grade I deserve)) I began to see how completely terrible it was. If the words weren’t misspelled they didn’t fit together. Weak.
A twisted little philosophy, but wholesome truth. Everything we do is for the countless number ones out there. Things from cutting in cafeteria lines to subconsciously lying to ourselves about our ability to produce in class essays. Everything.
So how do we fix it? I am afraid I must answer my own question with a question. Why the hell not? I love myself, and stopping myself from bettering myself in my own mind is only going to take time and effort I could be using to love myself even more. So there I go kicking ass in my own little mind and I ride off into the sunset.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Yeah well...
There is something to be said for the systematic biasing of all things to favor one’s self. I do it, you, the imaginary reader, do it, and every one else does it. Don’t even try to deny it. No matter how subtle it is for a given instance we are guilty. Is it a serious wonder that no matter what hero I choose in “defense of the ancients” I can’t dominate as thoroughly as anyone else using them? How can I not kill with them like I saw this one guy do?
Well it is simple really. There are two possibilities: either they cheated or they were killing extremely nooby people. What’s that you say? There is a third option you say? Go to hell. I shall defend myself until the day I die whether I like it or not, and frankly so will you, the imaginary reader.
If we aren’t good at something it does not concern us. If we do so happen to be good at something there is nothing better in the world. We compromise and compensate. I’m not as good with the ladies as he is, but damned if I couldn’t whoop that chumps ass in ping pong. Frankly ping pong is the only thing that matters in this world anyway. No matter how much better someone is, we find a way to compensate. You walk into a room and meet a person just like you, except better in every way… what do you do? Prove him wrong. So he’s better at video games, picking up chicks, and chess… has better looks and is more athletic while being funnier in social situations while still being better than me in academics… … … … At least I didn’t get raped as a child to start a spiral into homosexuality that will eventually cause my premature death. Bastard.
Ironic? A touch. True? Completely. It doesn’t matter how desperate we have to get, we will protect our self esteem. I’m glad that jerk is gonna die early. I’ll take his spot… I’m better anyway… I can whistle the star spangled banner…
Well it is simple really. There are two possibilities: either they cheated or they were killing extremely nooby people. What’s that you say? There is a third option you say? Go to hell. I shall defend myself until the day I die whether I like it or not, and frankly so will you, the imaginary reader.
If we aren’t good at something it does not concern us. If we do so happen to be good at something there is nothing better in the world. We compromise and compensate. I’m not as good with the ladies as he is, but damned if I couldn’t whoop that chumps ass in ping pong. Frankly ping pong is the only thing that matters in this world anyway. No matter how much better someone is, we find a way to compensate. You walk into a room and meet a person just like you, except better in every way… what do you do? Prove him wrong. So he’s better at video games, picking up chicks, and chess… has better looks and is more athletic while being funnier in social situations while still being better than me in academics… … … … At least I didn’t get raped as a child to start a spiral into homosexuality that will eventually cause my premature death. Bastard.
Ironic? A touch. True? Completely. It doesn’t matter how desperate we have to get, we will protect our self esteem. I’m glad that jerk is gonna die early. I’ll take his spot… I’m better anyway… I can whistle the star spangled banner…
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Shelling Out
Taking a step into the real world is always kind of depressing. As you age, you are inevitably told by your teacher, “You are X graders now, you should be able to Y, or Z with out me telling you” and they’re right. Unfortunately we don’t always want to hear this. A psychologist will tell you what kids my age never would. Give me respect but no responsibility. No such thing as the best of two worlds.
We have been given a direct challenge this year: to write a legitimately dominating research paper. The fact that it must be done professionally is the only fact we are given. We are open to all topics and we are given much guidance. Our time budget is broad and our class time is ample. All we have to do is take a step into the real world. It is surprisingly difficult. I love my shell, I’m used to it here, and I wouldn’t mind staying. Jerk.
But here I am, conducting research in a brave new world. Some day I’ll look back on it all in casual conversation with a colleague and say, “Most memorable thing I ever did in high school LA? Meth”
We have been given a direct challenge this year: to write a legitimately dominating research paper. The fact that it must be done professionally is the only fact we are given. We are open to all topics and we are given much guidance. Our time budget is broad and our class time is ample. All we have to do is take a step into the real world. It is surprisingly difficult. I love my shell, I’m used to it here, and I wouldn’t mind staying. Jerk.
But here I am, conducting research in a brave new world. Some day I’ll look back on it all in casual conversation with a colleague and say, “Most memorable thing I ever did in high school LA? Meth”
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Of Splicing Creativity
I feel that to truly convey my view on a concept, safely and effectively, I must begin by defining it. Splicing: slicing (metaphorically or not) things into pieces and then reassembling them into a new whole. Who knew the letter ‘p’ can change the connotation of a word so much? Anyway, I’ve got to finish writing this before my mom makes super.
Here is my point. True creativity is obscenely rare. Almost everything that we may take note of as true creativity is really just a splice fest. The more creative something is, the more it probably has been spliced. The guy that invented Connect Four just added gravity to tic tac toe. The guy that invented the drill put a motor on a screwdriver. The guy that invented capture the flag just made tag with two teams.
So is it cynical? Probably, but we have to draw the line somewhere. The man that bent his scissors to cut squiggly lines with ease still got a patent. Is he really that creative? Is he worth recognition? Is anyone?
The wheel is worth points. The inclined plane deserves a pat on the back. The guy that invented the new and improved light rubber grip on my toothbrush better not get a damn plack.
Here is my point. True creativity is obscenely rare. Almost everything that we may take note of as true creativity is really just a splice fest. The more creative something is, the more it probably has been spliced. The guy that invented Connect Four just added gravity to tic tac toe. The guy that invented the drill put a motor on a screwdriver. The guy that invented capture the flag just made tag with two teams.
So is it cynical? Probably, but we have to draw the line somewhere. The man that bent his scissors to cut squiggly lines with ease still got a patent. Is he really that creative? Is he worth recognition? Is anyone?
The wheel is worth points. The inclined plane deserves a pat on the back. The guy that invented the new and improved light rubber grip on my toothbrush better not get a damn plack.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Of Another Reason To Hate LA
So here I am awaiting the inevitable. Soon enough I will have to write a fully fledged research paper with citations and credentials and appeals to ethos all the while avoiding bad things like needlessly and probably incorrectly throwing words like “ethos” into a paragraph. That’s a lot of stress, but that isn’t the worst part.
The worst part is something that is mildly knocking at your brain until you finish all of the language studies you will in your life, something that goes against what most of your other scholarly teachers would say, and that is simply time frame.
A teacher of science or social studies would thoroughly encourage you to take your time with large assignments. Do it bit by bit, don’t overload yourself, take your time, be responsible in this aspect, and don’t do it last minute. And they’re right. That’s the kind of stuff that gets you ahead in life… it teaches you responsibility, and makes your life easier. Language Arts will never intentionally make your life easier.
If you write a paper you write a paper. You can’t say, “Well I suppose I’ll write the opening and the body and come back to the closing later” or write a paragraph a day. Books I can understand, but I am writing a research paper. If I have a good idea of how I want this paper to look, I can’t stand to do it brick by brick. Paragraphs would overlap and flow like crap. So I do it all at once.
This isn’t always so bad, but you have to remember: this is a big paper. Big papers sit on your shoulder and weigh down your spirit until you kill them. Such an undertaking requires special timing and therefore typically waits until a Sunday night, which also doesn’t help. You do the little stuff to build esteem, always putting off the big as long as you can. Unfortunately you can’t make this big project a bunch of little ones; you just have to stick it out. Maybe if I could I wouldn’t be writing this right now.
The worst part is something that is mildly knocking at your brain until you finish all of the language studies you will in your life, something that goes against what most of your other scholarly teachers would say, and that is simply time frame.
A teacher of science or social studies would thoroughly encourage you to take your time with large assignments. Do it bit by bit, don’t overload yourself, take your time, be responsible in this aspect, and don’t do it last minute. And they’re right. That’s the kind of stuff that gets you ahead in life… it teaches you responsibility, and makes your life easier. Language Arts will never intentionally make your life easier.
If you write a paper you write a paper. You can’t say, “Well I suppose I’ll write the opening and the body and come back to the closing later” or write a paragraph a day. Books I can understand, but I am writing a research paper. If I have a good idea of how I want this paper to look, I can’t stand to do it brick by brick. Paragraphs would overlap and flow like crap. So I do it all at once.
This isn’t always so bad, but you have to remember: this is a big paper. Big papers sit on your shoulder and weigh down your spirit until you kill them. Such an undertaking requires special timing and therefore typically waits until a Sunday night, which also doesn’t help. You do the little stuff to build esteem, always putting off the big as long as you can. Unfortunately you can’t make this big project a bunch of little ones; you just have to stick it out. Maybe if I could I wouldn’t be writing this right now.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Meff
http://www.usdoj.gov/ndic/pubs11/18862/meth.htm
http://www.emcdda.europa.eu/?nnodeid=25480
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meth#_note-5
http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=tth&AN=WPT300230216207&site=ehost-live
http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=tth&AN=9YQ0494688158&site=ehost-live
http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=tth&AN=17781021&site=ehost-live
http://www.emcdda.europa.eu/?nnodeid=25480
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meth#_note-5
http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=tth&AN=WPT300230216207&site=ehost-live
http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=tth&AN=9YQ0494688158&site=ehost-live
http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=tth&AN=17781021&site=ehost-live
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Of Cool Things
There are things in this world that are flippin sweet.
Phrases can be cool. Things like "oh that's harder than a priest at a playground" make my day. Phrases can be funny, or absurd or bad ass: all of which own noobs. We're talkin about gonorrhea sick 1337 pwnage of nubtards that could only be gank raped in gnarly crunk fashion. We're talking about wicked sick domination. Furthermore, mumbo dog face to the banana patch got me by for at least the first half of my life. But that's not all.
Physics can be cool. You drop a marble and watch it bounce off of 5 perfectly angled inclined planes. It flies between two more rings bounces off of the wall and sinks perfectly into a test tube where it rests. How is that cool? Well at first it isn't, but consider the following: you will never do that again in your life. The slightest spin on the marble, or the slightest change in altitude can ruin the entire setup. Wicked sick.
Martial Arts can be cool. Try and tell me that a man breaking a house in half by flexing thighs isn't cool. I know, I know, you can't. I understand. EBERYONE understands. How can you not have respect for a person who works so hard to train their body that no one has seen them for the last four years. Ask around about someone and you are bound to here a rumor that they have went to Colorado to train themselves in the mountains. How completely bad ass is that?
The Internet can be cool. Obviously. The possibilities are flipping ENDLESS. You can be shootin the shit with one of your homies (which can be cool) and then you're like, hey, I was youtubin and I saw this videoes where this guy used a power drill to give himself a bloody nose then went on his trampoline and did flips while blood shot out in a arc around him. Then you go on and show him, and it's linked to like 16 other video of blood fountain flipping and you are gone for the day. A brave new world.
This is only the beginning.
Phrases can be cool. Things like "oh that's harder than a priest at a playground" make my day. Phrases can be funny, or absurd or bad ass: all of which own noobs. We're talkin about gonorrhea sick 1337 pwnage of nubtards that could only be gank raped in gnarly crunk fashion. We're talking about wicked sick domination. Furthermore, mumbo dog face to the banana patch got me by for at least the first half of my life. But that's not all.
Physics can be cool. You drop a marble and watch it bounce off of 5 perfectly angled inclined planes. It flies between two more rings bounces off of the wall and sinks perfectly into a test tube where it rests. How is that cool? Well at first it isn't, but consider the following: you will never do that again in your life. The slightest spin on the marble, or the slightest change in altitude can ruin the entire setup. Wicked sick.
Martial Arts can be cool. Try and tell me that a man breaking a house in half by flexing thighs isn't cool. I know, I know, you can't. I understand. EBERYONE understands. How can you not have respect for a person who works so hard to train their body that no one has seen them for the last four years. Ask around about someone and you are bound to here a rumor that they have went to Colorado to train themselves in the mountains. How completely bad ass is that?
The Internet can be cool. Obviously. The possibilities are flipping ENDLESS. You can be shootin the shit with one of your homies (which can be cool) and then you're like, hey, I was youtubin and I saw this videoes where this guy used a power drill to give himself a bloody nose then went on his trampoline and did flips while blood shot out in a arc around him. Then you go on and show him, and it's linked to like 16 other video of blood fountain flipping and you are gone for the day. A brave new world.
This is only the beginning.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Things I find funnny:
THERE ARE THINGS in this mortal world that I find funny. BELIEVE IT. For as absurd as it is, it is only the TRUTH. I FIND THINGS FUNNY. Things like: irony, the 3 stooges, and crappy you tube videos (just to name a few). unfortunately no one understands how crucial the third item is. There is only one way to explain it... GO TO MY LINKS!
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Getting a Head
Amazing what syntax does for us. The opposite of my current title would be Losing a Head, but should I take out a single worthless space my opposite becomes Getting Behind. True enough I only write right now to take advantage of some free time, but can't I make my drive efficient?
Syntax is while moderately cool as a word it is almost completely lame as a topic. Too bad, that's just who I am. I love the idea that everything I write can be mangled by the addition or subtration of a comma. There was a quote we were given in phychology class (we were asked to add punctuation): "He without her is nothing"
He showed us the two most common responses:
He, without she, is nothing
and
He. Without, she is nothing
That's not quite right, but it was the idea.
This issue brought me to a much higher level of caution when writing things. I won't lie to whoever reads this; I spam commas. I don't spam as much as I used to (which isn't really an accomplishment) but I still over use them.
Realizing then how hard it truly is to write with digression I have developed a respect for writers. I can't do it. In most of my work a comma goes anywhere I would naturally pause if I were reading it aloud. For example: This, I thought, to myself, was an interesting, yet, coinsidental issue. Exagguration? yes. Much Exagguration? Nah...
Long, Story short,:,,,, good, for you, authors, in gen,eral,
Syntax is while moderately cool as a word it is almost completely lame as a topic. Too bad, that's just who I am. I love the idea that everything I write can be mangled by the addition or subtration of a comma. There was a quote we were given in phychology class (we were asked to add punctuation): "He without her is nothing"
He showed us the two most common responses:
He, without she, is nothing
and
He. Without, she is nothing
That's not quite right, but it was the idea.
This issue brought me to a much higher level of caution when writing things. I won't lie to whoever reads this; I spam commas. I don't spam as much as I used to (which isn't really an accomplishment) but I still over use them.
Realizing then how hard it truly is to write with digression I have developed a respect for writers. I can't do it. In most of my work a comma goes anywhere I would naturally pause if I were reading it aloud. For example: This, I thought, to myself, was an interesting, yet, coinsidental issue. Exagguration? yes. Much Exagguration? Nah...
Long, Story short,:,,,, good, for you, authors, in gen,eral,
Search...
it isn't reSearch unless you have done it before, but to some degree it is compelling to re-. The only things that come to mind are violence in the media, sex in the media, and violence in video games (which I did last year as a research project). So do I extend this trend to sex in video games, take something cliché, or take something completely off the radar? Unfortunately the farther I go from the mainstream the harder my paper becomes to right and the fewer people care. The closer I am to the mainstream, the more help I have, but the more people have traveled before me. I want a decently genuinely unique topic... I want to talk about something like... (the who what when where why how of) meth labs (and the effect they have)?
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Blacken White
There is something legitimately and profoundly indulging about simple black and white. I assume that a large percentage of people reading this would assume I would take the high road, and engage my self in a winding debate about race- were that the case, a large percentage of people don't know me (which is strikingly true when I think about it).
What I truely mean by my original satement is exactly what I say. Black and white is oddly appealing. Nothing in nature befenficial to our survival is black and white, and we have surely not been conditioned to like it, but the love is there. While black and white are elements of everything (the level of shading), their rare independance is treated with the awe it deserves. The endlessly depressingly vactant page that is my blog contains 6 links, 1 title, 2 posts, and 2 colors: somehow it still looks good to me.
And I am sure that this phenomenon applies not only to myself. Why is it that 99% of the text in the world is black or white (on white or black)? Like all politically correct decisions it is because it is the least offensive possibility, but at the same time were green and yellow a better combination plenty of others would type like that. It is only the politically correct thing to do BECUASE people accept it as an amazing combination.
Is it the only good combo? No. Was I just talking out of my ass? Only because i couldn't find the words to explain it in my mouth. Am I necessarily right? Not at all, all this is is a thought- and that's all you get. Run with it.
What I truely mean by my original satement is exactly what I say. Black and white is oddly appealing. Nothing in nature befenficial to our survival is black and white, and we have surely not been conditioned to like it, but the love is there. While black and white are elements of everything (the level of shading), their rare independance is treated with the awe it deserves. The endlessly depressingly vactant page that is my blog contains 6 links, 1 title, 2 posts, and 2 colors: somehow it still looks good to me.
And I am sure that this phenomenon applies not only to myself. Why is it that 99% of the text in the world is black or white (on white or black)? Like all politically correct decisions it is because it is the least offensive possibility, but at the same time were green and yellow a better combination plenty of others would type like that. It is only the politically correct thing to do BECUASE people accept it as an amazing combination.
Is it the only good combo? No. Was I just talking out of my ass? Only because i couldn't find the words to explain it in my mouth. Am I necessarily right? Not at all, all this is is a thought- and that's all you get. Run with it.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Audience of nOne
So here my blog stands, fresh and full of life... poorly established with few links and even fewer posts... but full of life. I can't help but say this is even more awkward than the previous exercises I have been asked to complete. Maybe I grew to like my writing notebook. Maybe I can't be pleased- but let's be honest (and insightful) no one really liked the notebook.
This IS the short term future. EVERYONE is doing it... or rather will be doing it by the time it becomes extinct. It is the bandwagon of the brave new world. Like people typing their literature in coffee shops on their laptops, a little company can do wonders for our performance. So we get online and have a little cyber-space to call our own, and, most of all, we feel like people care. This is wrong. No one, in fact (sorry), tends to give a shit about your blog. Why should they?
If someone is your friend they will talk to you in person. If someone is being forced to write them (strangely familiar) they don't look any further than their word count. If someone is doing research, how they hell do they justify information from a goddamn blog? It is after noting these points I would like to mention that should you receive comments on any of your blogs that are not from a teacher or yourself, there is a rape in your near future.
Come on, you know it's true...
This IS the short term future. EVERYONE is doing it... or rather will be doing it by the time it becomes extinct. It is the bandwagon of the brave new world. Like people typing their literature in coffee shops on their laptops, a little company can do wonders for our performance. So we get online and have a little cyber-space to call our own, and, most of all, we feel like people care. This is wrong. No one, in fact (sorry), tends to give a shit about your blog. Why should they?
If someone is your friend they will talk to you in person. If someone is being forced to write them (strangely familiar) they don't look any further than their word count. If someone is doing research, how they hell do they justify information from a goddamn blog? It is after noting these points I would like to mention that should you receive comments on any of your blogs that are not from a teacher or yourself, there is a rape in your near future.
Come on, you know it's true...
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)